Jules Verne (13 page)

Those who have been at sea, beating to windward in half a gale of
wind, will understand what the pressure was like. But here it was the
"Albatross" that by her incomparable speed made her own wind.

To allow Uncle Prudent and Phil Evans to get back to their cabin the
speed had to be reduced. Inside the deck-house the "Albatross" bore
with her a perfectly breathable atmosphere. To stand such driving the
strength of the apparatus must have been prodigious. The propellers
spun round so swiftly that they seemed immovable, and it was with
irresistible power that they screwed themselves through the air.

The last town that had been noticed was Astrakhan, situated at the
north end of the Caspian Sea. The Star of the Desert—it must have
been a poet who so called it—has now sunk from the first rank to
the fifth or sixth. A momentary glance was afforded at its old walls,
with their useless battlements, the ancient towers in the center of
the city, the mosques and modern churches, the cathedral with its
five domes, gilded and dotted with stars as if it were a piece of the
sky, as they rose from the bank of the Volga, which here, as it joins
the sea, is over a mile in width.

Thenceforward the flight of the "Albatross" became quite a race
through the heights of the sky, as if she had been harnessed to one
of those fabulous hippogriffs which cleared a league at every sweep
of the wing.

At ten o'clock in the morning, of the 4th of July the aeronef,
heading northwest, followed for a little the valley of the Volga. The
steppes of the Don and the Ural stretched away on each side of the
river. Even if it had been possible to get a glimpse of these vast
territories there would have been no time to count the towns and
villages. In the evening the aeronef passed over Moscow without
saluting the flag on the Kremlin. In ten hours she had covered the
twelve hundred miles which separate Astrakhan from the ancient
capital of all the Russias.

From Moscow to St. Petersburg the railway line measures about seven
hundred and fifty miles. This was but a half-day's journey, and the
"Albatross," as punctual as the mail, reached St. Petersburg and the
banks of the Neva at two o'clock in the morning.

Then came the Gulf of Finland, the Archipelago of Abo, the Baltic,
Sweden in the latitude of Stockholm, and Norway in the latitude of
Christiania. Ten hours only for these twelve hundred miles! Verily it
might be thought that no human power would henceforth be able to
check the speed of the "Albatross," and as if the resultant of her
force of projection and the attraction of the earth would maintain
her in an unvarying trajectory round the globe.

But she did stop nevertheless, and that was over the famous fall of
the Rjukanfos in Norway. Gousta, whose summit dominates this
wonderful region of Tellermarken, stood in the west like a gigantic
barrier apparently impassable. And when the "Albatross" resumed her
journey at full speed her head had been turned to the south.

And during this extraordinary flight what was Frycollin doing? He
remained silent in a corner of his cabin, sleeping as well as he
could, except at meal times.

Tapage then favored him with his company and amused himself at his
expense. "Eh! eh! my boy!" said he. "So you are not crying any more?
Perhaps it hurt you too much? That two hours hanging cured you of it?
At our present rate, what a splendid air-bath you might have for your
rheumatics!"

"It seems to me we shall soon go to pieces!"

"Perhaps so; but we shall go so fast we shan't have time to fall!
That is some comfort!"

"Do you think so?"

"I do."

To tell the truth, and not to exaggerate like Tapage, it was only
reasonable that owing to the excessive speed the work of the
suspensory screws should be somewhat lessened. The "Albatross" glided
on its bed of air like a Congreve rocket.

"And shall we last long like that?" asked Frycollin.

"Long? Oh, no, only as long as we live!"

"Oh!" said the Negro, beginning his lamentations.

"Take care, Fry, take care! For, as they say in my country, the
master may send you to the seesaw!" And Frycollin gulped down his
sobs as he gulped down the meat which, in double doses, he was
hastily swallowing.

Meanwhile Uncle Prudent and Phil Evans, who were not men to waste
time in wrangling when nothing could come of it, agreed upon doing
something. It was evident that escape was not to be thought of. But
if it was impossible for them to again set foot on the terrestrial
globe, could they not make known to its inhabitants what had become
of them since their disappearance, and tell them by whom they had
been carried off, and provoke—how was not very clear—some
audacious attempt on the part of their friends to rescue them from
Robur?

