Off on a Comet - Jules Verne (classic english novels .TXT) 📗

ever grumbling

and growling, but with his weather-eye open in the hope of catching

sight of some passing sail. It must be owned that the whole

party were far from sorry to be relieved of his presence;

his uncomely figure and repulsive countenance was a perpetual bugbear.

He had given out in plain terms that he did not intend to part

with any of his property, except for current money, and Servadac,

equally resolute, had strictly forbidden any purchases to be made,

hoping to wear out the rascal’s obstinacy.

 

Hakkabut persistently refused to credit the real situation;

he could not absolutely deny that some portions of the terrestrial

globe had undergone a certain degree of modification, but nothing could

bring him to believe that he was not, sooner or later, to r�sum� his

old line of business in the Mediterranean. With his wonted distrust

of all with whom he came in contact, he regarded every argument

that was urged upon him only as evidence of a plot that had been

devised to deprive him of his goods. Repudiating, as he did utterly,

the hypothesis that a fragment had become detached from the earth,

he scanned the horizon for hours together with an old telescope,

the case of which had been patched up till it looked like a rusty

stove-pipe, hoping to descry the passing trader with which he might

effect some bartering upon advantageous terms.

 

At first he professed to regard the proposed removal into

winter-quarters as an attempt to impose upon his credulity;

but the frequent voyages made by the Dobryna to the south,

and the repeated consignments of corn and cattle, soon served

to make him aware that Captain Servadac and his companions

were really contemplating a departure from Gourbi Island.

 

The movement set him thinking. What, he began to ask himself—

what if all that was told him was true? What if this sea was no

longer the Mediterranean? What if he should never again behold his

German fatherland? What if his marts for business were gone for ever?

A vague idea of ruin began to take possession of his mind:

he must yield to necessity; he must do the best he could.

As the result of his cogitations, he occasionally left his tartan

and made a visit to the shore. At length he endeavored to mingle

with the busy group, who were hurrying on their preparations;

but his advances were only met by jeers and scorn, and, ridiculed by

all the rest, he was fain to turn his attention to Ben Zoof,

to whom he offered a few pinches of tobacco.

 

“No, old Zebulon,” said Ben Zoof, steadily refusing the gift,

“it is against orders to take anything from you.

Keep your cargo to yourself; eat and drink it all if you can;

we are not to touch it.”

 

Finding the subordinates incorruptible, Isaac determined

to go to the fountain-head. He addressed himself to Servadac,

and begged him to tell him the whole truth, piteously adding

that surely it was unworthy of a French officer to deceive

a poor old man like himself.

 

“Tell you the truth, man!” cried Servadac. “Confound it, I have

told you the truth twenty times. Once for all, I tell you now,

you have left yourself barely time enough to make your escape

to yonder mountain.”

 

“God and Mahomet have mercy on me!” muttered the Jew, whose creed

frequently assumed a very ambiguous character.

 

“I will tell you what,” continued the captain—“you shall have a few

men to work the Hansa across, if you like.”

 

“But I want to go to Algiers,” whimpered Hakkabut.

 

“How often am I to tell you that Algiers is no longer in existence?

Only say yes or no—are you coming with us into winter-quarters?”

 

“God of Israel! what is to become of all my property?”

 

“But, mind you,” continued the captain, not heeding the interruption,

“if you do not choose voluntarily to come with us, I shall

have the Hansa, by my orders, removed to a place of safety.

I am not going to let your cursed obstinacy incur the risk

of losing your cargo altogether.”

 

“Merciful Heaven! I shall be ruined!” moaned Isaac, in despair.

 

“You are going the right way to ruin yourself, and it would

serve you right to leave you to your own devices. But be off!

I have no more to say.”

 

And, turning contemptuously on his heel, Servadac left the old

man vociferating bitterly, and with uplifted hands protesting

vehemently against the rapacity of the Gentiles.

 

By the 20th all preliminary arrangements were complete,

and everything ready for a final departure from the island.

The thermometer stood on an average at 8 degrees below zero,

and the water in the cistern was completely frozen.

It was determined, therefore, for the colony to embark on

the following day, and take up their residence in Nina’s Hive.

 

A final consultation was held about the Hansa. Lieutenant Procope

pronounced his decided conviction that it would be impossible for the

tartan to resist the pressure of the ice in the harbor of the Shelif,

and that there would be far more safety in the proximity of the volcano.

