Thus confident in their anticipations, neither the captain, the count,
nor the lieutenant felt under any serious obligation to make any
extensive provisions for the future; they saw no necessity for expending
the strength of the people, during the short summer that would intervene
upon the long severity of winter, in the cultivation or the preservation
of their agricultural resources. Nevertheless, they often found
themselves talking over the measures they would have been driven to
adopt, if they had found themselves permanently attached to their
present home.
Even after the turning-point in their career, they knew that at least
nine months would have to elapse before the sea would be open to
navigation; but at the very first arrival of summer they would be bound
to arrange for the -Dobryna- and the -Hansa- to retransport themselves
and all their animals to the shores of Gourbi Island, where they would
have to commence their agricultural labors to secure the crops that must
form their winter store. During four months or thereabouts, they would
lead the lives of farmers and of sportsmen; but no sooner would their
haymaking and their corn harvest have been accomplished, than they
would be compelled again, like a swarm of bees, to retire to their
semi-troglodyte existence in the cells of Nina’s Hive.
Now and then the captain and his friends found themselves speculating
whether, in the event of their having to spend another winter upon
Gallia, some means could not be devised by which the dreariness of a
second residence in the recesses of the volcano might be escaped. Would
not another exploring expedition possibly result in the discovery of
a vein of coal or other combustible matter, which could be turned to
account in warming some erection which they might hope to put up?
A prolonged existence in their underground quarters was felt to be
monotonous and depressing, and although it might be all very well for a
man like Professor Rosette, absorbed in astronomical studies, it was ill
suited to the temperaments of any of themselves for any longer period
than was absolutely indispensable.
One contingency there was, almost too terrible to be taken into account.
Was it not to be expected that the time might come when the internal
fires of Gallia would lose their activity, and the stream of lava would
consequently cease to flow? Why should Gallia be exempt from the destiny
that seemed to await every other heavenly body? Why should it not roll
onwards, like the moon, a dark cold mass in space?
In the event of such a cessation of the volcanic eruption, whilst the
comet was still at so great a distance from the sun, they would indeed
be at a loss to find a substitute for what alone had served to render
life endurable at a temperature of 60 degrees below zero. Happily,
however, there was at present no symptom of the subsidence of the lava’s
stream; the volcano continued its regular and unchanging discharge, and
Servadac, ever sanguine, declared that it was useless to give themselves
any anxiety upon the matter.
On the 15th of December, Gallia was 276,000,000 leagues from the sun,
and, as it was approximately to the extremity of its axis major, would
travel only some 11,000,000 or 12,000,000 leagues during the month.
Another world was now becoming a conspicuous object in the heavens, and
Palmyrin Rosette, after rejoicing in an approach nearer to Jupiter than
any other mortal man had ever attained, was now to be privileged to
enjoy a similar opportunity of contemplating the planet Saturn. Not
that the circumstances were altogether so favorable. Scarcely 31,000,000
miles had separated Gallia from Jupiter; the minimum distance of Saturn
would not be less than 415,000,000 miles; but even this distance,
although too great to affect the comet’s progress more than had been
duly reckoned on, was considerably shorter than what had ever separated
Saturn from the earth.
To get any information about the planet from Rosette appeared quite
impossible. Although equally by night and by day he never seemed to quit
his telescope, he did not evince the slightest inclination to impart the
result of his observations. It was only from the few astronomical works
that happened to be included in the -Dobryna’s- library that any details
could be gathered, but these were sufficient to give a large amount of
interesting information.
Ben Zoof, when he was made aware that the earth would be invisible to
the naked eye from the surface of Saturn, declared that he then, for his
part, did not care to learn any more about such a planet; to him it
was indispensable that the earth should remain in sight, and it was his
great consolation that hitherto his native sphere had never vanished
from his gaze.
At this date Saturn was revolving at a distance of 420,000,000 miles
from Gallia, and consequently 874,440,000 miles from the sun, receiving
only a hundredth part of the light and heat which that luminary bestows
upon the earth. On consulting their books of reference, the colonists
found that Saturn completes his revolution round the sun in a period of
29 years and 167 days, traveling at the rate of more than 21,000 miles
an hour along an orbit measuring 5,490 millions of miles in length. His
circumference is about 220,000 miles; his superficies, 144,000 millions
of square miles; his volume, 143,846 millions of cubic miles. Saturn
is 735 times larger than the earth, consequently he is smaller than
Jupiter; in mass he is only 90 times greater than the earth, which gives
him a density less than that of water. He revolves on his axis in 10
hours 29 minutes, causing his own year to consist of 86,630 days; and
his seasons, on account of the great inclination of his axis to the
plane of his orbit, are each of the length of seven terrestrial years.
