Off on a Comet! a Journey through Planetary Space
astonishment would have been very great to see them rising fifty or
even sixty feet. Nor did these waves in the usual way partially unfurl
themselves and rebound against the sides of the vessel; they might
rather be described as long undulations carrying the schooner (its
weight diminished from the same cause as that of the water) alternately
to such heights and depths, that if Captain Servadac had been subject to
seasickness he must have found himself in sorry plight. As the pitching,
however, was the result of a long uniform swell, the yacht did not labor
much harder than she would against the ordinary short strong waves of
the Mediterranean; the main inconvenience that was experienced was the
diminution in her proper rate of speed.
For a few miles she followed the line hitherto presumably occupied by
the coast of Algeria; but no land appeared to the south. The changed
positions of the planets rendered them of no avail for purposes of
nautical observation, nor could Lieutenant Procope calculate his
latitude and longitude by the altitude of the sun, as his reckonings
would be useless when applied to charts that had been constructed for
the old order of things; but nevertheless, by means of the log, which
gave him the rate of progress, and by the compass which indicated the
direction in which they were sailing, he was able to form an estimate
of his position that was sufficiently free from error for his immediate
need.
Happily the recent phenomena had no effect upon the compass; the
magnetic needle, which in these regions had pointed about 22 degrees
from the north pole, had never deviated in the least--a proof that,
although east and west had apparently changed places, north and south
continued to retain their normal position as cardinal points. The log
and the compass, therefore, were able to be called upon to do the work
of the sextant, which had become utterly useless.
On the first morning of the cruise Lieutenant Procope, who, like most
Russians, spoke French fluently, was explaining these peculiarities
to Captain Servadac; the count was present, and the conversation
perpetually recurred, as naturally it would, to the phenomena which
remained so inexplicable to them all.
“It is very evident,” said the lieutenant, “that ever since the 1st of
January the earth has been moving in a new orbit, and from some unknown
cause has drawn nearer to the sun.”
“No doubt about that,” said Servadac; “and I suppose that, having
crossed the orbit of Venus, we have a good chance of running into the
orbit of Mercury.”
“And finish up by a collision with the sun!” added the count.
“There is no fear of that, sir. The earth has undoubtedly entered upon
a new orbit, but she is not incurring any probable risk of being
precipitated onto the sun.”
“Can you satisfy us of that?” asked the count.
“I can, sir. I can give you a proof which I think you will own is
conclusive. If, as you suppose, the earth is being drawn on so as to
be precipitated against the sun, the great center of attraction of our
system, it could only be because the centrifugal and centripetal forces
that cause the planets to rotate in their several orbits had been
entirely suspended: in that case, indeed, the earth would rush onwards
towards the sun, and in sixty-four days and a half the catastrophe you
dread would inevitably happen.”
“And what demonstration do you offer,” asked Servadac eagerly, “that it
will not happen?”
“Simply this, captain: that since the earth entered her new orbit
half the sixty-four days has already elapsed, and yet it is only just
recently that she has crossed the orbit of Venus, hardly one-third of
the distance to be traversed to reach the sun.”
The lieutenant paused to allow time for reflection, and added:
“Moreover, I have every reason to believe that we are not so near the
sun as we have been. The temperature has been gradually diminishing;
the heat upon Gourbi Island is not greater now than we might ordinarily
expect to find in Algeria. At the same time, we have the problem still
unsolved that the Mediterranean has evidently been transported to the
equatorial zone.”
Both the count and the captain expressed themselves reassured by his
representations, and observed that they must now do all in their power
to discover what had become of the vast continent of Africa, of which,
they were hitherto failing so completely to find a vestige.
Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, the _Dobryna_ had passed
over the sites where Tenes, Cherchil, Koleah, and Sidi-Feruch once had
been, but of these towns not one appeared within range of the telescope.
Ocean reigned supreme. Lieutenant Procope was absolutely certain that
he had not mistaken his direction; the compass showed that the wind
had never shifted from the west, and this, with the rate of speed as
estimated by the log, combined to assure him that at this date, the 2d
of February, the schooner was in lat. 36 degrees 49 min N. and long. 3
degrees 25 min E., the very spot which ought to have been occupied by
the Algerian capital. But Algiers, like all the other coast-towns, had
apparently been absorbed into the bowels of the earth.
