by a faint bleating, and immediately afterwards a solitary she-goat came
bounding towards the shore. The creature had dark, almost black hair,
and small curved horns, and was a specimen of that domestic breed which,
with considerable justice, has gained for itself the title of “the poor
man’s cow.” So far from being alarmed at the presence of strangers, the
goat ran nimbly towards them, and then, by its movements and plaintive
cries, seemed to be enticing them to follow it.
“Come,” said Servadac; “let us see where it will lead us; it is more
than probable it is not alone.”
The count agreed; and the animal, as if comprehending what was said,
trotted on gently for about a hundred paces, and stopped in front of a
kind of cave or burrow that was half concealed by a grove of lentisks.
Here a little girl, seven or eight years of age, with rich brown hair
and lustrous dark eyes, beautiful as one of Murillo’s angels, was
peeping shyly through the branches. Apparently discovering nothing
in the aspect of the strangers to excite her apprehensions, the child
suddenly gained confidence, darted forwards with outstretched hands, and
in a voice, soft and melodious as the language which she spoke, said in
Italian:
“I like you; you will not hurt me, will you?”
“Hurt you, my child?” answered Servadac. “No, indeed; we will be your
friends; we will take care of you.”
And after a few moments’ scrutiny of the pretty maiden, he added:
“Tell us your name, little one.”
“Nina!” was the child’s reply.
“Well, then, Nina, can you tell us where we are?”
“At Madalena, I think,” said the little girl; “at least, I know I was
there when that dreadful shock came and altered everything.”
The count knew that Madalena was close to Caprera, to the north of
Sardinia, which had entirely disappeared in the disaster. By dint of a
series of questions, he gained from the child a very intelligent account
of her experiences. She told him that she had no parents, and had been
employed in taking care of a flock of goats belonging to one of the
landowners, when one day, all of a sudden, everything around her, except
this little piece of land, had been swallowed up, and that she and
Marzy, her pet goat, had been left quite alone. She went on to say that
at first she had been very frightened; but when she found that the earth
did not shake any more, she had thanked the great God, and had soon made
herself very happy living with Marzy. She had enough food, she said, and
had been waiting for a boat to fetch her, and now a boat had come and
she was quite ready to go away; only they must let her goat go with her:
they would both like so much to get back to the old farm.
“Here, at least, is one nice little inhabitant of Gallia,” said Captain
Servadac, as he caressed the child and conducted her to the boat.
Half an hour later, both Nina and Marzy were safely quartered on board
the yacht. It is needless to say that they received the heartiest of
welcomes. The Russian sailors, ever superstitious, seemed almost to
regard the coming of the child as the appearance of an angel; and,
incredible as it may seem, more than one of them wondered whether she
had wings, and amongst themselves they commonly referred to her as “the
little Madonna.”
Soon out of sight of Madalena, the -Dobryna- for some hours held a
southeasterly course along the shore, which here was fifty leagues in
advance of the former coast-line of Italy, demonstrating that a new
continent must have been formed, substituted as it were for the old
peninsula, of which not a vestige could be identified. At a latitude
corresponding with the latitude of Rome, the sea took the form of a deep
gulf, extending back far beyond the site of the Eternal City; the
coast making a wide sweep round to the former position of Calabria, and
jutting far beyond the outline of “the boot,” which Italy resembles.
But the beacon of Messina was not to be discerned; no trace, indeed,
survived of any portion of Sicily; the very peak of Etna, 11,000 feet as
it had reared itself above the level of the sea, had vanished utterly.
Another sixty leagues to the south, and the -Dobryna- sighted the
entrance of the strait which had afforded her so providential a refuge
from the tempest, and had conducted her to the fragmentary relic of
Gibraltar. Hence to the Gulf of Cabes had been already explored, and as
it was universally allowed that it was unnecessary to renew the search
in that direction, the lieutenant started off in a transverse course,
towards a point hitherto uninvestigated. That point was reached on the
3rd of March, and thence the coast was continuously followed, as it led
through what had been Tunis, across the province of Constantine, away
to the oasis of Ziban; where, taking a sharp turn, it first reached a
latitude of 32 degrees, and then returned again, thus forming a sort
of irregular gulf, enclosed by the same unvarying border of mineral
concrete. This colossal boundary then stretched away for nearly 150
leagues over the Sahara desert, and, extending to the south of Gourbi
Island, occupied what, if Morocco had still existed, would have been its
natural frontier.
Adapting her course to these deviations of the coastline, the -Dobryna-
was steering northwards, and had barely reached the limit of the bay,
when the attention of all on board was arrested by the phenomenon of a
volcano, at least 3,000 feet high, its crater crowned with smoke, which
occasionally was streaked by tongues of flame.
“A burning mountain!” they exclaimed.
“Gallia, then, has some internal heat,” said Servadac.
“And why not, captain?” rejoined the lieutenant. “If our asteroid has
carried with it a portion of the old earth’s atmosphere, why should it
not likewise retain something of its central fire?”
“Ah, well!” said the captain, shrugging his shoulders, “I dare say
there is caloric enough in our little world to supply the wants of its
population.”
Count Timascheff interrupted the silence that followed this conversation
by saying, “And now, gentlemen, as our course has brought us on our
way once more towards Gibraltar, what do you say to our renewing our
acquaintance with the Englishmen? They will be interested in the result
of our voyage.”
“For my part,” said Servadac, “I have no desire that way. They know
where to find Gourbi Island; they can betake themselves thither just
when they please. They have plenty of provisions. If the water freezes,
120 leagues is no very great distance. The reception they gave us was
not so cordial that we need put ourselves out of the way to repeat our
visit.”