Although the light received from the sun is comparatively feeble, the
nights upon Saturn must be splendid. Eight satellites--Mimas, Enceladus,
Tethys, Dione, Rhea, Titan, Hyperion, and Japetus--accompany the planet;
Mimas, the nearest to its primary, rotating on its axis in 22 1/2 hours,
and revolving at a distance of only 120,800 miles, whilst Japetus,
the most remote, occupies 79 days in its rotation, and revolves at a
distance of 2,314,000 miles.
Another most important contribution to the magnificence of the nights
upon Saturn is the triple ring with which, as a brilliant setting, the
planet is encompassed. To an observer at the equator, this ring, which
has been estimated by Sir William Herschel as scarcely 100 miles in
thickness, must have the appearance of a narrow band of light passing
through the zenith 12,000 miles above his head. As the observer,
however, increases his latitude either north or south, the band will
gradually widen out into three detached and concentric rings, of which
the innermost, dark though transparent, is 9,625 miles in breadth; the
intermediate one, which is brighter than the planet itself, being 17,605
miles broad; and the outer, of a dusky hue, being 8,660 miles broad.
Such, they read, is the general outline of this strange appendage, which
revolves in its own plane in 10 hours 32 minutes. Of what matter it
is composed, and how it resists disintegration, is still an unsettled
question; but it might almost seem that the Designer of the universe, in
permitting its existence, had been willing to impart to His intelligent
creatures the manner in which celestial bodies are evolved, and that
this remarkable ring-system is a remnant of the nebula from which Saturn
was himself developed, and which, from some unknown cause, has become
solidified. If at any time it should disperse, it would either fall
into fragments upon the surface of Saturn, or the fragments, mutually
coalescing, would form additional satellites to circle round the planet
in its path.
To any observer stationed on the planet, between the extremes of lat.
45 degrees on either side of the equator, these wonderful rings would
present various strange phenomena. Sometimes they would appear as an
illuminated arch, with the shadow of Saturn passing over it like the
hour-hand over a dial; at other times they would be like a semi-aureole
of light. Very often, too, for periods of several years, daily eclipses
of the sun must occur through the interposition of this triple ring.
Truly, with the constant rising and setting of the satellites, some with
bright discs at their full, others like silver crescents, in quadrature,
as well as by the encircling rings, the aspect of the heavens from the
surface of Saturn must be as impressive as it is gorgeous.
Unable, indeed, the Gallians were to realize all the marvels of this
strange world. After all, they were practically a thousand times further
off than the great astronomers have been able to approach by means of
their giant telescopes. But they did not complain; their little comet,
they knew, was far safer where it was; far better out of the reach of an
attraction which, by affecting their path, might have annihilated their
best hopes.
The distances of several of the brightest of the fixed stars have
been estimated. Amongst others, Vega in the constellation Lyra is 100
millions of millions of miles away; Sirius in Canis Major, 123 millions
of millions; the Pole-star, 282 millions of millions; and Capella, 340
millions of millions of miles, a figure represented by no less than
fifteen digits.
The hard numerical statement of these enormous figures, however,
fails altogether in any adequate way to convey a due impression of the
magnitude of these distances. Astronomers, in their ingenuity, have
endeavored to use some other basis, and have found “the velocity
of light” to be convenient for their purpose. They have made their
representations something in this way:
“Suppose,” they say, “an observer endowed with an infinite length of
vision: suppose him stationed on the surface of Capella; looking thence
towards the earth, he would be a spectator of events that had happened
seventy years previously; transport him to a star ten times distant, and
he will be reviewing the terrestrial sphere of 720 years back; carry him
away further still, to a star so remote that it requires something less
than nineteen centuries for light to reach it, and he would be a witness
of the birth and death of Christ; convey him further again, and he
shall be looking upon the dread desolation of the Deluge; take him away
further yet (for space is infinite), and he shall be a spectator of the
Creation of the spheres. History is thus stereotyped in space; nothing
once accomplished can ever be effaced.”
Who can altogether be astonished that Palmyrin Rosette, with his burning
thirst for astronomical research, should have been conscious of a
longing for yet wider travel through the sidereal universe? With his
comet now under the influence of one star, now of another, what various
systems might he not have explored! what undreamed-of marvels might not
have revealed themselves before his gaze! The stars, fixed and immovable
in name, are all of them in motion, and Gallia might have followed them
in their un-tracked way.