Communicate? But how? Should they follow the example of sailors in
distress and enclose in a bottle a document giving the place of
shipwreck and throw it into the sea? But here the sea was the
atmosphere. The bottle would not swim. And if it did not fall on
somebody and crack his skull it might never be found.

The colleagues were about to sacrifice one of the bottles on board
when an idea occurred to Uncle Prudent. He took snuff, as we know,
and we may pardon this fault in an American, who might do worse. And
as a snuff-taker he possessed a snuff-box, which was now empty. This
box was made of aluminum. If it was thrown overboard any honest
citizen that found it would pick it up, and, being an honest citizen,
he would take it to the police-office, and there they would open it
and discover from the document what had become of the two victims of
Robur the Conqueror!

And this is what was done. The note was short, but it told all, and
it gave the address of the Weldon Institute, with a request that it
might be forwarded. Then Uncle Prudent folded up the note, shut it in
the box, bound the box round with a piece of worsted so as to keep it
from opening it as it fell. And then all that had to be done was to
wait for a favorable opportunity.

During this marvelous flight over Europe it was not an easy thing to
leave the cabin and creep along the deck at the risk of being
suddenly and secretly blown away, and it would not do for the
snuff-box to fall into the sea or a gulf or a lake or a watercourse,
for it would then perhaps be lost. At the same time it was not
impossible that the colleagues might in this way get into
communication with the habitable globe.

It was then growing daylight, and it seemed as though it would be
better to wait for the night and take advantage of a slackening speed
or a halt to go out on deck and drop the precious snuff-box into some
town.

When all these points had been thought over and settled, the
prisoners, found they could not put their plan into execution—on
that day, at all events—for the "Albatross," after leaving Gousta,
had kept her southerly course, which took her over the North Sea,
much to the consternation of the thousands of coasting craft engaged
in the English, Dutch, French, and Belgian trade. Unless the
snuff-box fell on the deck of one of these vessels there was every
chance of its going to the bottom of the sea, and Uncle Prudent and
Phil Evans were obliged to wait for a better opportunity. And, as we
shall immediately see, an excellent chance was soon to be offered
them.

At ten o'clock that evening the "Albatross" reached the French coast
near Dunkirk. The night was rather dark. For a moment they could see
the lighthouse at Grisnez cross its electric beam with the lights
from Dover on the other side of the strait. Then the "Albatross" flew
over the French territory at a mean height of three thousand feet.

There was no diminution in her speed. She shot like a rocket over the
towns and villages so numerous in northern France. She was flying
straight on to Paris, and after Dunkirk came Doullens, Amiens, Creil,
Saint Denis. She never left the line; and about midnight she was over
the "city of light," which merits its name even when its inhabitants
are asleep or ought to be.

By what strange whim was it that she was stopped over the city of
Paris? We do not know; but down she came till she was within a few
hundred feet of the ground. Robur then came out of his cabin, and the
crew came on to the deck to breathe the ambient air.

Uncle Prudent and Phil Evans took care not to miss such an excellent
opportunity. They left their deck-house and walked off away from the
others so as to be ready at the propitious moment. It was important
their action should not be seen.

The "Albatross," like a huge coleopter, glided gently over the mighty
city. She took the line of the boulevards, then brilliantly lighted
by the Edison lamps. Up to her there floated the rumble of the
vehicles as they drove along the streets, and the roll of the trains
on the numerous railways that converge into Paris. Then she glided
over the highest monuments as if she was going to knock the ball off
the Pantheon or the cross off the Invalides. She hovered over the two
minarets of the Trocadero and the metal tower of the Champ de Mars,
where the enormous reflector was inundating the whole capital with
its electric rays.

This aerial promenade, this nocturnal loitering, lasted for about an
hour. It was a halt for breath before the voyage was resumed.

