These icebergs, stirred by the big waves, loomed over the feeble raft with all the majesty of their cliffs. They hardly had time to glimpse them; at the very moment when they appeared in the firelight of the punch, there was a frightful shock. The raft, impacted by icy points, came apart instantaneously. The crudely-constructed cabin was thrown into the air along with all those it sheltered; the spars wet flying, and the punch was extinguished by a deluge of icy water.
The majestic icebergs passed rapidly over the scene of the disaster, and everything was silent again….
After a minute, however, a sonorous “Ahoy! Ahoy!” revealed that not everyone had perished. It was Tournesol, who had surfaced and was trying to pierce the darkness to discover some remnant of the shipwreck. Other repeated “Ahoys!” replied, close at hand; half a dozen men clinging to a spar had heard him and made a space for him on their piece of wood.
What about Farandoul? Had he disappeared under the iceberg? Just as the matelots were anxiously coming to that conclusion, Farandoul reappeared. He had climbed on to the steam-buoy at the moment of the shipwreck; the shock had thrown the cabin of the raft on to the buoy, and it had fallen on top of him, along with the German scientists and the lyrical artistes from Le Havre. The poor individuals had grabbed hold of the buoy and succeeded in maintaining themselves above the surface.
No one was dead! But were they much better off! Could any glimmer of hope remain for these unfortunates, lost in the sea five or six leagues from the North Pole?
Suddenly, Tournesol released an exclamation and raised his arms in the air, abandoning his piece of wreckage.
“There’s a foothold here!” he cried.
Farandoul immediately shone his lantern in that direction. Strangely enough, the last barrel full of rum had also surfaced beside Tournesol. Almost immediately, the rest of the mariners stood up. The water hardly came up to their ankles. How could that be? Had they set foot on some unknown land? Were they in the shallows? The icebergs had just passed over it, though….
Farandoul grabbed a sounding-line and immediately felt resistance; the lead came back dragging a herring with it!
“A shoal of herrings!” he cried. “Saved! We’re saved! It’s the huge shoal of herring that descends at this time of year towards the coast of Holland…”115
A splendid aurora borealis suddenly sprang up at that exact moment, illuminating the horizon for our friends. The entire sky was on fire; long trails of light lit up the sea as far as the eye could see.
Farandoul put out his unnecessary lantern and leapt along the shoal of herring to carry out a rapid reconnaissance. It was indeed the great shoal of herring awaited with impatience by the fishermen of Europe; there were millions of millions heaped up one atop another over a breadth of 500 meters and double that length. In the middle of the shoal, their mass was scarcely covered by a centimeter of water; it was necessary to reach that spot and establish themselves there.
The living ground shifted under their feet and they sank into it slightly, but with care they could stand on it. In the middle, as Farandoul had hoped, the aggregation was tighter and the denser mass of herrings offered more resistance. Our hero planted a section of mast and beckoned to his friends. After a few minutes of indecision the ladies took the risk; they abandoned the buoy and walked toward the center of the shoal, holding hands. They suffered a few falls, but finally arrived.
The mariners lost no time. Numerous pieces of wreckage were floating here and there over the shoal; Mandibul had them gathered up and brought to the center. It also became urgent to put out the fire in the steam-buoy in order to save fuel and not to disturb the herrings too much. Before doing that, Farandoul gave the order to heat a little rum to warm up the ladies after their glacial bath.
“And now, to work!” cried Farandoul.
In two hours, the mariners succeeded in establishing a more solid floor of sorts on the mobile shoal of herrings. Fragments of mast supported on empty casks formed an immense frame, cut across by lighter cross-pieces. Over this frame they extended all the sail-canvas that they were able to join together, and replaced the cabin shattered by the encounter with the iceberg as best they could. When all that was done, everyone admitted that the installation, exceedingly precious as it was, was better than the poor storm-tossed raft. Apart from a slight pitching movement and a kind of formication underfoot, they could almost believe that they were on an island.
