Chapter XIV
CHAPTER XIV.DREARY MONTHS.
Henceforth, then, with a velocity ever increasing,
Gallia would re-approach the sun.
Except the thirteen Englishmen who had been left at
Gibraltar, every living creature had taken refuge in the
dark abyss of the volcano's crater.
And with those Englishmen, how had it fared?
“Far better than with ourselves,” was the sentiment
that would have been universally accepted in Nina's Hive.
And there was every reason to conjecture that so it
was. The party at Gibraltar, they all agreed, would not,
like themselves, have been compelled to have recourse to a
stream of lava for their supply of heat; they, no doubt,
had had abundance of fuel as well as food; and in their
solid casemate, with its substantial walls, they would find
ample shelter from the rigour of the cold. The time
would have been passed at least in comfort, and perhaps
in contentment; and Colonel Murphy and Major Oliphant
would have had leisure more than sufficient for solving
the most abstruse problems of the chess-board. All of
them, too, would be happy in the confidence that when
the time should come, England would have full meed of
praise to award to the gallant soldiers who had adhered
so well and so manfully to their post.
It did, indeed, more than once occur to the minds both
of Servadac and his friends that, if their condition should
become one of extreme emergency, they might, as a last
resource, betake themselves to Gibraltar, and there seek
a refuge; but their former reception had not been of
the kindest, and they were little disposed to renew an
acquaintanceship that was marked by so little cordiality.
Not in the least that they would expect to meet with any
inhospitable rebuff. Far from that; they knew well enough
that Englishmen, whatever their faults, would be the last
to abandon their fellow-creatures in the hour of distress.
Nevertheless, except the necessity became far more urgent
than it had hitherto proved, they resolved to endeavour to
remain in their present quarters. Up till this time no
casualties had diminished their original number, but to
undertake so long a journey across that unsheltered
expanse of ice could scarcely fail to result in the loss of
some of their party.
However great was the desire to find a retreat for
every living thing in the deep hollow of the crater, it was
found necessary to slaughter almost all the domestic
animals before the removal of the community from Nina's
Hive. To have stabled them all in the cavern below
would have been quite impossible, whilst to have left them
in the upper galleries would only have been to abandon
them to a cruel death; and since meat could be preserved
for an indefinite time in the original store-places, now
colder than ever, the expedient of killing off the animals
seemed to recommend itself as being equally prudent and
humane.
Naturally the captain and Ben Zoof were most anxious
that their favourite horses should be saved, and accordingly,
by dint of the greatest care, all difficulties in the way were
overcome, and Zephyr and Galette were conducted down
the crater, where they were installed in a large hole and
provided with forage, which was still abundant.
Birds, subsisting only on scraps thrown out to them
did not cease to follow the population in its migration,
and so numerous did they become that multitudes of them
had repeatedly to be destroyed.
The general re-arrangement of the new residence was
no easy business, and occupied so much time that the end
of January arrived before they could be said to be fairly
settled. And then began a life of dreary monotony.
Then seemed to creep over every one a kind of moral
torpor as well as physical lassitude, which Servadac, the
count, and the lieutenant did their best not only to combat
in themselves, but to counteract in the general community.
They provided a variety of intellectual pursuits; they
instituted debates in which everybody was encouraged
to take part; they read aloud, and explained extracts from
the elementary manuals of science, or from the books of
adventurous travel which their library supplied; and
Russians and Spaniards, day after day, might be seen
gathered round the large table, giving their best attention
to instruction which should send them back to Mother
Earth less ignorant than they had left her.
Selfish and morose, Hakkabut could never be induced,
to be present at these social gatherings. He was far too
much occupied in his own appropriated corner, either in
conning his accounts, or in counting his money. Altogether,
with what he had before, he now possessed the round
sum of 150,000 francs, half of which was in sterling gold
but nothing could give him any satisfaction while he knew
that the days were passing, and that he was denied the
opportunity of putting out his capital in advantageous
investments, or securing a proper interest.
Neither did Palmyrin Rosette find leisure to take any
share in the mutual intercourse. His occupation was far
too absorbing for him to suffer it to be interrupted, and to
him, living as he did perpetually in a world of figures, the
winter days seemed neither long nor wearisome. Having
ascertained every possible particular about his comet, he
was now devoting himself with equal ardour to the analysis
of all the properties of the satellite Nerina, to which he
appeared to assert the same claim of proprietorship.
