Off on a Comet (40 page)

The day following Servadac's return, he and the count and Lieutenant
Procope met by agreement in the cave, formally to discuss what would be
the most advisable method of proceeding under their present prospects.
Ben Zoof was, as a matter of course, allowed to be present, and
Professor Rosette had been asked to attend; but he declined on the plea
of taking no interest in the matter. Indeed, the disappearance of his
moon had utterly disconcerted him, and the probability that he should
soon lose his comet also, plunged him into an excess of grief which he
preferred to bear in solitude.

Although the barrier of cool reserve was secretly increasing between the
captain and the count, they scrupulously concealed any outward token of
their inner feelings, and without any personal bias applied their best
energies to the discussion of the question which was of such mutual,
nay, of such universal interest.

Servadac was the first to speak. "In fifty-one days, if Professor
Rosette has made no error in his calculations, there is to be a
recurrence of collision between this comet and the earth. The inquiry
that we have now to make is whether we are prepared for the coming
shock. I ask myself, and I ask you, whether it is in our power, by
any means, to avert the evil consequences that are only too likely to
follow?"

Count Timascheff, in a voice that seemed to thrill with solemnity, said:
"In such events we are at the disposal of an over-ruling Providence;
human precautions cannot sway the Divine will."

"But with the most profound reverence for the will of Providence,"
replied the captain, "I beg to submit that it is our duty to devise
whatever means we can to escape the threatening mischief. Heaven helps
them that help themselves."

"And what means have you to suggest, may I ask?" said the count, with a
faint accent of satire.

Servadac was forced to acknowledge that nothing tangible had hitherto
presented itself to his mind.

"I don't want to intrude," observed Ben Zoof, "but I don't understand
why such learned gentlemen as you cannot make the comet go where you
want it to go."

"You are mistaken, Ben Zoof, about our learning," said the captain;
"even Professor Rosette, with all his learning, has not a shadow of
power to prevent the comet and the earth from knocking against each
other."

"Then I cannot see what is the use of all this learning," the orderly
replied.

"One great use of learning," said Count Timascheff with a smile, "is to
make us know our own ignorance."

While this conversation had been going on, Lieutenant Procope had been
sitting in thoughtful silence. Looking up, he now said, "Incident to
this expected shock, there may be a variety of dangers. If, gentlemen,
you will allow me, I will enumerate them; and we shall, perhaps, by
taking them
seriatim
, be in a better position to judge whether we
can successfully grapple with them, or in any way mitigate their
consequences."

There was a general attitude of attention. It was surprising how calmly
they proceeded to discuss the circumstances that looked so threatening
and ominous.

"First of all," resumed the lieutenant, "we will specify the different
ways in which the shock may happen."

"And the prime fact to be remembered," interposed Servadac, "is that the
combined velocity of the two bodies will be about 21,000 miles an hour."

"Express speed, and no mistake!" muttered Ben Zoof.

"Just so," assented Procope. "Now, the two bodies may impinge either
directly or obliquely. If the impact is sufficiently oblique, Gallia may
do precisely what she did before: she may graze the earth; she may,
or she may not, carry off a portion of the earth's atmosphere and
substance, and so she may float away again into space; but her orbit
would undoubtedly be deranged, and if we survive the shock, we
shall have small chance of ever returning to the world of our
fellow-creatures."

"Professor Rosette, I suppose," Ben Zoof remarked, "would pretty soon
find out all about that."

"But we will leave this hypothesis," said the lieutenant; "our
own experience has sufficiently shown us its advantages and its
disadvantages. We will proceed to consider the infinitely more serious
alternative of direct impact; of a shock that would hurl the comet
straight on to the earth, to which it would become attached."

"A great wart upon her face!" said Ben Zoof, laughing.

The captain held up his finger to his orderly, making him understand
that he should hold his tongue.

"It is, I presume, to be taken for granted," continued Lieutenant
Procope, "that the mass of the earth is comparatively so large that, in
the event of a direct collision, her own motion would not be sensibly
retarded, and that she would carry the comet along with her, as part of
herself."