The mariners rubbed their hands, as much to congratulate themselves as to relieve numbness.
Only César Picolot was visibly anxious; he roamed around the shoal of herrings, vainly calling out to his seals—his pupils—which had disappeared during the shipwreck. Only two responded to his call; despairing of his cause he brought them to the center of the shoal and tied them to the mast.
“No more than two seals now!” he said, sadly, to Mandibul. “It’s enough for one meal, and then what? What shall we do for food?”
“O distraught philosopher,” Mandibul replied, “What about our shoal? We’ll eat our shoal, of course!” Turning to Mrs. Hatteras, he added: “Pardon Madame—do you like fresh herring? Until further notice, our master cook will be serving it for every meal.”
VI.
A strange and new situation for navigators! Lost at sea, carried by a shoal of herrings! Only Mandibul was overjoyed. “I’ve sailed in every sort of vessel in the world,” he said, “tried them all, from simple fishing-boats to great transatlantic liners, from Venetian gondolas to Malaysian proas—but this is the first time that a shoal of herrings has had the honor of transporting me!”
“Let’s see about establishing a little order on board,” said Farandoul. “We have 18 mariners, three German scientists, Madame Hatteras and her solicitor, César Picolot and the seven lyrical artistes—that makes 31 people, plus two seals. Our entire resources comprise a cask of rum—that’s all that we’ve saved, isn’t it?”
“Pardon!” cried Mandibul. “I’ve saved something else…”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve save 4,558,664.69 francs in drafts on the banks of the principal coastal cities of England, Norway and Russia. Still a good sum, with which we’ll be swimming in abundance as soon as we arrive in one or other of those countries.”
“Yes, it’s just a matter of getting there.”
Tournesol had understood. “Will we have enough herrings for the journey?” he asked. “I think that, even if I tighten my belt a little, I’ll need at least 18 herrings a day, and there are 31 of us…”
“Don’t worry, and eat 36,” Mandibul replied. “I’ve already thought about that—we have no need to fear famine. Follow my calculation: our shoal is about 1000 meters long by 500 wide and ten deep, a total of 500 cubic meters of densely-packed herrings. I estimate 1800 herrings per cubic meter, which makes nine billion herrings. I divide by 30 and I obtain approximately 300 million herrings to eat per person. You see that we can sail on quite contentedly. What grieves me is the monotony of the menu—herring and yet more herring.”
“I’d like to be clear,” Tournesol went on. “At 30 a day, how long would 300 million herrings last?”
“Damn! I certainly hope that we’ll encounter a whaler or a port before then-your 300 million herrings at 30 a day would last 27,937 years and 95 days!”
“Yes, but what about leap years? And isn’t it necessary to conserve enough to carry us?”
“You’re forgetting births, scatterbrain that you are! We’ll have newborns a-plenty; within a fortnight we’ll have six times as many herrings as today and we’ll be able to stroll on a shoal that’s a league and a half longer!”
Tournesol slapped his forehead. “That’s true—I was forgetting births! I won’t worry any longer, then, and I’ll make every effort to get fat. I’ll ask the master cook whether he can smoke part of the shoal…”
During this discussion, Farandoul was busy with the installation of passengers in the cabin in the center of the shoal. The cabin formed a shelter as uncomfortab
le as could possibly be imagined; the wind got in everywhere, nothing held firm, nothing closed; the roof, walls and everything else were made of bits and pieces. It was necessary to consolidate the miserable dwelling as quickly as possible if they did not want to perish inevitably from the cold.
A floor was constituted first, to avoid contact with the herrings. This floor, of course, bore little resemblance to a Hungarian point parquet116 and there was no question of waxing it; it was a simple raft formed of planks and crosspieces tied together with rope. A square opening was reserved in the center for building a fire. It was cruel for the poor herrings, but, at the end of the day, they could not do without a fire, nor could they contemplate putting fire on the planks.