But Gallia had a narrow destiny. She was not to be allowed to wander
away into the range of attraction of another center; nor to mingle with
the star clusters, some of which have been entirely, others partially
resolved; nor was she to lose herself amongst the 5,000 nebulae which
have resisted hitherto the grasp of the most powerful reflectors. No;
Gallia was neither to pass beyond the limits of the solar system, nor
to travel out of sight of the terrestrial sphere. Her orbit was
circumscribed to little over 1,500 millions of miles; and, in comparison
with the infinite space beyond, this was a mere nothing.
CHAPTER XI. A FETE DAY
The temperature continued to decrease; the mercurial thermometer, which
freezes at 42 degrees below zero, was no longer of service, and the
spirit thermometer of the -Dobryna- had been brought into use. This now
registered 53 degrees below freezing-point.
In the creek, where the two vessels had been moored for the winter, the
elevation of the ice, in anticipation of which Lieutenant Procope had
taken the precautionary measure of beveling, was going on slowly but
irresistibly, and the tartan was upheaved fifty feet above the level of
the Gallian Sea, while the schooner, as being lighter, had been raised
to a still greater altitude.
So irresistible was this gradual process of elevation, so utterly
defying all human power to arrest, that the lieutenant began to feel
very anxious as to the safety of his yacht. With the exception of the
engine and the masts, everything had been cleared out and conveyed to
shore, but in the event of a thaw it appeared that nothing short of a
miracle could prevent the hull from being dashed to pieces, and then all
means of leaving the promontory would be gone. The -Hansa-, of course,
would share a similar fate; in fact, it had already heeled over to such
an extent as to render it quite dangerous for its obstinate owner, who,
at the peril of his life, resolved that he would stay where he could
watch over his all-precious cargo, though continually invoking curses on
the ill-fate of which he deemed himself the victim.
There was, however, a stronger will than Isaac Hakkabut’s. Although no
one of all the community cared at all for the safety of the Jew, they
cared very much for the security of his cargo, and when Servadac found
that nothing would induce the old man to abandon his present quarters
voluntarily, he very soon adopted measures of coercion that were far
more effectual than any representations of personal danger.
“Stop where you like, Hakkabut,” said the captain to him; “but
understand that I consider it my duty to make sure that your cargo is
taken care of. I am going to have it carried across to land, at once.”
Neither groans, nor tears, nor protestations on the part of the Jew,
were of the slightest avail. Forthwith, on the 20th of December, the
removal of the goods commenced.
Both Spaniards and Russians were all occupied for several days in the
work of unloading the tartan. Well muffled up as they were in furs, they
were able to endure the cold with impunity, making it their special care
to avoid actual contact with any article made of metal, which, in the
low state of the temperature, would inevitably have taken all the skin
off their hands, as much as if it had been red-hot. The task, however,
was brought to an end without accident of any kind; and when the stores
of the -Hansa- were safely deposited in the galleries of the Hive,
Lieutenant Procope avowed that he really felt that his mind had been
unburdened from a great anxiety.
Captain Servadac gave old Isaac full permission to take up his residence
amongst the rest of the community, promised him the entire control over
his own property, and altogether showed him so much consideration that,
but for his unbounded respect for his master, Ben Zoof would have
liked to reprimand him for his courtesy to a man whom he so cordially
despised.
Although Hakkabut clamored most vehemently about his goods being carried
off “against his will,” in his heart he was more than satisfied to see
his property transferred to a place of safety, and delighted, moreover,
to know that the transport had been effected without a farthing of
expense to himself. As soon, then, as he found the tartan empty, he was
only too glad to accept the offer that had been made him, and very soon
made his way over to the quarters in the gallery where his merchandise
had been stored. Here he lived day and night. He supplied himself with
what little food he required from his own stock of provisions, a small
spirit-lamp sufficing to perform all the operations of his meager
cookery. Consequently all intercourse between himself and the rest of
the inhabitants was entirely confined to business transactions, when
occasion required that some purchase should be made from his stock
of commodities. Meanwhile, all the silver and gold of the colony was
gradually finding its way to a double-locked drawer, of which the Jew
most carefully guarded the key.
The 1st of January was drawing near, the anniversary of the shock
which had resulted in the severance of thirty-six human beings from the
society of their fellow-men. Hitherto, not one of them was missing. The
unvarying calmness of the climate, notwithstanding the cold, had tended
to maintain them in good health, and there seemed no reason to doubt
that, when Gallia returned to the earth, the total of its little
population would still be complete.