“What you say is too true,” replied the count. “I hope we shall show
them better manners when they condescend to visit us.”
“Ay,” said Servadac, “we must remember that we are all one people now;
no longer Russian, French, or English. Nationality is extinct.”
“I am sadly afraid, however,” continued the count, “that an Englishman
will be an Englishman ever.”
“Yes,” said the captain, “that is always their failing.”
And thus all further thought of making their way again to the little
garrison of Gibraltar was abandoned.
But even if their spirit of courtesy had disposed them to renew their
acquaintance with the British officers, there were two circumstances
that just then would have rendered such a proposal very unadvisable. In
the first place, Lieutenant Procope was convinced that it could not be
much longer now before the sea would be entirely frozen; and, besides
this, the consumption of their coal, through the speed they had
maintained, had been so great that there was only too much reason
to fear that fuel would fail them. Anyhow, the strictest economy was
necessary, and it was accordingly resolved that the voyage should not be
much prolonged. Beyond the volcanic peak, moreover, the waters seemed to
expand into a boundless ocean, and it might be a thing full of risk to
be frozen up while the yacht was so inadequately provisioned. Taking
all these things into account, it was agreed that further investigations
should be deferred to a more favorable season, and that, without delay,
the -Dobryna- should return to Gourbi Island.
This decision was especially welcome to Hector Servadac, who, throughout
the whole of the last five weeks, had been agitated by much anxious
thought on account of the faithful servant he had left behind.
The transit from the volcano to the island was not long, and was marked
by only one noticeable incident. This was the finding of a second
mysterious document, in character precisely similar to what they had
found before. The writer of it was evidently engaged upon a calculation,
probably continued from day to day, as to the motions of the planet
Gallia upon its orbit, and committing the results of his reckonings to
the waves as the channel of communication.
Instead of being enclosed in a telescope-case, it was this time secured
in a preserved-meat tin, hermetically sealed, and stamped with the same
initials on the wax that fastened it. The greatest care was used in
opening it, and it was found to contain the following message:
“Gallia Ab sole, au 1 mars, dist. 78,000,000 l.! Chemin parcouru de fev.
a mars: 59,000,000 1.! -Va bene! All right! Nil desperandum!-
“Enchante!”
“Another enigma!” exclaimed Servadac; “and still no intelligible
signature, and no address. No clearing up of the mystery!”
“I have no doubt, in my own mind,” said the count, “that it is one of a
series. It seems to me probable that they are being sent broadcast upon
the sea.”
“I wonder where the hare-brained -savant- that writes them can be
living?” observed Servadac.
“Very likely he may have met with the fate of AEsop’s abstracted
astronomer, who found himself at the bottom of a well.”
“Ay; but where -is- that well?” demanded the captain.
This was a question which the count was incapable of settling; and they
could only speculate afresh as to whether the author of the riddles was
dwelling upon some solitary island, or, like themselves, was navigating
the waters of the new Mediterranean. But they could detect nothing to
guide them to a definite decision.
After thoughtfully regarding the document for some time. Lieutenant
Procope proceeded to observe that he believed the paper might be
considered as genuine, and accordingly, taking its statements as
reliable, he deduced two important conclusions: first, that whereas,
in the month of January, the distance traveled by the planet
(hypothetically called Gallia) had been recorded as 82,000,000 leagues,
the distance traveled in February was only 59,000,000 leagues--a
difference of 23,000,000 leagues in one month; secondly, that the
distance of the planet from the sun, which on the 15th of February had
been 59,000,000 leagues, was on the 1st of March 78,000,000 leagues--an
increase of 19,000,000 leagues in a fortnight. Thus, in proportion as
Gallia receded from the sun, so did the rate of speed diminish by which
she traveled along her orbit; facts to be observed in perfect conformity
with the known laws of celestial mechanism.
“And your inference?” asked the count.
“My inference,” replied the lieutenant, “is a confirmation of my surmise
that we are following an orbit decidedly elliptical, although we have
not yet the material to determine its eccentricity.”
“As the writer adheres to the appellation of Gallia, do you not think,”
asked the count, “that we might call these new waters the Gallian Sea?”
“There can be no reason to the contrary, count,” replied the lieutenant;
“and as such I will insert it upon my new chart.”
“Our friend,” said Servadac, “seems to be more and more gratified
with the condition of things; not only has he adopted our motto, ‘-Nil
desperandum!-’ but see how enthusiastically he has wound up with his
‘-Enchante!-’”
The conversation dropped.
A few hours later the man on watch announced that Gourbi Island was in
sight.
CHAPTER XVIII. AN UNEXPECTED POPULATION
The -Dobryna- was now back again at the island. Her cruise had lasted
from the 31st of January to the 5th of March, a period of thirty-five
days (for it was leap year), corresponding to seventy days as
accomplished by the new little world.
Many a time during his absence Hector Servadac had wondered how his
present vicissitudes would end, and he had felt some misgivings as
to whether he should ever again set foot upon the island, and see
his faithful orderly, so that it was not without emotion that he had
approached the coast of the sole remaining fragment of Algerian soil.
But his apprehensions were groundless; Gourbi Island was just as he had
left it, with nothing unusual in its aspect, except that a very peculiar
cloud was hovering over it, at an altitude of little more than a hundred
feet. As the yacht approached the shore, this cloud appeared to rise and
fall as if acted upon by some invisible agency, and the captain, after
watching it carefully, perceived that it was not an accumulation of
vapors at all, but a dense mass of birds packed as closely together as
a swarm of herrings, and uttering deafening and discordant cries,
amidst which from time to time the noise of the report of a gun could be
plainly distinguished.