In order to investigate the new elements which belonged
to Nerina, in consequence of its removal from the
zone of the telescopic planets, it was indispensable that he
should make several actual observations at various points
of the orbit; and for this purpose he repeatedly made his
way up to the grotto above, where, in spite of the extreme
severity of the cold, he would persevere in the use of his
telescope till he was all but paralyzed. But what he felt
more than anything was the want of some retired apartment,
where he could pursue his studies without hindrance
or intrusion.
It was about the beginning of February, when the professor
brought his complaint to Captain Servadac, and
begged him to assign him a chamber, no matter how
small, in which he should be free to carry on his task in
silence and without molestation. So readily did Servadac
promise to do everything in his power to provide him with
the accommodation for which he asked, that the professor
was put into such manifest good temper that the captain
ventured to speak upon the matter that was ever uppermost
in his mind.
“I do not mean,” he began timidly, “to cast the least
imputation of inaccuracy upon any of your calculations,
but would you allow me, my dear professor, to suggest that
you should revise your estimate of the duration of Gallia's
period of revolution. It is so important, you know, so
all important; the difference of one half minute, you
know, would so certainly mar the expectation of reunion
with the earth”
And seeing a cloud gathering on Rosette's face, he
added:
“I am sure Lieutenant Procope would be only too
happy to render you any assistance in the revision.”
“Sir,” said the professor, bridling up, “I want no
assistant; my calculations want no revision. I never
make an error. I have made my reckoning as far as
Gallia is concerned. I am now making a like estimate of
the elements of Nerina.”
Conscious how impolitic it would be to press this
matter further, the captain casually remarked that he
should have supposed that all the elements of Nerina had
been calculated long since by astronomers on the earth.
It was about as unlucky a speech as he could possibly have
made. The professor glared at him fiercely.
“Astounding, sir!” he exclaimed. “Yes! Nerina
was a planet then; everything that appertained to the
planet was determined; but Nerina is a moon now. And
do you not think, sir, that we have a right to know as
much about our moon as those terrestrials”—and he
curled his lip as he spoke with a contemptuous emphasis—“know of theirs?”
“I beg pardon,” said the corrected captain.
“Well then, never mind,” replied the professor,
quickly appeased; “only will you have the goodness to
get me a proper place for study?”
“I will, as I promised, do all I can,” answered
Servadac.
“Very good,” said the professor. “No immediate
hurry; an hour hence will do.”
But in spite of this condescension on the part of the
man of science, some hours had to elapse before any place
of retreat could be discovered likely to suit his requirements;
but at length a little nook was found in the side of
the cavern just large enough to hold an armchair and a
table, and in this the astronomer was soon ensconced to
his entire satisfaction.
Buried thus, nearly 900 feet below ground, the Gallians
ought to have had unbounded mental energy to furnish an
adequate reaction to the depressing monotony of their
existence; but many days would often elapse without any
one of them ascending to the surface of the soil, and had
it not been for the necessity of obtaining fresh water, it
seemed almost probable that there would never have been
an effort made to leave the cavern at all.
A few excursions, it is true, were made in the downward
direction. The three leaders, with Ben Zoof, made
their way to the lower depths of the crater, not with the
design of making any further examination as to the nature
of the rock—for although it might be true enough that it
contained thirty per cent, of gold, it was as valueless to
them as granite—but with the intention of ascertaining
whether the subterranean fire still retained its activity.
Satisfied upon this point, they came to the conclusion that
the eruption which had so suddenly ceased in one spot
had certainly broken out in another.
February, March, April, May, passed wearily by; but
day succeeded to day with such gloomy sameness that it
was little wonder that no notice was taken of the lapse of
time. The people seemed rather to vegetate than to live,
and their want of vigour became at times almost alarming.
