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

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On the 7th of October the comet re-entered the zone of the telescopic planets,

one of which had been captured as a satellite, and the origin of the whole

of which is most probably correctly attributed to the disintegration of some

large planet that formerly revolved between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter.

By the beginning of the following month half of this zone had been traversed,

and only two months remained before the collision with the earth was to

be expected. The temperature was now rarely below 12 degrees below zero,

but that was far too cold to permit the slightest symptoms of a thaw.

The surface of the sea remained as frozen as ever, and the two vessels,

high up on their icy pedestals, remained unaltered in their critical position.

 

It was about this time that the question began to be mooted whether it

would not be right to reopen some communication with the Englishmen

at Gibraltar. Not that any doubt was entertained as to their having

been able successfully to cope with the rigors of the winter;

but Captain Servadac, in a way that did honor to his generosity,

represented that, however uncourteous might have been their

former behavior, it was at least due to them that they should

be informed of the true condition of things, which they had had

no opportunity of learning; and, moreover, that they should

be invited to cooperate with the population of Nina’s Hive,

in the event of any measures being suggested by which the shock

of the approaching collision could be mitigated.

 

The count and the lieutenant both heartily concurred in Servadac’s

sentiments of humanity and prudence, and all agreed that if the intercourse

were to be opened at all, no time could be so suitable as the present,

while the surface of the sea presented a smooth and solid footing.

After a thaw should set in, neither the yacht nor the tartan could be reckoned

on for service, and it would be inexpedient to make use of the steam launch,

for which only a few tons of coal had been reserved, just sufficient

to convey them to Gourbi Island when the occasion should arise; whilst as

to the yawl, which, transformed into a sledge, had performed so successful

a trip to Formentera, the absence of wind would make that quite unavailable.

It was true that with the return of summer temperature, there would be certain

to be a derangement in the atmosphere of Gallia, which would result in wind,

but for the present the air was altogether too still for the yawl to have

any prospects of making its way to Gibraltar.

 

The only question remaining was as to the possibility of going on foot.

The distance was somewhere about 240 miles. Captain Servadac declared

himself quite equal to the undertaking. To skate sixty or seventy miles

a day would be nothing, he said, to a practical skater like himself.

The whole journey there and back might be performed in eight days.

Provided with a compass, a sufficient supply of cold meat, and a spirit lamp,

by which he might boil his coffee, he was perfectly sure he should,

without the least difficulty, accomplish an enterprise that chimed

in so exactly with his adventurous spirit.

 

Equally urgent were both the count and the lieutenant to be allowed

to accompany him; nay, they even offered to go instead; but Servadac,

expressing himself as most grateful for their consideration,

declined their offer, and avowed his resolution of taking no other

companion than his own orderly.

 

Highly delighted at his master’s decision, Ben Zoof expressed

his satisfaction at the prospect of “stretching his legs a bit,”

declaring that nothing could induce him to permit the captain to go alone.

There was no delay. The departure was fixed for the following morning,

the 2nd of November.

 

Although it is not to be questioned that a genuine desire of doing an act

of kindness to his fellow-creatures was a leading motive of Servadac’s

proposed visit to Gibraltar, it must be owned that another idea,

confided to nobody, least of all to Count Timascheff, had been conceived

in the brain of the worthy Gascon. Ben Zoof had an inkling that his

master was “up to some other little game,” when, just before starting,

he asked him privately whether there was a French tricolor among the stores.

“I believe so,” said the orderly.

 

“Then don’t say a word to anyone, but fasten it up tight in your knapsack.”

 

Ben Zoof found the flag, and folded it up as he was directed.

Before proceeding to explain this somewhat enig-matical conduct

of Servadac, it is necessary to refer to a certain physiological fact,

coincident but unconnected with celestial phenomena, originating entirely

in the frailty of human nature. The nearer that Gallia approached

the earth, the more a sort of reserve began to spring up between

the captain and Count Timascheff. Though they could not be said

to be conscious of it, the remembrance of their former rivalry,

so completely buried in oblivion for the last year and ten months,

was insensibly recovering its hold upon their minds, and the question

was all but coming to the surface as to what would happen if, on their

return to earth, the handsome Madame de L–- should still be free.

From companions in peril, would they not again be avowed rivals?

Conceal it as they would, a coolness was undeniably stealing over

an intimacy which, though it could never be called affectionate,

had been uniformly friendly and courteous.

 

Under these circumstances, it was not surprising that Hector Servadac

should not have confided to the count a project which, wild as it was,

could scarcely have failed to widen the unacknowledged breach that was

opening in their friendship.

 

The project was the annexation of Ceuta to the French dominion.

The Englishmen, rightly enough, had continued to occupy

the fragment of Gibraltar, and their claim was indisputable.

But the island of Ceuta, which before the shock had commanded

the opposite side of the strait, and had been occupied

by Spaniards, had since been abandoned, and was therefore

free to the first occupant who should lay claim to it.

