Off on a Comet by Jules Verne (best non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

There were certain things of which they were perfectly certain.

They could be under no misapprehension as to the distance they

had positively sailed from Gourbi Island towards the east

before their further progress was arrested by the unknown shore;

as nearly as possible that was fifteen degrees; the length

of the narrow strait by which they had made their way across

that land to regain the open sea was about three miles and a half;

thence onward to the island, which they had been assured,

on evidence that they could not disbelieve, to be upon

the site of Gibraltar, was four degrees; while from Gibraltar

to Gourbi Island was seven degrees or but little more.

What was it altogether? Was it not less than thirty degrees?

In that latitude, the degree of longitude represents eight

and forty miles. What, then, did it all amount to?

Indubitably, to less than 1,400 miles. So brief a voyage would bring

the Dobryna once again to her starting-point, or, in other words,

would enable her to complete the circumnavigation of the globe.

How changed the condition of things! Previously, to sail from

Malta to Gibraltar by an eastward course would have involved

the passage of the Suez Canal, the Red Sea, the Indian Ocean,

the Pacific, the Atlantic; but what had happened now?

Why, Gibraltar had been reached as if it had been just at Corfu,

and some three hundred and thirty degrees of the earth’s circuit

had vanished utterly.

After allowing for a certain margin of miscalculation, the main fact

remained undeniable; and the necessary inference that Lieutenant Procope

drew from the round of the earth being completed in 1 ,400 miles,

was that the earth’s diameter had been reduced by about fifteen

sixteenths of its length.

“If that be so,” observed the count, “it accounts for some

of the strange phenomena we witness. If our world has become

so insignificant a spheroid, not only has its gravity diminished,

but its rotary speed has been accelerated; and this affords an

adequate explanation of our days and nights being thus curtailed.

But how about the new orbit in which we are moving?”

He paused and pondered, and then looked at Procope as though

awaiting from him some further elucidation of the difficulty.

The lieutenant hesitated. When, in a few moments, he began

to speak, Servadac smiled intelligently, anticipating the answer

he was about to hear.

“My conjecture is,” said Procope, “that a fragment of considerable magnitude

has been detached from the earth; that it has carried with it an envelope

of the earth’s atmosphere, and that it is now traveling through the solar

system in an orbit that does not correspond at all with the proper orbit

of the earth.”

The hypothesis was plausible; but what a multitude of bewildering

speculations it entailed! If, in truth, a certain mass had been broken

off from the terrestrial sphere, whither would it wend its way?

What would be the measure of the eccentricity of its path?

What would be its period round the sun? Might it not, like a comet,

be carried away into the vast infinity of space? or, on the other hand,

might it not be attracted to the great central source of light and heat,

and be absorbed in it? Did its orbit correspond with the orbit

of the ecliptic? and was there no chance of its ever uniting again

with the globe, from which it had been torn off by so sudden and

violent a disruption?

A thoughtful silence fell upon them all, which Servadac was the first

to break. “Lieutenant,” he said, “your explanation is ingenious,

and accounts for many appearances; but it seems to me that in one

point it fails.”

“How so?” replied Procope. “To my mind the theory meets all objections.”

“I think not,” Servadac answered. “In one point, at least,

it appears to me to break down completely.”

“What is that?” asked the lieutenant.

“Stop a moment,” said the captain. “Let us see that we understand

each other right. Unless I mistake you, your hypothesis is that a

fragment of the earth, comprising the Mediterranean and its shores

from Gibraltar to Malta, has been developed into a new asteroid,

which is started on an independent orbit in the solar regions.

Is not that your meaning?”

“Precisely so,” the lieutenant acquiesced.

“Well, then,” continued Servadac, “it seems to me to be at

fault in this respect: it fails, and fails completely,

to account for the geological character of the land that we

have found now encompassing this sea. Why, if the new land is

a fragment of the old—why does it not retain its old formation?

What has become of the granite and the calcareous deposits?

How is it that these should all be changed into a mineral

concrete with which we have no acquaintance?”

No doubt, it was a serious objection; for, however likely it might

be that a mass of the earth on being detached would be eccentric

in its movements, there was no probable reason to be alleged why

the material of its substance should undergo so complete a change.

There was nothing to account for the fertile shores, rich in vegetation,

being transformed into rocks arid and barren beyond precedent.

The lieutenant felt the difficulty, and owned himself unprepared to give at

once an adequate solution; nevertheless, he declined to renounce his theory.

He asserted that the arguments in favor of it carried conviction to his mind,

and that he entertained no doubt but that, in the course of time,

all apparently antagonistic circumstances would be explained so as to become

consistent with the view he took. He was careful, however, to make it

understood that with respect to the original cause of the disruption

he had no theory to offer; and although he knew what expansion

might be the result of subterranean forces, he did not venture to say

that he considered it sufficient to produce so tremendous an effect.

