Off on a Comet (22 page)

Telescopes in hand, the explorers from the summit scanned the
surrounding view. Their anticipations had already realized what they
saw. Just as they expected, on the north, east, and west lay the Gallian
Sea, smooth and motionless as a sheet of glass, the cold having, as it
were, congealed the atmosphere so that there was not a breath of wind.
Towards the south there seemed no limit to the land, and the volcano
formed the apex of a triangle, of which the base was beyond the reach of
vision. Viewed even from this height, whence distance would do much
to soften the general asperity, the surface nevertheless seemed to
be bristling with its myriads of hexagonal lamellae, and to present
difficulties which, to an ordinary pedestrian, would be insurmountable.

"Oh for some wings, or else a balloon!" cried Servadac, as he gazed
around him; and then, looking down to the rock upon which they were
standing, he added, "We seem to have been transplanted to a soil strange
enough in its chemical character to bewilder the
savants
at a museum."

"And do you observe, captain," asked the count, "how the convexity
of our little world curtails our view? See, how circumscribed is the
horizon!"

Servadac replied that he had noticed the same circumstance from the top
of the cliffs of Gourbi Island.

"Yes," said the count; "it becomes more and more obvious that ours is a
very tiny world, and that Gourbi Island is the sole productive spot upon
its surface. We have had a short summer, and who knows whether we
are not entering upon a winter that may last for years, perhaps for
centuries?"

"But we must not mind, count," said Servadac, smiling. "We have agreed,
you know, that, come what may, we are to be philosophers."

"Ay, true, my friend," rejoined the count; "we must be philosophers
and something more; we must be grateful to the good Protector who has
hitherto befriended us, and we must trust His mercy to the end."

For a few moments they both stood in silence, and contemplated land and
sea; then, having given a last glance over the dreary panorama, they
prepared to wend their way down the mountain. Before, however, they
commenced their descent, they resolved to make a closer examination of
the crater. They were particularly struck by what seemed to them almost
the mysterious calmness with which the eruption was effected. There was
none of the wild disorder and deafening tumult that usually accompany
the discharge of volcanic matter, but the heated lava, rising with a
uniform gentleness, quietly overran the limits of the crater, like the
flow of water from the bosom of a peaceful lake. Instead of a boiler
exposed to the action of an angry fire, the crater rather resembled a
brimming basin, of which the contents were noiselessly escaping. Nor
were there any igneous stones or red-hot cinders mingled with the smoke
that crowned the summit; a circumstance that quite accorded with the
absence of the pumice-stones, obsidians, and other minerals of volcanic
origin with which the base of a burning mountain is generally strewn.

Captain Servadac was of opinion that this peculiarity augured favorably
for the continuance of the eruption. Extreme violence in physical, as
well as in moral nature, is never of long duration. The most terrible
storms, like the most violent fits of passion, are not lasting; but here
the calm flow of the liquid fire appeared to be supplied from a source
that was inexhaustible, in the same way as the waters of Niagara,
gliding on steadily to their final plunge, would defy all effort to
arrest their course.

Before the evening of this day closed in, a most important change was
effected in the condition of the Gallian Sea by the intervention of
human agency. Notwithstanding the increasing cold, the sea, unruffled
as it was by a breath of wind, still retained its liquid state. It is an
established fact that water, under this condition of absolute stillness,
will remain uncongealed at a temperature several degrees below zero,
whilst experiment, at the same time, shows that a very slight shock will
often be sufficient to convert it into solid ice. It had occurred to
Servadac that if some communication could be opened with Gourbi Island,
there would be a fine scope for hunting expeditions. Having this
ultimate object in view, he assembled his little colony upon a
projecting rock at the extremity of the promontory, and having called
Nina and Pablo out to him in front, he said: "Now, Nina, do you think
you could throw something into the sea?"

"I think I could," replied the child, "but I am sure that Pablo would
throw it a great deal further than I can."

"Never mind, you shall try first."

Putting a fragment of ice into Nina's hand, he addressed himself to
Pablo:

"Look out, Pablo; you shall see what a nice little fairy Nina is! Throw,
Nina, throw, as hard as you can."

