Off on a Comet (15 page)

Although, however, the bottom of the chasm had never as yet been the
channel of a stream, indications were not wanting that at some future
time it would be the natural outlet of accumulated waters; for already,
in many places, thin layers of snow were glittering upon the surface of
the fractured rocks, and the higher the elevation that was gained, the
more these layers were found to increase in area and in depth.

"Here is a trace of fresh water, the first that Gallia has exhibited,"
said the count to his companions, as they toiled up the precipitous
path.

"And probably," replied the lieutenant, "as we ascend we shall find not
only snow but ice. We must suppose this Gallia of ours to be a sphere,
and if it is so, we must now be very close to her Arctic regions; it is
true that her axis is not so much inclined as to prolong day and night
as at the poles of the earth, but the rays of the sun must reach us here
only very obliquely, and the cold, in all likelihood, will be intense."

"So cold, do you think," asked Servadac, "that animal life must be
extinct?"

"I do not say that, captain," answered the lieutenant; "for, however
far our little world may be removed from the sun, I do not see why its
temperature should fall below what prevails in those outlying regions
beyond our system where sky and air are not." "And what temperature may
that be?" inquired the captain with a shudder.

"Fourier estimates that even in those vast unfathomable tracts, the
temperature never descends lower than 60 degrees," said Procope.

"Sixty! Sixty degrees below zero!" cried the count. "Why, there's not a
Russian could endure it!"

"I beg your pardon, count. It is placed on record that the English
have
survived it, or something quite approximate, upon their Arctic
expeditions. When Captain Parry was on Melville Island, he knew the
thermometer to fall to 56 degrees," said Procope.

As the explorers advanced, they seemed glad to pause from time to time,
that they might recover their breath; for the air, becoming more and
more rarefied, made respiration somewhat difficult and the ascent
fatiguing. Before they had reached an altitude of 600 feet they noticed
a sensible diminution of the temperature; but neither cold nor fatigue
deterred them, and they were resolved to persevere. Fortunately, the
deep striae or furrows in the surface of the rocks that made the bottom
of the ravine in some degree facilitated their progress, but it was not
until they had been toiling up for two hours more that they succeeded in
reaching the summit of the cliff.

Eagerly and anxiously did they look around. To the south there was
nothing but the sea they had traversed; to the north, nothing but one
drear, inhospitable stretch.

Servadac could not suppress a cry of dismay. Where was his beloved
France? Had he gained this arduous height only to behold the rocks
carpeted with ice and snow, and reaching interminably to the far-off
horizon? His heart sank within him.

The whole region appeared to consist of nothing but the same strange,
uniform mineral conglomerate, crystallized into regular hexagonal
prisms. But whatever was its geological character, it was only too
evident that it had entirely replaced the former soil, so that not a
vestige of the old continent of Europe could be discerned. The
lovely scenery of Provence, with the grace of its rich and undulating
landscape; its gardens of citrons and oranges rising tier upon tier
from the deep red soil—all, all had vanished. Of the vegetable kingdom,
there was not a single representative; the most meager of Arctic plants,
the most insignificant of lichens, could obtain no hold upon that stony
waste. Nor did the animal world assert the feeblest sway. The mineral
kingdom reigned supreme.

Captain Servadac's deep dejection was in strange contrast to his general
hilarity. Silent and tearful, he stood upon an ice-bound rock, straining
his eyes across the boundless vista of the mysterious territory. "It
cannot be!" he exclaimed. "We must somehow have mistaken our bearings.
True, we have encountered this barrier; but France is there beyond! Yes,
France is
there!
Come, count, come! By all that's pitiful, I entreat
you, come and explore the farthest verge of the ice-bound track!"