And probably Robur wished to give the Parisians the sight of a meteor
quite unforeseen by their astronomers. The lamps of the "Albatross"
were turned on. Two brilliant sheaves of light shot down and moved
along over the squares, the gardens, the palaces, the sixty thousand
houses, and swept the space from one horizon to the other.

Assuredly the "Albatross" was seen this time—and not only well seen
but heard, for Tom Turner brought out his trumpet and blew a rousing
tarantaratara.

At this moment Uncle Prudent leant over the rail, opened his hand,
and let his snuff-box fall.

Immediately the "Albatross" shot upwards, and past her, higher still,
there mounted the noisy cheering of the crowd then thick on the
boulevards—a hurrah of stupefaction to greet the imaginary meteor.

The lamps of the aeronef were turned off, and the darkness and the
silence closed in around as the voyage was resumed at the rate of one
hundred and twenty miles an hour.

This was all that was to be seen of the French capital. At four
o'clock in the morning the "Albatross" had crossed the whole country
obliquely; and so as to lose no time in traversing the Alps or the
Pyrenees, she flew over the face of Provence to the cape of Antibes.
At nine o'clock next morning the San Pietrini assembled on the
terrace of St. Peter at Rome were astounded to see her pass over the
eternal city. Two hours afterwards she crossed the Bay of Naples and
hovered for an instant over the fuliginous wreaths of Vesuvius. Then,
after cutting obliquely across the Mediterranean, in the early hours
of the afternoon she was signaled by the look-outs at La Goulette on
the Tunisian coast.

After America, Asia! After Asia, Europe! More than eighteen thousand
miles had this wonderful machine accomplished in less than
twenty-three clays!

And now she was off over the known and unknown regions of Africa!

It may be interesting to know what had happened to the famous
snuff-box after its fall?

It had fallen in the Rue de Rivoli, opposite No. 200, when the street
was deserted. In the morning it was picked up by an honest sweeper,
who took it to the prefecture of police. There it was at first
supposed to be an infernal machine. And it was untied, examined, and
opened with care.

Suddenly a sort of explosion took place. It was a terrific sneeze on
the part of the inspector.

The document was then extracted from the snuff-box, and to the
general surprise, read as follows:

"Messrs. Prudent and Evans, president and secretary of the Weldon
Institute, Philadelphia, have been carried off in the aeronef
Albatross belonging to Robur the engineer."

"Please inform our friends and acquaintances."

"P. and P. E."

Thus was the strange phenomenon at last explained to the people of
the two worlds. Thus was peace given to the scientists of the
numerous observatories on the surface of the terrestrial globe.

At this point in the circumnavigatory voyage of the "Albatross" it is
only natural that some such questions as the following should be
asked. Who was this Robur, of whom up to the present we know nothing
but the name? Did he pass his life in the air? Did his aeronef never
rest? Had he not some retreat in some inaccessible spot in which, if
he had need of repose or revictualing, he could betake himself? It
would be very strange if it were not so. The most powerful flyers
have always an eyrie or nest somewhere.

And what was the engineer going to do with his prisoners? Was he
going to keep them in his power and condemn them to perpetual
aviation? Or was he going to take them on a trip over Africa, South
America, Australasia, the Indian Ocean, the Atlantic and the Pacific,
to convince them against their will, and then dismiss them with, "And
now gentlemen, I hope you will believe a little more in heavier than
air?"

To these questions, it is now impossible to reply. They are the
secrets of the future. Perhaps the answers will be revealed. Anyhow
the bird-like Robur was not seeking his nest on the northern frontier
of Africa. By the end of the day he had traversed Tunis from Cape Bon
to Cape Carthage, sometimes hovering, and sometimes darting along at
top speed. Soon he reached the interior, and flew down the beautiful
valley of Medjeida above its yellow stream hidden under its luxuriant
bushes of cactus and oleander; and scared away the hundreds of
parrots that perch on the telegraph wires and seem to wait for the
messages to pass to bear them away beneath their wings.