The 1st of January, it is true, was not properly “New Year’s Day” in
Gallia, but Captain Servadac, nevertheless, was very anxious to have it
observed as a holiday.
“I do not think,” he said to Count Timascheff and Lieutenant Procope,
“that we ought to allow our people to lose their interest in the world
to which we are all hoping to return; and how can we cement the bond
that ought to unite us, better than by celebrating, in common with our
fellow-creatures upon earth, a day that awakens afresh the kindliest
sentiments of all? Besides,” he added, smiling, “I expect that Gallia,
although invisible just at present to the naked eye, is being closely
watched by the telescopes of our terrestrial friends, and I have no
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 125th 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.
CHAPTER XII. 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 discovered one which
he had every reason to believe abutted upon the central funnel. His
reason for coming to this conclusion was that the caloric emitted by the
rising vapors of the hot lava seemed to be oozing, as it were, out of
the tellurium, which had been demonstrated already to be a conductor
of heat. Only succeed in piercing through this rock for seven or eight
yards, and the lieutenant did not doubt that his way would be opened
into the old lava-course, by following which he hoped descent would be
easy.
Under the lieutenant’s direction the Russian sailors were immediately
set to work. Their former experience had convinced them that spades and
pick-axes were of no avail, and their sole resource was to proceed
by blasting with gunpowder. However skillfully the operation might be
carried on, it must necessarily occupy several days, and during that
time the sufferings from cold must be very severe.
“If we fail in our object, and cannot get to the depths of the mountain,
our little colony is doomed,” said Count Timascheff.
“That speech is not like yourself,” answered Servadac, smiling. “What
has become of the faith which has hitherto carried you so bravely
through all our difficulties?”
The count shook his head, as if in despair, and said, sadly, “The Hand
that has hitherto been outstretched to help seems now to be withdrawn.”
“But only to test our powers of endurance,” rejoined the captain,
earnestly. “Courage, my friend, courage! Something tells me that this
cessation of the eruption is only partial; the internal fire is not all
extinct. All is not over yet. It is too soon to give up; never despair!”
Lieutenant Procope quite concurred with the captain. Many causes, he
knew, besides the interruption of the influence of the oxygen upon the
mineral substances in Gallia’s interior, might account for the stoppage
of the lava-flow in this one particular spot, and he considered it more
than probable that a fresh outlet had been opened in some other part of
the surface, and that the eruptive matter had been diverted into the new
channel. But at present his business was to prosecute his labors so
that a retreat might be immediately effected from their now untenable
position.
Restless and agitated, Professor Rosette, if he took any interest in
these discussions, certainly took no share in them. He had brought his
telescope down from the observatory into the common hall, and there at
frequent intervals, by night and by day, he would endeavor to continue
his observations; but the intense cold perpetually compelled him to
desist, or he would literally have been frozen to death. No sooner,
however, did he find himself obliged to retreat from his study of the
heavens, than he would begin overwhelming everybody about him with
bitter complaints, pouring out his regrets that he had ever quitted his
quarters at Formentera.
On the 4th of January, by persevering industry, the process of boring
was completed, and the lieutenant could hear that fragments of the
blasted rock, as the sailors cleared them away with their spades, were
rolling into the funnel of the crater. He noticed, too, that they did
not fall perpendicularly, but seemed to slide along, from which he
inferred that the sides of the crater were sloping; he had therefore
reason to hope that a descent would be found practicable.
Larger and larger grew the orifice; at length it would admit a man’s
body, and Ben Zoof, carrying a torch, pushed himself through it,
followed by the lieutenant and Servadac. Procope’s conjecture proved
correct. On entering the crater, they found that the sides slanted at
the angle of about 4 degrees; moreover, the eruption had evidently been
of recent origin, dating probably only from the shock which had invested
Gallia with a proportion of the atmosphere of the earth, and beneath
the coating of ashes with which they were covered, there were various
irregularities in the rock, not yet worn away by the action of the lava,
and these afforded a tolerably safe footing.
“Rather a bad staircase!” said Ben Zoof, as they began to make their way
down.
In about half an hour, proceeding in a southerly direction, they had
descended nearly five hundred feet. From time to time they came
upon large excavations that at first sight had all the appearance of
galleries, but by waving his torch, Ben Zoof could always see their
extreme limits, and it was evident that the lower strata of the mountain
did not present the same system of ramification that rendered the Hive
above so commodious a residence.
