Off on a Comet! a Journey through Planetary Space
“Aide-de-camp to his Excellency the Governor of Gallia,” interposed Ben
Zoof himself, anxious to maintain his master’s honor as well as his own.
Rosette scarcely bent his head.
The rest of the population of the Hive were all presented in succession:
the Russian sailors, the Spaniards, young Pablo, and little Nina, on
whom the professor, evidently no lover of children, glared fiercely
through his formidable spectacles. Isaac Hakkabut, after his
introduction, begged to be allowed to ask one question.
“How soon may we hope to get back?” he inquired.
“Get back!” rejoined Rosette, sharply; “who talks of getting back? We
have hardly started yet.”
Seeing that the professor was inclined to get angry, Captain Servadac
adroitly gave a new turn to the conversation by asking him whether
he would gratify them by relating his own recent experiences. The
astronomer seemed pleased with the proposal, and at once commenced a
verbose and somewhat circumlocutory address, of which the following
summary presents the main features.
The French Government, being desirous of verifying the measurement
already made of the arc of the meridian of Paris, appointed a scientific
commission for that purpose. From that commission the name of Palmyrin
Rosette was omitted, apparently for no other reason than his personal
unpopularity. Furious at the slight, the professor resolved to set to
work independently on his own account, and declaring that there were
inaccuracies in the previous geodesic operations, he determined to
re-examine the results of the last triangulation which had united
Formentera to the Spanish coast by a triangle, one of the sides of which
measured over a hundred miles, the very operation which had already been
so successfully accomplished by Arago and Biot.
Accordingly, leaving Paris for the Balearic Isles, he placed his
observatory on the highest point of Formentera, and accompanied as he
was only by his servant, Joseph, led the life of a recluse. He secured
the services of a former assistant, and dispatched him to a high peak on
the coast of Spain, where he had to superintend a reverberator, which,
with the aid of a glass, could be seen from Formentera. A few books and
instruments, and two months’ victuals, was all the baggage he took with
him, except an excellent astronomical telescope, which was, indeed,
almost part and parcel of himself, and with which he assiduously scanned
the heavens, in the sanguine anticipation of making some discovery which
would immortalize his name.
The task he had undertaken demanded the utmost patience. Night after
night, in order to fix the apex of his triangle, he had to linger on the
watch for the assistant’s signal-light, but he did not forget that
his predecessors, Arago and Biot, had had to wait sixty-one days for a
similar purpose. What retarded the work was the dense fog which, it has
been already mentioned, at that time enveloped not only that part of
Europe, but almost the entire world.
Never failing to turn to the best advantage the few intervals when the
mist lifted a little, the astronomer would at the same time cast an
inquiring glance at the firmament, as he was greatly interested in the
revision of the chart of the heavens, in the region contiguous to the
constellation Gemini.
To the naked eye this constellation consists of only six stars, but
through a telescope ten inches in diameter, as many as six thousand
are visible. Rosette, however, did not possess a reflector of this
magnitude, and was obliged to content himself with the good but
comparatively small instrument he had.
On one of these occasions, whilst carefully gauging the recesses of
Gemini, he espied a bright speck which was unregistered in the chart,
and which at first he took for a small star that had escaped being
entered in the catalogue. But the observation of a few separate nights
soon made it manifest that the star was rapidly changing its position
with regard to the adjacent stars, and the astronomer’s heart began to
leap at the thought that the renown of the discovery of a new planet
would be associated with his name.
Redoubling his attention, he soon satisfied himself that what he saw was
not a planet; the rapidity of its displacement rather forced him to
the conjecture that it must be a comet, and this opinion was soon
strengthened by the appearance of a coma, and subsequently confirmed, as
the body approached the sun, by the development of a tail.
A comet! The discovery was fatal to all further progress in the
triangulation. However conscientiously the assistant on the Spanish
coast might look to the kindling of the beacon, Rosette had no glances
to spare for that direction; he had no eyes except for the one object of
his notice, no thoughts apart from that one quarter of the firmament.
A comet! No time must be lost in calculating its elements.
Now, in order to calculate the elements of a comet, it is always deemed
the safest mode of procedure to assume the orbit to be a parabola.
Ordinarily, comets are conspicuous at their perihelia, as being their
shortest distances from the sun, which is the focus of their orbit,
and inasmuch as a parabola is but an ellipse with its axis indefinitely
produced, for some short portion of its pathway the orbit may be
indifferently considered either one or the other; but in this particular
case the professor was right in adopting the supposition of its being
parabolic.
Just as in a circle, it is necessary to know three points to determine
the circumference; so in ascertaining the elements of a comet, three
different positions must be observed before what astronomers call its
“ephemeris” can be established.
But Professor Rosette did not content himself with three positions;
taking advantage of every rift in the fog he made ten, twenty, thirty
observations both in right ascension and in declination, and succeeded
in working out with the most minute accuracy the five elements of the
comet which was evidently advancing with astounding rapidity towards the
earth.