The origin of the catastrophe was a problem still to be solved.

“Ah! well,” said Servadac, “I don’t know that it matters much

where our new little planet comes from, or what it is made of,

if only it carries France along with it.”

“And Russia,” added the count.

“And Russia, of course,” said Servadac, with a polite bow.

There was, however, not much room for this sanguine expectation,

for if a new asteroid had thus been brought into existence,

it must be a sphere of extremely limited dimensions, and there could

be little chance that it embraced more than the merest fraction

of either France or Russia. As to England, the total cessation

of all telegraphic communication between her shores and Gibraltar

was a virtual proof that England was beyond its compass.

And what was the true measurement of the new little world?

At Gourbi Island the days and nights were of equal length,

and this seemed to indicate that it was situated on the equator;

hence the distance by which the two poles stood apart would

be half what had been reckoned would be the distance completed

by the Dobryna in her circuit. That distance had been already

estimated to be something under 1,400 miles, so that the Arctic Pole

of their recently fashioned world must be about 350 miles to the north,

and the Antarctic about 350 miles to the south of the island.

Compare these calculations with the map, and it is at once

apparent that the northernmost limit barely touched the coast

of Provence, while the southernmost reached to about lat.

20 degrees N., and fell in the heart of the desert.

The practical test of these conclusions would be made by

future investigation, but meanwhile the fact appeared very much

to strengthen the presumption that, if Lieutenant Procope

had not arrived at the whole truth, he had made a considerable

advance towards it.

The weather, ever since the storm that had driven the Dobryna

into the creek, had been magnificent. The wind continued favorable,

and now under both steam and canvas, she made a rapid progress towards

the north, a direction in which she was free to go in consequence

of the total disappearance of the Spanish coast, from Gibraltar right

away to Alicante. Malaga, Almeria, Cape Gata, Car-thagena. Cape Palos—

all were gone. The sea was rolling over the southern extent of the peninsula,

so that the yacht advanced to the latitude of Seville before it sighted

any land at all, and then, not shores such as the shores of Andalusia,

but a bluff and precipitous cliff, in its geological features resembling

exactly the stern and barren rock that she had coasted beyond the site

of Malta. Here the sea made a decided indentation on the coast;

it ran up in an acute-angled triangle till its apex coincided with

the very spot upon which Madrid had stood. But as hitherto the sea

had encroached upon the land, the land in its turn now encroached

upon the sea; for a frowning headland stood out far into the basin

of the Mediterranean, and formed a promontory stretching out beyond

the proper places of the Balearic Isles. Curiosity was all alive.

There was the intensest interest awakened to determine whether no

vestige could be traced of Majorca, Minorca, or any of the group,

and it was during a deviation from the direct course for the purpose

of a more thorough scrutiny, that one of the sailors raised a thrill

of general excitement by shouting, “A bottle in the sea!”

Here, then, at length was a communication from the outer world.

Surely now they would find a document which would throw

some light upon all the mysteries that had happened?

Had not the day now dawned that should set their speculations

all at rest?

It was the morning of the 21st of February. The count,

the captain, the lieutenant, everybody hurried to the forecastle;

the schooner was dexterously put about, and all was eager

impatience until the supposed bottle was hauled on deck.

It was not, however, a bottle; it proved to be a round leather

telescope-case, about a foot long, and the first thing

to do before investigating its contents was to make a careful

examination of its exterior. The lid was fastened on by wax,

and so securely that it would take a long immersion before any

water could penetrate; there was no maker’s name to be deciphered;

but impressed very plainly with a seal on the wax were the two

initials “P. R.”

When the scrutiny of the outside was finished, the wax was removed

and the cover opened, and the lieutenant drew out a slip of ruled paper,

evidently torn from a common note-book. The paper had an inscription

written in four lines, which were remarkable for the profusion of notes

of admiration and interrogation with which they were interspersed:

“Gallia???

Ab sole, au 15 fev. 59,000,000 1. !

Chemin parcouru de janv. a fev. 82,000,000 1. !!

Va bene! All right!! Parfait!!!”

There was a general sigh of disappointment. They turned

the paper over and over, and handed it from one to another.

“What does it all mean?” exclaimed the count.

“Something mysterious here!” said Servadac. “But yet,”

he continued, after a pause, “one thing is tolerably certain:

on the 15th, six days ago, someone was alive to write it.”

“Yes; I presume there is no reason to doubt the accuracy of the date,”

assented the count.

To this strange conglomeration of French, English, Italian, and Latin,

there was no signature attached; nor was there anything to give a clue

as to the locality in which it had been committed to the waves.

A telescope-case would probably be the property of some one on board

a ship;