by Jules Verne
CHAPTER XXIV. A SLEDGE-RIDE
Formentera was at once recognized by Servadac and the count as thename of one of the smallest of the Balearic Islands. It was more thanprobable that the unknown writer had thence sent out the mysteriousdocuments, and from the message just come to hand by the carrier-pigeon,it appeared all but certain that at the beginning of April, a fortnightback, he had still been there. In one important particular the presentcommunication differed from those that had preceded it: it was writtenentirely in French, and exhibited none of the ecstatic exclamations inother languages that had been remarkable in the two former papers. Theconcluding line, with its intimation of failing provisions, amountedalmost to an appeal for help. Captain Servadac briefly drew attentionto these points, and concluded by saying, "My friends, we must, withoutdelay, hasten to the assistance of this unfortunate man."
"For my part," said the count, "I am quite ready to accompany you; it isnot unlikely that he is not alone in his distress."
Lieutenant Procope expressed much surprise. "We must have passed closeto Formentera," he said, "when we explored the site of the BalearicIsles; this fragment must be very small; it must be smaller than theremaining splinter of Gibraltar or Ceuta; otherwise, surely it wouldnever have escaped our observation."
"However small it may be," replied Servadac, "we must find it. How faroff do you suppose it is?"
"It must be a hundred and twenty leagues away," said the lieutenant,thoughtfully; "and I do not quite understand how you would propose toget there."
"Why, on skates of course; no difficulty in that, I should imagine,"answered Servadac, and he appealed to the count for confirmation of hisopinion.
The count assented, but Procope looked doubtful.
"Your enterprise is generous," he said, "and I should be most unwillingto throw any unnecessary obstacle in the way of its execution; but,pardon me, if I submit to you a few considerations which to my mindare very important. First of all, the thermometer is already down to22 degrees below zero, and the keen wind from the south is making thetemperature absolutely unendurable; in the second place, supposing youtravel at the rate of twenty leagues a day, you would be exposed forat least six consecutive days; and thirdly, your expedition will be ofsmall avail unless you convey provisions not only for yourselves, butfor those whom you hope to relieve."
"We can carry our own provisions on our backs in knapsacks," interposedServadac, quickly, unwilling to recognize any difficulty in the way.
"Granted that you can," answered the lieutenant, quietly; "but where, onthis level ice-field, will you find shelter in your periods of rest?You must perish with cold; you will not have the chance of digging outice-huts like the Esquimaux."
"As to rest," said Servadac, "we shall take none; we shall keep on ourway continuously; by traveling day and night without intermission, weshall not be more than three days in reaching Formentera."
"Believe me," persisted the lieutenant, calmly, "your enthusiasm iscarrying you too far; the feat you propose is impossible; but evenconceding the possibility of your success in reaching your destination,what service do you imagine that you, half-starved and half-frozenyourself, could render to those who are already perishing by want andexposure? you would only bring them away to die."
The obvious and dispassionate reasoning of the lieutenant could not failto impress the minds of those who listened to him; the impracticabilityof the journey became more and more apparent; unprotected on that drearexpanse, any traveler must assuredly succumb to the snow-drifts thatwere continually being whirled across it. But Hector Servadac, animatedby the generous desire of rescuing a suffering fellow-creature, couldscarcely be brought within the bounds of common sense. Against hisbetter judgment he was still bent upon the expedition, and Ben Zoofdeclared himself ready to accompany his master in the event of CountTimascheff hesitating to encounter the peril which the undertakinginvolved. But the count entirely repudiated all idea of shrinking fromwhat, quite as much as the captain, he regarded as a sacred duty, andturning to Lieutenant Procope, told him that unless some better plancould be devised, he was prepared to start off at once and make theattempt to skate across to Formentera. The lieutenant, who was lost inthought, made no immediate reply.
"I wish we had a sledge," said Ben Zoof.
"I dare say that a sledge of some sort could be contrived," said thecount; "but then we should have no dogs or reindeers to draw it."
"Why not rough-shoe the two horses?"
"They would never be able to endure the cold," objected the count.
"Never mind," said Servadac, "let us get our sledge and put them to thetest. Something must be done!"
"I think," said Lieutenant Procope, breaking his thoughtful silence,"that I can tell you of a sledge already provided for your hand, and Ican suggest a motive power surer and swifter than horses."
"What do you mean?" was the eager inquiry.
"I mean the _Dobryna_'s yawl," answered the lieutenant; "and I have nodoubt that the wind would carry her rapidly along the ice."
The idea seemed admirable. Lieutenant Procope was well aware to whatmarvelous perfection the Americans had brought their sail-sledges, andhad heard how in the vast prairies of the United States they had beenknown to outvie the speed of an express train, occasionally attaininga rate of more than a hundred miles an hour. The wind was still blowinghard from the south, and assuming that the yawl could be propelledwith a velocity of about fifteen or at least twelve leagues an hour, hereckoned that it was quite possible to reach Formentera within twelvehours, that is to say, in a single day between the intervals of sunriseand sunrise.
