Off on a Comet! a Journey through Planetary Space
idea is not so chimerical as you imagine.” And, knitting his brow, he
proceeded to establish the feasibility of his plan. “If we can ascertain
the precise moment when the shock is to happen, and can succeed
in launching ourselves a sufficient time beforehand into Gallia’s
atmosphere, I believe it will transpire that this atmosphere will
amalgamate with that of the earth, and that a balloon whirled along by
the combined velocity would glide into the mingled atmosphere and remain
suspended in mid-air until the shock of the collision is overpast.”
Count Timascheff reflected for a minute, and said, “I think, lieutenant,
I understand your project. The scheme seems tenable; and I shall be
ready to co-operate with you, to the best of my power, in putting it
into execution.”
“Only, remember,” continued Procope, “there are many chances to one
against our success. One instant’s obstruction and stoppage in our
passage, and our balloon is burnt to ashes. Still, reluctant as I am to
acknowledge it, I confess that I feel our sole hope of safety rests in
our getting free from this comet.”
“If the chances were ten thousand to one against us,” said Servadac, “I
think the attempt ought to be made.”
“But have we hydrogen enough to inflate a balloon?” asked the count.
“Hot air will be all that we shall require,” the lieutenant answered;
“we are only contemplating about an hour’s journey.”
“Ah, a fire-balloon! A montgolfier!” cried Servadac. “But what are you
going to do for a casing?”
“I have thought of that. We must cut it out of the sails of the
_Dobryna_; they are both light and strong,” rejoined the lieutenant.
Count Timascheff complimented the lieutenant upon his ingenuity, and Ben
Zoof could not resist bringing the meeting to a conclusion by a ringing
cheer.
Truly daring was the plan of which Lieutenant Procope had thus become
the originator; but the very existence of them all was at stake, and the
design must be executed resolutely. For the success of the enterprise it
was absolutely necessary to know, almost to a minute, the precise time
at which the collision would occur, and Captain Servadac undertook the
task, by gentle means or by stern, of extracting the secret from the
professor.
To Lieutenant Procope himself was entrusted the superintendence of the
construction of the montgolfier, and the work was begun at once. It was
to be large enough to carry the whole of the twenty-three residents in
the volcano, and, in order to provide the means of floating aloft
long enough to give time for selecting a proper place for descent, the
lieutenant was anxious to make it carry enough hay or straw to maintain
combustion for a while, and keep up the necessary supply of heated air.
The sails of the _Dobryna_, which had all been carefully stowed away in
the Hive, were of a texture unusually close, and quite capable of being
made airtight by means of a varnish, the ingredients of which were
rummaged out of the promiscuous stores of the tartan. The lieutenant
himself traced out the pattern and cut out the strips, and all hands
were employed in seaming them together. It was hardly the work for
little fingers, but Nina persisted in accomplishing her own share of it.
The Russians were quite at home at occupation of this sort, and having
initiated the Spaniards into its mysteries, the task of joining together
the casing was soon complete. Isaac Hakkabut and the professor were
the only two members of the community who took no part in this somewhat
tedious proceeding.
A month passed away, but Servadac found no opportunity of getting at the
information he had pledged himself to gain. On the sole occasion when he
had ventured to broach the subject with the astronomer, he had received
for answer that as there was no hurry to get back to the earth, there
need be no concern about any dangers of transit.
Indeed, as time passed on, the professor seemed to become more and more
inaccessible. A pleasant temperature enabled him to live entirely in his
observatory, from which intruders were rigidly shut out. But Servadac
bided his time. He grew more and more impressed with the importance of
finding out the exact moment at which the impact would take place,
but was content to wait for a promising opportunity to put any fresh
questions on the subject to the too reticent astronomer.
Meanwhile, the earth’s disc was daily increasing in magnitude; the comet
traveled 50,000,000 leagues during the month, at the close of which it
was not more than 78,000,000 leagues from the sun.
A thaw had now fairly set in. The breaking up of the frozen ocean was a
magnificent spectacle, and “the great voice of the sea,” as the whalers
graphically describe it, was heard in all its solemnity. Little streams
of water began to trickle down the declivities of the mountain and along
the shelving shore, only to be transformed, as the melting of the snow
continued, into torrents or cascades. Light vapors gathered on the
horizon, and clouds were formed and carried rapidly along by breezes to
which the Gallian atmosphere had long been unaccustomed. All these
were doubtless but the prelude to atmospheric disturbances of a more
startling character; but as indications of returning spring, they were
greeted with a welcome which no apprehensions for the future could
prevent being glad and hearty.
A double disaster was the inevitable consequence of the thaw. Both the
schooner and the tartan were entirely destroyed. The basement of the icy
pedestal on which the ships had been upheaved was gradually undermined,
like the icebergs of the Arctic Ocean, by warm currents of water, and
on the night of the 12th the huge block collapsed _en masse_, so that on
the following morning nothing remained of the _Dobryna_ and the _Hansa_
except the fragments scattered on the shore.
