Off on a Comet (12 page)

To the First Lord of the Admiralty,
London,

and kept in readiness for transmission by the first ship that should
hail in sight. But time elapsed, and here was the 18th of February
without an opportunity having been afforded for any communication with
the British Government.

At breakfast that morning, the colonel observed to the major that he was
under the most decided impression that the 18th of February was a royal
anniversary; and he went on to say that, although he had received no
definite instructions on the subject, he did not think that the peculiar
circumstances under which they found themselves should prevent them from
giving the day its due military honors.

The major quite concurred; and it was mutually agreed that the occasion
must be honored by a bumper of port, and by a royal salute. Corporal Pim
must be sent for. The corporal soon made his appearance, smacking his
lips, having, by a ready intuition, found a pretext for a double morning
ration of spirits.

"The 18th of February, you know, Pim," said the colonel; "we must have a
salute of twenty-one guns."

"Very good," replied Pim, a man of few words.

"And take care that your fellows don't get their arms and legs blown
off," added the officer.

"Very good, sir," said the corporal; and he made his salute and
withdrew.

Of all the bombs, howitzers, and various species of artillery with which
the fortress had been crowded, one solitary piece remained. This was a
cumbrous muzzle-loader of 9-inch caliber, and, in default of the smaller
ordnance generally employed for the purpose, had to be brought into
requisition for the royal salute.

A sufficient number of charges having been provided, the corporal
brought his men to the reduct, whence the gun's mouth projected over
a sloping embrasure. The two officers, in cocked hats and full staff
uniform, attended to take charge of the proceedings. The gun was
maneuvered in strict accordance with the rules of "The Artilleryman's
Manual," and the firing commenced.

Not unmindful of the warning he had received, the corporal was most
careful between each discharge to see that every vestige of fire was
extinguished, so as to prevent an untimely explosion while the men were
reloading; and accidents, such as so frequently mar public rejoicings,
were all happily avoided.

Much to the chagrin of both Colonel Murphy and Major Oliphant, the
effect of the salute fell altogether short of their anticipations. The
weight of the atmosphere was so reduced that there was comparatively
little resistance to the explosive force of the gases, liberated at the
cannon's mouth, and there was consequently none of the reverberation,
like rolling thunder, that ordinarily follows the discharge of heavy
artillery.

Twenty times had the gun been fired, and it was on the point of being
loaded for the last time, when the colonel laid his hand upon the arm of
the man who had the ramrod. "Stop!" he said; "we will have a ball this
time. Let us put the range of the piece to the test."

"A good idea!" replied the major. "Corporal, you hear the orders."

In quick time an artillery-wagon was on the spot, and the men lifted
out a full-sized shot, weighing 200 lbs., which, under ordinary
circumstances, the cannon would carry about four miles. It was proposed,
by means of telescopes, to note the place where the ball first touched
the water, and thus to obtain an approximation sufficiently accurate as
to the true range.

Having been duly charged with powder and ball, the gun was raised to an
angle of something under 45 degrees, so as to allow proper development
to the curve that the projectile would make, and, at a signal from the
major, the light was applied to the priming.

"Heavens!" "By all that's good!" exclaimed both officers in one breath,
as, standing open-mouthed, they hardly knew whether they were to believe
the evidence of their own senses. "Is it possible?"

The diminution of the force of attraction at the earth's surface was so
considerable that the ball had sped beyond the horizon.

"Incredible!" ejaculated the colonel.

"Incredible!" echoed the major.

"Six miles at least!" observed the one.

"Ay, more than that!" replied the other.

Awhile, they gazed at the sea and at each other in mute amazement. But
in the midst of their perplexity, what sound was that which startled
them? Was it mere fancy? Was it the reverberation of the cannon still
booming in their ears? Or was it not truly the report of another and
a distant gun in answer to their own? Attentively and eagerly they
listened. Twice, thrice did the sound repeat itself. It was quite
distinct. There could be no mistake.