The yawl was about twelve feet long, and capable of holding five or sixpeople. The addition of a couple of iron runners would be all that wasrequisite to convert it into an excellent sledge, which, if a sailwere hoisted, might be deemed certain to make a rapid progress over thesmooth surface of the ice. For the protection of the passengers it wasproposed to erect a kind of wooden roof lined with strong cloth; beneaththis could be packed a supply of provisions, some warm furs, somecordials, and a portable stove to be heated by spirits of wine.
For the outward journey the wind was as favorable as could be desired;but it was to be apprehended that, unless the direction of the windshould change, the return would be a matter of some difficulty; a systemof tacking might be carried out to a certain degree, but it was notlikely that the yawl would answer her helm in any way corresponding towhat would occur in the open sea. Captain Servadac, however, would notlisten to any representation of probable difficulties; the future, hesaid, must provide for itself.
The engineer and several of the sailors set vigorously to work, andbefore the close of the day the yawl was furnished with a pair of stoutiron runners, curved upwards in front, and fitted with a metal sculldesigned to assist in maintaining the directness of her course; the roofwas put on, and beneath it were stored the provisions, the wraps, andthe cooking utensils.
A strong desire was expressed by Lieutenant Procope that he should beallowed to accompany Captain Servadac instead of Count Timascheff. Itwas unadvisable for all three of them to go, as, in case of there beingseveral persons to be rescued, the space at their command would bequite inadequate. The lieutenant urged that he was the most experiencedseaman, and as such was best qualified to take command of the sledgeand the management of the sails; and as it was not to be expected thatServadac would resign his intention of going in person to relieve hisfellow-countryman, Procope submitted his own wishes to the count. Thecount was himself very anxious to have his share in the philanthropicenterprise, and demurred considerably to the proposal; he yielded,however, after a time, to Servadac's representations that in the eventof the expedition proving disastrous, the little colony would need hisservices alike as governor and protector, and overcoming his reluctanceto be left out of the perilous adventure, was prevailed upon to remainbehind for the general good of the community at Nina's Hive.
At sunrise on the following morning, the 16th of April, Capt
ain Servadacand the lieutenant took their places in the yawl. The thermometer wasmore than 20 degrees below zero, and it was with deep emotion that theircompanions beheld them thus embarking upon the vast white plain. BenZoof's heart was too full for words; Count Timascheff could not forbearpressing his two brave friends to his bosom; the Spaniards and theRussian sailors crowded round for a farewell shake of the hand, andlittle Nina, her great eyes flooded with tears, held up her face for aparting kiss. The sad scene was not permitted to be long. The sail wasquickly hoisted, and the sledge, just as if it had expanded a huge whitewing, was in a little while carried far away beyond the horizon.
Light and unimpeded, the yawl scudded on with incredible speed. Twosails, a brigantine and a jib, were arranged to catch the wind to thegreatest advantage, and the travelers estimated that their progresswould be little under the rate of twelve leagues an hour. The motion oftheir novel vehicle was singularly gentle, the oscillation being lessthan that of an ordinary railway-carriage, while the diminished force ofgravity contributed to the swiftness. Except that the clouds of ice-dustraised by the metal runners were an evidence that they had not actuallyleft the level surface of the ice, the captain and lieutenant mightagain and again have imagined that they were being conveyed through theair in a balloon.
Lieutenant Procope, with his head all muffled up for fear of frost-bite,took an occasional peep through an aperture that had been intentionallyleft in the roof, and by the help of a compass, maintained a proper andstraight course for Formentera. Nothing could be more dejected than theaspect of that frozen sea; not a single living creature relieved thesolitude; both the travelers, Procope from a scientific point of view,Servadac from an aesthetic, were alike impressed by the solemnity of thescene, and where the lengthened shadow of the sail cast upon the ice bythe oblique rays of the setting sun had disappeared, and day hadgiven place to night, the two men, drawn together as by an involuntaryimpulse, mutually held each other's hands in silence.
There had been a new moon on the previous evening; but, in the absenceof moonlight, the constellations shone with remarkable brilliancy.The new pole-star close upon the horizon was resplendent, and even hadLieutenant Procope been destitute of a compass, he would have had nodifficulty in holding his course by the guidance of that alone. Howevergreat was the distance that separated Gallia from the sun, it was afterall manifestly insignificant in comparison with the remoteness of thenearest of the fixed stars.