Captain Servadac, with clenched teeth and knitted brow, stood sternly,
almost fiercely, regarding the boundless waste of water. His pulse beat
fast as he recalled the friends and comrades with whom he had spent the
last few years in that vanished city. All the images of his past life
floated upon his memory; his thoughts sped away to his native France,
only to return again to wonder whether the depths of ocean would reveal
any traces of the Algerian metropolis.
“Is it not impossible,” he murmured aloud, “that any city should
disappear so completely? Would not the loftiest eminences of the city
at least be visible? Surely some portion of the Casbah must still rise
above the waves? The imperial fort, too, was built upon an elevation
of 750 feet; it is incredible that it should be so totally submerged.
Unless some vestiges of these are found, I shall begin to suspect that
the whole of Africa has been swallowed in some vast abyss.”
Another circumstance was most remarkable. Not a material object of any
kind was to be noticed floating on the surface of the water; not one
branch of a tree had been seen drifting by, nor one spar belonging to
one of the numerous vessels that a month previously had been moored
in the magnificent bay which stretched twelve miles across from Cape
Matafuz to Point Pexade. Perhaps the depths might disclose what the
surface failed to reveal, and Count Timascheff, anxious that Servadac
should have every facility afforded him for solving his doubts, called
for the sounding-line. Forthwith, the lead was greased and lowered.
To the surprise of all, and especially of Lieutenant Procope, the
line indicated a bottom at a nearly uniform depth of from four to five
fathoms; and although the sounding was persevered with continuously for
more than two hours over a considerable area, the differences of level
were insignificant, not corresponding in any degree to what would be
expected over the site of a city that had been terraced like the seats
of an amphitheater. Astounding as it seemed, what alternative was left
but to suppose that the Algerian capital had been completely leveled by
the flood?
The sea-bottom was composed of neither rock, mud, sand, nor shells;
the sounding-lead brought up nothing but a kind of metallic dust, which
glittered with a strange iridescence, and the nature of which it was
impossible to determine, as it was totally unlike what had ever been
known to be raised from the bed of the Mediterranean.
“You must see, lieutenant, I should think, that we are not so near the
coast of Algeria as you imagined.”
The lieutenant shook his head. After pondering awhile, he said: “If
we were farther away I should expect to find a depth of two or three
hundred fathoms instead of five fathoms. Five fathoms! I confess I am
puzzled.”
For the next thirty-six hours, until the 4th of February, the sea was
examined and explored with the most unflagging perseverance. Its depth
remained invariable, still four, or at most five, fathoms; and although
its bottom was assiduously dredged, it was only to prove it barren of
marine production of any type.
The yacht made its way to lat. 36 degrees, and by reference to the
charts it was tolerably certain that she was cruising over the site of
the Sahel, the ridge that had separated the rich plain of the Mitidja
from the sea, and of which the highest peak, Mount Boujereah, had
reached an altitude of 1,200 feet; but even this peak, which might have
been expected to emerge like an islet above the surface of the sea,
was nowhere to be traced. Nothing was to be done but to put about, and
return in disappointment towards the north.
Thus the _Dobryna_ regained the waters of the Mediterranean without
discovering a trace of the missing province of Algeria.
CHAPTER XI. AN ISLAND TOMB
No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of
a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a
submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed
that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon
a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became
more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil
of unknown formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy
sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to
elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on
them at least to ascertain its extent.
After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided
that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and
weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the
outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that
coast had been lost in boundless sea.
Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all
gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built
like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest
points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the
Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude
of more than 7,000 feet.
Unsparing of her fuel, the _Dobryna_ made her way at full steam towards
Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town
of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly;
its marabouts, or temple-tombs, shaded by magnificent palms that fringed
the gulf, which by reason of its narrow mouth had the semblance of a
lake, all had disappeared, giving place to a vast waste of sea, the
transparent waves of which, as still demonstrated by the sounding-line,
had ever the same uniform and arid bottom.
In the course of the day the schooner rounded the point where, five
weeks previously, Cape Blanc had been so conspicuous an object, and she
was now stemming the waters of what once had been the Bay of Tunis. But
bay there was none, and the town from which it had derived its name,
with the Arsenal, the Goletta, and the two peaks of Bou-Kournein, had
all vanished from the view. Cape Bon, too, the most northern promontory
of Africa and the point of the continent nearest to the island of
Sicily, had been included in the general devastation.
Before the occurrence of the recent prodigy, the bottom of the
Mediterranean just at this point had formed a sudden ridge across the
Straits of Libya. The sides of the ridge had shelved to so great an
extent that, while the depth of water on the summit had been little more
than eleven fathoms, that on either hand of the elevation was little