Off on a Comet, Jules Verne [10 ebook reader .txt] 📗

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?”

 

“No, colonel, I am quite certain of my reckonings; and not only can

I testify that Malta has disappeared, but I can affirm that a large

section of the Mediterranean has been closed in by a new continent.

After the most anxious investigation, we could discover only one narrow

opening in all the coast, and it is by following that little channel

that we have made our way hither. England, I fear, has suffered grievously

by the late catastrophe. Not only has Malta been entirely lost,

but of the Ionian Islands that were under England’s protection,

there seems to be but little left.”

 

“Ay, you may depend upon it,” said Servadac, breaking in upon

the conversation petulantly, “your grand resident lord high

commissioner has not much to congratulate himself about in

the condition of Corfu.”

 

The Englishmen were mystified.

 

“Corfu, did you say?” asked Major Oliphant.

 

“Yes, Corfu; I said Corfu,” replied Servadac, with a sort

of malicious triumph.

 

The officers were speechless with astonishment.

 

The silence of bewilderment was broken at length by Count Timascheff

making inquiry whether nothing had been heard from England,

either by telegraph or by any passing ship.

 

“No,” said the colonel; “not a ship has passed; and the cable is broken.”

 

“But do not the Italian telegraphs assist you?” continued the count.

 

“Italian! I do not comprehend you. You must mean the Spanish, surely.”

 

“How?” demanded Timascheff.

 

“Confound it!” cried the impatient Servadac. “What matters whether

it be Spanish or Italian? Tell us, have you had no communication

at all from Europe?—no news of any sort from London?”

 

“Hitherto, none whatever,” replied the colonel; adding with a

stately emphasis, “but we shall be sure to have tidings from

England before long.”

 

“Whether England is still in existence or not, I suppose,”

said Servadac, in a tone of irony.

 

The Englishmen started simultaneously to their feet.

 

“England in existence?” the colonel cried. “England! Ten times

more probable that France—”

 

“France!” shouted Servadac in a passion. “France is not an island that

can be submerged; France is an integral portion of a solid continent.

France, at least, is safe.”

 

A scene appeared inevitable, and Count Timascheff’s efforts to conciliate

the excited parties were of small avail.

 

“You are at home here,” said Servadac, with as much calmness

as he could command; “it will be advisable, I think,

for this discussion to be carried on in the open air.”

And hurriedly he left the room. Followed immediately by the others,

he led the way to a level piece of ground, which he considered

he might fairly claim as neutral territory.

 

“Now, gentlemen,” he began haughtily, “permit me to represent that,

in spite of any loss France may have sustained in the fate

of Algeria, France is ready to answer any provocation that affects

her honor. Here I am the representative of my country, and here,

on neutral ground—”

 

“Neutral ground?” objected Colonel Murphy; “I beg your pardon.

This, Captain Servadac, is English territory. Do you not see

the English flag?” and, as he spoke, he pointed with national pride

to the British standard floating over the top of the island.

 

“Pshaw!” cried Servadac, with a contemptuous sneer; “that flag,

you know, has been hoisted but a few short weeks.”

 

“That flag has floated where it is for ages,” asserted the colonel.

 

“An imposture!” shouted Servadac, as he stamped with rage.

 

Recovering his composure in a degree, he continued:

“Can you suppose that I am not aware that this island on which we

find you is what remains of the Ionian representative republic,

over which you English exercise the right of protection,

but have no claim of government?”

 

The colonel and the major looked at each other in amazement.

 

Although Count Timascheff secretly sympathized with Servadac,

he had carefully refrained from taking part in the dispute;

but he was on the point of interfering, when the colonel,

in a greatly subdued tone, begged to be allowed to speak.

 

“I begin to apprehend,” he said, “that you must be laboring under some

strange mistake. There is no room for questioning that the territory

here is England’s—England’s by right of conquest; ceded to England

by the Treaty of Utrecht. Three times, indeed—in 1727, 1779, and 1792—

France and Spain have disputed our title, but always to no purpose.

You are, I assure you, at the present moment, as much on English soil

as if you were in London, in the middle of Trafalgar Square.”

 

It was now the turn of the captain and the count to look surprised.

“Are we not, then, in Corfu?” they asked.

 

“You are at Gibraltar,” replied the colonel.

 

Gibraltar! The word fell like a thunderclap upon their ears.

Gibraltar! the western extremity of the Mediterranean! Why, had they

not been sailing persistently to the east? Could they be wrong

in imagining that they had reached the Ionian Islands? What new

mystery was this?

 

Count Timascheff was about to proceed with a more rigorous investigation,

when the attention of all was arrested by a loud outcry.

Turning round, they saw that the crew of the Dobryna was in

hot dispute with the English soldiers. A general altercation

had arisen from a disagreement between the sailor Panofka

and Corporal Pim. It had transpired that the cannon-ball fired

in experiment from the island had not only damaged one of the spars

of the schooner, but had broken Panofka’s pipe, and, moreover, had just

grazed his nose, which, for a Russian’s, was unusually long.

The discussion over this mishap led to mutual recriminations,

till the sailors had almost come to blows with the garrison.

 

Servadac was just in the mood to take Panofka’s part, which drew

from Major Oliphant the remark that England could not be held

responsible for any accidental injury done by her cannon,

and if the Russian’s long nose came in the way of the ball,

the Russian must submit to the mischance.

 

This was too much for Count Timascheff, and having poured

out a torrent of angry invective against the English officers,

he ordered his crew to embark immediately.

 

“We shall meet again,” said Servadac, as they pushed off from shore.

 

“Whenever you please,” was the cool reply.

 

The geographical mystery haunted the minds of both the count

and the captain, and they felt they could never rest till they

had ascertained what had become of their respective countries.

They were glad to be on board again, that they might r�sum�

their voyage of investigation, and in two hours were out of sight

of the sole remaining fragment of Gibraltar.