The Floating Island (46 page)

To argue with the engineers was
not to be thought of. Commodore Simcoe had no authority over them. They were
subject to the same passions as the Starboardites and Larboardites. Faithful
servants of their chiefs, Watson and Somwah would drive on to the bitter end,
engine for engine, dynamo for dynamo.

Then occurred a phenomenon, the
unpleasantness of which should have calmed the heads by softening the hearts.

On account of the rotation of
Floating Island, a number of Milliardites, especially the women, began to feel
strangely unwell. Within the houses there were attacks of sickening nausea,
principally in those which, being farthest from the centre, were most affected
by this waltzing motion.

At this farcical result, Yvernès,
Pinchinat, and Frascolin burst out into peals of laughter, although matters
were getting most serious.

Under the influence of this
continuous whirling, Sebastien Zorn became pale, very pale. He “struck his
colours,” as Pinchinat said, and his heart mounted to his lips. Was this
ill-timed joke never to finish? To be a prisoner on this immense turning table,
which did not even have the gift of revealing the secrets of the future.

For a whole week Floating Island
continued to spin round on its centre, which was Milliard City. In vain the
King of Malecarlie, Commodore Simcoe, and Colonel Stewart attempted to
intervene between the two powers which shared the municipal palace. Neither
would lower his flag! Cyrus Bikerstaff himself, if he could have come to life
again, would have found his efforts fail against such ultra-American tenacity.

Then, to add to the misfortune,
the sky had been so constantly covered with clouds during this week, that it
was not possible to take an altitude. Commodore Simcoe did not know where
Floating Island was. Driven round by its powerful screws, it trembled in every
wall of its compartments. No one thought of staying indoors. The park was
crowded with people camping in the open air. On either side were heard cries of
“Hurrah for Tankerdon!”  and “Hurrah for Coverley!” Eyes flashed lightnings,
fists were clenched threateningly. Was civil war going to break out, with its
worst excesses, now that the people had reached a paroxysm of madness?

Neither one side nor the other
would see anything of the approaching danger. They would not give in, even if
the Pearl of the Pacific were to break into a thousand fragments, and it would
continue to spin until the dynamos ceased to drive the screws.

Amid this general irritation, in
which he took no part, Walter Tankerdon was a prey to the keenest anguish. He
feared not for himself, but for Miss Coverley, that some sudden breaking up
would annihilate Milliard City. For eight days he had not seen her. Twenty
times he had begged his father to have done with this deplorable manœuvre; but
all was in vain.

Then on the night of the 27th of
March, taking advantage of the darkness, he endeavoured to see Miss Coverley.
He wished to be near her when the catastrophe occurred. Gliding through the
crowd which blocked First Avenue, he penetrated into the hostile section, so as
to reach the Coverleys’ house.

A little before daybreak a
terrific explosion shook the air. Driven beyond the pressure they would bear,
the boilers of the Larboard section blew up with the buildings and machinery.
And as the source of electrical energy suddenly gave out on this side, half
Floating Island was plunged into profound darkness.

If
the engines of Larboard Harbour were now useless, on account of the bursting of
the boilers, those of Starboard Harbour were uninjured. But it was as if
Floating Island had lost all power of locomotion. Reduced to its starboard
screws, all it could do was to turn round and round on itself, for it could not
go ahead.

This accident consequently made
matters worse. While Floating Island had two sets of engines, capable of acting
together, it was only necessary for an understanding to be arrived at between
the Tankerdon and Coverley parties for this state of things to be put an end
to. The motors would then resume their customary task of working together, and
the island, after its delay of a few days, could have resumed its course to
Madeleine Bay.

Now this was impossible, and
Commodore Simcoe had not the propelling force necessary to enable him to leave
his present position.

If Floating Island had remained
stationary during the last week, if the steamers came up it might still be
possible to regain the northern hemisphere.

But it was not, for an astronomic
observation taken this day showed that Floating Island had drifted to the south
during its prolonged gyration. It had drifted from the twelfth parallel to the
seventeenth.

In fact, between the New Hebrides
group and the Fiji group there are certain currents, due to the proximity of
the two archipelagoes to each other, which flow to the south-east. While the
engines worked together Floating Island could easily make headway against the
current. But as soon as it became afflicted with vertigo it had been
irresistibly drawn towards the tropic of Capricorn.

When this was recognized,
Commodore Simcoe did not hide from those we have called neutrals the gravity of
the circumstances.

“We have drifted,” he said, “five
degrees south. What a sailor can do with a steamer when her engines break down
I cannot do with Floating Island. An island has no sails, and we are at the
mercy of the currents. Where will they take us? I do not know. As to the
steamers despatched from Madeleine Bay, they will seek us in vain in the place
agreed upon, and it is towards the least frequented portion of the Pacific that
we are drifting, at the rate of from eight to ten miles an hour.”

In these few sentences Ethel
Simcoe stated the position, which it was impossible to modify. Floating Island
was like an immense wreck delivered over to the caprices of the currents. If
they ran towards the north, it would go north; if they ran towards the south,
it would go south
—
perhaps to the extreme limits of the Antarctic Ocean. And then
—

This state of things soon became
known to the people at Milliard City, as at both harbours. A feeling of great
fear arose. Hence
—
which
was very human
—
a
certain softening of asperities under the fear of this new peril. They no
longer dreamt of coming to blows in a fratricidal strife, and if hatreds
continued, they would not at least lead to violence. Gradually every one
returned to his section, his quarter, his house. Jem Tankerdon and Nat Coverley
gave up their dispute for first place. At the proposal of the two governors,
the council of notables came to the only reasonable decision dictated by the
circumstances, and transferred its powers to the hands of Commodore Simcoe, the
only chief to whom the safety of Floating Island was henceforth entrusted.

