“Why, why did we throw the arms and everything else, even our penknives, out of the balloon?” cried Pencroff. “If we hadn’t, the balloon would have thrown us into the sea,” answered Herbert. “So it would, my boy,” answered the sailor; and then another idea occurring to him:— “Nothing!” answered Pencroff. “Nothing, indeed,” added the engineer. “Well, Cyrus,” demanded the reporter, “if we find Lincoln Island to be only 200 or 300 miles from New Zealand or Chili?” “We will build a ship instead of a house, and Pencroff shall command it.” “All right, Mr. Smith,” cried the sailor; “I am all ready to be captain, provided you build something seaworthy.” In fact, according to the engineer, they were at least 1,200 miles from Tahiti and from the Low Archipelago, fully 1,800 miles from Ne
w Zealand, and more than 4,500 miles from the coast of America. And when Cyrus Smith searched his memory, he could not remember any island in the Pacific occupying the position of Lincoln Island. “Then, sir, are we going to work the iron?” questioned Pencroff. “Yes, my friend,” answered the engineer. “But first we will do something I think you will enjoy—have a seal hunt on the island.” “A seal hunt!” cried the sailor, addressing Spilett “Do we need seals to make iron?” “It seems so, since Cyrus has said it,” replied the reporter. But as the engineer had already left the Chimneys, Pencroff prepared for the chase without gaining an explanation.
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