A Carrier-pigeon
:
BOOK I.
:
Off On A Comet
When, three hours after sunset, on the 23d of March, the Gallian moon
rose upon the western horizon, it was observed that she had entered upon
her last quarter. She had taken only four days to pass from syzygy to
quadrature, and it was consequently evident that she would be visible
for little more than a week at a time, and that her lunation would be
accomplished within sixteen days. The lunar months, like the solar
da
s, had been diminished by one-half. Three days later the moon was in
conjunction with the sun, and was consequently lost to view; Ben Zoof,
as the first observer of the satellite, was extremely interested in its
movements, and wondered whether it would ever reappear.
On the 26th, under an atmosphere perfectly clear and dry, the
thermometer fell to 12 degrees F. below zero. Of the present distance of
Gallia from the sun, and the number of leagues she had traversed since
the receipt of the last mysterious document, there were no means of
judging; the extent of diminution in the apparent disc of the sun did
not afford sufficient basis even for an approximate calculation; and
Captain Servadac was perpetually regretting that they could receive no
further tidings from the anonymous correspondent, whom he persisted in
regarding as a fellow-countryman.
The solidity of the ice was perfect; the utter stillness of the air at
the time when the final congelation of the waters had taken place had
resulted in the formation of a surface that for smoothness would rival
a skating-rink; without a crack or flaw it extended far beyond the range
of vision.
The contrast to the ordinary aspect of polar seas was very remarkable.
There, the ice-fields are an agglomeration of hummocks and icebergs,
massed in wild confusion, often towering higher than the masts of the
largest whalers, and from the instability of their foundations liable
to an instantaneous loss of equilibrium; a breath of wind, a slight
modification of the temperature, not unfrequently serving to bring about
a series of changes outrivaling the most elaborate transformation scenes
of a pantomime. Here, on the contrary, the vast white plain was level as
the desert of Sahara or the Russian steppes; the waters of the Gallian
Sea were imprisoned beneath the solid sheet, which became continually
stouter in the increasing cold.
Accustomed to the uneven crystallizations of their own frozen seas, the
Russians could not be otherwise than delighted with the polished
surface that afforded them such excellent opportunity for enjoying
their favorite pastime of skating. A supply of skates, found hidden
away amongst the Dobryna's stores, was speedily brought into use. The
Russians undertook the instruction of the Spaniards, and at the end of
a few days, during which the temperature was only endurable through the
absence of wind, there was not a Gallian who could not skate tolerably
well, while many of them could describe figures involving the most
complicated curves. Nina and Pablo earned loud applause by their rapid
proficiency; Captain Servadac, an adept in athletics, almost outvied his
instructor, the count; and Ben Zoof, who had upon some rare occasions
skated upon the Lake of Montmartre (in his eyes, of course, a sea),
performed prodigies in the art.
This exercise was not only healthful in itself, but it was acknowledged
that, in case of necessity, it might become a very useful means of
locomotion. As Captain Servadac remarked, it was almost a substitute for
railways, and as if to illustrate this proposition, Lieutenant Procope,
perhaps the greatest expert in the party, accomplished the twenty miles
to Gourbi Island and back in considerably less than four hours.
The temperature, meanwhile, continued to decrease, and the average
reading of the thermometer was about 16 degrees F. below zero; the light
also diminished in proportion, and all objects appeared to be enveloped
in a half-defined shadow, as though the sun were undergoing a perpetual
eclipse. It was not surprising that the effect of this continuously
overhanging gloom should be to induce a frequent depression of spirits
amongst the majority of the little population, exiles as they were from
their mother earth, and not unlikely, as it seemed, to be swept far away
into the regions of another planetary sphere. Probably Count Timascheff,
Captain Servadac, and Lieutenant Procope were the only members of the
community who could bring any scientific judgment to bear upon the
uncertainty that was before them, but a general sense of the strangeness
of their situation could not fail at times to weigh heavily upon
the minds of all. Under these circumstances it was very necessary to
counteract the tendency to despond by continual diversion; and the
recreation of skating thus opportunely provided, seemed just the thing
to arouse the flagging spirits, and to restore a wholesome excitement.
With dogged obstinacy, Isaac Hakkabut refused to take any share either
in the labors or the amusements of the colony. In spite of the cold,
he had not been seen since the day of his arrival from Gourbi Island.
Captain Servadac had strictly forbidden any communication with him; and
the smoke that rose from the cabin chimney of the Hansa was the sole
indication of the proprietor being still on board. There was nothing to
prevent him, if he chose, from partaking gratuitously of the volcanic
light and heat which were being enjoyed by all besides; but rather
than abandon his close and personal oversight of his precious cargo, he
preferred to sacrifice his own slender stock of fuel.
Both the schooner and the tartan had been carefully moored in the way
that seemed to promise best for withstanding the rigor of the winter.
After seeing the vessels made secure in the frozen creek. Lieutenant
Procope, following the example of many Arctic explorers, had the
precaution to have the ice beveled away from the keels, so that there
should be no risk of the ships' sides being crushed by the increasing
pressure; he hoped that they would follow any rise in the level of the
ice-field, and when the thaw should come, that they would easily regain
their proper water-line.