It was not a time to be fastidious; they must be satisfied with such
accommodation as they could get, provided it was warm. Captain Servadac
was only too glad to find that his hopes about the temperature were to
a certain extent realized. The lower they went, the greater was the
diminution in the cold, a diminution that was far more rapid than that
which is experienced in making the descent of terrestrial mines. In
this case it was a volcano, not a colliery, that was the object of
exploration, and thankful enough they were to find that it had not
become extinct. Although the lava, from some unknown cause, had
ceased to rise in the crater, yet plainly it existed somewhere in an
incandescent state, and was still transmitting considerable heat to
inferior strata.
Lieutenant Procope had brought in his hand a mercurial thermometer,
and Servadac carried an aneroid barometer, by means of which he could
estimate the depth of their descent below the level of the Gallian Sea.
When they were six hundred feet below the orifice the mercury registered
a temperature of 6 degrees below zero.
“Six degrees!” said Servadac; “that will not suit us. At this low
temperature we could not survive the winter. We must try deeper down. I
only hope the ventilation will hold out.”
There was, however, nothing to fear on the score of ventilation.
The great current of air that rushed into the aperture penetrated
everywhere, and made respiration perfectly easy.
The descent was continued for about another three hundred feet, which
brought the explorers to a total depth of nine hundred feet from their
old quarters. Here the thermometer registered 12 degrees above zero--a
temperature which, if only it were permanent, was all they wanted. There
was no advantage in proceeding any further along the lava-course; they
could already hear the dull rumblings that indicated that they were at
no great distance from the central focus.
“Quite near enough for me!” exclaimed Ben Zoof. “Those who are chilly
are welcome to go as much lower as they like. For my part, I shall be
quite warm enough here.”
After throwing the gleams of torch-light in all directions, the
explorers seated themselves on a jutting rock, and began to debate
whether it was practicable for the colony to make an abode in these
lower depths of the mountain. The prospect, it must be owned, was not
inviting. The crater, it is true, widened out into a cavern sufficiently
large, but here its accommodation ended. Above and below were a few
ledges in the rock that would serve as receptacles for provisions; but,
with the exception of a small recess that must be reserved for Nina,
it was clear that henceforth they must all renounce the idea of
having separate apartments. The single cave must be their dining-room,
drawing-room, and dormitory, all in one. From living the life of rabbits
in a warren, they were reduced to the existence of moles, with the
difference that they could not, like them, forget their troubles in a
long winter’s sleep.
The cavern, however, was quite capable of being lighted by means of
lamps and lanterns. Among the stores were several barrels of oil and
a considerable quantity of spirits of wine, which might be burned when
required for cooking purposes. Moreover, it would be unnecessary for
them to confine themselves entirely to the seclusion of their gloomy
residence; well wrapped up, there would be nothing to prevent them
making occasional excursions both to the Hive and to the sea-shore. A
supply of fresh water would be constantly required; ice for this purpose
must be perpetually carried in from the coast, and it would be necessary
to arrange that everyone in turn should perform this office, as it would
be no sinecure to clamber up the sides of the crater for 900 feet, and
descend the same distance with a heavy burden.
But the emergency was great, and it was accordingly soon decided that
the little colony should forthwith take up its quarters in the cave.
After all, they said, they should hardly be much worse off than
thousands who annually winter in Arctic regions. On board the
whaling-vessels, and in the establishments of the Hudson’s Bay Company,
such luxuries as separate cabins or sleeping-chambers are never thought
of; one large apartment, well heated and ventilated, with as few corners
as possible, is considered far more healthy; and on board ship the
entire hold, and in forts a single floor, is appropriated to this
purpose. The recollection of this fact served to reconcile them, in a
great degree, to the change to which they felt it requisite to submit.
Having remounted the ascent, they made the result of their exploration
known to the mass of the community, who received the tidings with a
sense of relief, and cordially accepted the scheme of the migration.
The first step was to clear the cavern of its accumulation of ashes,
and then the labor of removal commenced in earnest. Never was a task
undertaken with greater zest. The fear of being to a certainty frozen
to death if they remained where they were, was a stimulus that
made everyone put forth all his energies. Beds, furniture, cooking
utensils--first the stores of the -Dobryna-, then the cargo of the
tartan--all were carried down with the greatest alacrity, and the
diminished weight combined with the downhill route to make the labor
proceed with incredible briskness.
Although Professor Rosette yielded to the pressure of circumstances,
and allowed himself to be conducted to the lower regions, nothing would
induce him to allow his telescope to be carried underground; and as it
was undeniable that it would certainly be of no service deep down in the
bowels of the mountain, it was allowed to remain undisturbed upon its
tripod in the great hall of Nina’s Hive.