"Very little question of that, I should think," said Servadac.

"Well, then," the lieutenant went on, "what part of this comet of ours
will be the part to come into collision with the earth? It may be the
equator, where we are; it may be at the exactly opposite point, at our
antipodes; or it may be at either pole. In any case, it seems hard to
foresee whence there is to come the faintest chance of deliverance."

"Is the case so desperate?" asked Servadac.

"I will tell you why it seems so. If the side of the comet on which we
are resident impinges on the earth, it stands to reason that we must be
crushed to atoms by the violence of the concussion."

"Regular mincemeat!" said Ben Zoof, whom no admonitions could quite
reduce to silence.

"And if," said the lieutenant, after a moment's pause, and the slightest
possible frown at the interruption—"and if the collision should occur
at our antipodes, the sudden check to the velocity of the comet would be
quite equivalent to a shock
in situ
; and, another thing, we should run
the risk of being suffocated, for all our comet's atmosphere would be
assimilated with the terrestrial atmosphere, and we, supposing we were
not dashed to atoms, should be left as it were upon the summit of an
enormous mountain (for such to all intents and purposes Gallia would
be), 450 miles above the level of the surface of the globe, without a
particle of air to breathe."

"But would not our chances of escape be considerably better," asked
Count Timascheff, "in the event of either of the comet's poles being the
point of contact?"

"Taking the combined velocity into account," answered the lieutenant,
"I confess that I fear the violence of the shock will be too great to
permit our destruction to be averted."

A general silence ensued, which was broken by the lieutenant himself.
"Even if none of these contingencies occur in the way we have
contemplated, I am driven to the suspicion that we shall be burnt
alive."

"Burnt alive!" they all exclaimed in a chorus of horror.

"Yes. If the deductions of modern science be true, the speed of the
comet, when suddenly checked, will be transmuted into heat, and that
heat will be so intense that the temperature of the comet will be raised
to some millions of degrees."

No one having anything definite to allege in reply to Lieutenant
Procope's forebodings, they all relapsed into silence. Presently Ben
Zoof asked whether it was not possible for the comet to fall into the
middle of the Atlantic.

Procope shook his head. "Even so, we should only be adding the fate of
drowning to the list of our other perils."

"Then, as I understand," said Captain Servadac, "in whatever way or
in whatever place the concussion occurs, we must be either crushed,
suffocated, roasted, or drowned. Is that your conclusion, lieutenant?"

"I confess I see no other alternative," answered Procope, calmly.

"But isn't there another thing to be done?" said Ben Zoof.

"What do you mean?" his master asked.

"Why, to get off the comet before the shock comes."

"How could you get off Gallia?"

"That I can't say," replied the orderly.

"I am not sure that that could not be accomplished," said the
lieutenant.

All eyes in a moment were riveted upon him, as, with his head resting
on his hands, he was manifestly cogitating a new idea. "Yes, I think
it could be accomplished," he repeated. "The project may appear
extravagant, but I do not know why it should be impossible. Ben Zoof has
hit the right nail on the head; we must try and leave Gallia before the
shock."

"Leave Gallia! How?" said Count Timascheff.

The lieutenant did not at once reply. He continued pondering for a time,
and at last said, slowly and distinctly, "By making a balloon!"

Servadac's heart sank.

"A balloon!" he exclaimed. "Out of the question! Balloons are exploded
things. You hardly find them in novels. Balloon, indeed!"

"Listen to me," replied Procope. "Perhaps I can convince you that my
idea is not so chimerical as you imagine." And, knitting his brow, he
proceeded to establish the feasibility of his plan. "If we can ascertain
the precise moment when the shock is to happen, and can succeed
in launching ourselves a sufficient time beforehand into Gallia's
atmosphere, I believe it will transpire that this atmosphere will
amalgamate with that of the earth, and that a balloon whirled along by
the combined velocity would glide into the mingled atmosphere and remain
suspended in mid-air until the shock of the collision is overpast."