Observing that Servadac was completely absorbed in his own thoughts,Lieutenant Procope had leisure to contemplate some of the presentperplexing problems, and to ponder over the true astronomical position.The last of the three mysterious documents had represented that Gallia,in conformity with Kepler's second law, had traveled along her orbitduring the month of March twenty millions of leagues less than she haddone in the previous month; yet, in the same time, her distance from thesun had nevertheless been increased by thirty-two millions of leagues.She was now, therefore, in the center of the zone of telescopic planetsthat revolve between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter, and had capturedfor herself a satellite which, according to the document, was Nerina,one of the asteroids most recently identified. If thus, then, it waswithin the power of the unknown writer to estimate with such apparentcertainty Gallia's exact position, was it not likely that hismathematical calculations would enable him to arrive at some definiteconclusion as to the date at which she would begin again to approach thesun? Nay, was it not to be expected that he had already estimated, withsufficient approximation to truth, what was to be the true length of theGallian year?
So intently had they each separately been following their own train ofthought, that daylight reappeared almost before the travelers were awareof it. On consulting their instruments, they found that they must havetraveled close upon a hundred leagues since they started, and theyresolved to slacken their speed. The sails were accordingly taken ina little, and in spite of the intensity of the cold, the explorersventured out of their shelter, in order that they might reconnoiterthe plain, which was apparently as boundless as ever. It was completelydesert; not so much as a single point of rock relieved the bareuniformity of its surface.
"Are we not considerably to the west of Formentera?" asked Servadac,after examining the chart.
"Most likely," replied Procope. "I have taken the same course as Ishould have done at sea, and I have kept some distance to windward ofthe island; we can bear straight down upon it whenever we like."
"Bear down then, now; and as quickly as you can."
The yawl was at once put with her head to the northeast and CaptainServadac, in defiance of the icy blast, remained standing at the bow,his gaze fixed on the horizon.
All at once his eye brightened.
"Look! look!" he exclaimed, pointing to a faint outline that broke themonotony of the circle that divided the plain from the sky.
In an instant the lieutenant had seized his telescope.
"I see what you mean," said he; "it is a pylone that has been used forsome geodesic survey."
The next moment the sail was filled, and the yawl was bearing down uponthe object with inconceivable swiftness, both Captain Servadac and thelieutenant too excited to utter a word. Mile after mile the distancerapidly grew less, and as they drew nearer the pylone they couldsee that it was erected on a low mass of rocks that was the soleinterruption to the dull level of the field of ice. No wreath ofsmoke rose above the little island; it was manifestly impossible, theyconceived, that any human being could there have survived the cold; thesad presentiment forced itself upon their minds that it was a mere cairnto which they had been hurrying.
Ten minutes later, and they were so near the rock that the lieutenanttook in his sail, convinced that the impetus already attained wouldbe sufficient to carry him to the land. Servadac's heart bounded as hecaught sight of a fragment of blue canvas fluttering in the wind fromthe top of the pylone: it was all that now remained of the Frenchnational standard. At the foot of the pylone stood a miserable shed, itsshutters tightly closed. No other habitation was to be seen; the entireisland was less than a quarter of a mile in circumference; and theconclusion was irresistible that it was the sole surviving remnant ofFormentera, once a member of the Balearic Archipelago.
To leap on shore, to clamber over the slippery stones, and to reach thecabin was but the work of a few moments. The worm-eaten door was boltedon the inside. Servadac began to knock with all his might. No answer.Neither shouting nor knocking could draw forth a reply.
"Let us force it open, Procope!" he said.
The two men put their shoulders to the door, which soon yielded to theirvigorous efforts, and they found themselves inside the shed, and inalmost total darkness. By opening a shutter they admitted what daylightthey could. At first sight the wretched place seemed to be deserted; thelittle grate contained the ashes of a fire long since extinguished; alllooked black and desolate. Another instant's investigation, however,revealed a bed in the extreme corner, and extended on the bed a humanform.
"Dead!" sighed Servadac; "dead of cold and hunger!"
Lieutenant Procope bent down and anxiously contemplated the body.
"No; he is alive!" he said, and drawing a small flask from his pocket hepoured a few drops of brandy between the lips of the senseless man.
There was a faint sigh, followed by a feeble voice, which uttered theone word, "Gallia?"
"Yes, yes! Gallia!" echoed Servadac, eagerly.
"My comet, my comet!" said the voice, so low as to be almost inaudible,and the unfortunate man relapsed again into unconsciousness.
"Where have I seen this man?" thought Servadac to himself; "his face isstrangely familiar to me."
But it was no time for deliberation. Not a moment was to be lost ingetting the unconscious astronomer away from his desolate quarters.He was soon conveyed to the yawl; his books, his scanty wardrobe, hispapers, his instruments, and the blackboard which had served forhis calculations, were quickly collected; the wind, by a fortuitousProvidence, had shi
fted into a favorable quarter; they set their sailwith all speed, and ere long were on their journey back from Formentera.
Thirty-six hours later, the brave travelers were greeted by theacclamations of their fellow-colonists, who had been most anxiouslyawaiting their reappearance, and the still senseless _savant_, who hadneither opened his eyes nor spoken a word throughout the journey, wassafely deposited in the warmth and security of the great hall of Nina'sHive.
END OF FIRST BOOK