The -Dobryna- signalized her arrival by firing her cannon, and dropped
anchor in the little port of the Shelif. Almost within a minute Ben Zoof
was seen running, gun in hand, towards the shore; he cleared the last
ridge of rocks at a single bound, and then suddenly halted. For a
few seconds he stood motionless, his eyes fixed, as if obeying the
instructions of a drill sergeant, on a point some fifteen yards distant,
his whole attitude indicating submission and respect; but the sight
of the captain, who was landing, was too much for his equanimity, and
darting forward, he seized his master’s hand and covered it with kisses.
Instead, however, of uttering any expressions of welcome or rejoicing
at the captain’s return, Ben Zoof broke out into the most vehement
ejaculations.
“Thieves, captain! beastly thieves! Bedouins! pirates! devils!”
“Why, Ben Zoof, what’s the matter?” said Servadac soothingly.
“They are thieves! downright, desperate thieves! those infernal birds!
That’s what’s the matter. It is a good thing you have come. Here have
I for a whole month been spending my powder and shot upon them, and the
more I kill them, the worse they get; and yet, if I were to leave them
alone, we should not have a grain of corn upon the island.”
It was soon evident that the orderly had only too much cause for alarm.
The crops had ripened rapidly during the excessive heat of January, when
the orbit of Gallia was being traversed at its perihelion, and were now
exposed to the depredations of many thousands of birds; and although
a goodly number of stacks attested the industry of Ben Zoof during
the time of the -Dobryna-‘s voyage, it was only too apparent that the
portion of the harvest that remained ungathered was liable to the most
imminent risk of being utterly devoured. It was, perhaps, only natural
that this clustered mass of birds, as representing the whole of the
feathered tribe upon the surface of Gallia, should resort to Gourbi
Island, of which the meadows seemed to be the only spot from which they
could get sustenance at all; but as this sustenance would be obtained
at the expense, and probably to the serious detriment, of the human
population, it was absolutely necessary that every possible resistance
should be made to the devastation that was threatened.
Once satisfied that Servadac and his friends would cooperate with him in
the raid upon “the thieves,” Ben Zoof became calm and content, and began
to make various inquiries. “And what has become,” he said, “of all our
old comrades in Africa?”
“As far as I can tell you,” answered the captain, “they are all in
Africa still; only Africa isn’t by any means where we expected to find
it.”
“And France? Montmartre?” continued Ben Zoof eagerly. Here was the cry
of the poor fellow’s heart.
As briefly as he could, Servadac endeavored to explain the true
condition of things; he tried to communicate the fact that Paris,
France, Europe, nay, the whole world was more than eighty millions of
leagues away from Gourbi Island; as gently and cautiously as he could
he expressed his fear that they might never see Europe, France, Paris,
Montmartre again.
“No, no, sir!” protested Ben Zoof emphatically; “that is all nonsense.
It is altogether out of the question to suppose that we are not to see
Montmartre again.” And the orderly shook his head resolutely, with the
air of a man determined, in spite of argument, to adhere to his own
opinion.
“Very good, my brave fellow,” replied Servadac, “hope on, hope while you
may. The message has come to us over the sea, ‘Never despair’; but one
thing, nevertheless, is certain; we must forthwith commence arrangements
for making this island our permanent home.”
Captain Servadac now led the way to the gourbi, which, by his servant’s
exertions, had been entirely rebuilt; and here he did the honors of his
modest establishment to his two guests, the count and the lieutenant,
and gave a welcome, too, to little Nina, who had accompanied them on
shore, and between whom and Ben Zoof the most friendly relations had
already been established.
The adjacent building continued in good preservation, and Captain
Servadac’s satisfaction was very great in finding the two horses, Zephyr
and Galette, comfortably housed there and in good condition.
After the enjoyment of some refreshment, the party proceeded to a
general consultation as to what steps must be taken for their future
welfare. The most pressing matter that came before them was the
consideration of the means to be adopted to enable the inhabitants of
Gallia to survive the terrible cold, which, in their ignorance of the
true eccentricity of their orbit, might, for aught they knew, last for
an almost indefinite period. Fuel was far from abundant; of coal there
was none; trees and shrubs were few in number, and to cut them down in
prospect of the cold seemed a very questionable policy; but there was
no doubt some expedient must be devised to prevent disaster, and that
without delay.
The victualing of the little colony offered no immediate difficulty.
Water was abundant, and the cisterns could hardly fail to be replenished
by the numerous streams that meandered along the plains; moreover, the
Gallian Sea would ere long be frozen over, and the melted ice (water
in its congealed state being divested of every particle of salt) would
afford a supply of drink that could not be exhausted. The crops that
were now ready for the harvest, and the flocks and herds scattered over
the island, would form an ample reserve. There was little doubt that
throughout the winter the soil would remain unproductive, and no fresh
fodder for domestic animals could then be obtained; it would therefore
be necessary, if the exact duration of Gallia’s year should ever be
calculated, to proportion the number of animals to be reserved to the
real length of the winter.
The next thing requisite was to arrive at a true estimate of the
number of the population. Without including the thirteen Englishmen at
Gibraltar, about whom he was not particularly disposed to give himself
much concern at present, Servadac put down the names of the eight
Russians, the two Frenchman, and the little Italian girl, eleven in all,
as the entire list of the inhabitants of Gourbi Island.
“Oh, pardon me,” interposed Ben Zoof, “you are mistaking the state of
the case altogether. You will be surprised to learn that the total of
people on the island is double that. It is twenty-two.”