"I told you so," cried the colonel, triumphantly. "I knew our country
would not forsake us; it is an English ship, no doubt."

In half an hour two masts were visible above the horizon. "See! Was
I not right? Our country was sure to send to our relief. Here is the
ship."

"Yes," replied the major; "she responded to our gun."

"It is to be hoped," muttered the corporal, "that our ball has done her
no damage."

Before long the hull was full in sight. A long trail of smoke betokened
her to be a steamer; and very soon, by the aid of the glass, it could be
ascertained that she was a schooner-yacht, and making straight for the
island. A flag at her mast-head fluttered in the breeze, and towards
this the two officers, with the keenest attention, respectively adjusted
their focus.

Simultaneously the two telescopes were lowered. The colonel and the
major stared at each other in blank astonishment. "Russian!" they
gasped.

And true it was that the flag that floated at the head of yonder mast
was the blue cross of Russia.

When the schooner had approached the island, the Englishmen were able
to make out the name "
Dobryna
" painted on the aft-board. A sinuous
irregularity of the coast had formed a kind of cove, which, though
hardly spacious enough for a few fishing-smacks, would afford the yacht
a temporary anchorage, so long as the wind did not blow violently from
either west or south. Into this cove the
Dobryna
was duly signaled,
and as soon as she was safely moored, she lowered her four-oar, and
Count Timascheff and Captain Servadac made their way at once to land.

Colonel Heneage Finch Murphy and Major Sir John Temple Oliphant stood,
grave and prim, formally awaiting the arrival of their visitors. Captain
Servadac, with the uncontrolled vivacity natural to a Frenchman, was the
first to speak.

"A joyful sight, gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "It will give us unbounded
pleasure to shake hands again with some of our fellow-creatures. You, no
doubt, have escaped the same disaster as ourselves."

But the English officers, neither by word nor gesture, made the
slightest acknowledgment of this familiar greeting.

"What news can you give us of France, England, or Russia?" continued
Servadac, perfectly unconscious of the stolid rigidity with which his
advances were received. "We are anxious to hear anything you can tell
us. Have you had communications with Europe? Have you—"

"To whom have we the honor of speaking?" at last interposed Colonel
Murphy, in the coldest and most measured tone, and drawing himself up to
his full height.

"Ah! how stupid! I forgot," said Servadac, with the slightest possible
shrug of the shoulders; "we have not been introduced."

Then, with a wave of his hand towards his companion, who meanwhile had
exhibited a reserve hardly less than that of the British officers, he
said:

"Allow me to introduce you to Count Wassili Timascheff."

"Major Sir John Temple Oliphant," replied the colonel.

The Russian and the Englishman mutually exchanged the stiffest of bows.

"I have the pleasure of introducing Captain Servadac," said the count in
his turn.

"And this is Colonel Heneage Finch Murphy," was the major's grave
rejoinder.

More bows were interchanged and the ceremony brought to its due
conclusion. It need hardly be said that the conversation had been
carried on in French, a language which is generally known both by
Russians and Englishmen—a circumstance that is probably in some measure
to be accounted for by the refusal of Frenchmen to learn either Russian
or English.

The formal preliminaries of etiquette being thus complete, there was no
longer any obstacle to a freer intercourse. The colonel, signing to
his guests to follow, led the way to the apartment occupied jointly by
himself and the major, which, although only a kind of casemate hollowed
in the rock, nevertheless wore a general air of comfort. Major
Oliphant accompanied them, and all four having taken their seats, the
conversation was commenced.

Irritated and disgusted at all the cold formalities, Hector Servadac
resolved to leave all the talking to the count; and he, quite aware that
the Englishmen would adhere to the fiction that they could be supposed
to know nothing that had transpired previous to the introduction felt
himself obliged to recapitulate matters from the very beginning.