One of the iron buoys was installed in the center of the opening and a nice coal fire was lit in it with the last of the fuel-supplies from the steam-buoy. As an economy measure, the cabin fire was also used for cooking; the master cook installed himself there and commenced his duties by grilling 300 herrings for a meal, the need for which was felt without anyone, in view of the profound darkness, knowing whether to call it breakfast or supper.
The master cook was, personally, quite satisfied with his installation. Never, aboard the ships on which he had served, or even on land during expeditions in Asia or America, had he been able to practice his art with the same convenience. He had only to bend down beside his oven to grab the herrings that were always within reach, for the gaps were filled as soon as they were made. The 300 herrings making up the meal having been snatched from the bosom of their family and thrown on the grill, the shoal closed ranks slightly, and their absence did not appear to bother the others at all. Besides, they had other things to worry about; the iron buoy serving as an oven got hot very quickly, which caused the water and the herrings that got too close to crackle and sputter. That was the sole inconvenience of the installation, and it was only serious for the herrings. As a humanitarian measure, it was decided that the herrings for meals should always be chosen from among the scorched.
That first meal on board, very copious and washed down with a nice drop of burning rum, cheered up the castaways. The fatigues of the emotionally-trying day were forgotten and everyone, after the meal, set to work under instructions from Farandoul and Mandibul to complete the task of installation. The disjointed partition walls were consolidated, boards were nailed over the breaches, and tarred canvas, stretched over everything, completed the interception of any passage of glacial air from outside.
It was just in time, for Mandibul’s thermometer marked 46 degrees below zero outside. The temperature inside the cabin was more tolerable; it was only 31 below next to the fire.
Farandoul’s first concern was to establish regulations for the maintenance of order within. It was decided that the ladies would always occupy places nearest to the buoy-oven and that the men, divided into shifts, would take turns to occupy the rest of the places in the front row. This having been decided, they settled down to spend a pleasant and tranquil evening, a satisfaction well and legitimately earned by Herculean labors.
Only Mrs. Hatteras seemed prey to melancholy.
“What’s up?” Mandibul said to her, confidentially. “Are you missing your bandit husband?”
“It’s not that,” replied poor Mrs. Hatteras. “I only regret having been the cause of your misfortunes. But there’s something else. James Codgett, my solicitor, has just informed me that he’ll be forced to raise his fee to a higher level. He warned me, when he quoted his initial figure, that the expenses of the voyage would be charged to me and that I would have to provide him with a comfortable first-class cabin. The shoal of herrings on which we’re traveling appears to him to constitute accommodation of the lowest category and he’s claiming an indemnity of 2000 pounds sterling by virtue of that fact.”
“Without prejudice to any subsidiary claims for colds and illnesses that might ensue,” said James Codgett, indiscreetly joining in the conversation. “You understand, Madam, that the disturbances occasioned by the case of Hatteras spouse versus Captain Hatteras have been much more serious than the normal course of cases pursued in the courts of London. And to tell the truth, you wouldn’t find many solicitors or distinguished advocates who would consent, as I have, to travel in all the peculiar vessels that you have caused me to frequent for some time. Permit me to enumerate: first the ice-floe; then we were lost in the ice-field…”
“A matter settled at 1000 pounds sterling!” Mrs. Hatteras observed, quietly.
“Then the gondola-sloop, hardly comfortable, not being equipped to carry passengers…”
“Settled at 500 pounds!”
“Pardon!” cried Mandibul. “That’s much too dear. The gondola-sloop was a scientific curiosity; many people would have offered fabulous sums for the simple honor of taking a trip aboard her! Therefore, acting in the interests of Madame Hatteras, I claim a substantial discount…”
“Impossible! I’d lose by it! Don’t you know that people like us, solicitors, have considerable office expenses…but I’ll go on. After the gondola-sloop, you made me travel in a magnetic buoy!”
“Another 500 pounds!” murmured Mrs. Hatteras.
“What!” cried Mandibul, furiously. “Five hundred pounds! We’ll take it to court! The magnetic buoy is a new scientific invention and the honor of trying a form of transport absolutely unknown to the rest of the world was certainly sufficient compensation for any inconvenience that a simple landlubber used to his creature comforts could experience thereby!”