“Twenty-two!” exclaimed the captain; “twenty-two people on this island?
What do you mean?”
“The opportunity has not occurred,” answered Ben Zoof, “for me to tell
you before, but I have had company.”
“Explain yourself, Ben Zoof,” said Servadac. “What company have you
had?”
“You could not suppose,” replied the orderly, “that my own unassisted
hands could have accomplished all that harvest work that you see has
been done.”
“I confess,” said Lieutenant Procope, “we do not seem to have noticed
that.”
“Well, then,” said Ben Zoof, “if you will be good enough to come with me
for about a mile, I shall be able to show you my companions. But we must
take our guns.”
“Why take our guns?” asked Servadac. “I hope we are not going to fight.”
“No, not with men,” said Ben Zoof; “but it does not answer to throw a
chance away for giving battle to those thieves of birds.”
Leaving little Nina and her goat in the gourbi, Servadac, Count
Timascheff, and the lieutenant, greatly mystified, took up their guns
and followed the orderly. All along their way they made unsparing
slaughter of the birds that hovered over and around them. Nearly every
species of the feathered tribe seemed to have its representative in that
living cloud. There were wild ducks in thousands; snipe, larks, rooks,
and swallows; a countless variety of sea-birds--widgeons, gulls, and
seamews; beside a quantity of game--quails, partridges, and woodcocks.
The sportsmen did their best; every shot told; and the depredators fell
by dozens on either hand.
Instead of following the northern shore of the island, Ben Zoof cut
obliquely across the plain. Making their progress with the unwonted
rapidity which was attributable to their specific lightness, Servadac
and his companions soon found themselves near a grove of sycamores and
eucalyptus massed in picturesque confusion at the base of a little hill.
Here they halted.
“Ah! the vagabonds! the rascals! the thieves!” suddenly exclaimed Ben
Zoof, stamping his foot with rage.
“How now? Are your friends the birds at their pranks again?” asked the
captain.
“No, I don’t mean the birds: I mean those lazy beggars that are shirking
their work. Look here; look there!” And as Ben Zoof spoke, he pointed
to some scythes, and sickles, and other implements of husbandry that had
been left upon the ground.
“What is it you mean?” asked Servadac, getting somewhat impatient.
“Hush, hush! listen!” was all Ben Zoof’s reply; and he raised his finger
as if in warning.
Listening attentively, Servadac and his associates could distinctly
recognize a human voice, accompanied by the notes of a guitar and by the
measured click of castanets.
“Spaniards!” said Servadac.
“No mistake about that, sir,” replied Ben Zoof; “a Spaniard would rattle
his castanets at the cannon’s mouth.”
“But what is the meaning of it all?” asked the captain, more puzzled
than before.
“Hark!” said Ben Zoof; “it is the old man’s turn.”
And then a voice, at once gruff and harsh, was heard vociferating, “My
money! my money! when will you pay me my money? Pay me what you owe me,
you miserable majos.”
Meanwhile the song continued:
-“Tu sandunga y cigarro,
Y una cana de Jerez,
Mi jamelgo y un trabuco,
Que mas gloria puede haver?”-
Servadac’s knowledge of Gascon enabled him partially to comprehend the
rollicking tenor of the Spanish patriotic air, but his attention was
again arrested by the voice of the old man growling savagely, “Pay me
you shall; yes, by the God of Abraham, you shall pay me.”
“A Jew!” exclaimed Servadac.
“Ay, sir, a German Jew,” said Ben Zoof.
The party was on the point of entering the thicket, when a singular
spectacle made them pause. A group of Spaniards had just begun dancing
their national fandango, and the extraordinary lightness which had
become the physical property of every object in the new planet made
the dancers bound to a height of thirty feet or more into the air,
considerably above the tops of the trees. What followed was irresistibly
comic. Four sturdy majos had dragged along with them an old man
incapable of resistance, and compelled him, -nolens volens-, to join
in the dance; and as they all kept appearing and disappearing above the
bank of foliage, their grotesque attitudes, combined with the pitiable
countenance of their helpless victim, could not do otherwise than recall
most forcibly the story of Sancho Panza tossed in a blanket by the merry
drapers of Segovia.
Servadac, the count, Procope, and Ben Zoof now proceeded to make their
way through the thicket until they came to a little glade, where two men
were stretched idly on the grass, one of them playing the guitar, and
the other a pair of castanets; both were exploding with laughter, as
they urged the performers to greater and yet greater exertions in
the dance. At the sight of strangers they paused in their music, and
simultaneously the dancers, with their victim, alighted gently on the
sward.
Breathless and half exhausted as was the Jew, he rushed with an effort
towards Servadac, and exclaimed in French, marked by a strong Teutonic
accent, “Oh, my lord governor, help me, help! These rascals defraud me
of my rights; they rob me; but, in the name of the God of Israel, I ask
you to see justice done!”
The captain glanced inquiringly towards Ben Zoof, and the orderly, by a
significant nod, made his master understand that he was to play the part
that was implied by the title. He took the cue, and promptly ordered
the Jew to hold his tongue at once. The man bowed his head in servile
submission, and folded his hands upon his breast.
Servadac surveyed him leisurely. He was a man of about fifty, but from
his appearance might well have been taken for at least ten years older.
Small and skinny, with eyes bright and cunning, a hooked nose, a short
yellow beard, unkempt hair, huge feet, and long bony hands, he presented
all the typical characteristics of the German Jew, the heartless, wily
usurer, the hardened miser and skinflint. As iron is attracted by the
magnet, so was this Shylock attracted by the sight of gold, nor would he
have hesitated to draw the life-blood of his creditors, if by such means
he could secure his claims.