Ethel Simcoe accepted the task
without hesitation. He reckoned on the devotion of his friends, his officers,
his staff. But what could he do with this vast floating apparatus, with an area
of twenty-seven square kilometres, become unmanageable, now that it had no longer
its two sets of engines?

And was there not some foundation
for saying that this was the condemnation of Floating Island, up to then
regarded as the masterpiece of marine construction, inasmuch as such accidents
would render it the sport of the winds and waves?

It is true that this accident was
not due to the forces of nature, over which the Pearl of the Pacific had
triumphed since its foundation. It was the fault of these intestine
dissensions, these rivalries of the Milliardites, this unreasonable obstinacy
of some to go south and others to go north. It was their immeasurable madness
that had brought about the explosion of the Larboard boilers.

But what was the good of
recriminations? What was necessary was to inquire into the damages at Larboard
Harbour. Commodore Simcoe assembled his officers and his engineers. The King of
Malecarlie went with them. It was assuredly not this royal philosopher who was
surprised at human passions bringing about such a catastrophe.

The commission went to the
Larboard engine works. The explosion of the over-driven boilers had caused the
deaths of two engineers and six stokers. The ravages were no less complete in
the workshops where the electricity was produced for the different services of
this half of Floating Island. Fortunately, the starboard dynamos continued to
work, and as Pinchinat observed,
—

“We have got off with the loss of
one eye.”

“That may be,” replied Frascolin,
“but we have also lost a limb, and the one that is left is of little use to us.”

To be blind and lame was too
much.

The result of the inquiry was
that the damages could not be repaired, and that it would be impossible to
arrest the movement towards the south. Hence the need of waiting until Floating
Island got out of the current which was taking it below the tropic.

This being ascertained, the next
thing was to examine the state of the compartments of the hull. Had they not
suffered from the gyratory movement which had so violently shaken them? Were
the plates strained, the rivets started?

If leaks had opened, what means
were there of stopping them?

The engineers proceeded to this
second inquiry. Their reports, communicated to Commodore Simcoe, were anything
but comforting. In many places the shaking had cracked the plates and broken
the ties. Thousands of rivets had been started, and there had been a good deal
of breakage. Certain compartments had already been invaded by the sea. But as
the line of flotation had not been lowered, the strength of the hull had not
been seriously affected, and the new proprietors of Floating Island had nothing
to fear for their property. It was near the Stern Battery that the cracks were
most numerous. At Larboard Harbour one of the piers had dropped off into the
sea when the explosion occurred. But Starboard Harbour was all right, and its
docks afforded every safety for vessels against the waves of the sea.

Orders were given to repair all
that was repairable. It was important that the population should be
tranquillized. It was enough, it was too much, that without its larboard screws
Floating Island could not make for the nearest land. For that there was no
remedy.

There remained the serious
question of hunger and thirst. Would the reserves be sufficient for a month,
for two months?

These particulars were furnished
to Commodore Simcoe.

With regard to the water there
was nothing to fear. One of the distilling apparatus had been destroyed by the
explosion, but the other, which continued at work, could furnish all
requirements.

With regard to provisions, the
state of affairs was not so promising. Taking everything into account, their
duration would not exceed a fortnight, unless these ten thousand people were
placed on short rations. The fruits and vegetables came, as we know, from the
outside. And outside
—
where
was that? Where was the nearest land, and how could it be reached?

Then, whatever might be the
effect, Commodore Simcoe had to make instant arrangements as to putting the
people on rations. That evening the telephones and telautographs spread this
melancholy news.

Whereupon general dismay in
Milliard City and the two ports, and a presentiment of worse catastrophes.
Would not the spectre of famine, to adopt a familiar image, soon appear on the
horizon, as there existed no means of replenishing the stock of provisions? In
fact, Commodore Simcoe had not a single ship to send to the American continent.
Fate had so willed it that the last had been sent away three weeks before with
the mortal remains of Cyrus Bikerstaff and the defenders in the battle at
Erromango. It was to be feared that matters of mere self-esteem would put
Floating Island in a worse position than when it was invaded by the New
Hebrideans.

What is the use of possessing
millions, of being as rich as Rothschilds, Mackays, Astors, Vanderbilts,
Goulds, when no riches can keep away famine? Doubtless, these nabobs had the
greater part of their fortunes safely placed in the banks of the new and old
continents. But who knew if the day were not approaching when a million would
not procure a pound of meat or a pound of bread!

After all, the fault was in their
absurd dissensions, their stupid rivalries, their desire to seize upon power!
The culprits were the Tankerdons and the Coverleys, who had caused all the
trouble. Let them take care of reprisals, of the rage of the officers, and
functionaries, and employees, and tradesmen, of the whole of the population
they had brought into such danger! To what excesses might not these betake
themselves when they were suffering the tortures of hunger.

Let us say, that no reproaches
were levelled against Walter Tankerdon nor Miss Coverley, who shared none of
the blame deserved by their families. No! The young man and the girl were not
responsible! They were the bond that might have assured the future of both
sections, and it was not they who had broken it!

For two days, owing to the state
of the sky, no observation could be taken, and the position of Floating Island
could not be ascertained with any certainty.

On the 31st of March the zenith
at dawn was clear enough, and the mists in the offing soon died away. There was
reason to hope that an altitude could be taken under good conditions.

The observation was awaited with
feverish impatience. Many hundreds of the inhabitants went out to Prow Battery.
Walter Tankerdon joined them. But neither his father, nor Nat Coverley, nor any
of the notables, who could be justly accused of having brought about this state
of affairs, left their houses, where they were kept indoors by public
indignation.