CHAPTER XII.A FÊTE DAY.
The temperature continued to increase; the mercurial
thermometer, which freezes at 42° below zero, was no
longer of service, and the spirit thermometer of the Dobryna
had been brought into use. This now registered 53° below
freezing point.
In the creek, where the two vessels had been moored
for the winter, the elevation of the ice, in anticipation of
which Lieutenant Procope had taken the precautionary
measure of bevelling, was going on slowly but irresistibly,
and the tartan was upheaved fifty feet above the level of
the Gallian Sea, while the schooner, as being lighter, had
been raised to a still greater altitude.
So irresistible was this gradual process of elevation, so
utterly defying all human power to arrest, that the lieutenant
began to feel very anxious as to the safety of his
yacht. With the exception of the engine and the masts,
everything had been cleared out and conveyed to shore,
but in the event of a thaw it appeared that nothing short
of a miracle could prevent the hull from being dashed to
pieces, and then all means of leaving the promontory
would be gone. The Hansa, of course, would share a
similar fate; in fact, it had already heeled over to such an
extent as to render it quite dangerous for its obstinate
owner, who, at the peril of his life, resolved that he would
stay where he could watch over his all-precious cargo,
though continually invoking curses on the ill-fate of which
he deemed himself the victim.
There was, however, a stronger will than Isaac Hakkabut's.
Although no one of all the community cared at all
for the safety of the Jew, they cared very much for the
security of his cargo, and when Servadac found that
nothing would induce the old man to abandon his present
quarters voluntarily, he very soon adopted measures of
coercion that were far more effectual than any representations
of personal danger.
“Stop where you like, Hakkabut,” said the captain to
him; “but understand that I consider it my duty to make
sure that your cargo is taken care of I am going to have
it carried across to land, at once.”
Neither groans, nor tears, nor protestations on the part
of the Jew, were of the slightest avail. Forthwith, on the
20th of December, the removal of the goods commenced.
Both Spaniards and Russians were all occupied for
several days in the work of unlading the tartan. Well
muffled up as they were in furs, they were able to endure
the cold with impunity, making it their special care to
avoid actual contact with any article made of metal, which,
in the low state of the temperature, would inevitably
have taken all the skin off their hands, as much as if it
had been red-hot. The task, however, was brought to
an end without accident of any kind; and when the stores
of the Hansa were safely deposited in the galleries of the
Hive, Lieutenant Procope avowed that he really felt that
his mind had been unburdened from a great anxiety.
Captain Servadac gave old Isaac full permission to
take up his residence amongst the rest of the community,
promised him the entire control over his own property,
and altogether showed him so much consideration that,
but for his unbounded respect for his master, Ben Zoof
would have liked to reprimand him for his courtesy to a
man whom he so cordially despised.
Although Hakkabut clamoured most vehemently about
his goods being carried off “against his will,” in his heart
he was more than satisfied to see his property transferred
to a place of safety, and delighted, moreover, to know that
the transport had been effected without a farthing of
expense to himself. As soon, then, as he found the tartan
empty, he was only too glad to accept the offer that had
been made him, and very soon made his way over to
the quarters in the gallery where his merchandise had
been stored. Here he lived day and night. He supplied
himself with what little food he required from his own
stock of provisions, a small spirit-lamp sufficing to perform
all the operations of his meagre cookery. Consequently
all intercourse between himself and the rest of the inhabitants
was entirely confined to business transactions,
when occasion required that some purchase should be
made from his stock of commodities. Meanwhile, all the
silver and gold of the colony was gradually finding its way
to a double-locked drawer, of which the Jew most carefully
guarded the key.
The 1st of January was drawing near, the anniversary
of the shock which had resulted in the severance of thirty-six
human beings from the society of their fellow-men.
Hitherto, not one of them was missing. The unvarying
calmness of the climate, notwithstanding the cold, had
tended to maintain them in good health, and there seemed
no reason to doubt that, when Gallia returned to the
earth, the total of its little population would still be
complete.
The 1st of January, it is true, was not properly “New
Year's Day” in Gallia, but Captain Servadac, nevertheless,
was very anxious to have it observed as a holiday.