These elements were:
1. The inclination of the plane of the cometary orbit to the plane of
the ecliptic, an angle which is generally considerable, but in this case
the planes were proved to coincide.
2. The position of the ascending node, or the point where the comet
crossed the terrestrial orbit.
These two elements being obtained, the position in space of the comet’s
orbit was determined.
3. The direction of the axis major of the orbit, which was found by
calculating the longitude of the comet’s perihelion.
4. The perihelion distance from the sun, which settled the precise form
of the parabola.
5. The motion of the comet, as being retrograde, or, unlike the planets,
from east to west.
Rosette thus found himself able to calculate the date at which the comet
would reach its perihelion, and, overjoyed at his discovery, without
thinking of calling it Palmyra or Rosette, after his own name, he
resolved that it should be known as Gallia.
His next business was to draw up a formal report. Not only did he at
once recognize that a collision with the earth was possible, but he soon
foresaw that it was inevitable, and that it must happen on the night of
the 31st of December; moreover, as the bodies were moving in opposite
directions, the shock could hardly fail to be violent.
To say that he was elated at the prospect was far below the truth; his
delight amounted almost to delirium. Anyone else would have hurried from
the solitude of Formentera in sheer fright; but, without communicating
a word of his startling discovery, he remained resolutely at his post.
From occasional newspapers which he had received, he had learnt that
fogs, dense as ever, continued to envelop both hemispheres, so that
he was assured that the existence of the comet was utterly unknown
elsewhere; and the ignorance of the world as to the peril that
threatened it averted the panic that would have followed the publication
of the facts, and left the philosopher of Formentera in sole possession
of the great secret. He clung to his post with the greater persistency,
because his calculations had led him to the conclusion that the comet
would strike the earth somewhere to the south of Algeria, and as it had
a solid nucleus, he felt sure that, as he expressed it, the effect would
be “unique,” and he was anxious to be in the vicinity.
The shock came, and with it the results already recorded. Palmyrin
Rosette was suddenly separated from his servant Joseph, and when, after
a long period of unconsciousness, he came to himself, he found that
he was the solitary occupant of the only fragment that survived of the
Balearic Archipelago.
Such was the substance of the narrative which the professor gave
with sundry repetitions and digressions; while he was giving it, he
frequently paused and frowned as if irritated in a way that seemed by
no means justified by the patient and good-humored demeanor of his
audience.
“But now, gentlemen,” added the professor, “I must tell you something
more. Important changes have resulted from the collision; the cardinal
points have been displaced; gravity has been diminished: not that I ever
supposed for a minute, as you did, that I was still upon the earth. No!
the earth, attended by her moon, continued to rotate along her proper
orbit. But we, gentlemen, have nothing to complain of; our destiny might
have been far worse; we might all have been crushed to death, or the
comet might have remained in adhesion to the earth; and in neither of
these cases should we have had the satisfaction of making this marvelous
excursion through untraversed solar regions. No, gentlemen, I repeat it,
we have nothing to regret.”
And as the professor spoke, he seemed to kindle with the emotion of such
supreme contentment that no one had the heart to gainsay his assertion.
Ben Zoof alone ventured an unlucky remark to the effect that if the
comet had happened to strike against Montmartre, instead of a bit of
Africa, it would have met with some resistance.
“Pshaw!” said Rosette, disdainfully. “A mole-hill like Montmartre would
have been ground to powder in a moment.”
“Mole-hill!” exclaimed Ben Zoof, stung to the quick. “I can tell you it
would have caught up your bit of a comet and worn it like a feather in a
cap.”
The professor looked angry, and Servadac having imposed silence upon
his orderly, explained the worthy soldier’s sensitiveness on all that
concerned Montmartre. Always obedient to his master, Ben Zoof held his
tongue; but he felt that he could never forgive the slight that had been
cast upon his beloved home.
It was now all-important to learn whether the astronomer had been able
to continue his observations, and whether he had learned sufficient of
Gallia’s path through space to make him competent to determine, at least
approximately, the period of its revolution round the sun. With as much
tact and caution as he could, Lieutenant Procope endeavored to intimate
the general desire for some information on this point.
“Before the shock, sir,” answered the professor, “I had conclusively
demonstrated the path of the comet; but, in consequence of the
modifications which that shock has entailed upon my comet’s orbit, I
have been compelled entirely to recommence my calculations.”
The lieutenant looked disappointed.
“Although the orbit of the earth was unaltered,” continued the
professor, “the result of the collision was the projection of the comet
into a new orbit altogether.”
“And may I ask,” said Procope, deferentially, “whether you have got the
elements of the fresh orbit?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps you know--”
“I know this, sir, that at 47 minutes 35.6 seconds after two o’clock on
the morning of the 1st of January last, Gallia, in passing its ascending