The Venture Made

: BOOK II

What would be the consequences of this sudden and complete disruption,

Servadac and his people hardly dared to think.



The first change that came under their observation was the rapidity of

the sun's appearances and disappearances, forcing them to the conviction

that although the comet still rotated on its axis from east to west, yet

the period of its rotation had been diminished by about one-half. Only

si
hours instead of twelve elapsed between sunrise and sunrise; three

hours after rising in the west the sun was sinking again in the east.



"We are coming to something!" exclaimed Servadac. "We have got a year of

something like 2,880 days."



"I shouldn't think it would be an easy matter to find saints enough for

such a calendar as that!" said Ben Zoof.



Servadac laughed, and remarked that they should have the professor

talking about the 238th of June, and the 325th of December.



It soon became evident that the detached portion was not revolving

round the comet, but was gradually retreating into space. Whether it

had carried with it any portion of atmosphere, whether it possessed

any other condition for supporting life, and whether it was likely ever

again to approach to the earth, were all questions that there were no

means of determining. For themselves the all-important problem was--what

effect would the rending asunder of the comet have upon its rate of

progress? and as they were already conscious of a further increase of

muscular power, and a fresh diminution of specific gravity, Servadac and

his associates could not but wonder whether the alteration in the mass

of the comet would not result in its missing the expected coincidence

with the earth altogether.



Although he professed himself incompetent to pronounce a decided

opinion, Lieutenant Procope manifestly inclined to the belief that no

alteration would ensue in the rate of Gallia's velocity; but Rosette, no

doubt, could answer the question directly, and the time had now

arrived in which he must be compelled to divulge the precise moment of

collision.



But the professor was in the worst of tempers. Generally taciturn and

morose, he was more than usually uncivil whenever any one ventured to

speak to him. The loss of his telescope had doubtless a great deal to do

with his ill-humor; but the captain drew the most favorable conclusions

from Rosette's continued irritation. Had the comet been in any way

projected from its course, so as to be likely to fail in coming into

contact with the earth, the professor would have been quite unable

to conceal his satisfaction. But they required to know more than the

general truth, and felt that they had no time to lose in getting at the

exact details.



The opportunity that was wanted soon came.



On the 18th, Rosette was overheard in furious altercation with Ben Zoof.

The orderly had been taunting the astronomer with the mutilation of his

little comet. A fine thing, he said, to split in two like a child's toy.

It had cracked like a dry nut; and mightn't one as well live upon an

exploding bomb?--with much more to the same effect. The professor, by

way of retaliation, had commenced sneering at the "prodigious" mountain

of Montmartre, and the dispute was beginning to look serious when

Servadac entered.



Thinking he could turn the wrangling to some good account, so as to

arrive at the information he was so anxiously seeking, the captain

pretended to espouse the views of his orderly; he consequently brought

upon himself the full force of the professor's wrath.



Rosette's language became more and more violent, till Servadac, feigning

to be provoked beyond endurance, cried:



"You forget, sir, that you are addressing the Governor-General of

Gallia."



"Governor-General! humbug!" roared Rosette. "Gallia is my comet!"



"I deny it," said Servadac. "Gallia has lost its chance of getting back

to the earth. Gallia has nothing to do with you. Gallia is mine; and you

must submit to the government which I please to ordain."



"And who told you that Gallia is not going back to the earth?" asked the

professor, with a look of withering scorn.



"Why, isn't her mass diminished? Isn't she split in half? Isn't her

velocity all altered?" demanded the captain.



"And pray who told you this?" again said the professor, with a sneer.



"Everybody. Everybody knows it, of course," replied Servadac.



"Everybody is very clever. And you always were a very clever scholar

too. We remember that of old, don't we?"



"Sir!"



"You nearly mastered the first elements of science, didn't you?"



"Sir!"



"A credit to your class!"



"Hold your tongue, sir!" bellowed the captain again, as if his anger was

uncontrollable.



"Not I," said the professor.



"Hold your tongue!" repeated Servadac.



"Just because the mass is altered you think the velocity is altered?"



"Hold your tongue!" cried the captain, louder than ever.



"What has mass to do with the orbit? Of how many comets do you know the

mass, and yet you know their movements? Ignorance!" shouted Rosette.



"Insolence!" retorted Servadac.



Ben Zoof, really thinking that his master was angry, made a threatening

movement towards the professor.