Nina balanced the piece of ice two or three times in her hand, and threw
it forward with all her strength.

A sudden thrill seemed to vibrate across the motionless waters to the
distant horizon, and the Gallian Sea had become a solid sheet of ice!

When, three hours after sunset, on the 23d of March, the Gallian moon
rose upon the western horizon, it was observed that she had entered upon
her last quarter. She had taken only four days to pass from syzygy to
quadrature, and it was consequently evident that she would be visible
for little more than a week at a time, and that her lunation would be
accomplished within sixteen days. The lunar months, like the solar
days, had been diminished by one-half. Three days later the moon was in
conjunction with the sun, and was consequently lost to view; Ben Zoof,
as the first observer of the satellite, was extremely interested in its
movements, and wondered whether it would ever reappear.

On the 26th, under an atmosphere perfectly clear and dry, the
thermometer fell to 12 degrees F. below zero. Of the present distance of
Gallia from the sun, and the number of leagues she had traversed since
the receipt of the last mysterious document, there were no means of
judging; the extent of diminution in the apparent disc of the sun did
not afford sufficient basis even for an approximate calculation; and
Captain Servadac was perpetually regretting that they could receive no
further tidings from the anonymous correspondent, whom he persisted in
regarding as a fellow-countryman.

The solidity of the ice was perfect; the utter stillness of the air at
the time when the final congelation of the waters had taken place had
resulted in the formation of a surface that for smoothness would rival
a skating-rink; without a crack or flaw it extended far beyond the range
of vision.

The contrast to the ordinary aspect of polar seas was very remarkable.
There, the ice-fields are an agglomeration of hummocks and icebergs,
massed in wild confusion, often towering higher than the masts of the
largest whalers, and from the instability of their foundations liable
to an instantaneous loss of equilibrium; a breath of wind, a slight
modification of the temperature, not unfrequently serving to bring about
a series of changes outrivaling the most elaborate transformation scenes
of a pantomime. Here, on the contrary, the vast white plain was level as
the desert of Sahara or the Russian steppes; the waters of the Gallian
Sea were imprisoned beneath the solid sheet, which became continually
stouter in the increasing cold.

Accustomed to the uneven crystallizations of their own frozen seas, the
Russians could not be otherwise than delighted with the polished
surface that afforded them such excellent opportunity for enjoying
their favorite pastime of skating. A supply of skates, found hidden
away amongst the
Dobryna's
stores, was speedily brought into use. The
Russians undertook the instruction of the Spaniards, and at the end of
a few days, during which the temperature was only endurable through the
absence of wind, there was not a Gallian who could not skate tolerably
well, while many of them could describe figures involving the most
complicated curves. Nina and Pablo earned loud applause by their rapid
proficiency; Captain Servadac, an adept in athletics, almost outvied his
instructor, the count; and Ben Zoof, who had upon some rare occasions
skated upon the Lake of Montmartre (in his eyes, of course, a sea),
performed prodigies in the art.

This exercise was not only healthful in itself, but it was acknowledged
that, in case of necessity, it might become a very useful means of
locomotion. As Captain Servadac remarked, it was almost a substitute for
railways, and as if to illustrate this proposition, Lieutenant Procope,
perhaps the greatest expert in the party, accomplished the twenty miles
to Gourbi Island and back in considerably less than four hours.

The temperature, meanwhile, continued to decrease, and the average
reading of the thermometer was about 16 degrees F. below zero; the light
also diminished in proportion, and all objects appeared to be enveloped
in a half-defined shadow, as though the sun were undergoing a perpetual
eclipse. It was not surprising that the effect of this continuously
overhanging gloom should be to induce a frequent depression of spirits
amongst the majority of the little population, exiles as they were from
their mother earth, and not unlikely, as it seemed, to be swept far away
into the regions of another planetary sphere. Probably Count Timascheff,
Captain Servadac, and Lieutenant Procope were the only members of the
community who could bring any scientific judgment to bear upon the
uncertainty that was before them, but a general sense of the strangeness
of their situation could not fail at times to weigh heavily upon
the minds of all. Under these circumstances it was very necessary to
counteract the tendency to despond by continual diversion; and the
recreation of skating thus opportunely provided, seemed just the thing
to arouse the flagging spirits, and to restore a wholesome excitement.