“I do not think,” he said to Count Timascheff and
Lieutenant Procope, “that we ought to allow our people
to lose their interest in the world to which we are all hoping
to return; and how can we cement the bond that ought
to unite us, better than by celebrating, in common with our
fellow-creatures upon earth, a day that awakens afresh the
kindliest sentiments of all? Besides,” he added, smiling,
“I expect that Gallia, although invisible just at present to
the naked eye, is being closely watched by the telescopes
of our terrestrial friends, and I have no doubt that the
newspapers and scientific journals of both hemispheres are
full of accounts detailing the movements of the new comet.”
“True,” asserted the count. “I can quite imagine
that we are occasioning no small excitement in all the
chief observatories.”
“Ay, more than that,” said the lieutenant; “our
Gallia is certain to be far more than a mere object of
scientific interest or curiosity. Why should we doubt that
the elements of a comet which has once come into collision
with the earth have by this time been accurately calculated?
What our friend the professor has done here, has
been done likewise on the earth, where, beyond a question,
all manner of expedients are being discussed as to the
best way of mitigating the violence of a concussion that
must occur.”
The lieutenant's conjectures were so reasonable that
they commanded assent. Gallia could scarcely be otherwise
than an object of terror to the inhabitants of the
earth, who could by no means be certain that a second
collision would be comparatively so harmless at the first.
Even to the Gallians themselves, much as they looked
forward to the event, the prospect was not unmixed with
alarm, and they would rejoice in the invention of any
device by which it was likely the impetus of the shock
might be deadened.
It was premature, however, for concern of this sort.
Come what might, the 1st of January should be celebrated
as a fête day, the Russians professing themselves quite
willing to accept the date as observed by the Frenchmen
and Spaniards.[1]
Christmas arrived, and was marked by appropriate
religious observance by every one in the community, with
the exception of the Jew, who made a point of secluding
himself more obstinately than ever in the gloomy recesses
of his retreat.
To Ben Zoof the last week of the year was full of
bustle. The arrangements for the fête were entrusted to
him, and he was anxious, in spite of the resources of Gallia
being so limited, to make the programme for the great day
as attractive as possible.
It was settled that the proceedings should open with a
grand déjeuner, after which there should be a promenade
upon the ice in the direction of Gourbi Island, to conclude
with a torch-light procession in the evening. The torches,
without much difficulty, could be manufactured from
materials included in the stores of the Hansa.
The composition of the bill of fare was an elaborate
business. The orderly and the cook of the Dobryna were
frequently to be seen in deep confabulation, so that it was
to be expected that the repast would be a masterpiece of
the combined arts of French and Russian cookery.
“Only let the déjeuner be a success,” said Ben Zoof,
“and I will answer for it the promenade on the ice is sure
to be a success too.”
On the evening of the 31st of December the table in
the common hall was laid for the great collation. The hot
dishes would not be prepared until the following morning,
but all the cold viands—game-pies, galantines, potted
meats, and other things, many of which had been obtained
from Isaac Hakkabut at most exorbitant prices—were
spread upon the table.
It was a matter of debate that night whether the professor
should be invited to join the party; it was scarcely
likely that he would care to come, but, on the whole, it
was felt to be advisable to ask him. At first Captain
Servadac thought of going in person with the invitation;
but, remembering Rosette's dislike to visitors, he altered
his mind, and sent young Pablo up to the observatory with
a formal note, requesting the pleasure of Professor Rosette's
company at the New Year's fête.
Pablo was soon back, bringing no answer except that
the professor had told him that “to-day was the 125th of
June, and that to-morrow would be the 1st of July.”
Consequently, Servadac and the count took it for
granted that Palmyrin Rosette declined their invitation.
An hour after sunrise on New Year's Day, Frenchmen,
Russians, Spaniards, and little Nina, as the representative
of Italy, sat down to a feast such as never before had been
seen in Gallia. Ben Zoof and the Russian cook had quite
surpassed themselves. A huge dish of stewed partridges,
in which, in default of vegetables, enough curry-powder
had been used to blister the tongue, if not to damage the
coats of the stomach, was the pièce de résistance. The
wines, part of the Dobryna's stores, were of excellent
quality. Those of the vintages of France and Spain were
drunk in toasting their respective countries, and even
Russia was honoured in a similar way by means of a few
bottles of kummel. The company was more than contented—it
was as jovial as Ben Zoof could desire; and
the ringing cheers that followed the great toast of the
day—“A happy return to our Mother Earth,” must fairly
have startled the professor in the silence of his observatory.
