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

are resident impinges on the earth, it stands to reason that we must

be crushed to atoms by the violence of the concussion.”

“Regular mincemeat!” said Ben Zoof, whom no admonitions could

quite reduce to silence.

“And if,” said the lieutenant, after a moment’s pause, and the slightest

possible frown at the interruption—“and if the collision should occur

at our antipodes, the sudden check to the velocity of the comet

would be quite equivalent to a shock in situ; and, another thing,

we should run the risk of being suffocated, for all our comet’s

atmosphere would be assimilated with the terrestrial atmosphere, and we,

supposing we were not dashed to atoms, should be left as it were upon

the summit of an enormous mountain (for such to all intents and purposes

Gallia would be), 450 miles above the level of the surface of the globe,

without a particle of air to breathe.”

“But would not our chances of escape be considerably better,”

asked Count Timascheff, “in the event of either of the comet’s

poles being the point of contact?”

“Taking the combined velocity into account,” answered the lieutenant,

“I confess that I fear the violence of the shock will be too great

to permit our destruction to be averted.”

A general silence ensued, which was broken by the lieutenant himself.

“Even if none of these contingencies occur in the way we have contemplated,

I am driven to the suspicion that we shall be burnt alive.”

“Burnt alive!” they all exclaimed in a chorus of horror.

“Yes. If the deductions of modern science be true, the speed

of the comet, when suddenly checked, will be transmuted into heat,

and that heat will be so intense that the temperature of the comet

will be raised to some millions of degrees.”

No one having anything definite to allege in reply to

Lieutenant Procope’s forebodings, they all relapsed into silence.

Presently Ben Zoof asked whether it was not possible for the comet

to fall into the middle of the Atlantic.

Procope shook his head. “Even so, we should only be adding the fate

of drowning to the list of our other perils.”

“Then, as I understand,” said Captain Servadac,

“in whatever way or in whatever place the concussion occurs,

we must be either crushed, suffocated, roasted, or drowned.

Is that your conclusion, lieutenant?”

“I confess I see no other alternative,” answered Procope, calmly.

“But isn’t there another thing to be done?” said Ben Zoof.

“What do you mean?” his master asked.

“Why, to get off the comet before the shock comes.”

“How could you get off Gallia?”

“That I can’t say,” replied the orderly.

“I am not sure that that could not be accomplished,” said the lieutenant.

All eyes in a moment were riveted upon him, as, with his head

resting on his hands, he was manifestly cogitating a new idea.

“Yes, I think it could be accomplished,” he repeated.

“The project may appear extravagant, but I do not know why it

should be impossible. Ben Zoof has hit the right nail on the head;

we must try and leave Gallia before the shock.”

“Leave Gallia! How?” said Count Timascheff.

The lieutenant did not at once reply. He continued pondering for a time,

and at last said, slowly and distinctly, “By making a balloon!”

Servadac’s heart sank.

“A balloon!” he exclaimed. “Out of the question! Balloons are

exploded things. You hardly find them in novels. Balloon, indeed!”

“Listen to me,” replied Procope. “Perhaps I can convince you that my

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 cooperate 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 trernbled 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.