His name was Isaac Hakkabut, and he was a native of Cologne. Nearly the
whole of his time, however, he informed Captain Servadac, had been spent
upon the sea, his real business being that of a merchant trading at all
the ports of the Mediterranean. A tartan, a small vessel of two hundred
tons burden, conveyed his entire stock of merchandise, and, to say the
truth, was a sort of floating emporium, conveying nearly every possible
article of commerce, from a lucifer match to the radiant fabrics of
Frankfort and Epinal. Without wife or children, and having no settled
home, Isaac Hakkabut lived almost entirely on board the -Hansa-, as he
had named his tartan; and engaging a mate, with a crew of three men, as
being adequate to work so light a craft, he cruised along the coasts of
Algeria, Tunis, Egypt, Turkey, and Greece, visiting, moreover, most of
the harbors of the Levant. Careful to be always well supplied with the
products in most general demand--coffee, sugar, rice, tobacco, cotton
stuffs, and gunpowder--and being at all times ready to barter, and
prepared to deal in secondhand wares, he had contrived to amass
considerable wealth.
On the eventful night of the 1st of January the -Hansa- had been at
Ceuta, the point on the coast of Morocco exactly opposite Gibraltar. The
mate and three sailors had all gone on shore, and, in common with
many of their fellow-creatures, had entirely disappeared; but the
most projecting rock of Ceuta had been undisturbed by the general
catastrophe, and half a score of Spaniards, who had happened to be
upon it, had escaped with their lives. They were all Andalusian majos,
agricultural laborers, and naturally as careless and apathetic as men of
their class usually are, but they could not help being very considerably
embarrassed when they discovered that they were left in solitude upon
a detached and isolated rock. They took what mutual counsel they could,
but became only more and more perplexed. One of them was named Negrete,
and he, as having traveled somewhat more than the rest, was tacitly
recognized as a sort of leader; but although he was by far the most
enlightened of them all, he was quite incapable of forming the least
conception of the nature of what had occurred. The one thing upon which
they could not fail to be conscious was that they had no prospect of
obtaining provisions, and consequently their first business was to
devise a scheme for getting away from their present abode. The -Hansa-
was lying off shore. The Spaniards would not have had the slightest
hesitation in summarily taking possession of her, but their utter
ignorance of seamanship made them reluctantly come to the conclusion
that the more prudent policy was to make terms with the owner.
And now came a singular part of the story. Negrete and his companions
had meanwhile received a visit from two English officers from Gibraltar.
What passed between them the Jew did not know; he only knew that,
immediately after the conclusion of the interview, Negrete came to him
and ordered him to set sail at once for the nearest point of Morocco.
The Jew, afraid to disobey, but with his eye ever upon the main chance,
stipulated that at the end of their voyage the Spaniards should pay for
their passage--terms to which, as they would to any other, they did not
demur, knowing that they had not the slightest intention of giving him a
single real.
The -Hansa- had weighed anchor on the 3rd of February. The wind blew
from the west, and consequently the working of the tartan was easy
enough. The unpracticed sailors had only to hoist their sails and,
though they were quite unconscious of the fact, the breeze carried them
to the only spot upon the little world they occupied which could afford
them a refuge.
Thus it fell out that one morning Ben Zoof, from his lookout on Gourbi
Island, saw a ship, not the -Dobryna-, appear upon the horizon, and
make quietly down towards what had formerly been the right bank of the
Shelif.
Such was Ben Zoof’s version of what had occurred, as he had gathered it
from the new-comers. He wound up his recital by remarking that the cargo
of the -Hansa- would be of immense service to them; he expected, indeed,
that Isaac Hakkabut would be difficult to manage, but considered there
could be no harm in appropriating the goods for the common welfare,
since there could be no opportunity now for selling them.
Ben Zoof added, “And as to the difficulties between the Jew and his
passengers, I told him that the governor general was absent on a tour of
inspection, and that he would see everything equitably settled.”
Smiling at his orderly’s tactics, Servadac turned to Hakkabut, and told
him that he would take care that his claims should be duly investigated
and all proper demands should be paid. The man appeared satisfied, and,
for the time at least, desisted from his complaints and importunities.
When the Jew had retired, Count Timascheff asked, “But how in the world
can you ever make those fellows pay anything?”
“They have lots of money,” said Ben Zoof.
“Not likely,” replied the count; “when did you ever know Spaniards like
them to have lots of money?”
“But I have seen it myself,” said Ben Zoof; “and it is English money.”
“English money!” echoed Servadac; and his mind again reverted to the
excursion made by the colonel and the major from Gibraltar, about which
they had been so reticent. “We must inquire more about this,” he said.
Then, addressing Count Timascheff, he added, “Altogether, I think the
countries of Europe are fairly represented by the population of Gallia.”
“True, captain,” answered the count; “we have only a fragment of a
world, but it contains natives of France, Russia, Italy, Spain, and
England. Even Germany may be said to have a representative in the person
of this miserable Jew.”
“And even in him,” said Servadac, “perhaps we shall not find so
indifferent a representative as we at present imagine.”
CHAPTER XIX. GALLIA’S GOVERNOR GENERAL
The Spaniards who had arrived on board the -Hansa- consisted of nine men
and a lad of twelve years of age, named Pablo. They all received Captain
Servadac, whom Ben Zoof introduced as the governor general, with due
respect, and returned quickly to their separate tasks. The captain and
his friends, followed at some distance by the eager Jew, soon left the
glade and directed their steps towards the coast where the -Hansa- was
moored.