"Touch me if you dare!" screamed Rosette, drawing himself up to the

fullest height his diminutive figure would allow. "You shall answer for

your conduct before a court of justice!"



"Where? On Gallia?" asked the captain.



"No; on the earth."



"The earth! Pshaw! You know we shall never get there; our velocity is

changed."



"On the earth," repeated the professor, with decision.



"Trash!" cried Ben Zoof. "The earth will be too far off!"



"Not too far off for us to come across her orbit at 42 minutes and 35.6

seconds past two o'clock on the morning of this coming 1st of January."



"Thanks, my dear professor--many thanks. You have given me all the

information I required;" and, with a low bow and a gracious smile, the

captain withdrew. The orderly made an equally polite bow, and followed

his master. The professor, completely nonplussed, was left alone.



Thirteen days, then--twenty-six of the original Gallian days, fifty-two

of the present--was all the time for preparation that now remained.

Every preliminary arrangement was hurried on with the greatest

earnestness.



There was a general eagerness to be quit of Gallia. Indifferent to

the dangers that must necessarily attend a balloon ascent under such

unparalleled circumstances, and heedless of Lieutenant Procope's warning

that the slightest check in their progress would result in instantaneous

combustion, they all seemed to conclude that it must be the simplest

thing possible to glide from one atmosphere to another, so that they

were quite sanguine as to the successful issue of their enterprise.

Captain Servadac made a point of showing himself quite enthusiastic in

his anticipations, and to Ben Zoof the going up in a balloon was the

supreme height of his ambition. The count and the lieutenant, of colder

and less demonstrative temperament, alike seemed to realize the possible

perils of the undertaking, but even they were determined to put a bold

face upon every difficulty.



The sea had now become navigable, and three voyages were made to Gourbi

Island in the steam launch, consuming the last of their little reserve

of coal.



The first voyage had been made by Servadac with several of the sailors.

They found the gourbi and the adjacent building quite uninjured by

the severity of the winter; numbers of little rivulets intersected the

pasture-land; new plants were springing up under the influence of the

equatorial sun, and the luxuriant foliage was tenanted by the birds

which had flown back from the volcano. Summer had almost abruptly

succeeded to winter, and the days, though only three hours long, were

intensely hot.



Another of the voyages to the island had been to collect the dry grass

and straw which was necessary for inflating the balloon. Had the balloon

been less cumbersome it would have been conveyed to the island,

whence the start would have been effected; but as it was, it was more

convenient to bring the combustible material to the balloon.



The last of the coal having been consumed, the fragments of the

shipwrecked vessels had to be used day by day for fuel. Hakkabut began

making a great hubbub when he found that they were burning some of the

spars of the Hansa; but he was effectually silenced by Ben Zoof, who

told him that if he made any more fuss, he should be compelled to pay

50,000 francs for a balloon-ticket, or else he should be left behind.



By Christmas Day everything was in readiness for immediate departure.

The festival was observed with a solemnity still more marked than the

anniversary of the preceding year. Every one looked forward to spending

New Year's Day in another sphere altogether, and Ben Zoof had already

promised Pablo and Nina all sorts of New Year's gifts.



It may seem strange, but the nearer the critical moment approached, the

less Hector Servadac and Count Timascheff had to say to each other on

the subject. Their mutual reserve became more apparent; the experiences

of the last two years were fading from their minds like a dream; and the

fair image that had been the cause of their original rivalry was ever

rising, as a vision, between them.



The captain's thoughts began to turn to his unfinished rondo; in

his leisure moments, rhymes suitable and unsuitable, possible and

impossible, were perpetually jingling in his imagination. He labored

under the conviction that he had a work of genius to complete. A poet he

had left the earth, and a poet he must return.



Count Timascheff's desire to return to the world was quite equaled by

Lieutenant Procope's. The Russian sailors' only thought was to follow

their master, wherever he went. The Spaniards, though they would have

been unconcerned to know that they were to remain upon Gallia, were

nevertheless looking forward with some degree of pleasure to revisiting

the plains of Andalusia; and Nina and Pablo were only too delighted

at the prospect of accompanying their kind protectors on any fresh

excursion whatever.



The only malcontent was Palmyrin Rosette. Day and night he persevered

in his astronomical pursuits, declared his intention of never abandoning

his comet, and swore positively that nothing should induce him to set

foot in the car of the balloon.