“I should have been warned; I would not have accepted the case under those conditions…but I shall go on. After the buoy came the raft. I’ve got you there—you can’t pass your raft off as a scientific curiosity; everything about it was old and worn-out! Throughout history castaways have used nothing else…hence, navigation devoid of interest. Very well—and the comfort of your raft, aren’t you going to brag about that? You see that, in charging the raft at a 1000 pounds sterling, I’m being very reasonable. But after the raft, here I am, traveling on a shoal of herrings! This time, it surpasses everything that one can imagine, and no solicitor has ever been treated so unceremoniously. I have been made to go back and forth, drowned and frozen, nourished in the most bizarre fashion, and when I exercise my right to compensation, it is disputed, quibbled…no, I repeat, never has any solicitor been treated thus! We have reached the point at which I shall not dare admit to the shoal of herrings on our return to London, and at which, from now on, I must ask Mrs. Hatteras to keep silent regarding our sojourn on the backs of these nine billon herrings….”
“That,” Mandibul put in, interrupting him, “is rank ingratitude! Here are brave fish that you were very glad to run into, in order to be gathered up, and which, not content to carry you over the waves almost without rolling, will also nourish you with their flesh during the voyage—and you’re black-hearted enough to refuse to render them due thanks for your return to your fatherland! Come on! The heart of a solicitor can’t be as hard as all that!”
“That’s something for later discussion; in the meantime. I think that, in view of the strangeness of this means of transport, I have every right to a further indemnity, which I shall fix at 2000 pounds sterling.”
“Monsieur!” cried Mandibul. “I’ve always heard it said that men of law have no soul, and this confirms me in that dolorous opinion! I pity you, Monsieur! But we shall go to court and we shall see whether, rather than owing you such formidable honoraria, it isn’t you who will remain indebted to Madame Hatteras for the delightful and picturesque voyage that the case of Hatteras versus Hatteras has allowed you to take at that lady’s expense!”
“What about my practice! What has become of that in the course of my peregrinations? Do you think that my other cases are not in jeopardy in my absence, in the hands of my principal clerk—an intelligent young man, but who possesses neither my enlightenment nor my experience? At the outset, we were only supposed to undertake a short northward journey, and it was only by deg
rees that I allowed myself to be dragged all the way to the Pole…not to mention, alas, the mortal anxiety into which my long absence must have plunged Mrs. Codgett—who will be the object of a further claim that I cannot fix as yet, but which I shall formulate thus in my invoice: indemnity for familial anxieties and annoyances anticipated on return by virtue of the irascible character of the honorable Mrs. Codgett, at…the relevant fee.”
“But this is ruination!” murmured Mrs. Hatteras. “A fatal lawsuit! My family fortune will be exhausted by it. Shall I at least be successful!”
“Assuredly, Madame, the divorce will be granted by the high court on the deposition of these gentlemen—and I shall take advantage of our present tranquility to draft a statement regarding our visit to Captain Hatteras and collect the signatures of witnesses to the delinquency of the aforesaid captain.”
The worthy solicitor, taking a sheet of headed notepaper and a writing-case from his pocket, sat down beside the oven to draw up the document. His pen flew over the paper, and a few moments later he communicated the following to his client:
To the Gentlemen of the Divorce Court, Chancery Lane, London.
The undersigned James Codgett, solicitor, acting for Mrs. Hatteras, petitioner, in the claim for divorce against Captain John Hatteras, defendant, declares that, having departed for the glacial sea with that lady in order conclusively and dutifully to establish, in an ocular fashion and without possibility of error, the extra-conjugal delinquency of the aforesaid Captain John Hatteras, defendant, the abovenamed and undersigned solicitor has eventually been able, after fatigues and perils without number, for which he reserves the right to fix and charge rightful fees, to witness personally the misdeeds of which the defendant is accused.
The Adventures of Saturnin Farandoul Page 60