Count Timascheff reflected for a minute, and said, "I think, lieutenant,
I understand your project. The scheme seems tenable; and I shall be
ready to co-operate with you, to the best of my power, in putting it
into execution."

"Only, remember," continued Procope, "there are many chances to one
against our success. One instant's obstruction and stoppage in our
passage, and our balloon is burnt to ashes. Still, reluctant as I am to
acknowledge it, I confess that I feel our sole hope of safety rests in
our getting free from this comet."

"If the chances were ten thousand to one against us," said Servadac, "I
think the attempt ought to be made."

"But have we hydrogen enough to inflate a balloon?" asked the count.

"Hot air will be all that we shall require," the lieutenant answered;
"we are only contemplating about an hour's journey."

"Ah, a fire-balloon! A montgolfier!" cried Servadac. "But what are you
going to do for a casing?"

"I have thought of that. We must cut it out of the sails of the
Dobryna
; they are both light and strong," rejoined the lieutenant.
Count Timascheff complimented the lieutenant upon his ingenuity, and Ben
Zoof could not resist bringing the meeting to a conclusion by a ringing
cheer.

Truly daring was the plan of which Lieutenant Procope had thus become
the originator; but the very existence of them all was at stake, and the
design must be executed resolutely. For the success of the enterprise it
was absolutely necessary to know, almost to a minute, the precise time
at which the collision would occur, and Captain Servadac undertook the
task, by gentle means or by stern, of extracting the secret from the
professor.

To Lieutenant Procope himself was entrusted the superintendence of the
construction of the montgolfier, and the work was begun at once. It was
to be large enough to carry the whole of the twenty-three residents in
the volcano, and, in order to provide the means of floating aloft
long enough to give time for selecting a proper place for descent, the
lieutenant was anxious to make it carry enough hay or straw to maintain
combustion for a while, and keep up the necessary supply of heated air.

The sails of the
Dobryna
, which had all been carefully stowed away in
the Hive, were of a texture unusually close, and quite capable of being
made airtight by means of a varnish, the ingredients of which were
rummaged out of the promiscuous stores of the tartan. The lieutenant
himself traced out the pattern and cut out the strips, and all hands
were employed in seaming them together. It was hardly the work for
little fingers, but Nina persisted in accomplishing her own share of it.
The Russians were quite at home at occupation of this sort, and having
initiated the Spaniards into its mysteries, the task of joining together
the casing was soon complete. Isaac Hakkabut and the professor were
the only two members of the community who took no part in this somewhat
tedious proceeding.

A month passed away, but Servadac found no opportunity of getting at the
information he had pledged himself to gain. On the sole occasion when he
had ventured to broach the subject with the astronomer, he had received
for answer that as there was no hurry to get back to the earth, there
need be no concern about any dangers of transit.

Indeed, as time passed on, the professor seemed to become more and more
inaccessible. A pleasant temperature enabled him to live entirely in his
observatory, from which intruders were rigidly shut out. But Servadac
bided his time. He grew more and more impressed with the importance of
finding out the exact moment at which the impact would take place,
but was content to wait for a promising opportunity to put any fresh
questions on the subject to the too reticent astronomer.

Meanwhile, the earth's disc was daily increasing in magnitude; the comet
traveled 50,000,000 leagues during the month, at the close of which it
was not more than 78,000,000 leagues from the sun.

A thaw had now fairly set in. The breaking up of the frozen ocean was a
magnificent spectacle, and "the great voice of the sea," as the whalers
graphically describe it, was heard in all its solemnity. Little streams
of water began to trickle down the declivities of the mountain and along
the shelving shore, only to be transformed, as the melting of the snow
continued, into torrents or cascades. Light vapors gathered on the
horizon, and clouds were formed and carried rapidly along by breezes to
which the Gallian atmosphere had long been unaccustomed. All these
were doubtless but the prelude to atmospheric disturbances of a more
startling character; but as indications of returning spring, they were
greeted with a welcome which no apprehensions for the future could
prevent being glad and hearty.