The misfortune that had befallen his telescope was a never-ending theme

of complaint; and just now, when Gallia was entering the narrow zone of

shooting-stars, and new discoveries might have been within his reach,

his loss made him more inconsolable than ever. In sheer desperation, he

endeavored to increase the intensity of his vision by applying to his

eyes some belladonna which he found in the Dobryna's medicine chest;

with heroic fortitude he endured the tortures of the experiment, and

gazed up into the sky until he was nearly blind. But all in vain; not a

single fresh discovery rewarded his sufferings.



No one was quite exempt from the feverish excitement which prevailed

during the last days of December. Lieutenant Procope superintended his

final arrangements. The two low masts of the schooner had been erected

firmly on the shore, and formed supports for the montgolfier, which had

been duly covered with the netting, and was ready at any moment to

be inflated. The car was close at hand. Some inflated skins had been

attached to its sides, so that the balloon might float for a time, in

the event of its descending in the sea at a short distance from the

shore. If unfortunately, it should come down in mid-ocean, nothing but

the happy chance of some passing vessel could save them all from the

certain fate of being drowned.



The 31st came. Twenty-four hours hence and the balloon, with its large

living freight, would be high in the air. The atmosphere was less

buoyant than that of the earth, but no difficulty in ascending was to be

apprehended.



Gallia was now within 96,000,000 miles of the sun, consequently not much

more than 4,000,000 miles from the earth; and this interval was being

diminished at the rate of nearly 208,000 miles an hour, the speed of the

earth being about 70,000 miles, that of the comet being little less than

138,000 miles an hour.



It was determined to make the start at two o'clock, three-quarters of

an hour, or, to speak correctly 42 minutes 35.6 seconds, before the time

predicted by the professor as the instant of collision. The modified

rotation of the comet caused it to be daylight at the time.



An hour previously the balloon was inflated with perfect success,

and the car was securely attached to the network. It only awaited the

stowage of the passengers.



Isaac Hakkabut was the first to take his place in the car. But scarcely

had he done so, when Servadac noticed that his waist was encompassed

by an enormous girdle that bulged out to a very extraordinary extent.

"What's all this, Hakkabut?" he asked.



"It's only my little bit of money, your Excellency; my modest little

fortune--a mere bagatelle," said the Jew.



"And what may your little fortune weigh?" inquired the captain.



"Only about sixty-six pounds!" said Isaac.



"Sixty-six pounds!" cried Servadac. "We haven't reckoned for this."



"Merciful heavens!" began the Jew.



"Sixty-six pounds!" repeated Servadac. "We can hardly carry ourselves;

we can't have any dead weight here. Pitch it out, man, pitch it out!"



"God of Israel!" whined Hakkabut.



"Out with it, I say!" cried Servadac.



"What, all my money, which I have saved so long, and toiled for so

hard?"



"It can't be helped," said the captain, unmoved.



"Oh, your Excellency!" cried the Jew.



"Now, old Nicodemus, listen to me," interposed Ben Zoof; "you just get

rid of that pouch of yours, or we will get rid of you. Take your choice.

Quick, or out you go!"



The avaricious old man was found to value his life above his money; he

made a lamentable outcry about it, but he unfastened his girdle at last,

and put it out of the car.



Very different was the case with Palmyrin Rosette. He avowed over and

over again his intention of never quitting the nucleus of his comet. Why

should he trust himself to a balloon, that would blaze up like a piece

of paper? Why should he leave the comet? Why should he not go once again

upon its surface into the far-off realms of space?



His volubility was brought to a sudden check by Servadac's bidding two

of the sailors, without more ado, to take him in their arms and put him

quietly down at the bottom of the car.



To the great regret of their owners, the two horses and Nina's pet goat

were obliged to be left behind. The only creature for which there was

found a place was the carrier-pigeon that had brought the professor's

message to the Hive. Servadac thought it might probably be of service in

carrying some communication to the earth.



When every one, except the captain and his orderly, had taken their

places, Servadac said, "Get in, Ben Zoof."



"After you, sir," said Ben Zoof, respectfully.



"No, no!" insisted Servadac; "the captain must be the last to leave the

ship!"



A moment's hesitation and the orderly clambered over the side of the

car. Servadac followed. The cords were cut. The balloon rose with

stately calmness into the air.



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