To plant the tricolor upon it, in the name of France, was now

the cherished wish of Servadac’s heart.

 

“Who knows,” he said to himself, “whether Ceuta, on its return to earth,

may not occupy a grand and commanding situation? What a proud thing it

would be to have secured its possession to France!”

 

Next morning, as soon as they had taken their brief farewell

of their friends, and were fairly out of sight of the shore,

Servadac imparted his design to Ben Zoof, who entered into the project

with the greatest zest, and expressed himself delighted, not only

at the prospect of adding to the dominions of his beloved country,

but of stealing a march upon England.

 

Both travelers were warmly clad, the orderly’s knapsack

containing all the necessary provisions. The journey was

accomplished without special incident; halts were made at

regular intervals, for the purpose of taking food and rest.

The temperature by night as well as by day was quite endurable,

and on the fourth afternoon after starting, thanks to the

straight course which their compass enabled them to maintain,

the adventurers found themselves within a few miles of Ceuta.

 

As soon as Ben Zoof caught sight of the rock on the western horizon,

he was all excitement. Just as if he were in a regiment going into action,

he talked wildly about “columns” and “squares” and “charges.” The captain,

although less demonstrative, was hardly less eager to reach the rock.

They both pushed forward with all possible speed till they were within

a mile and a half of the shore, when Ben Zoof, who had a very keen vision,

stopped suddenly, and said that he was sure he could see something moving

on the top of the island.

 

“Never mind, let us hasten on,” said Servadac. A few minutes

carried them over another mile, when Ben Zoof stopped again.

 

“What is it, Ben Zoof?” asked the captain.

 

“It looks to me like a man on a rock, waving his arms in the air,”

said the orderly.

 

“Plague on it!” muttered Servadac; “I hope we are not too late.”

Again they went on; but soon Ben Zoof stopped for the third time.

 

“It is a semaphore, sir; I see it quite distinctly.”

And he was not mistaken; it had been a telegraph in motion

that had caught his eye.

 

“Plague on it!” repeated the captain.

 

“Too late, sir, do you think?” said Ben Zoof.

 

“Yes, Ben Zoof; if that’s a telegraph—and there is no doubt of it—

somebody has been before us and erected it; and, moreover, if it is moving,

there must be somebody working it now.”

 

He was keenly disappointed. Looking towards the north, he could

distinguish Gibraltar faintly visible in the extreme distance,

and upon the summit of the rock both Ben Zoof and himself fancied

they could make out another semaphore, giving signals, no doubt,

in response to the one here.

 

“Yes, it is only too clear; they have already occupied it,

and established their communications,” said Servadac.

 

“And what are we to do, then?” asked Ben Zoof.

 

“We must pocket our chagrin, and put as good a face on the matter as we can,”

replied the captain.

 

“But perhaps there are only four or five Englishmen to protect the place,”

said Ben Zoof, as if meditating an assault.

 

“No, no, Ben Zoof,” answered Servadac; “we must do nothing rash.

We have had our warning, and, unless our representations can induce

them to yield their position, we must resign our hope.”

 

Thus discomfited, they had reached the foot of the rock,

when all at once, like a “Jack-in-the-box,” a sentinel started

up before them with the challenge:

 

“Who goes there?”

 

“Friends. Vive la France!” cried the captain.

 

“Hurrah for England!” replied the soldier.

 

By this time four other men had made their appearance from the upper part

of the rock.

 

“What do you want?” asked one of them, whom Servadac remembered

to have seen before at Gibraltar.

 

“Can I speak to your commanding officer?” Servadac inquired.

 

“Which?” said the man. “The officer in command of Ceuta?”

 

“Yes, if there is one.”

 

“I will acquaint him with your arrival,” answered the Englishman,

and disappeared.

 

In a few minutes the commanding officer, attired in full uniform,

was seen descending to the shore. It was Major Oliphant himself.

 

Servadac could no longer entertain a doubt that the Englishmen had forestalled

him in the occupation of Ceuta. Provisions and fuel had evidently been

conveyed thither in the boat from Gibraltar before the sea had frozen,

and a solid casemate, hollowed in the rock, had afforded Major Oliphant

and his contingent ample protection from the rigor of the winter.

The ascending smoke that rose above the rock was sufficient evidence

that good fires were still kept up; the soldiers appeared to have thriven

well on what, no doubt, had been a generous diet, and the major himself,

although he would scarcely have been willing to allow it, was slightly

stouter than before.

 

Being only about twelve miles distant from Gibraltar, the little

garrison at Ceuta had felt itself by no means isolated in its position;

but by frequent excursions across the frozen strait, and by the constant

use of the telegraph, had kept up their communication with their

fellow-countrymen on the other island. Colonel Murphy and the major

had not even been forced to forego the pleasures of the chessboard.

The game that had been interrupted by Captain Servadac’s former visit

was not yet concluded; but,