Chapter IX

CHAPTER IX.INQUIRIES UNSATISFIED.
Fast as his legs could carry him, Servadac had made his
way to the top of the cliff. It was quite true that a vessel
was in sight, hardly more than six miles from the shore;
but owing to the increase in the earth's convexity, and the
consequent limitation of the range of vision, the rigging of
the topmasts alone was visible above the water. This was
enough, however, to indicate that the ship was a schooner—an
impression that was confirmed when, two hours later,
she came entirely in sight.
“The Dobryna!” exclaimed Servadac, keeping his eye
unmoved at his telescope.
“Impossible, sir!” rejoined Ben Zoof; “there are no
signs of smoke.”
“The Dobryna!” repeated the captain, positively. “She
is under sail, but that schooner is Count Timascheff's
yacht.”
He was right. If the count were on board, a strange
fatality was bringing him to the presence of his rival. But
no longer now could Servadac regard him in the lights
of an adversary; circumstances had changed, and all
animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which he
hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about
the recent startling and inexplicable events. During the
twenty-seven days that she had been absent, the Dobryna,
he conjectured, would have explored the Mediterranean,
would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy,
and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some
intelligence from one or other of those countries. He
reckoned, therefore, not only upon ascertaining the extent
of the late catastrophe, but upon learning its cause. Count
Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the
rescue of himself and his orderly.
The wind being adverse, the Dobryna did not make
very rapid progress; but as the weather, in spite of a few
clouds, remained calm, and the sea was quite smooth, she
was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed unaccountable
that she should not use her engine, as whoever
was on board would be naturally impatient to reconnoitre
the new island, which must just have come within their
view. The probability that suggested itself was that the
schooner's fuel was exhausted.
Servadac took it for granted that the Dobryna was
endeavouring to put in. It occurred to him, however, that
the count, on discovering an island where he had expected
to find the mainland of Africa, would not unlikely be at a
loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently
making her way in the direction of the former mouth of
the Shelif, and the captain was struck with the idea that
he would do well to investigate whether there was any
suitable mooring towards which he might signal her.
Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty
minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity
of the island, where they both dismounted and began to
explore the coast.
They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther
side of the point there was a small well-sheltered creek
of sufficient depth to accommodate a vessel of moderate
tonnage. A narrow channel formed a passage through
the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea, and
which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the
calmness of its waters.
Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed,
to his great surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed,
which undoubtedly betokened that there had been a very
considerable ebb and flow of the waters—a thing unknown
in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely any perceptible
tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable,
was the manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood
(which was caused, in all probability, by the proximity of
the body of which the huge disc had been so conspicuous
on the night of the 31st of December) the phenomenon
had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced
to the normal limits which had characterized it before the
convulsion.
Without doing more than note the circumstance,
Servadac turned his entire attention to the Dobryna, which,
now little more than a mile from shore, could not fail to
see and understand his signals. Slightly changing her
course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to facilitate
the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but
her two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the
peak, she steered direct for the channel to which Servadac
by his gestures was pointing her, and was not long in
entering the creek. As soon as the anchor, imbedded in
the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was
lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had
landed on the island. Captain Servadac hastened towards
him.
“First of all, count,” he exclaimed impetuously, “before
we speak one other word, tell me what has happened.”
The count, whose imperturbable composure presented
a singular contrast to the French officer's enthusiastic
vivacity, made a stiff bow, and in his Russian accent
replied:
“First of all, permit me to express my surprise at
seeing you here. I left you on a continent, and here I
have the honour of finding you on an island.”
“I assure you, count, I have never left the place.”
“I am quite aware of it. Captain Servadac, and I now
beg to offer you my sincere apologies for failing to keep
my appointment with you.”
“Never mind, now,” interposed the captain, hastily;
“we will talk of that by-and-by. First, tell me what has
happened.”
“The very question I was about to put to you, Captain
Servadac.”
“Do you mean, then, to say that you know nothing of
the cause, and can tell me nothing of the extent, of the
catastrophe which has transformed this part of Africa into
an island?”
