Off on a Comet - Jules Verne (classic english novels .TXT) 📗
- Author: Jules Verne
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doubt that the newspapers and scientific journals of both hemispheres
are full of accounts detailing the movements of the new comet.”
“True,” asserted the count. “I can quite imagine that we are occasioning
no small excitement in all the chief observatories.”
“Ay, more than that,” said the lieutenant; “our Gallia is certain
to be far more than a mere object of scientific interest or curiosity.
Why should we doubt that the elements of a comet which has once come into
collision with the earth have by this time been accurately calculated?
What our friend the professor has done here, has been done likewise on
the earth, where, beyond a question, all manner of expedients are being
discussed as to the best way of mitigating the violence of a concussion
that must occur.”
The lieutenant’s conjectures were so reasonable that they commanded assent.
Gallia could scarcely be otherwise than an object of terror to the inhabitants
of the earth, who could by no means be certain that a second collision would
be comparatively so harmless as the first. Even to the Gallians themselves,
much as they looked forward to the event, the prospect was not unmixed
with alarm, and they would rejoice in the invention of any device by which it
was likely the impetus of the shock might be deadened.
Christmas arrived, and was marked by appropriate religious observance
by everyone in the community, with the exception of the Jew,
who made a point of secluding himself more obstinately than ever
in the gloomy recesses of his retreat.
To Ben Zoof the last week of the year was full of bustle.
The arrangements for the New Year fete were entrusted to him,
and he was anxious, in spite of the resources of Gallia being so limited,
to make the program for the great day as attractive as possible.
It was a matter of debate that night whether the professor should be
invited to join the party; it was scarcely likely that he would care
to come, but, on the whole, it was felt to be advisable to ask him.
At first Captain Servadac thought of going in person with
the invitation; but, remembering Rosette’s dislike to visitors,
he altered his mind, and sent young Pablo up to the observatory
with a formal note, requesting the pleasure of Professor Rosette’s
company at the New Year’s fete.
Pablo was soon back, bringing no answer except that the professor
had told him that “to-day was the l25th of June, and that to-morrow
would be the 1st of July.”
Consequently, Servadac and the count took it for granted that Palmyrin Rosette
declined their invitation.
An hour after sunrise on New Year’s Day, Frenchmen, Russians, Spaniards,
and little Nina, as the representative of Italy, sat down to a
feast such as never before had been seen in Gallia. Ben Zoof
and the Russian cook had quite surpassed themselves. The wines,
part of the Dobryna’s stores, were of excellent quality.
Those of the vintages of France and Spain were drunk in toasting
their respective countries, and even Russia was honored in a
similar way by means of a few bottles of kummel. The company was
more than contented—it was as jovial as Ben Zoof could desire;
and the ringing cheers that followed the great toast of the day—“A
happy return to our Mother Earth,” must fairly have startled
the professor in the silence of his observatory.
The dejeuner over, there still remained three hours of daylight.
The sun was approaching the zenith, but so dim and enfeebled were his rays
that they were very unlike what had produced the wines of Bordeaux and
Burgundy which they had just been enjoying, and it was necessary for all,
before starting upon an excursion that would last over nightfall,
to envelop themselves in the thickest of clothing.
Full of spirits, the party left the Hive, and chattering and
singing as they went, made their way down to the frozen shore,
where they fastened on their skates. Once upon the ice,
everyone followed his own fancy, and some singly, some in groups,
scattered themselves in all directions. Captain Servadac,
the count, and the lieutenant were generally seen together.
Negrete and the Spaniards, now masters of their novel exercise,
wandered fleetly and gracefully hither and thither,
occasionally being out of sight completely. The Russian sailors,
following a northern custom, skated in file, maintaining their
rank by means of a long pole passed under their right arms,
and in this way they described a trackway of singular regularity.
The two children, blithe as birds, flitted about, now singly,
now arm-in-arm, now joining the captain’s party, now making a short
peregrination by themselves, but always full of life and spirit.
As for Ben Zoof, he was here, there, and everywhere,
his imperturbable good temper ensuring him a smile of welcome
whenever he appeared.
Thus coursing rapidly over the icy plain, the whole party had
soon exceeded the line that made the horizon from the shore.
First, the rocks of the coast were lost to view; then the white crests
of the cliffs were no longer to be seen; and at last, the summit
of the volcano, with its corona of vapor, was entirely out of sight.
Occasionally the skaters were obliged to stop to recover their breath,
but, fearful of frost-bite, they almost instantly resumed their exercise,
and proceeded nearly as far as Gourbi Island before they thought
about retracing their course.
But night was coming on, and the sun was already sinking in the east with the
rapidity to which the residents on Gallia were by this time well accustomed.
The sunset upon this contracted horizon was very remarkable.