Although certainly expected, the catastrophe could not fail to cause a
sense of general depression. Well-nigh one of their last ties to Mother
Earth had been broken; the ships were gone, and they had only a balloon
to replace them!
To describe Isaac Hakkabut’s rage at the destruction of the tartan would
be impossible. His oaths were simply dreadful; his imprecations on the
accursed race were full of wrath. He swore that Servadac and his people
were responsible for his loss; he vowed that they should be sued and
made to pay him damages; he asserted that he had been brought from
Gourbi Island only to be plundered; in fact, he became so intolerably
abusive, that Servadac threatened to put him into irons unless he
conducted himself properly; whereupon the Jew, finding that the captain
was in earnest, and would not hesitate to carry the threat into effect,
was fain to hold his tongue, and slunk back into his dim hole.
By the 14th the balloon was finished, and, carefully sewn and well
varnished as it had been, it was really a very substantial structure. It
was covered with a network that had been made from the light rigging
of the yacht, and the car, composed of wicker-work that had formed
partitions in the hold of the _Hansa_, was quite commodious enough to
hold the twenty-three passengers it was intended to convey. No thought
had been bestowed upon comfort or convenience, as the ascent was to
last for so short a time, merely long enough for making the transit from
atmosphere to atmosphere.
The necessity was becoming more and more urgent to get at the true
hour of the approaching contact, but the professor seemed to grow more
obstinate than ever in his resolution to keep his secret.
On the 15th the comet crossed the orbit of Mars, at the safe distance
of 56,000,000 leagues; but during that night the community thought
that their last hour had taken them unawares. The volcano rocked and
trembled with the convulsions of internal disturbance, and Servadac and
his companions, convinced that the mountain was doomed to some sudden
disruption, rushed into the open air.
The first object that caught their attention as they emerged upon the
open rocks was the unfortunate professor, who was scrambling down
the mountain-side, piteously displaying a fragment of his shattered
telescope.
It was no time for condolence.
A new marvel arrested every eye. A fresh satellite, in the gloom of
night, was shining conspicuously before them.
That satellite was a part of Gallia itself!
By the expansive action of the inner heat, Gallia, like Gambart’s comet,
had been severed in twain; an enormous fragment had been detached and
launched into space!
The fragment included Ceuta and Gibraltar, with the two English
garrisons!
CHAPTER XVII. THE VENTURE MADE
What would be the consequences of this sudden and complete disruption,
Servadac and his people hardly dared to think.
The first change that came under their observation was the rapidity of
the sun’s appearances and disappearances, forcing them to the conviction
that although the comet still rotated on its axis from east to west, yet
the period of its rotation had been diminished by about one-half. Only
six hours instead of twelve elapsed between sunrise and sunrise; three
hours after rising in the west the sun was sinking again in the east.
“We are coming to something!” exclaimed Servadac. “We have got a year of
something like 2,880 days.”
“I shouldn’t think it would be an easy matter to find saints enough for
such a calendar as that!” said Ben Zoof.
Servadac laughed, and remarked that they should have the professor
talking about the 238th of June, and the 325th of December.
It soon became evident that the detached portion was not revolving
round the comet, but was gradually retreating into space. Whether it
had carried with it any portion of atmosphere, whether it possessed
any other condition for supporting life, and whether it was likely ever
again to approach to the earth, were all questions that there were no
means of determining. For themselves the all-important problem was--what
effect would the rending asunder of the comet have upon its rate of
progress? and as they were already conscious of a further increase of
muscular power, and a fresh diminution of specific gravity, Servadac and
his associates could not but wonder whether the alteration in the mass
of the comet would not result in its missing the expected coincidence
with the earth altogether.
Although he professed himself incompetent to pronounce a decided
opinion, Lieutenant Procope manifestly inclined to the belief that no
alteration would ensue in the rate of Gallia’s velocity; but Rosette, no
doubt, could answer the question directly, and the time had now
arrived in which he must be compelled to divulge the precise moment of
collision.
But the professor was in the worst of tempers. Generally taciturn and
morose, he was more than usually uncivil whenever any one ventured to
speak to him. The loss of his telescope had doubtless a great deal to do
with his ill-humor; but the captain drew the most favorable conclusions
from Rosette’s continued irritation. Had the comet been in any way
projected from its course, so as to be likely to fail in coming into
contact with the earth, the professor would have been quite unable
to conceal his satisfaction. But they required to know more than the
general truth, and felt that they had no time to lose in getting at the
exact details.
The opportunity that was wanted soon came.
On the 18th, Rosette was overheard in furious altercation with Ben Zoof.
The orderly had been taunting the astronomer with the mutilation of his
little comet. A fine thing, he said, to split in two like a child’s toy.
It had cracked like a dry nut; and mightn’t one as well live upon an
exploding bomb?--with much more to the same effect. The professor, by
way of retaliation, had commenced sneering at the “prodigious” mountain