As they went they discussed their situation. As far as they had
ascertained, except Gourbi Island, the sole surviving fragments of the
Old World were four small islands: the bit of Gibraltar occupied by the
Englishmen; Ceuta, which had just been left by the Spaniards; Madalena,
where they had picked up the little Italian girl; and the site of
the tomb of Saint Louis on the coast of Tunis. Around these there was
stretched out the full extent of the Gallian Sea, which apparently
comprised about one-half of the Mediterranean, the whole being
encompassed by a barrier like a framework of precipitous cliffs, of an
origin and a substance alike unknown.
Of all these spots only two were known to be inhabited: Gibraltar, where
the thirteen Englishmen were amply provisioned for some years to come,
and their own Gourbi Island. Here there was a population of twenty-two,
who would all have to subsist upon the natural products of the soil.
It was indeed not to be forgotten that, perchance, upon some remote and
undiscovered isle there might be the solitary writer of the mysterious
papers which they had found, and if so, that would raise the census of
their new asteroid to an aggregate of thirty-six.
Even upon the supposition that at some future date the whole population
should be compelled to unite and find a residence upon Gourbi Island,
there did not appear any reason to question but that eight hundred
acres of rich soil, under good management, would yield them all an ample
sustenance. The only critical matter was how long the cold season would
last; every hope depended upon the land again becoming productive; at
present, it seemed impossible to determine, even if Gallia’s orbit
were really elliptic, when she would reach her aphelion, and it was
consequently necessary that the Gallians for the time being should
reckon on nothing beyond their actual and present resources.
These resources were, first, the provisions of the -Dobryna-, consisting
of preserved meat, sugar, wine, brandy, and other stores sufficient for
about two months; secondly, the valuable cargo of the -Hansa-, which,
sooner or later, the owner, whether he would or not, must be compelled
to surrender for the common benefit; and lastly, the produce of the
island, animal and vegetable, which with proper economy might be made to
last for a considerable period.
In the course of the conversation, Count Timascheff took an opportunity
of saying that, as Captain Servadac had already been presented to the
Spaniards as governor of the island, he thought it advisable that he
should really assume that position.
“Every body of men,” he observed, “must have a head, and you, as a
Frenchman, should, I think, take the command of this fragment of a
French colony. My men, I can answer for it, are quite prepared to
recognize you as their superior officer.”
“Most unhesitatingly,” replied Servadac, “I accept the post with all its
responsibilities. We understand each other so well that I feel sure we
shall try and work together for the common good; and even if it be our
fate never again to behold our fellow creatures, I have no misgivings
but that we shall be able to cope with whatever difficulties may be
before us.”
As he spoke, he held out his hand. The count took it, at the same time
making a slight bow. It was the first time since their meeting that the
two men had shaken hands; on the other hand, not a single word about
their former rivalry had ever escaped their lips; perhaps that was all
forgotten now.
The silence of a few moments was broken by Servadac saying, “Do you not
think we ought to explain our situation to the Spaniards?”
“No, no, your Excellency,” burst in Ben Zoof, emphatically; “the fellows
are chicken-hearted enough already; only tell them what has happened,
and in sheer despondency they will not do another stroke of work.”
“Besides,” said Lieutenant Procope, who took very much the same view
as the orderly, “they are so miserably ignorant they would be sure to
misunderstand you.”
“Understand or misunderstand,” replied Servadac, “I do not think it
matters. They would not care. They are all fatalists. Only give them
a guitar and their castanets, and they will soon forget all care and
anxiety. For my own part, I must adhere to my belief that it will
be advisable to tell them everything. Have you any opinion to offer,
count?”
“My own opinion, captain, coincides entirely with yours. I have followed
the plan of explaining all I could to my men on board the -Dobryna-, and
no inconvenience has arisen.”
“Well, then, so let it be,” said the captain; adding, “It is not likely
that these Spaniards are so ignorant as not to have noticed the change
in the length of the days; neither can they be unaware of the physical
changes that have transpired. They shall certainly be told that we are
being carried away into unknown regions of space, and that this island
is nearly all that remains of the Old World.”
“Ha! ha!” laughed Ben Zoof, aloud; “it will be fine sport to watch the
old Jew’s face, when he is made to comprehend that he is flying away
millions and millions of leagues from all his debtors.”
Isaac Hakkabut was about fifty yards behind, and was consequently unable
to overhear the conversation. He went shambling along, half whimpering
and not unfrequently invoking the God of Israel; but every now and then
a cunning light gleamed from his eyes, and his lips became compressed
with a grim significance.
None of the recent phenomena had escaped his notice, and more than once
he had attempted to entice Ben Zoof into conversation upon the subject;
but the orderly made no secret of his antipathy to him, and generally
replied to his advances either by satire or by banter. He told him that
he had everything to gain under the new system of nights and days, for,
instead of living the Jew’s ordinary life of a century, he would
reach to the age of two centuries; and he congratulated him upon the
circumstance of things having become so light, because it would prevent
him feeling the burden of his years. At another time he would declare
that, to an old usurer like him, it could not matter in the least what
had become of the moon, as he could not possibly have advanced any
money upon her. And when Isaac, undaunted by his jeers, persevered in
besetting him with questions, he tried to silence him by saying, “Only
wait till the governor general comes; he is a shrewd fellow, and will
tell you all about it.”
“But will he protect my property?” poor Isaac would ask tremulously.
“To be sure he will! He would confiscate it all rather than that you
should be robbed of it.”