There was not a cloud nor a vapor to catch the tints of the declining beams;
the surface of the ice did not, as a liquid sea would, reflect the last green
ray of light; but the radiant orb, enlarged by the effect of refraction,
its circumference sharply defined against the sky, sank abruptly, as though
a trap had been opened in the ice for its reception.
Before the daylight ended. Captain Servadac had cautioned
the party to collect themselves betimes into one group.
“Unless you are sure of your whereabouts before dark,” he said,
“you will not find it after. We have come out like a party
of skirmishers; let us go back in full force.”
The night would be dark; their moon was in conjunction, and would not be seen;
the stars would only give something of that “pale radiance” which the poet
Corneille has described.
Immediately after sunset the torches were lighted, and the long
series of flames, fanned by the rapid motion of their bearers,
had much the appearance of an enormous fiery banner. An hour later,
and the volcano appeared like a dim shadow on the horizon, the light
from the crater shedding a lurid glare upon the surrounding gloom.
In time the glow of the burning lava, reflected in the icy mirror,
fell upon the troop of skaters, and cast their lengthened shadows
grotesquely on the surface of the frozen sea.
Later still, half an hour or more afterwards, the torches were
all but dying out. The shore was close at hand. All at once,
Ben Zoof uttered a startled cry, and pointed with bewildered
excitement towards the mountain. Involuntarily, one and all,
they plowed their heels into the ice and came to a halt.
Exclamations of surprise and horror burst from every lip.
The volcano was extinguished! The stream of burning lava had
suddenly ceased to flow!
Speechless with amazement, they stood still for some moments.
There was not one of them that did not realize, more or less,
how critical was their position. The sole source of the heat that had
enabled them to brave the rigor of the cold had failed them! death,
in the cruellest of all shapes, seemed staring them in the face—
death from cold! Meanwhile, the last torch had flickered out.
It was quite dark.
“Forward!” cried Servadac, firmly.
At the word of command they advanced to the shore; clambered with no
little difficulty up the slippery rocks; gained the mouth of the gallery;
groped their way into the common hall.
How dreary! how chill it seemed!
The fiery cataract no longer spread its glowing covering over the mouth
of the grotto. Lieutenant Procope leaned through the aperture.
The pool, hitherto kept fluid by its proximity to the lava,
was already encrusted with a layer of ice.
Such was the end of the New Year’s Day so happily begun.
THE BOWELS OF THE COMET
The whole night was spent in speculating, with gloomy forebodings, upon the
chances of the future. The temperature of the hall, now entirely exposed
to the outer air, was rapidly falling, and would quickly become unendurable.
Far too intense was the cold to allow anyone to remain at the opening,
and the moisture on the walls soon resolved itself into icicles. But the
mountain was like the body of a dying man, that retains awhile a certain
amount of heat at the heart after the extremities have become cold and dead.
In the more interior galleries there was still a certain degree of warmth,
and hither Servadac and his companions were glad enough to retreat.
Here they found the professor, who, startled by the sudden cold,
had been fain to make a precipitate retreat from his observatory.
Now would have been the opportunity to demand of the enthusiast whether
he would like to prolong his residence indefinitely upon his little comet.
It is very likely that he would have declared himself ready to put up with
any amount of discomfort to be able to gratify his love of investigation;
but all were far too disheartened and distressed to care to banter him
upon the subject on which he was so sensitive.
Next morning, Servadac thus addressed his people.
“My friends, except from cold, we have nothing to fear.
Our provisions are ample—more than enough for the remaining
period of our sojourn in this lone world of ours; our preserved
meat is already cooked; we shall be able to dispense with all
fuel for cooking purposes. All that we require is warmth—
warmth for ourselves; let us secure that, and all may be well.
Now, I do not entertain a doubt but that the warmth we require
is resident in the bowels of this mountain on which we are living;
to the depth of those bowels we must penetrate; there we shall
obtain the warmth which is indispensable to our very existence.”
His tone, quite as much as his words, restored confidence to many
of his people, who were already yielding to a feeling of despair.
The count and the lieutenant fervently, but silently, grasped his hand.
“Nina,” said the captain, “you will not be afraid to go down to the lower
depths of the mountain, will you?”
“Not if Pablo goes,” replied the child.
“Oh yes, of course, Pablo will go. You are not afraid to go,
are you, Pablo?” he said, addressing the boy.
“Anywhere with you, your Excellency,” was the boy’s prompt reply.
And certain it was that no time must be lost in penetrating below
the heart of the volcano; already the most protected of the many
ramifications of Nina’s Hive were being pervaded by a cold that
was insufferable. It was an acknowledged impossibility to get access
to the crater by the exterior declivities of the mountain-side;
they were far too steep and too slippery to afford a foothold.
It must of necessity be entered from the interior.
Lieutenant Procope accordingly undertook the task of exploring all
the galleries, and was soon able to report that he had
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