Off on a Comet - Jules Verne (classic english novels .TXT) 📗
- Author: Jules Verne
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their celebrated game in 1846 between Washington and Baltimore,
the two gallant officers made use of the semaphore to communicate
their well-digested moves.
The major stood waiting for his visitor to speak.
“Major Oliphant, I believe?” said Servadac, with a courteous bow.
“Yes, sir, Major Oliphant, officer in command of the garrison
at Ceuta,” was the Englishman’s reply. “And to whom,” he added,
“may I have the honor of speaking?”
“To Captain Servadac, the governor general of Gallia.”
“Indeed!” said the major, with a supercilious look.
“Allow me to express my surprise,” resumed the captain, “at seeing you
installed as commanding officer upon what I have always understood
to be Spanish soil. May I demand your claim to your position?”
“My claim is that of first occupant.”
“But do you not think that the party of Spaniards now resident with me
may at some future time assert a prior right to the proprietorship?”
“I think not, Captain Servadac.”
“But why not?” persisted the captain.
“Because these very Spaniards have, by formal contract, made over Ceuta,
in its integrity, to the British government.”
Servadac uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“And as the price of that important cession,” continued Major Oliphant,
“they have received a fair equivalent in British gold.”
“Ah!” cried Ben Zoof, “that accounts for that fellow Negrete and his people
having such a lot of money.”
Servadac was silent. It had become clear to his mind what had
been the object of that secret visit to Ceuta which he had heard
of as being made by the two English officers. The arguments
that he had intended to use had completely fallen through;
all that he had now to do was carefully to prevent any suspicion
of his disappointed project.
“May I be allowed to ask, Captain Servadac, to what I am indebted
for the honor of this visit?” asked Major Oliphant presently.
“I have come, Major Oliphant, in the hope of doing you and your companions
a service,” replied Servadac, rousing himself from his reverie.
“Ah, indeed!” replied the major, as though he felt himself quite
independent of all services from exterior sources.
“I thought, major, that it was not unlikely you were in ignorance
of the fact that both Ceuta and Gibraltar have been traversing
the solar regions on the surface of a comet.”
The major smiled incredulously; but Servadac, nothing daunted,
went on to detail the results of the collision between the comet
and the earth, adding that, as there was the almost immediate
prospect of another concussion, it had occurred to him that it
might be advisable for the whole population of Gallia to unite
in taking precautionary measures for the common welfare.
“In fact, Major Oliphant,” he said in conclusion, “I am here
to inquire whether you and your friends would be disposed to join
us in our present quarters.”
“I am obliged to you, Captain Servadac,” answered the major stiffly;
“but we have not the slightest intention of abandoning our post.
We have received no government orders to that effect; indeed, we have
received no orders at all. Our own dispatch to the First Lord
of the Admiralty still awaits the mail.”
“But allow me to repeat,” insisted Servadac, “that we are no longer
on the earth, although we expect to come in contact with it again
in about eight weeks.”
“I have no doubt,” the major answered, “that England will make every effort
to reclaim us.”
Servadac felt perplexed. It was quite evident that Major Oliphant had not
been convinced of the truth of one syllable of what he had been saying.
“Then I am to understand that you are determined to retain
your two garrisons here and at Gibraltar?” asked Servadac,
with one last effort at persuasion.
“Certainly; these two posts command the entrance of the Mediterranean.”
“But supposing there is no longer any Mediterranean?”
retorted the captain, growing impatient.
“Oh, England will always take care of that,” was Major Oliphant’s cool reply.
“But excuse me,” he added presently; “I see that Colonel Murphy has just
telegraphed his next move. Allow me to wish you good-afternoon.”
And without further parley, followed by his soldiers, he retired
into the casemate, leaving Captain Servadac gnawing his mustache
with mingled rage and mortification.
“A fine piece of business we have made of this!” said Ben Zoof,
when he found himself alone with his master.
“We will make our way back at once,” replied Captain Servadac.
“Yes, the sooner the better, with our tails between our legs,”
rejoined the orderly, who this time felt no inclination
to start off to the march of the Algerian zephyrs.
And so the French tricolor returned as it had set out—
in Ben Zoof’s knapsack.
On the eighth evening after starting, the travelers again set foot
on the volcanic promontory just in time to witness a great commotion.
Palmyrin Rosette was in a furious rage. He had completed all his calculations
about Nerina, but that perfidious satellite had totally disappeared.
The astronomer was frantic at the loss of his moon. Captured probably by some
larger body, it was revolving in its proper zone of the minor planets.
A BOLD PROPOSITION
On his return Servadac communicated to the count the result of his expedition,
and, though perfectly silent on the subject of his personal project,
did not conceal the fact that the Spaniards, without the smallest right,
had sold Ceuta to the English.
Having refused to quit their post, the Englishmen had virtually excluded
themselves from any further consideration; they had had their warning,
and must now take the consequences of their own incredulity.
Although it had proved that not a single creature either at
Gourbi Island, Gibraltar, Ceuta, Madalena, or Formentera had
received any injury whatever at the time of the first concussion,
there was nothing in the least to make it certain
that a like immunity from harm would attend the second.
The previous escape was doubtless owing to some slight,
though unaccountable, modification in the rate of motion;
but whether the inhabitants of the earth had fared so fortunately,
was a question that had still to be determined.
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
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