He pushed onwards along the rugged surface of the rock, but had not
proceeded far before he came to a sudden pause. His foot had come in
contact with something hard beneath the snow, and, stooping down, he
picked up a little block of stony substance, which the first glance
revealed to be of a geological character altogether alien to the
universal rocks around. It proved to be a fragment of dis-colored
marble, on which several letters were inscribed, of which the only part
at all decipherable was the syllable "Vil."

"Vil—Villa!" he cried out, in his excitement dropping the marble, which
was broken into atoms by the fall.

What else could this fragment be but the sole surviving remnant of some
sumptuous mansion that once had stood on this unrivaled site? Was it not
the residue of some edifice that had crowned the luxuriant headland of
Antibes, overlooking Nice, and commanding the gorgeous panorama that
embraced the Maritime Alps and reached beyond Monaco and Mentone to the
Italian height of Bordighera? And did it not give in its sad and too
convincing testimony that Antibes itself had been involved in the great
destruction? Servadac gazed upon the shattered marble, pensive and
disheartened.

Count Timascheff laid his hand kindly on the captain's shoulder, and
said, "My friend, do you not remember the motto of the old Hope family?"

He shook his head mournfully.

"
Orbe fracto, spes illoesa
," continued the count—"Though the world be
shattered, hope is unimpaired."

Servadac smiled faintly, and replied that he felt rather compelled to
take up the despairing cry of Dante, "All hope abandon, ye who enter
here."

"Nay, not so," answered the count; "for the present at least, let our
maxim be
Nil desperandum!
"

Upon re-embarking, the bewildered explorers began to discuss the
question whether it would not now be desirable to make their way back
to Gourbi Island, which was apparently the only spot in their new world
from which they could hope to derive their future sustenance. Captain
Servadac tried to console himself with the reflection that Gourbi Island
was, after all, a fragment of a French colony, and as such almost like
a bit of his dear France; and the plan of returning thither was on the
point of being adopted, when Lieutenant Procope remarked that they ought
to remember that they had not hitherto made an entire circuit of the new
shores of the sea on which they were sailing.

"We have," he said, "neither investigated the northern shore from the
site of Cape Antibes to the strait that brought us to Gibraltar, nor
have we followed the southern shore that stretches from the strait to
the Gulf of Cabes. It is the old coast, and not the new, that we have
been tracing; as yet, we cannot say positively that there is no outlet
to the south; as yet, we cannot assert that no oasis of the African
desert has escaped the catastrophe. Perhaps, even here in the north,
we may find that Italy and Sicily and the larger islands of the
Mediterranean may still maintain their existence."

"I entirely concur with you," said Count Timascheff. "I quite think we
ought to make our survey of the confines of this new basin as complete
as possible before we withdraw."

Servadac, although he acknowledged the justness of these observations,
could not help pleading that the explorations might be deferred until
after a visit had been paid to Gourbi Island.

"Depend upon it, captain, you are mistaken," replied the lieutenant;
"the right thing to do is to use the
Dobryna
while she is available."

"Available! What do you mean?" asked the count, somewhat taken by
surprise.

"I mean," said Procope, "that the farther this Gallia of ours recedes
from the sun, the lower the temperature will fall. It is likely enough,
I think, that before long the sea will be frozen over, and navigation
will be impossible. Already you have learned something of the
difficulties of traversing a field of ice, and I am sure, therefore, you
will acquiesce in my wish to continue our explorations while the water
is still open."

"No doubt you are right, lieutenant," said the count. "We will continue
our search while we can for some remaining fragment of Europe. Who
shall tell whether we may not meet with some more survivors from the
catastrophe, to whom it might be in our power to afford assistance,
before we go into our winter quarters?"

Generous and altogether unselfish as this sentiment really was, it was
obviously to the general interest that they should become acquainted,
and if possible establish friendly relations, with any human inhabitant
who might be sharing their own strange destiny in being rolled away upon
a new planet into the infinitude of space. All difference of race, all
distinction of nationality, must be merged into the one thought that,
few as they were, they were the sole surviving representatives of a
world which it seemed exceedingly improbable that they would ever see
again; and common sense dictated that they were bound to direct all
their energies to insure that their asteroid should at least have a
united and sympathizing population.

