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

CHAPTER XVIII

SUSPENSE

 

When the balloon had reached an elevation of about 2,500 yards,

Lieutenant Procope determined to maintain it at that level.

A wire-work stove, suspended below the casing, and filled

with lighted hay, served to keep the air in the interior at

a proper temperature.

 

Beneath their feet was extended the basin of the

Gallian Sea. An inconsiderable speck to the north marked

the site of Gourbi Island. Ceuta and Gibraltar, which might

have been expected in the west, had utterly disappeared.

On the south rose the volcano, the extremity of the promontory

that jutted out from the continent that formed the framework

of the sea; whilst in every direction the strange soil,

with its commixture of tellurium and gold, gleamed under the sun’s

rays with a perpetual iridescence.

 

Apparently rising with them in their ascent, the horizon was

well-defined. The sky above them was perfectly clear; but away

in the northwest, in opposition to the sun, floated a new sphere,

so small that it could not be an asteroid, but like a dim meteor.

It was the fragment that the internal convulsion had rent from

the surface of the comet, and which was now many thousands of

leagues away, pursuing the new orbit into which it had been projected.

During the hours of daylight it was far from distinct, but after

nightfall it would assume a definite luster.

 

The object, however, of supreme interest was the great expanse

of the terrestrial disc, which was rapidly drawing down obliquely

towards them. It totally eclipsed an enormous portion of the

firmament above, and approaching with an ever-increasing velocity,

was now within half its average distance from the moon.

So close was it, that the two poles could not be embraced in one focus.

Irregular patches of greater or less brilliancy alternated on

its surface, the brighter betokening the continents, the more

somber indicating the oceans that absorbed the solar rays.

Above, there were broad white bands, darkened on the side averted

from the sun, exhibiting a slow but unintermittent movement;

these were the vapors that pervaded the terrestrial atmosphere.

 

But as the aeronauts were being hurried on at a speed of 70 miles a second,

this vague aspect of the earth soon developed itself into definite outlines.

Mountains and plains were no longer confused, the distinction between

sea and shore was more plainly identified, and instead of being,

as it were, depicted on a map, the surface of the earth appeared as though

modelled in relief.

 

Twenty-seven minutes past two, and Gallia is only 72,000 miles

from the terrestrial sphere; quicker and quicker is the velocity;

ten minutes later, and they are only 36,000 miles apart!

 

The whole configuration of the earth is clear.

 

“Europe! Russia! France!” shout Procope, the count, and Servadac,

almost in a breath.

 

And they are not mistaken. The eastern hemisphere lies before them

in the full blaze of light, and there is no possibility of error

in distinguishing continent from continent.

 

The surprise only kindled their emotion to yet keener intensity,

and it would be hard to describe the excitement with which they gazed

at the panorama that was before them. The crisis of peril was close

at hand, but imagination overleaped all consideration of danger;

and everything was absorbed in the one idea that they were again

within reach of that circle of humanity from which they had supposed

themselves severed forever.

 

And, truly, if they could have paused to study it, that panorama of the

states of Europe which was outstretched before their eyes, was conspicuous

for the fantastic resemblances with which Nature on the one hand,

and international relations on the other, have associated them.

There was England, marching like some stately dame towards the east,

trailing her ample skirts and coroneted with the cluster of her

little islets; Sweden and Norway, with their bristling spine

of mountains, seemed like a splendid lion eager to spring down from

the bosom of the ice-bound north; Russia, a gigantic polar bear,

stood with its head towards Asia, its left paw resting upon Turkey,

its right upon Mount Caucasus; Austria resembled a huge cat curled

up and sleeping a watchful sleep; Spain, with Portugal as a pennant,

like an unfurled banner, floated from the extremity of the continent;

Turkey, like an insolent cock, appeared to clutch the shores of Asia

with the one claw, and the land of Greece with the other; Italy, as it

were a foot and leg encased in a tight-fitting boot, was juggling deftly

with the islands of Sicily, Sardinia, and Corsica; Prussia, a formidable

hatchet imbedded in the heart of Germany, its edge just grazing

the frontiers of France; whilst France itself suggested a vigorous

torso with Paris at its breast.

 

All at once Ben Zoof breaks the silence: “Montmartre! I see Montmartre!”

And, smile at the absurdity as others might, nothing could induce the worthy

orderly to surrender his belief that he could actually make out the features

of his beloved home.

 

The only individual whose soul seemed unstirred by the approaching earth was

Palmyrin Rosette. Leaning over the side of the car, he kept his eyes fixed

upon the abandoned comet, now floating about a mile and a half below him,

bright in the general irradiation which was flooding the surrounding space.

 

Chronometer in hand, Lieutenant Procope stood marking the minutes

and seconds as they fled; and the stillness which had once again

fallen upon them all was only broken by his order to replenish

the stove, that the montgolfier might retain its necessary level.

Servadac and the count continued to gaze upon the earth with an

eagerness that almost amounted to awe. The balloon was slightly

in the rear of Gallia, a circumstance that augured somewhat favorably,

because it might be presumed that if the comet preceded the balloon

in its contact with the earth, there would be a break in the suddenness

of transfer from one atmosphere to the other.

 

The next question of anxiety was, where would the balloon alight?

If upon terra firma, would it be in a place where adequate resources

for safety would be at hand? If upon the ocean, would any passing

vessel be within hail to rescue them from their critical position?

Truly, as the count observed to his comrades, none but a Divine Pilot

could steer them now.

 

“Forty-two minutes past!” said the lieutenant, and his voice seemed

to thrill through the silence of expectation.

 

There were not 20,000 miles between the comet and the earth!

 

The calculated time of impact was 2 hours 47 minutes 35.6 seconds.

Five minutes more and collision must ensue!

 

But was it so? Just at this moment, Lieutenant Procope observed

that the comet deviated sensibly in an oblique course.

Was it possible that after all collision would not occur?

 

The deviation, however, was not great; it did not justify any anticipation

that Gallia would merely graze the earth, as it had done before;

it left it certain that the two bodies would inevitably impinge.

 

“No doubt,” said Ben Zoof, “this time we shall stick together.”

 

Another thought occurred. Was it not only too likely that,

in the fusion of the two atmospheres, the balloon itself,

in which they were being conveyed, would be rent into ribbons,