With dogged obstinacy, Isaac Hakkabut refused to take any share either
in the labors or the amusements of the colony. In spite of the cold,
he had not been seen since the day of his arrival from Gourbi Island.
Captain Servadac had strictly forbidden any communication with him; and
the smoke that rose from the cabin chimney of the
Hansa
was the sole
indication of the proprietor being still on board. There was nothing to
prevent him, if he chose, from partaking gratuitously of the volcanic
light and heat which were being enjoyed by all besides; but rather
than abandon his close and personal oversight of his precious cargo, he
preferred to sacrifice his own slender stock of fuel.

Both the schooner and the tartan had been carefully moored in the way
that seemed to promise best for withstanding the rigor of the winter.
After seeing the vessels made secure in the frozen creek. Lieutenant
Procope, following the example of many Arctic explorers, had the
precaution to have the ice beveled away from the keels, so that there
should be no risk of the ships' sides being crushed by the increasing
pressure; he hoped that they would follow any rise in the level of the
ice-field, and when the thaw should come, that they would easily regain
their proper water-line.

On his last visit to Gourbi Island, the lieutenant had ascertained that
north, east, and west, far as the eye could reach, the Gallian Sea had
become one uniform sheet of ice. One spot alone refused to freeze; this
was the pool immediately below the central cavern, the receptacle for
the stream of burning lava. It was entirely enclosed by rocks, and if
ever a few icicles were formed there by the action of the cold, they
were very soon melted by the fiery shower. Hissing and spluttering as
the hot lava came in contact with it, the water was in a continual
state of ebullition, and the fish that abounded in its depths defied
the angler's craft; they were, as Ben Zoof remarked, "too much boiled to
bite."

At the beginning of April the weather changed. The sky became overcast,
but there was no rise in the temperature. Unlike the polar winters of
the earth, which ordinarily are affected by atmospheric influence, and
liable to slight intermissions of their severity at various shiftings
of the wind, Gallia's winter was caused by her immense distance from the
source of all light and heat, and the cold was consequently destined
to go on steadily increasing until it reached the limit ascertained by
Fourier to be the normal temperature of the realms of space.

With the over-clouding of the heavens there arose a violent tempest;
but although the wind raged with an almost inconceivable fury, it
was unaccompanied by either snow or rain. Its effect upon the burning
curtain that covered the aperture of the central hall was very
remarkable. So far from there being any likelihood of the fire being
extinguished by the vehemence of the current of air, the hurricane
seemed rather to act as a ventilator, which fanned the flame into
greater activity, and the utmost care was necessary to avoid being burnt
by the fragments of lava that were drifted into the interior of the
grotto. More than once the curtain itself was rifted entirely asunder,
but only to close up again immediately after allowing a momentary
draught of cold air to penetrate the hall in a way that was refreshing
and rather advantageous than otherwise.

On the 4th of April, after an absence of about four days, the new
satellite, to Ben Zoof's great satisfaction, made its reappearance in
a crescent form, a circumstance that seemed to justify the anticipation
that henceforward it would continue to make a periodic revolution every
fortnight.

The crust of ice and snow was far too stout for the beaks of the
strongest birds to penetrate, and accordingly large swarms had left the
island, and, following the human population, had taken refuge on the
volcanic promontory; not that there the barren shore had anything in the
way of nourishment to offer them, but their instinct impelled them to
haunt now the very habitations which formerly they would have shunned.
Scraps of food were thrown to them from the galleries; these were
speedily devoured, but were altogether inadequate in quantity to meet
the demand. At length, emboldened by hunger, several hundred birds
ventured through the tunnel, and took up their quarters actually in
Nina's Hive. Congregating in the large hall, the half-famished creatures
did not hesitate to snatch bread, meat, or food of any description from
the hands of the residents as they sat at table, and soon became such an
intolerable nuisance that it formed one of the daily diversions to hunt
them down; but although they were vigorously attacked by stones and
sticks, and even occasionally by shot, it was with some difficulty that
their number could be sensibly reduced.