It was agreed on all hands that the vessel must be shifted;

and accordingly orders were given, four Russian sailors were sent on board,

and only a few minutes elapsed after the Dobryna had weighed anchor,

before the great lateen sail of the tartan was unfurled, and the “shop-ship,”

as Ben Zoof delighted to call it, was also on her way to the southward.

 

Long and loud were the lamentations of the Jew. He kept exclaiming

that he had given no orders, that he was being moved against

his will, that he had asked for no assistance, and needed none;

but it required no very keen discrimination to observe that all along

there was a lurking gleam of satisfaction in his little gray eyes,

and when, a few hours later, he found himself securely anchored,

and his property in a place of safety, he quite chuckled with glee.

 

“God of Israel!” he said in an undertone, “they have made no charge;

the idiots have piloted me here for nothing.”

 

For nothing! His whole nature exulted in the consciousness that he was

enjoying a service that had been rendered gratuitously.

 

Destitute of human inhabitants, Gourbi Island was now left to the tenancy

of such birds and beasts as had escaped the recent promiscuous slaughter.

Birds, indeed, that had migrated in search of warmer shores, had returned,

proving that this fragment of the French colony was the only shred of land

that could yield them any sustenance; but their life must necessarily

be short. It was utterly impossible that they could survive the cold

that would soon ensue.

 

The colony took possession of their new abode with but few formalities.

Everyone, however, approved of all the internal arrangements of Nina’s Hive,

and were profuse in their expressions of satisfaction at finding themselves

located in such comfortable quarters. The only malcontent was Hakkabut;

he had no share in the general enthusiasm, refused even to enter or inspect

any of the galleries, and insisted on remaining on board his tartan.

 

“He is afraid,” said Ben Zoof, “that he will have to pay for his lodgings.

But wait a bit; we shall see how he stands the cold out there; the frost,

no doubt, will drive the old fox out of his hole.”

 

Towards evening the pots were set boiling, and a bountiful supper,

to which all were invited, was spread in the central hall.

The stores of the Dobryna contained some excellent wine,

some of which was broached to do honor to the occasion.

The health of the governor general was drunk, as well as the toast

“Success to his council,” to which Ben Zoof was called upon

to return thanks. The entertainment passed off merrily.

The Spaniards were in the best of spirits; one of them played the guitar,

another the castanets, and the rest joined in a ringing chorus.

Ben Zoof contributed the famous Zouave refrain, well known

throughout the French army, but rarely performed in finer style

than by this virtuoso:

 

_”Misti goth dar dar tire lyre!

Flic! floc! flac! lirette, lira!

Far la rira,

Tour tala rire,

Tour la Ribaud,

Ricandeau,

Sans repos, repit, repit, repos, ris pot, ripette!

Si vous attrapez mon refrain,

Fameux vous etes.“_

 

The concert was succeeded by a ball, unquestionably the first that had

ever taken place in Gallia. The Russian sailors exhibited some of their

national dances, which gained considerable applause, even although they

followed upon the marvelous fandangos of the Spaniards. Ben Zoof,

in his turn, danced a pas seul (often performed in the Elysee Montmartre)

with an elegance and vigor that earned many compliments from Negrete.

 

It was nine o’clock before the festivities came to an end, and by

that time the company, heated by the high temperature of the hall,

and by their own exertions, felt the want of a little fresh air.

Accordingly the greater portion of the party, escorted by Ben Zoof,

made their way into one of the adjacent galleries that led to the shore.

Servadac, with the count and lieutenant, did not follow immediately;

but shortly afterwards they proceeded to join them, when on their way

they were startled by loud cries from those in advance.

 

Their first impression was that they were cries of distress,

and they were greatly relieved to find that they were shouts

of delight, which the dryness and purity of the atmosphere

caused to re-echo like a volley of musketry.

 

Reaching the mouth of the gallery, they found the entire group pointing

with eager interest to the sky.

 

“Well, Ben Zoof,” asked the captain, “what’s the matter now?”

 

“Oh, your Excellency,” ejaculated the orderly, “look there! look there!

The moon! the moon’s come back!”

 

And, sure enough, what was apparently the moon was rising above

the mists of evening.