An Island Tomb

: BOOK I.
: Off On A Comet

No longer, then, could there be any doubt as to the annihilation of

a considerable portion of the colony. Not merely had there been a

submersion of the land, but the impression was more and more confirmed

that the very bowels of the earth must have yawned and closed again upon

a large territory. Of the rocky substratum of the province it became

more evident than ever that not a trace remained, and a new soil

of unknown
formation had certainly taken the place of the old sandy

sea-bottom. As it altogether transcended the powers of those on board to

elucidate the origin of this catastrophe, it was felt to be incumbent on

them at least to ascertain its extent.



After a long and somewhat wavering discussion, it was at length decided

that the schooner should take advantage of the favorable wind and

weather, and proceed at first towards the east, thus following the

outline of what had formerly represented the coast of Africa, until that

coast had been lost in boundless sea.



Not a vestige of it all remained; from Cape Matafuz to Tunis it had all

gone, as though it had never been. The maritime town of Dellis, built

like Algiers, amphitheater-wise, had totally disappeared; the highest

points were quite invisible; not a trace on the horizon was left of the

Jurjura chain, the topmost point of which was known to have an altitude

of more than 7,000 feet.



Unsparing of her fuel, the Dobryna made her way at full steam towards

Cape Blanc. Neither Cape Negro nor Cape Serrat was to be seen. The town

of Bizerta, once charming in its oriental beauty, had vanished utterly;

its marabouts, or temple-tombs, shaded by magnificent palms that fringed

the gulf, which by reason of its narrow mouth had the semblance of a

lake, all had disappeared, giving place to a vast waste of sea, the

transparent waves of which, as still demonstrated by the sounding-line,

had ever the same uniform and arid bottom.



In the course of the day the schooner rounded the point where, five

weeks previously, Cape Blanc had been so conspicuous an object, and she

was now stemming the waters of what once had been the Bay of Tunis. But

bay there was none, and the town from which it had derived its name,

with the Arsenal, the Goletta, and the two peaks of Bou-Kournein, had

all vanished from the view. Cape Bon, too, the most northern promontory

of Africa and the point of the continent nearest to the island of

Sicily, had been included in the general devastation.



Before the occurrence of the recent prodigy, the bottom of the

Mediterranean just at this point had formed a sudden ridge across the

Straits of Libya. The sides of the ridge had shelved to so great an

extent that, while the depth of water on the summit had been little more

than eleven fathoms, that on either hand of the elevation was little

short of a hundred fathoms. A formation such as this plainly indicated

that at some remote epoch Cape Bon had been connected with Cape Furina,

the extremity of Sicily, in the same manner as Ceuta has doubtless been

connected with Gibraltar.



Lieutenant Procope was too well acquainted with the Mediterranean to

be unaware of this peculiarity, and would not lose the opportunity of

ascertaining whether the submarine ridge still existed, or whether the

sea-bottom between Sicily and Africa had undergone any modification.



Both Timascheff and Servadac were much interested in watching the

operations. At a sign from the lieutenant, a sailor who was stationed at

the foot of the fore-shrouds dropped the sounding-lead into the water,

and in reply to Procope's inquiries, reported--"Five fathoms and a flat

bottom."



The next aim was to determine the amount of depression on either side of

the ridge, and for this purpose the Dobryna was shifted for a distance

of half a mile both to the right and left, and the soundings taken

at each station. "Five fathoms and a flat bottom," was the unvaried

announcement after each operation. Not only, therefore, was it evident

that the submerged chain between Cape Bon and Cape Furina no longer

existed, but it was equally clear that the convulsion had caused a

general leveling of the sea-bottom, and that the soil, degenerated, as

it has been said, into a metallic dust of unrecognized composition,

bore no trace of the sponges, sea-anemones, star-fish, sea-nettles,

hydrophytes, and shells with which the submarine rocks of the

Mediterranean had hitherto been prodigally clothed.



The Dobryna now put about and resumed her explorations in a southerly

direction. It remained, however, as remarkable as ever how completely

throughout the voyage the sea continued to be deserted; all expectations

of hailing a vessel bearing news from Europe were entirely falsified, so

that more and more each member of the crew began to be conscious of his

isolation, and to believe that the schooner, like a second Noah's ark,

carried the sole survivors of a calamity that had overwhelmed the earth.



On the 9th of February the Dobryna passed over the site of the city

of Dido, the ancient Byrsa--a Carthage, however, which was now more

completely destroyed than ever Punic Carthage had been destroyed by

Scipio Africanus or Roman Carthage by Hassan the Saracen.



In the evening, as the sun was sinking below the eastern horizon,

Captain Servadac was lounging moodily against the taffrail. From the

heaven above, where stars kept peeping fitfully from behind the moving

clouds, his eye wandered mechanically to the waters below, where the

long waves were rising and falling with the evening breeze.