As for Isaac Hakkabut, his outcry was beyond description lamentable.
Never, in the whole universe, had a merchant met with such reverses;
never had such a pitiable series of losses befallen an unfortunate man.
Regardless of the ridicule which his abject wretchedness excited, he
howled on still, and kept up an unending wail; but meanwhile he kept
a keen eye upon every article of his property, and amidst universal
laughter insisted on having every item registered in an inventory as it
was transferred to its appointed place of safety. Servadac considerately
allowed the whole of the cargo to be deposited in a hollow apart by
itself, over which the Jew was permitted to keep a watch as vigilant as
he pleased.
By the 10th the removal was accomplished. Rescued, at all events, from
the exposure to a perilous temperature of 60 degrees below zero, the
community was installed in its new home. The large cave was lighted by
the -Dobryna’s- lamps, while several lanterns, suspended at intervals
along the acclivity that led to their deserted quarters above, gave
a weird picturesqueness to the scene, that might vie with any of the
graphic descriptions of the “Arabian Nights’ Entertainments.”
“How do you like this, Nina?” said Ben Zoof.
“-Va bene!-” replied the child. “We are only living in the cellars
instead of upon the ground floor.”
“We will try and make ourselves comfortable,” said the orderly.
“Oh yes, we will be happy here,” rejoined the child; “it is nice and
warm.”
Although they were as careful as they could to conceal their misgivings
from the rest, Servadac and his two friends could not regard their
present situation without distrust. When alone, they would frequently
ask each other what would become of them all, if the volcanic heat
should really be subsiding, or if some unexpected perturbation should
retard the course of the comet, and compel them to an indefinitely
prolonged residence in their grim abode. It was scarcely likely that the
comet could supply the fuel of which ere long they would be in urgent
need. Who could expect to find coal in the bowels of Gallia,--coal,
which is the residuum of ancient forests mineralized by the lapse of
ages? Would not the lava-cinders exhumed from the extinct volcano be
their last poor resource?
“Keep up your spirits, my friends,” said Servadac; “we have plenty of
time before us at present. Let us hope that as fresh difficulties arise,
fresh ways of escape will open. Never despair!”
“True,” said the count; “it is an old saying that ‘Necessity is the
mother of invention.’ Besides, I should think it very unlikely that the
internal heat will fail us now before the summer.”
The lieutenant declared that he entertained the same hope. As the reason
of his opinion he alleged that the combustion of the eruptive matter
was most probably of quite recent origin, because the comet before
its collision with the earth had possessed no atmosphere, and that
consequently no oxygen could have penetrated to its interior.
“Most likely you are right,” replied the count; “and so far from
dreading a failure of the internal heat, I am not quite sure that we may
not be exposed to a more terrible calamity still?”
“What?” asked Servadac.
“The calamity of the eruption breaking out suddenly again, and taking us
by surprise.”
“Heavens!” cried the captain, “we will not think of that.”
“The outbreak may happen again,” said the lieutenant, calmly; “but
it will be our fault, our own lack of vigilance, if we are taken by
surprise.” And so the conversation dropped.
The 15th of January dawned; and the comet was 220,000,000 leagues from
the sun.
Gallia had reached its aphelion.
CHAPTER XIII. DREARY MONTHS
Henceforth, then, with a velocity ever increasing, Gallia would
re-approach the sun.
Except the thirteen Englishmen who had been left at Gibraltar, every
living creature had taken refuge in the dark abyss of the volcano’s
crater.
And with those Englishmen, how had it fared?
“Far better than with ourselves,” was the sentiment that would have
been universally accepted in Nina’s Hive. And there was every reason
to conjecture that so it was. The party at Gibraltar, they all agreed,
would not, like themselves, have been compelled to have recourse to
a stream of lava for their supply of heat; they, no doubt, had had
abundance of fuel as well as food; and in their solid casemate, with its
substantial walls, they would find ample shelter from the rigor of the
cold. The time would have been passed at least in comfort, and perhaps
in contentment; and Colonel Murphy and Major Oliphant would have had
leisure more than sufficient for solving the most abstruse problems of
the chess-board. All of them, too, would be happy in the confidence that
when the time should come, England would have full meed of praise to
award to the gallant soldiers who had adhered so well and so manfully to
their post.
