Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Off on a Comet! a Journey through Planetary Space by Jules Verne (robert munsch read aloud .TXT) 📖
- Author: Jules Verne
Book online «Off on a Comet! a Journey through Planetary Space by Jules Verne (robert munsch read aloud .TXT) 📖». Author Jules Verne
It was determined to make the start at two o’clock, three-quarters of an hour, or, to speak correctly 42 minutes 35.6 seconds, before the time predicted by the professor as the instant of collision. The modified rotation of the comet caused it to be daylight at the time.
An hour previously the balloon was inflated with perfect success, and the car was securely attached to the network. It only awaited the stowage of the passengers.
Isaac Hakkabut was the first to take his place in the car. But scarcely had he done so, when Servadac noticed that his waist was encompassed by an enormous girdle that bulged out to a very extraordinary extent. “What’s all this, Hakkabut?” he asked.
“It’s only my little bit of money, your Excellency; my modest little fortune—a mere bagatelle,” said the Jew.
“And what may your little fortune weigh?” inquired the captain.
“Only about sixty-six pounds!” said Isaac.
“Sixty-six pounds!” cried Servadac. “We haven’t reckoned for this.”
“Merciful heavens!” began the Jew.
“Sixty-six pounds!” repeated Servadac. “We can hardly carry ourselves; we can’t have any dead weight here. Pitch it out, man, pitch it out!”
“God of Israel!” whined Hakkabut.
“Out with it, I say!” cried Servadac.
“What, all my money, which I have saved so long, and toiled for so hard?”
“It can’t be helped,” said the captain, unmoved.
“Oh, your Excellency!” cried the Jew.
“Now, old Nicodemus, listen to me,” interposed Ben Zoof; “you just get rid of that pouch of yours, or we will get rid of you. Take your choice. Quick, or out you go!”
The avaricious old man was found to value his life above his money; he made a lamentable outcry about it, but he unfastened his girdle at last, and put it out of the car.
Very different was the case with Palmyrin Rosette. He avowed over and over again his intention of never quitting the nucleus of his comet. Why should he trust himself to a balloon, that would blaze up like a piece of paper? Why should he leave the comet? Why should he not go once again upon its surface into the far-off realms of space?
His volubility was brought to a sudden check by Servadac’s bidding two of the sailors, without more ado, to take him in their arms and put him quietly down at the bottom of the car.
To the great regret of their owners, the two horses and Nina’s pet goat were obliged to be left behind. The only creature for which there was found a place was the carrier-pigeon that had brought the professor’s message to the Hive. Servadac thought it might probably be of service in carrying some communication to the earth.
When every one, except the captain and his orderly, had taken their places, Servadac said, “Get in, Ben Zoof.”
“After you, sir,” said Ben Zoof, respectfully.
“No, no!” insisted Servadac; “the captain must be the last to leave the ship!”
A moment’s hesitation and the orderly clambered over the side of the car. Servadac followed. The cords were cut. The balloon rose with stately calmness into the air.
CHAPTER XVIII. SUSPENSE
When the balloon had reached an elevation of about 2,500 yards, Lieutenant Procope determined to maintain it at that level. A wire-work stove, suspended below the casing, and filled with lighted hay, served to keep the air in the interior at a proper temperature.
Beneath their feet was extended the basin of the Gallian Sea. An inconsiderable speck to the north marked the site of Gourbi Island. Ceuta and Gibraltar, which might have been expected in the west, had utterly disappeared. On the south rose the volcano, the extremity of the promontory that jutted out from the continent that formed the framework of the sea; whilst in every direction the strange soil, with its commixture of tellurium and gold, gleamed under the sun’s rays with a perpetual iridescence.
Apparently rising with them in their ascent, the horizon was well-defined. The sky above them was perfectly clear; but away in the northwest, in opposition to the sun, floated a new sphere, so small that it could not be an asteroid, but like a dim meteor. It was the fragment that the internal convulsion had rent from the surface of the comet, and which was now many thousands of leagues away, pursuing the new orbit into which it had been projected. During the hours of daylight it was far from distinct, but after nightfall it would assume a definite luster.
The object, however, of supreme interest was the great expanse of the terrestrial disc, which was rapidly drawing down obliquely towards them. It totally eclipsed an enormous portion of the firmament above, and approaching with an ever-increasing velocity, was now within half its average distance from the moon. So close was it, that the two poles could not be embraced in one focus. Irregular patches of greater or less brilliancy alternated on its surface, the brighter betokening the continents, the more somber indicating the oceans that absorbed the solar rays. Above, there were broad white bands, darkened on the side averted from the sun, exhibiting a slow but unintermittent movement; these were the vapors that pervaded the terrestrial atmosphere.
But as the aeronauts were being hurried on at a speed of 70 miles a second, this vague aspect of the earth soon developed itself into definite outlines. Mountains and plains were no longer confused, the distinction between sea and shore was more plainly identified, and instead of being, as it were, depicted on a map, the surface of the earth appeared as though modelled in relief.
Twenty-seven minutes past two, and Gallia is only 72,000 miles from the terrestrial sphere; quicker and quicker is the velocity; ten minutes later, and they are only 36,000 miles apart!
The whole configuration of the earth is clear.
“Europe! Russia! France!” shout Procope, the count, and Servadac, almost in a breath.
And they are not mistaken. The eastern hemisphere lies before them in the full blaze of light, and there is no possibility of error in distinguishing continent from continent.
The surprise only kindled their emotion to yet keener intensity, and it would be hard to describe the excitement with which they gazed at the panorama that was before them. The crisis of peril was close at hand, but imagination overleaped all consideration of danger; and everything was absorbed in the one idea that they were again within reach of that circle of humanity from which they had supposed themselves severed forever.
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