All at once, his attention was arrested by a luminous speck straight

ahead on the southern horizon. At first, imagining that he was the

victim of some spectral illusion, he observed it with silent attention;

but when, after some minutes, he became convinced that what he saw was

actually a distant light, he appealed to one of the sailors, by whom

his impression was fully corroborated. The intelligence was immediately

imparted to Count Timascheff and the lieutenant.



"Is it land, do you suppose?" inquired Servadac, eagerly.



"I should be more inclined to think it is a light on board some ship,"

replied the count.



"Whatever it is, in another hour we shall know all about it," said

Servadac.



"No, captain," interposed Lieutenant Procope; "we shall know nothing

until to-morrow."



"What! not bear down upon it at once?" asked the count in surprise.



"No, sir; I should much rather lay to and wait till daylight. If we are

really near land, I should be afraid to approach it in the dark."



The count expressed his approval of the lieutenant's caution, and

thereupon all sail was shortened so as to keep the Dobryna from making

any considerable progress all through the hours of night. Few as those

hours were, they seemed to those on board as if their end would never

come. Fearful lest the faint glimmer should at any moment cease to be

visible, Hector Servadac did not quit his post upon the deck; but the

light continued unchanged. It shone with about the same degree of luster

as a star of the second magnitude, and from the fact of its remaining

stationary, Procope became more and more convinced that it was on land

and did not belong to a passing vessel.



At sunrise every telescope was pointed with keenest interest towards the

center of attraction. The light, of course, had ceased to be visible,

but in the direction where it had been seen, and at a distance of about

ten miles, there was the distinct outline of a solitary island of very

small extent; rather, as the count observed, it had the appearance of

being the projecting summit of a mountain all but submerged. Whatever it

was, it was agreed that its true character must be ascertained, not

only to gratify their own curiosity, but for the benefit of all future

navigators. The schooner accordingly was steered directly towards it,

and in less than an hour had cast anchor within a few cables' lengths of

the shore.



The little island proved to be nothing more than an arid rock rising

abruptly about forty feet above the water. It had no outlying reefs, a

circumstance that seemed to suggest the probability that in the recent

convulsion it had sunk gradually, until it had reached its present

position of equilibrium.



Without removing his eye from his telescope, Servadac exclaimed: "There

is a habitation on the place; I can see an erection of some kind quite

distinctly. Who can tell whether we shall not come across a human

being?"



Lieutenant Procope looked doubtful. The island had all the appearance of

being deserted, nor did a cannon-shot fired from the schooner have

the effect of bringing any resident to the shore. Nevertheless, it was

undeniable that there was a stone building situated on the top of

the rock, and that this building had much the character of an Arabian

mosque.



The boat was lowered and manned by the four sailors; Servadac,

Timascheff and Procope were quickly rowed ashore, and lost no time

in commencing their ascent of the steep acclivity. Upon reaching the

summit, they found their progress arrested by a kind of wall, or rampart

of singular construction, its materials consisting mainly of vases,

fragments of columns, carved bas-reliefs, statues, and portions of

broken stelae, all piled promiscuously together without any pretense

to artistic arrangement. They made their way into the enclosure, and

finding an open door, they passed through and soon came to a second

door, also open, which admitted them to the interior of the mosque,

consisting of a single chamber, the walls of which were ornamented in

the Arabian style by sculptures of indifferent execution. In the center

was a tomb of the very simplest kind, and above the tomb was suspended a

large silver lamp with a capacious reservoir of oil, in which floated a

long lighted wick, the flame of which was evidently the light that had

attracted Servadac's attention on the previous night.



"Must there not have been a custodian of the shrine?" they mutually

asked; but if such there had ever been, he must, they concluded, either

have fled or have perished on that eventful night. Not a soul was there

in charge, and the sole living occupants were a flock of wild cormorants

which, startled at the entrance of the intruders, rose on wing, and took

a rapid flight towards the south.



An old French prayer-book was lying on the corner of the tomb; the

volume was open, and the page exposed to view was that which contained

the office for the celebration of the 25th of August. A sudden

revelation dashed across Servadac's mind. The solemn isolation of the

island tomb, the open breviary, the ritual of the ancient anniversary,

all combined to apprise him of the sanctity of the spot upon which he

stood.



"The tomb of St. Louis!" he exclaimed, and his companions involuntarily

followed his example, and made a reverential obeisance to the venerated

monument.



It was, in truth, the very spot on which tradition asserts that the

canonized monarch came to die, a spot to which for six centuries and

more his countrymen had paid the homage of a pious regard. The lamp

that had been kindled at the memorial shrine of a saint was now in all

probability the only beacon that threw a light across the waters of the

Mediterranean, and even this ere long must itself expire.



There was nothing more to explore. The three together quitted the

mosque, and descended the rock to the shore, whence their boat

re-conveyed them to the schooner, which was soon again on her southward

voyage; and it was not long before the tomb of St. Louis, the only spot

that had survived the mysterious shock, was lost to view.



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