Summary

Portrait of George Manville Fenn George Manville Fenn Mother Carey's Chicken: Her Voyage to the Unknown Isle

He was in a kind of dream for the next few minutes—a dream in which sea, rocks, sand, and trees were slowly gliding round him. Then he was aroused by a pair of strong arms catching him by the shoulders, and a familiar voice crying:
“Why, Mark, my lad, what’s all this?”
He could not speak, only stare, and as he looked in the second-mate’s face another voice rang in his ears:
“He is overcome with walking in the heat. Hail the lads, Morgan, and we’ll have him carried to the boat. Why, Mark, my boy, how foolish of you to come—and on such a day! Here, drink.”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of George Manville Fenn George Manville Fenn Mother Carey's Chicken: Her Voyage to the Unknown Isle

Then there was a tremendous burst as if of thunder; a rushing, hissing noise, as if a shower of stones had been hurled into the sky; and then all was darkness for a few moments.
“Blown out!” said the major laconically as if he were speaking of a candle; but the words had hardly left his lips before with a frightful explosion the mountain blazed forth again, with the glare far more intense, and showing the prau they had dimly-seen before coming on fast.
“The eruption does not seem to scare them,” said the captain.
“Well, it does me,” said the major. “It’s a kind of warfare I don’t understand.”
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of George Manville Fenn George Manville Fenn Mother Carey's Chicken: Her Voyage to the Unknown Isle

It was nervous work, for as they climbed the earth trembled beneath their feet; low, muttering, thunderous sounds could be heard, while here and there from crevices puffs of sulphurous, throat-stinging vapour escaped.
Then a bubbling hot spring was reached, not a geyser like those on the shelf across the long valley, but a little gurgling fount of the most beautifully pure water, but so heated that it was impossible to thrust a hand therein.
“Are we going much higher, Mr Mark?” said Billy Widgeon at last. “Feels to me as if we should go through before we knowed where we was.”
Source: Gutenberg

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