“Nothing more than you know yourself,” was the
count's rejoinder.
“But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me
whether upon the northern shore of the Mediterranean?”
“Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?”
asked the count significantly, and added, “I have discovered
no sign of land.”
The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some
moments he seemed perfectly stupified; then, recovering
himself, he began to overwhelm the count with a torrent of
questions. Had he noticed, ever since the 1st of January,
that the sun had risen in the west? Had he noticed that
the days had been only six hours long, and that the weight
of the atmosphere was so much diminished? Had he
observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that the
earth had been in imminent hazard of running foul of the
planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire
motions of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete
modification? To all these inquiries, the count responded
in the affirmative. He was acquainted with everything
that had transpired; but, to Servadac's increasing astonishment,
he could throw no light upon the cause of any of
the phenomena.
“On the night of the 31st of December,” he said, “I
was proceeding by sea to our appointed place of meeting
when my yacht was suddenly caught on the crest of an
enormous wave, and carried to a height which it is beyond
my power to estimate. Some mysterious force seemed to
have brought about a convulsion of the elements. Our
engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely
at the mercy of the terrible hurricane that raged during
the succeeding days. That the Dobryna escaped at all is
little less than a miracle, and I can only attribute her
safety to the fact that she occupied the centre of the vast
cyclone, and consequently did not experience much change
of position.”
He paused, and added:
“Your island is the first land we have seen.”
“Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the
extent of the disaster,” cried the captain, eagerly. “You
will take me on board, count, will you not?”
“My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you
require to make a tour round the world.”
“A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the
present, I think,” said the captain, smiling.
The count shook his head.
“I am not sure,” said he, “but what the tour of the
Mediterranean will prove to be the tour of the world.”
Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent
and absorbed in thought.
After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what
course was best to pursue; and the plan they proposed
was, in the first place, to discover how much of the African
coast still remained, and to carry on the tidings of their
own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event of the southern
shore having actually disappeared, they would make their
way northwards and put themselves in communication
with the population on the river-banks of Europe.
Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of
the Dobryna should be repaired: to sail under canvas only
would in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious
and difficult. The stock of coal on board Was adequate
for two months' consumption; but as it would at the
expiration of that time be exhausted, it was obviously the
part of prudence to employ it in reaching a port where
fuel could be replenished.
The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not
very serious. Some of the boiler-tubes had cracked,
allowing the water in consequence to run into the furnace;
but as several spare tubes had been stored in the yacht,
these were available to replace the old ones, and in three
days after her arrival the Dobryna was again ready to put
to sea.
Servadac employed the interval in making the count
acquainted with all he knew about his small domain. They
made an entire circuit of the island, and both agreed that
it must be beyond the limits of that circumscribed territory
that they must seek an explanation of what had so strangely
transpired.
It was on the last day of January that the repairs of
the schooner were completed. A slight diminution in the
excessively high temperature which had prevailed for the
last few weeks, was the only apparent change in the general
order of things; but whether this was to be attributed to
any alteration in the earth's orbit was a question which
would still require several days to decide. The weather
remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated,
and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer,
they were not sufficiently threatening to delay the
departure of the Dobryna.
Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether
or not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his
master. There were various reasons why he should be
left behind, not the least important being that the schooner
had no accommodation for horses, and the orderly would
have found it hard to part with Zephyr, and much more
with his own favourite Galette; besides, it was advisable
that there should be some one left to receive any strangers
that might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon
the herds of cattle which, in the dubious prospect before
them, might prove to be the sole resource of the survivors
of the catastrophe. Altogether, taking into consideration
that the brave fellow would incur no personal risk by remaining
upon the island, the captain was induced with
much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant,
hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his
country, when he had ascertained the reason of the
mysteries in which they were enveloped.
On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was “invested with
governor's powers,” and took an affecting leave of his
master, begging him, if chance should carry him near
Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved “mountain”
had been left unmoved.
Farewell over, the Dobryna was carefully steered
through the creek, and was soon upon the open sea.