On his last visit to Gourbi Island, the lieutenant had ascertained that
north, east, and west, far as the eye could reach, the Gallian Sea had
become one uniform sheet of ice. One spot alone refused to freeze; this
was the pool immediately below the central cavern, the receptacle for
the stream of burning lava. It was entirely enclosed by rocks, and if
ever a few icicles were formed there by the action of the cold, they
were very soon melted by the fiery shower. Hissing and spluttering as
the hot lava came in contact with it, the water was in a continual
state of ebullition, and the fish that abounded in its depths defied
the angler's craft; they were, as Ben Zoof remarked, "too much boiled to
bite."
At the beginning of April the weather changed. The sky became overcast,
but there was no rise in the temperature. Unlike the polar winters of
the earth, which ordinarily are affected by atmospheric influence, and
liable to slight intermissions of their severity at various shiftings
of the wind, Gallia's winter was caused by her immense distance from the
source of all light and heat, and the cold was consequently destined
to go on steadily increasing until it reached the limit ascertained by
Fourier to be the normal temperature of the realms of space.
With the over-clouding of the heavens there arose a violent tempest;
but although the wind raged with an almost inconceivable fury, it
was unaccompanied by either snow or rain. Its effect upon the burning
curtain that covered the aperture of the central hall was very
remarkable. So far from there being any likelihood of the fire being
extinguished by the vehemence of the current of air, the hurricane
seemed rather to act as a ventilator, which fanned the flame into
greater activity, and the utmost care was necessary to avoid being burnt
by the fragments of lava that were drifted into the interior of the
grotto. More than once the curtain itself was rifted entirely asunder,
but only to close up again immediately after allowing a momentary
draught of cold air to penetrate the hall in a way that was refreshing
and rather advantageous than otherwise.
On the 4th of April, after an absence of about four days, the new
satellite, to Ben Zoof's great satisfaction, made its reappearance in
a crescent form, a circumstance that seemed to justify the anticipation
that henceforward it would continue to make a periodic revolution every
fortnight.
The crust of ice and snow was far too stout for the beaks of the
strongest birds to penetrate, and accordingly large swarms had left the
island, and, following the human population, had taken refuge on the
volcanic promontory; not that there the barren shore had anything in the
way of nourishment to offer them, but their instinct impelled them to
haunt now the very habitations which formerly they would have shunned.
Scraps of food were thrown to them from the galleries; these were
speedily devoured, but were altogether inadequate in quantity to meet
the demand. At length, emboldened by hunger, several hundred birds
ventured through the tunnel, and took up their quarters actually in
Nina's Hive. Congregating in the large hall, the half-famished creatures
did not hesitate to snatch bread, meat, or food of any description from
the hands of the residents as they sat at table, and soon became such an
intolerable nuisance that it formed one of the daily diversions to hunt
them down; but although they were vigorously attacked by stones and
sticks, and even occasionally by shot, it was with some difficulty that
their number could be sensibly reduced.
By a systematic course of warfare the bulk of the birds were all
expelled, with the exception of about a hundred, which began to build in
the crevices of the rocks. These were left in quiet possession of their
quarters, as not only was it deemed advisable to perpetuate the various
breeds, but it was found that these birds acted as a kind of police,
never failing either to chase away or to kill any others of their
species who infringed upon what they appeared to regard as their own
special privilege in intruding within the limits of their domain.
On the 15th loud cries were suddenly heard issuing from the mouth of the
principal gallery.
"Help, help! I shall be killed!"
Pablo in a moment recognized the voice as Nina's. Outrunning even Ben
Zoof he hurried to the assistance of his little playmate, and discovered
that she was being attacked by half a dozen great sea-gulls, and only
after receiving some severe blows from their beaks could he succeed by
means of a stout cudgel in driving them away.
"Tell me, Nina, what is this?" he asked as soon as the tumult had
subsided.
The child pointed to a bird which she was caressing tenderly in her
bosom.
"A pigeon!" exclaimed Ben Zoof, who had reached the scene of commotion,
adding:
"A carrier-pigeon! And by all the saints of Montmartre, there is a
little bag attached to its neck!"
He took the bird, and rushing into the hall placed it in Servadac's
hands.
"Another message, no doubt," cried the captain, "from our unknown
friend. Let us hope that this time he has given us his name and
address."
All crowded round, eager to hear the news. In the struggle with the
gulls the bag had been partially torn open, but still contained the
following dispatch:
"Gallia!
Chemin parcouru du 1er Mars au 1er Avril: 39,000,000 l.!
Distance du soleil: 110,000,000 l.!
Capte Nerina en passant.
Vivres vont manquer et..."
The rest of the document had been so damaged by the beaks of the gulls
that it was illegible. Servadac was wild with vexation. He felt more and
more convinced that the writer was a Frenchman, and that the last
line indicated that he was in distress from scarcity of food. The
very thought of a fellow-countryman in peril of starvation drove him
well-nigh to distraction, and it was in vain that search was made
everywhere near the scene of conflict in hopes of finding the missing
scrap that might bear a signature or address.
Suddenly little Nina, who had again taken possession of the pigeon, and
was hugging it to her breast, said:
"Look here, Ben Zoof!"
And as she spoke she pointed to the left wing of the bird. The wing bore
the faint impress of a postage-stamp, and the one word: "FORMENTERA."