The readings around the long table ceased to be attractive,
and the debates, sustained by few, became utterly
wanting in animation. The Spaniards could hardly be
roused to quit their beds, and seemed to have scarcely
energy enough to eat The Russians, constitutionally of
more enduring temperament, did not give way to the same
extent, but the long and drear confinement was beginning
to tell upon them all. Servadac, the count, and the lieutenant
all knew well enough that it was the want of air
and exercise that was the cause of much of this mental
depression; but what could they do? The most serious
remonstrances on their part were entirely in vain. In fact,
they themselves occasionally fell a prey to the same lassitude
both of body and mind. Long fits of drowsiness,
combined with an utter aversion to food, would come over
them. It almost seemed as if their entire nature had
become degenerate, and that, like tortoises, they could
sleep and fast till the return of summer.
Strange to say, little Nina bore her hardships more
bravely than any of them. Flitting about, coaxing one to
eat, another to drink, rousing Pablo as often as he seemed
yielding to the common langour, the child became the
life of the party. Her merry prattle enlivened the gloom
of the grim cavern like the sweet notes of a bird; her gay
Italian songs broke the monotony of the depressing
silence; and almost unconscious as the half-dormant
population of Gallia were of her influence, they still would
have missed her bright presence sorely.
The months still glided on; how, it seemed impossible
for the inhabitants of the living tomb to say. There was
a dead level of dullness.
At the beginning of June the general torpor appeared
slightly to relax its hold upon its victims. This partial
revival was probably due to the somewhat increased influence
of the sun, still far, far away.
During the first half of the Gallian year, Lieutenant
Procope had taken careful note of Rosette's monthly
announcements of the comet's progress, and he was able
now, without reference to the professor, to calculate the
rate of advance on its way back towards the sun. He
found that Gallia had recrossed the orbit of Jupiter, but
was still at the enormous distance of 197,000,000 leagues
from the sun, and he reckoned that in about four months
it would have entered the zone of the telescopic planets.
Gradually, but uninterruptedly, life and spirits continued
to revive, and by the end of the month Servadac
and his little colony had regained most of their ordinary
physical and mental energies. Ben Zoof, in particular,
roused himself with redoubled vigour, like a giant refreshed
from his slumbers. The visits, consequently, to the long-neglected
galleries of Nina's Hive became more and more
frequent.
One day an excursion was made to the shore. It was
still bitterly cold, but the atmosphere had lost nothing of
its former stillness, and not a cloud was visible from horizon
to zenith. The old footmarks were all as distinct as
on the day in which they had been imprinted, and the
only portion of the shore where any change was apparent
was in the little creek. Here the elevation of the ice had
gone on increasing, until the schooner and the tartan had
been uplifted to a height of 150 feet, not only rendering
them quite inaccessible, but exposing them to all but
certain destruction in the event of a thaw.
Isaac Hakkabut, immovable from the personal oversight
sight of his property in the cavern, had not accompanied
the party, and consequently was in blissful ignorance of
the fate that threatened his vessel.
“A good thing the old fellow wasn't there to see,”
observed Ben Zoof; “he would have screamed like a
peacock. What a misfortune it is,” he added, speaking to
himself, “to have a peacock's voice, without its plumage!”
During the months of July and August, Gallia advanced
164,000,000 leagues along her orbit At night the cold
was still intense, but in the daytime the sun, here full
upon the equator, caused an appreciable difference of 20°
in the temperature. Like birds, the population spent
whole days exposed to its grateful warmth, rarely returning
till nightfall to the shade of their gloomy home.
This spring-time, if such it may be called, had a most
enlivening influence upon all. Hope and courage revived
as day by day the sun's disc expanded in the heavens, and
every evening the earth assumed a greater magnitude
amongst the fixed stars. It was distant yet, but the goal
was cheeringly in view.
“I can't believe that yonder little speck of light contains
my mountain of Montmartre,” said Ben Zoof, one
night, after he had been gazing long and steadily at the
far-off world.
“You will, I hope, some day find out that it does,”
answered his master.
“I hope so,” said the orderly, without moving his eye
from the distant sphere.
After meditating a while, he spoke again:
“I suppose Professor Rosette couldn't make his comet
go straight back, could he?”
“Hush!” cried Servadac.
Ben Zoof understood the correction.
“No,” continued the captain; “it is not for man to
disturb the order of the universe. That belongs to a
Higher Power than ours!”