"You must be aware, gentlemen," began the count, "that a most singular
catastrophe occurred on the 1st of January last. Its cause, its limits
we have utterly failed to discover, but from the appearance of the
island on which we find you here, you have evidently experienced its
devastating consequences."

The Englishmen, in silence, bowed assent.

"Captain Servadac, who accompanies me," continued the count, "has been
most severely tried by the disaster. Engaged as he was in an important
mission as a staff-officer in Algeria—"

"A French colony, I believe," interposed Major Oliphant, half shutting
his eyes with an expression of supreme indifference.

Servadac was on the point of making some cutting retort, but Count
Timascheff, without allowing the interruption to be noticed, calmly
continued his narrative:

"It was near the mouth of the Shelif that a portion of Africa, on that
eventful night, was transformed into an island which alone survived; the
rest of the vast continent disappeared as completely as if it had never
been."

The announcement seemed by no means startling to the phlegmatic colonel.

"Indeed!" was all he said.

"And where were you?" asked Major Oliphant.

"I was out at sea, cruising in my yacht; hard by; and I look upon it as
a miracle, and nothing less, that I and my crew escaped with our lives."

"I congratulate you on your luck," replied the major.

The count resumed: "It was about a month after the great disruption
that I was sailing—my engine having sustained some damage in the
shock—along the Algerian coast, and had the pleasure of meeting with
my previous acquaintance, Captain Servadac, who was resident upon the
island with his orderly, Ben Zoof."

"Ben who?" inquired the major.

"Zoof! Ben Zoof!" ejaculated Servadac, who could scarcely shout loud
enough to relieve his pent-up feelings.

Ignoring this ebullition of the captain's spleen, the count went on to
say: "Captain Servadac was naturally most anxious to get what news he
could. Accordingly, he left his servant on the island in charge of his
horses, and came on board the
Dobryna
with me. We were quite at a loss
to know where we should steer, but decided to direct our course to
what previously had been the east, in order that we might, if possible,
discover the colony of Algeria; but of Algeria not a trace remained."

The colonel curled his lip, insinuating only too plainly that to him it
was by no means surprising that a French colony should be wanting in the
element of stability. Servadac observed the supercilious look, and half
rose to his feet, but, smothering his resentment, took his seat again
without speaking.

"The devastation, gentlemen," said the count, who persistently refused
to recognize the Frenchman's irritation, "everywhere was terrible and
complete. Not only was Algeria lost, but there was no trace of Tunis,
except one solitary rock, which was crowned by an ancient tomb of one of
the kings of France—"

"Louis the Ninth, I presume," observed the colonel.

"Saint Louis," blurted out Servadac, savagely.

Colonel Murphy slightly smiled.

Proof against all interruption, Count Timascheff, as if he had not heard
it, went on without pausing. He related how the schooner had pushed her
way onwards to the south, and had reached the Gulf of Cabes; and how
she had ascertained for certain that the Sahara Sea had no longer an
existence.

The smile of disdain again crossed the colonel's face; he could not
conceal his opinion that such a destiny for the work of a Frenchman
could be no matter of surprise.

"Our next discovery," continued the count, "was that a new coast
had been upheaved right along in front of the coast of Tripoli, the
geological formation of which was altogether strange, and which extended
to the north as far as the proper place of Malta."

"And Malta," cried Servadac, unable to control himself any longer;
"Malta—town, forts, soldiers, governor, and all—has vanished just like
Algeria."

For a moment a cloud rested upon the colonel's brow, only to give place
to an expression of decided incredulity.

"The statement seems highly incredible," he said.

"Incredible?" repeated Servadac. "Why is it that you doubt my word?"

The captain's rising wrath did not prevent the colonel from replying
coolly, "Because Malta belongs to England."

"I can't help that," answered Servadac, sharply; "it has gone just as
utterly as if it had belonged to China."

Colonel Murphy turned deliberately away from Servadac, and appealed to
the count: "Do you not think you may have made some error, count, in
reckoning the bearings of your yacht?"