It was on the 25th of February that the yacht left the little creek in
which she had taken refuge, and setting off at full steam eastwards,
she continued her way along the northern shore. A brisk breeze tended to
increase the keenness of the temperature, the thermometer being, on
an average, about two degrees below zero. Salt water freezes only at a
lower temperature than fresh; the course of the
Dobryna
was therefore
unimpeded by ice, but it could not be concealed that there was the
greatest necessity to maintain the utmost possible speed.

The nights continued lovely; the chilled condition of the atmosphere
prevented the formation of clouds; the constellations gleamed forth
with unsullied luster; and, much as Lieutenant Procope, from nautical
considerations, might regret the absence of the moon, he could not do
otherwise than own that the magnificent nights of Gallia were such as
must awaken the enthusiasm of an astronomer. And, as if to compensate
for the loss of the moonlight, the heavens were illuminated by a
superb shower of falling stars, far exceeding, both in number and in
brilliancy, the phenomena which are commonly distinguished as the August
and November meteors; in fact, Gallia was passing through that meteoric
ring which is known to lie exterior to the earth's orbit, but almost
concentric with it. The rocky coast, its metallic surface reflecting the
glow of the dazzling luminaries, appeared literally stippled with light,
whilst the sea, as though spattered with burning hailstones, shone with
a phosphorescence that was perfectly splendid. So great, however, was
the speed at which Gallia was receding from the sun, that this meteoric
storm lasted scarcely more than four and twenty hours.

Next day the direct progress of the
Dobryna
was arrested by a long
projection of land, which obliged her to turn southwards, until she
reached what formerly would have been the southern extremity of Corsica.
Of this, however, there was now no trace; the Strait of Bonifacio had
been replaced by a vast expanse of water, which had at first all the
appearance of being utterly desert; but on the following morning the
explorers unexpectedly sighted a little island, which, unless it should
prove, as was only too likely, to be of recent origin they concluded,
from its situation, must be a portion of the northernmost territory of
Sardinia.

The
Dobryna
approached the land as nearly as was prudent, the boat was
lowered, and in a few minutes the count and Servadac had landed upon
the islet, which was a mere plot of meadow land, not much more than
two acres in extent, dotted here and there with a few myrtle-bushes and
lentisks, interspersed with some ancient olives. Having ascertained, as
they imagined, that the spot was devoid of living creature, they were on
the point of returning to their boat, when their attention was arrested
by a faint bleating, and immediately afterwards a solitary she-goat came
bounding towards the shore. The creature had dark, almost black hair,
and small curved horns, and was a specimen of that domestic breed which,
with considerable justice, has gained for itself the title of "the poor
man's cow." So far from being alarmed at the presence of strangers, the
goat ran nimbly towards them, and then, by its movements and plaintive
cries, seemed to be enticing them to follow it.

"Come," said Servadac; "let us see where it will lead us; it is more
than probable it is not alone."

The count agreed; and the animal, as if comprehending what was said,
trotted on gently for about a hundred paces, and stopped in front of a
kind of cave or burrow that was half concealed by a grove of lentisks.
Here a little girl, seven or eight years of age, with rich brown hair
and lustrous dark eyes, beautiful as one of Murillo's angels, was
peeping shyly through the branches. Apparently discovering nothing
in the aspect of the strangers to excite her apprehensions, the child
suddenly gained confidence, darted forwards with outstretched hands, and
in a voice, soft and melodious as the language which she spoke, said in
Italian:

"I like you; you will not hurt me, will you?"

"Hurt you, my child?" answered Servadac. "No, indeed; we will be your
friends; we will take care of you."

And after a few moments' scrutiny of the pretty maiden, he added:

"Tell us your name, little one."

"Nina!" was the child's reply.