The déjeûner over, there still remained three hours of
daylight. The sun was approaching the zenith, but so
dim and enfeebled were his rays that they were very
unlike what had produced the wines of Bordeaux and
Burgundy which they had just been enjoying, and it was
necessary for all, before starting upon an excursion that
would last over nightfall, to envelop themselves in the
thickest of clothing.
Full of spirits, the party left the Hive, and chattering and
singing as they went, made their way down to the frozen
shore, where they fastened on their skates. Once upon
the ice, every one followed his own fancy, and some singly,
some in groups, scattered themselves in all directions.
Captain Servadac, the count, and the lieutenant were
generally seen together. Negrete and the Spaniards, now
masters of their novel exercise, wandered fleetly and gracefully
hither and thither, occasionally being out of sight
completely. The Russian sailors, following a northern
custom, skated in file, maintaining their rank by means
of a long pole passed under their right arms, and in this
way they described a trackway of singular regularity.
The two children, blithe as birds, flitted about, now singly,
now arm-in-arm, now joining the captain's party, now
making a short peregrination by themselves, but always
full of life and spirit. As for Ben Zoof, he was here,
there, and everywhere, his imperturbable good temper
ensuring him a smile of welcome whenever he appeared.
Thus coursing rapidly over the icy plain, the whole
party had soon exceeded the line that made the horizon
from the shore. First, the rocks of the coast were lost to
view; then the white crests of the cliffs were no longer to
be seen; and at last, the summit of the volcano, with its
corona of vapour, was entirely out of sight. Occasionally
the skaters were obliged to stop to recover their breath,
but, fearful of frost-bite, they almost instantly resumed
their exercise, and proceeded nearly as far as Gourbi
Island before they thought about retracing their course.
But night was coming on, and the sun was already
sinking in the east with the rapidity to which the residents
on Gallia were by this time well accustomed. The sunset
upon this contracted horizon was very remarkable. There
was not a cloud nor a vapour to catch the tints of the
declining beams; the surface of the ice did not, as a liquid
sea would, reflect the last green ray of light; but the
radiant orb, enlarged by the effect of refraction, its circumference
sharply defined against the sky, sank abruptly,
as though a trap had been opened in the ice for its
reception.
Before the daylight ended, Captain Servadac had
cautioned the party to collect themselves betimes into one
group.
“Unless you are sure of your whereabouts before dark,”
he said, “you will not find it after. We have come out
like a party of skirmishers; let us go back in full force.”
The night would be dark; their moon was in conjunction,
and would not be seen; the stars would only give
something of that “pale radiance” which the poet Corneille
has described.
Immediately after sunset the torches were lighted, and
the long series of flames, fanned by the rapid motion of
their bearers, had much the appearance of an enormous
fiery banner. An hour later, and the volcano appeared
like a dim shadow on the horizon, the light from the crater
shedding a lurid glare upon the surrounding gloom. In
time the glow of the burning lava, reflected in the icy
mirror, fell upon the troop of skaters, and cast their
lengthened shadows grotesquely on the surface of the
frozen sea.
Later still, half an hour or more afterwards, the torches
were all but dying out. The shore was close at hand.
All at once, Ben Zoof uttered a startled cry, and pointed
with bewildered excitement towards the mountain. Involuntarily,
one and all, they ploughed their heels into the
ice and came to a halt. Exclamations of surprise and
horror burst from every lip. The volcano was extinguished!
The stream of burning larva had suddenly
ceased to flow!
Speechless with amazement, they stood still for some
moments. There was not one of them that did not realize,
more or less, how critical was their position. The sole
source of the heat that had enabled them to brave the
rigour of the cold had failed them! death, in the cruellest
of all shapes, seemed staring them in the face—death
from cold!
Meanwhile, the last torch had flickered out.
It was quite dark.
“Forward!” cried Servadac, firmly.
At the word of command they advanced to the shore;
clambered with no little difficulty up the slippery rocks;
gained the mouth of the gallery; groped their way into
the common hall.
How dreary! how chill it seemed!
The fiery cataract no longer spread its glowing covering.
over the mouth of the grotto. Lieutenant Procope leaned
through the aperture. The pool, hitherto kept fluid by its
proximity to the lava, was already encrusted with a layer
of ice.
Such was the end of the New Year's Day so happily
begun.
1^ There is a difference of eleven days
between the French and Russian calendars.