It did, indeed, more than once occur to the minds both of Servadac
and his friends that, if their condition should become one of extreme
emergency, they might, as a last resource, betake themselves to
Gibraltar, and there seek a refuge; but their former reception had
not been of the kindest, and they were little disposed to renew an
acquaintanceship that was marked by so little cordiality. Not in the
least that they would expect to meet with any inhospitable rebuff. Far
from that; they knew well enough that Englishmen, whatever their faults,
would be the last to abandon their fellow-creatures in the hour of
distress. Nevertheless, except the necessity became far more urgent than
it had hitherto proved, they resolved to endeavor to remain in their
present quarters. Up till this time no casualties had diminished
their original number, but to undertake so long a journey across that
unsheltered expanse of ice could scarcely fail to result in the loss of
some of their party.
However great was the desire to find a retreat for every living thing
in the deep hollow of the crater, it was found necessary to slaughter
almost all the domestic animals before the removal of the community from
Nina’s Hive. To have stabled them all in the cavern below would have
been quite impossible, whilst to have left them in the upper galleries
would only have been to abandon them to a cruel death; and since meat
could be preserved for an indefinite time in the original store-places,
now colder than ever, the expedient of killing the animals seemed to
recommend itself as equally prudent and humane.
Naturally the captain and Ben Zoof were most anxious that their favorite
horses should be saved, and accordingly, by dint of the greatest care,
all difficulties in the way were overcome, and Zephyr and Galette were
conducted down the crater, where they were installed in a large hole and
provided with forage, which was still abundant.
Birds, subsisting only on scraps thrown out to them did not cease to
follow the population in its migration, and so numerous did they become
that multitudes of them had repeatedly to be destroyed.
The general re-arrangement of the new residence was no easy business,
and occupied so much time that the end of January arrived before they
could be said to be fairly settled. And then began a life of dreary
monotony. Then seemed to creep over everyone a kind of moral torpor
as well as physical lassitude, which Servadac, the count, and the
lieutenant did their best not only to combat in themselves, but
to counteract in the general community. They provided a variety of
intellectual pursuits; they instituted debates in which everybody was
encouraged to take part; they read aloud, and explained extracts from
the elementary manuals of science, or from the books of adventurous
travel which their library supplied; and Russians and Spaniards, day
after day, might be seen gathered round the large table, giving their
best attention to instruction which should send them back to Mother
Earth less ignorant than they had left her.
Selfish and morose, Hakkabut could never be induced to be present
at these social gatherings. He was far too much occupied in his own
appropriated corner, either in conning his accounts, or in counting his
money. Altogether, with what he had before, he now possessed the round
sum of 150,000 francs, half of which was in sterling gold; but nothing
could give him any satisfaction while he knew that the days were
passing, and that he was denied the opportunity of putting out his
capital in advantageous investments, or securing a proper interest.
Neither did Palmyrin Rosette find leisure to take any share in the
mutual intercourse. His occupation was far too absorbing for him to
suffer it to be interrupted, and to him, living as he did perpetually in
a world of figures, the winter days seemed neither long nor wearisome.
Having ascertained every possible particular about his comet, he was now
devoting himself with equal ardor to the analysis of all the properties
of the satellite Nerina, to which he appeared to assert the same claim
of proprietorship.
In order to investigate Nerina it was indispensable that he should make
several actual observations at various points of the orbit; and for this
purpose he repeatedly made his way up to the grotto above, where, in
spite of the extreme severity of the cold, he would persevere in the use
of his telescope till he was all but paralyzed. But what he felt more
than anything was the want of some retired apartment, where he could
pursue his studies without hindrance or intrusion.
It was about the beginning of February, when the professor brought his
complaint to Captain Servadac, and begged him to assign him a chamber,
no matter how small, in which he should be free to carry on his task in
silence and without molestation. So readily did Servadac promise to do
everything in his power to provide him with the accommodation for which
he asked, that the professor was put into such a manifest good temper
that the captain ventured to speak upon the matter that was ever
uppermost in his mind.
“I do not mean,” he began timidly, “to cast the least imputation of
inaccuracy upon any of your calculations, but would you allow me, my
dear professor, to suggest that you should revise your estimate of the
duration of Gallia’s period of revolution. It is so important, you know,
so all important; the difference of one half minute, you know, would so
certainly mar the expectation of reunion with the earth--”
And seeing a cloud gathering on Rosette’s face, he added:
“I am sure Lieutenant Procope would be only too happy to render you any
assistance in the revision.”
“Sir,” said the professor, bridling up, “I want no assistant; my
calculations want no revision. I never make an error. I have made my
reckoning as far as Gallia is concerned. I am now making a like estimate
of the elements of Nerina.”