With this Job’s comfort the Jew had been obliged to content himself as
best he could, and to await the promised arrival of the governor.
When Servadac and his companions reached the shore, they found that the
-Hansa- had anchored in an exposed bay, protected but barely by a few
projecting rocks, and in such a position that a gale rising from the
west would inevitably drive her on to the land, where she must be dashed
in pieces. It would be the height of folly to leave her in her present
moorings; without loss of time she must be brought round to the mouth of
the Shelif, in immediate proximity to the Russian yacht.
The consciousness that his tartan was the subject of discussion made
the Jew give way to such vehement ejaculations of anxiety, that Servadac
turned round and peremptorily ordered him to desist from his clamor.
Leaving the old man under the surveillance of the count and Ben Zoof,
the captain and the lieutenant stepped into a small boat and were soon
alongside the floating emporium.
A very short inspection sufficed to make them aware that both the tartan
and her cargo were in a perfect state of preservation. In the hold were
sugar-loaves by hundreds, chests of tea, bags of coffee, hogsheads of
tobacco, pipes of wine, casks of brandy, barrels of dried herrings,
bales of cotton, clothing of every kind, shoes of all sizes, caps of
various shape, tools, household utensils, china and earthenware, reams
of paper, bottles of ink, boxes of lucifer matches, blocks of salt, bags
of pepper and spices, a stock of huge Dutch cheeses, and a collection of
almanacs and miscellaneous literature. At a rough guess the value could
not be much under pounds 5,000 sterling. A new cargo had been taken in
only a few days before the catastrophe, and it had been Isaac Hakkabut’s
intention to cruise from Ceuta to Tripoli, calling wherever he had
reason to believe there was likely to be a market for any of his
commodities.
“A fine haul, lieutenant,” said the captain.
“Yes, indeed,” said the lieutenant; “but what if the owner refuses to
part with it?”
“No fear; no fear,” replied the captain. “As soon as ever the old rascal
finds that there are no more Arabs or Algerians for him to fleece, he
will be ready enough to transact a little business with us. We will pay
him by bills of acceptance on some of his old friends in the Old World.”
“But why should he want any payment?” inquired the lieutenant. “Under
the circumstances, he must know that you have a right to make a
requisition of his goods.”
“No, no,” quickly rejoined Servadac; “we will not do that. Just because
the fellow is a German we shall not be justified in treating him in
German fashion. We will transact our business in a business way. Only
let him once realize that he is on a new globe, with no prospect of
getting back to the old one, and he will be ready enough to come to
terms with us.”
“Perhaps you are right,” replied the lieutenant; “I hope you are. But
anyhow, it will not do to leave the tartan here; not only would she be
in danger in the event of a storm, but it is very questionable whether
she could resist the pressure of the ice, if the water were to freeze.”
“Quite true, Procope; and accordingly I give you the commission to see
that your crew bring her round to the Shelif as soon as may be.”
“To-morrow morning it shall be done,” answered the lieutenant, promptly.
Upon returning to the shore, it was arranged that the whole of the
little colony should forthwith assemble at the gourbi. The Spaniards
were summoned and Isaac, although he could only with reluctance take his
wistful gaze from his tartan, obeyed the governor’s orders to follow.
An hour later and the entire population of twenty-two had met in the
chamber adjoining the gourbi. Young Pablo made his first acquaintance
with little Nina, and the child seemed highly delighted to find a
companion so nearly of her own age. Leaving the children to entertain
each other, Captain Servadac began his address.
Before entering upon further explanation, he said that he counted upon
the cordial co-operation of them all for the common welfare.
Negrete interrupted him by declaring that no promises or pledges could
be given until he and his countrymen knew how soon they could be sent
back to Spain.
“To Spain, do you say?” asked Servadac.
“To Spain!” echoed Isaac Hakkabut, with a hideous yell. “Do they expect
to go back to Spain till they have paid their debts? Your Excellency,
they owe me twenty reals apiece for their passage here; they owe me two
hundred reals. Are they to be allowed...?”
“Silence, Mordecai, you fool!” shouted Ben Zoof, who was accustomed
to call the Jew by any Hebrew name that came uppermost to his memory.
“Silence!”
Servadac was disposed to appease the old man’s anxiety by promising
to see that justice was ultimately done; but, in a fever of frantic
excitement, he went on to implore that he might have the loan of a few
sailors to carry his ship to Algiers.
“I will pay you honestly; I will pay you -well-,” he cried; but his
ingrained propensity for making a good bargain prompted him to add,
“provided you do not overcharge me.”
Ben Zoof was about again to interpose some angry exclamation; but
Servadac checked him, and continued in Spanish: “Listen to me, my
friends. Something very strange has happened. A most wonderful event has
cut us off from Spain, from France, from Italy, from every country
of Europe. In fact, we have left the Old World entirely. Of the whole
earth, nothing remains except this island on which you are now taking
refuge. The old globe is far, far away. Our present abode is but an
insignificant fragment that is left. I dare not tell you that there is
any chance of your ever again seeing your country or your homes.”
He paused. The Spaniards evidently had no conception of his meaning.
Negrete begged him to tell them all again. He repeated all that he had
said, and by introducing some illustrations from familiar things,
he succeeded to a certain extent in conveying some faint idea of the
convulsion that had happened. The event was precisely what he had
foretold. The communication was received by all alike with the most
supreme indifference.
Hakkabut did not say a word. He had listened with manifest attention,
his lips twitching now and then as if suppressing a smile. Servadac
turned to him, and asked whether he was still disposed to put out to sea
and make for Algiers.
