Off on a Comet (8 page)

They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the
point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to
accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a
passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea,
and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of
its waters.

Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great
surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly
betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the
waters—a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely
any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the
manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused,
in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge
disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the
phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to
the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion.

Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his
entire attention to the
Dobryna
, which, now little more than a mile
from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly
changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to
facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her
two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered
direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing
her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor,
imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was
lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the
island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him.

"First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one
other word, tell me what has happened."

The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast
to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a stiff bow, and
in his Russian accent replied: "First of all, permit me to express my
surprise at seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I have
the honor of finding you on an island."

"I assure you, count, I have never left the place."

"I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now beg to offer you my
sincere apologies for failing to keep my appointment with you."

"Never mind, now," interposed the captain; "we will talk of that
by-and-by. First, tell me what has happened."

"The very question I was about to put to you, Captain Servadac."

"Do you mean to say you know nothing of the cause, and can tell me
nothing of the extent, of the catastrophe which has transformed this
part of Africa into an island?"

"Nothing more than you know yourself."

"But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon the
northern shore of the Mediterranean—"

"Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?" asked the count
significantly, and added, "I have discovered no sign of land."

The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments he seemed
perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began to overwhelm the
count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st
of January, that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that the
days had been only six hours long, and that the weight of the atmosphere
was so much diminished? Had he observed that the moon had quite
disappeared, and that the earth had been in imminent hazard of running
foul of the planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire
motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification?
To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative. He
was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's
increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause of any
of the phenomena.

"On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding by
sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly caught
on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height which it
is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to have
brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our engine was damaged, nay
disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy of the terrible hurricane
that raged during the succeeding days. That the
Dobryna
escaped at all
is little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her safety
to the fact that she occupied the center of the vast cyclone, and
consequently did not experience much change of position."

He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen."

"Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the
disaster," cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board,
count, will you not?"

"My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a
tour round the world."

"A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think,"
said the captain, smiling.

The count shook his head.

"I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean will
prove to be the tour of the world."

Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and absorbed in
thought.

After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was
best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place, to
discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry on
the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the
southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their way
northwards and put themselves in communication with the population on
the river banks of Europe.

Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the
Dobryna
should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would in contrary winds
and rough seas be both tedious and difficult. The stock of coal on
board was adequate for two months' consumption; but as it would at
the expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the part
of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where fuel could be
replenished.

The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious; and
in three days after her arrival the
Dobryna
was again ready to put to
sea.

Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted with
all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire circuit of
the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond the limits of that
circumscribed territory that they must seek an explanation of what had
so strangely transpired.

It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner were
completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high temperature which
had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only apparent change in
the general order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to
any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which would still
require several days to decide. The weather remained fine, and although
a few clouds had accumulated, and might have caused a trifling fall
of the barometer, they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the
departure of the
Dobryna
.

Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or not it was
desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master. There were various
reasons why he should be left behind, not the least important being that
the schooner had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would have
found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more with his own favorite
Galette; besides, it was advisable that there should be some one left to
receive any strangers that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an
eye upon the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before them,
might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe.
Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would incur
no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was induced
with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant, hoping
very shortly to return and to restore him to his country, when he had
ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which they were enveloped.

On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers," and
took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance should
carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved "mountain"
had been left unmoved.

Farewells over, the
Dobryna
was carefully steered through the creek,
and was soon upon the open sea.

The
Dobryna
, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built in the
famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea going qualities
were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a circumnavigation of
the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor, but had the
greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht in the hands of
Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age, and an excellent
seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son of a serf who had been
emancipated long before the famous edict of the Emperor Alexander,
Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie of gratitude as well as of duty
and affection, to his patron's service. After an apprenticeship on a
merchant ship he had entered the imperial navy, and had already reached
the rank of lieutenant when the count appointed him to the charge of
his own private yacht, in which he was accustomed to spend by far the
greater part of his time, throughout the winter generally cruising in
the Mediterranean, whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters.

The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was well
informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession, and his
attainments were alike creditable to himself and to the liberal friend
who had given him his education. He had an excellent crew, consisting
of Tiglew the engineer, four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and
Panofka, and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all
sons of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea, did
they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little to them what
physical disorganization ensued, so long as they felt they were sharing
the experiences of their lord and master. The late astounding events,
however, had rendered Procope manifestly uneasy, and not the less
so from his consciousness that the count secretly partook of his own
anxiety.

Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards. With a
favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots an hour
had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress. Although only a
moderate breeze was blowing, the sea was rough, a circumstance to
be accounted for only by the diminution in the force of the earth's
attraction rendering the liquid particles so buoyant, that by the mere
effect of oscillation they were carried to a height that was quite
unprecedented. M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as
the maximum elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his
astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or
even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl
themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might
rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its
weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately
to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to
seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching,
however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor
much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of
the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the
diminution in her proper rate of speed.

For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by
the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed
positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of
nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his
latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings
would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for
the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which
gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the
direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate
of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate
need.

Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the
magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees
from the north pole, had never deviated in the least—a proof that,
although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south
continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log
and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work
of the sextant, which had become utterly useless.

On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most
Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities
to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation
perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which
remained so inexplicable to them all.

"It is very evident," said the lieutenant, "that ever since the 1st of
January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown
cause has drawn nearer to the sun."

"No doubt about that," said Servadac; "and I suppose that, having
crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the
orbit of Mercury."

"And finish up by a collision with the sun!" added the count.

"There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon
a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being
precipitated onto the sun."