Off on a Comet by Jules Verne (great books for teens txt) 📖

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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 as 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.

 

Christmas arrived, and was marked by appropriate religious observance

by everyone 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 New Year fete were entrusted to him,

and he was anxious, in spite of the resources of Gallia being so limited,

to make the program for the great day as attractive as possible.

 

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 fete.

 

Pablo was soon back, bringing no answer except that the professor

had told him that “to-day was the l25th 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. 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 honored 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 dejeuner 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,

everyone 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 vapor, 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 vapor 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 plowed 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 lava 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 rigor 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.