Conscious how impolitic it would be to press this matter further, the
captain casually remarked that he should have supposed that all the
elements of Nerina had been calculated long since by astronomers on the
earth. It was about as unlucky a speech as he could possibly have made.
The professor glared at him fiercely.
“Astounding, sir!” he exclaimed. “Yes! Nerina was a planet then;
everything that appertained to the planet was determined; but Nerina is
a moon now. And do you not think, sir, that we have a right to know as
much about our moon as those -terrestrials-”--and he curled his lip as
he spoke with a contemptuous emphasis--“know of theirs?”
“I beg pardon,” said the corrected captain.
“Well then, never mind,” replied the professor, quickly appeased; “only
will you have the goodness to get me a proper place for study?”
“I will, as I promised, do all I can,” answered Servadac.
“Very good,” said the professor. “No immediate hurry; an hour hence will
do.”
But in spite of this condescension on the part of the man of science,
some hours had to elapse before any place of retreat could be discovered
likely to suit his requirements; but at length a little nook was found
in the side of the cavern just large enough to hold an armchair and
a table, and in this the astronomer was soon ensconced to his entire
satisfaction.
Buried thus, nearly 900 feet below ground, the Gallians ought to have
had unbounded mental energy to furnish an adequate reaction to the
depressing monotony of their existence; but many days would often elapse
without any one of them ascending to the surface of the soil, and had
it not been for the necessity of obtaining fresh water, it seemed almost
probable that there would never have been an effort made to leave the
cavern at all.
A few excursions, it is true, were made in the downward direction. The
three leaders, with Ben Zoof, made their way to the lower depths of the
crater, not with the design of making any further examination as to
the nature of the rock--for although it might be true enough that it
contained thirty per cent. of gold, it was as valueless to them as
granite--but with the intention of ascertaining whether the subterranean
fire still retained its activity. Satisfied upon this point, they came
to the conclusion that the eruption which had so suddenly ceased in one
spot had certainly broken out in another.
February, March, April, May, passed wearily by; but day succeeded to day
with such gloomy sameness that it was little wonder that no notice was
taken of the lapse of time. The people seemed rather to vegetate than
to live, and their want of vigor became at times almost alarming. The
readings around the long table ceased to be attractive, and the debates,
sustained by few, became utterly wanting in animation. The Spaniards
could hardly be roused to quit their beds, and seemed to have scarcely
energy enough to eat. The Russians, constitutionally of more enduring
temperament, did not give way to the same extent, but the long and drear
confinement was beginning to tell upon them all. Servadac, the count,
and the lieutenant all knew well enough that it was the want of air and
exercise that was the cause of much of this mental depression; but
what could they do? The most serious remonstrances on their part were
entirely in vain. In fact, they themselves occasionally fell a prey
to the same lassitude both of body and mind. Long fits of drowsiness,
combined with an utter aversion to food, would come over them. It almost
seemed as if their entire nature had become degenerate, and that, like
tortoises, they could sleep and fast till the return of summer.
Strange to say, little Nina bore her hardships more bravely than any
of them. Flitting about, coaxing one to eat, another to drink, rousing
Pablo as often as he seemed yielding to the common languor, the child
became the life of the party. Her merry prattle enlivened the gloom of
the grim cavern like the sweet notes of a bird; her gay Italian songs
broke the monotony of the depressing silence; and almost unconscious as
the half-dormant population of Gallia were of her influence, they still
would have missed her bright presence sorely. The months still glided
on; how, it seemed impossible for the inhabitants of the living tomb to
say. There was a dead level of dullness.
At the beginning of June the general torpor appeared slightly to relax
its hold upon its victims. This partial revival was probably due to the
somewhat increased influence of the sun, still far, far away. During
the first half of the Gallian year, Lieutenant Procope had taken careful
note of Rosette’s monthly announcements of the comet’s progress, and he
was able now, without reference to the professor, to calculate the rate
of advance on its way back towards the sun. He found that Gallia had
re-crossed the orbit of Jupiter, but was still at the enormous distance
of 197,000,000 leagues from the sun, and he reckoned that in about four
months it would have entered the zone of the telescopic planets.
Gradually, but uninterruptedly, life and spirits continued to revive,
and by the end of the month Servadac and his little colony had regained
most of their ordinary physical and mental energies. Ben Zoof, in
particular, roused himself with redoubled vigor, like a giant refreshed
from his slumbers. The visits, consequently, to the long-neglected
galleries of Nina’s Hive became more and more frequent.
One day an excursion was made to the shore. It was still bitterly cold,
but the atmosphere had lost nothing of its former stillness, and not a
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