The Jew gave a broad grin, which, however, he was careful to conceal
from the Spaniards. “Your Excellency jests,” he said in French; and
turning to Count Timascheff, he added in Russian: “The governor has made
up a wonderful tale.”
The count turned his back in disgust, while the Jew sidled up to little
Nina and muttered in Italian. “A lot of lies, pretty one; a lot of
lies!”
“Confound the knave!” exclaimed Ben Zoof; “he gabbles every tongue under
the sun!”
“Yes,” said Servadac; “but whether he speaks French, Russian, Spanish,
German, or Italian, he is neither more nor less than a Jew.”
CHAPTER XX. A LIGHT ON THE HORIZON
On the following day, without giving himself any further concern about
the Jew’s incredulity, the captain gave orders for the -Hansa- to be
shifted round to the harbor of the Shelif. Hakkabut raised no objection,
not only because he was aware that the move insured the immediate safety
of his tartan, but because he was secretly entertaining the hope that
he might entice away two or three of the -Dobryna’s- crew and make his
escape to Algiers or some other port.
Operations now commenced for preparing proper winter quarters. Spaniards
and Russians alike joined heartily in the work, the diminution of
atmospheric pressure and of the force of attraction contributing such
an increase to their muscular force as materially facilitated all their
labors.
The first business was to accommodate the building adjacent to the
gourbi to the wants of the little colony. Here for the present the
Spaniards were lodged, the Russians retaining their berths upon the
yacht, while the Jew was permitted to pass his nights upon the -Hansa-.
This arrangement, however, could be only temporary. The time could not
be far distant when ships’ sides and ordinary walls would fail to
give an adequate protection from the severity of the cold that must
be expected; the stock of fuel was too limited to keep up a permanent
supply of heat in their present quarters, and consequently they must
be driven to seek some other refuge, the internal temperature of which
would at least be bearable.
The plan that seemed to commend itself most to their consideration was,
that they should dig out for themselves some subterraneous pits similar
to “silos,” such as are used as receptacles for grain. They presumed
that when the surface of Gallia should be covered by a thick layer of
ice, which is a bad conductor of heat, a sufficient amount of warmth
for animal vitality might still be retained in excavations of this kind.
After a long consultation they failed to devise any better expedient,
and were forced to resign themselves to this species of troglodyte
existence.
In one respect they congratulated themselves that they should be better
off than many of the whalers in the polar seas, for as it is impossible
to get below the surface of a frozen ocean, these adventurers have to
seek refuge in huts of wood and snow erected on their ships, which at
best can give but slight protection from extreme cold; but here, with a
solid subsoil, the Gallians might hope to dig down a hundred feet or so
and secure for themselves a shelter that would enable them to brave the
hardest severity of climate.
The order, then, was at once given. The work was commenced. A stock of
shovels, mattocks, and pick-axes was brought from the gourbi, and with
Ben Zoof as overseer, both Spanish majos and Russian sailors set to work
with a will.
It was not long, however, before a discovery, more unexpected than
agreeable, suddenly arrested their labors. The spot chosen for the
excavation was a little to the right of the gourbi, on a slight
elevation of the soil. For the first day everything went on prosperously
enough; but at a depth of eight feet below the surface, the navvies came
in contact with a hard surface, upon which all their tools failed to
make the slightest impression. Servadac and the count were at once
apprised of the fact, and had little difficulty in recognizing the
substance that had revealed itself as the very same which composed the
shores as well as the subsoil of the Gallian sea. It evidently formed
the universal substructure of the new asteroid. Means for hollowing it
failed them utterly. Harder and more resisting than granite, it could
not be blasted by ordinary powder; dynamite alone could suffice to rend
it.
The disappointment was very great. Unless some means of protection were
speedily devised, death seemed to be staring them in the face. Were the
figures in the mysterious documents correct? If so, Gallia must now be
a hundred millions of leagues from the sun, nearly three times the
distance of the earth at the remotest section of her orbit. The
intensity of the solar light and heat, too, was very seriously
diminishing, although Gourbi Island (being on the equator of an orb
which had its axes always perpendicular to the plane in which it
revolved) enjoyed a position that gave it a permanent summer. But no
advantage of this kind could compensate for the remoteness of the sun.
The temperature fell steadily; already, to the discomfiture of the
little Italian girl, nurtured in sunshine, ice was beginning to form in
the crevices of the rocks, and manifestly the time was impending when
the sea itself would freeze.
Some shelter must be found before the temperature should fall to 60
degrees below zero. Otherwise death was inevitable. Hitherto, for the
last few days, the thermometer had been registering an average of about
6 degrees below zero, and it had become matter of experience that the
stove, although replenished with all the wood that was available, was
altogether inadequate to effect any sensible mitigation of the severity
of the cold. Nor could any amount of fuel be enough. It was certain
that ere long the very mercury and spirit in the thermometers would be
congealed. Some other resort must assuredly be soon found, or they must
perish. That was clear.
The idea of betaking themselves to the -Dobryna- and -Hansa- could not
for a moment be seriously entertained; not only did the structure of the
vessels make them utterly insufficient to give substantial shelter,
but they were totally unfitted to be trusted as to their stability when
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900
901
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904
905
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.
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913
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941
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.
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.
962
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964
.
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.
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.
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;
968
.
969
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971
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973
,
974
.
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977
978
)
.
979
.
980
;
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981
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982
,
983
.
984
985
986
.
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,
988
,
989
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990
991
.
.
992
993
.
,
994
.
.
995
996
-
-
-
-
997
;
998
,
999
1000