Off on a Comet (25 page)

Ben Zoof did not answer a word. He went on preparing a warm bed, into
which he managed to remove his patient, who soon fell into a calm and
natural sleep.

Too impatient to await the awakening of the astronomer and to hear what
representations he had to make, Servadac, the count, and the lieutenant,
constituting themselves what might be designated "the Academy of
Sciences" of the colony, spent the whole of the remainder of the day in
starting and discussing the wildest conjectures about their situation.
The hypothesis, to which they had now accustomed themselves for so
long, that a new asteroid had been formed by a fracture of the earth's
surface, seemed to fall to the ground when they found that Professor
Palmyrin Rosette had associated the name of Gallia, not with their
present home, but with what he called "my comet"; and that theory being
abandoned, they were driven to make the most improbable speculations to
replace it.

Alluding to Rosette, Servadac took care to inform his companions
that, although the professor was always eccentric, and at times very
irascible, yet he was really exceedingly good-hearted; his bark was
worse than his bite; and if suffered to take their course without
observation, his outbreaks of ill-temper seldom lasted long.

"We will certainly do our best to get on with him," said the count. "He
is no doubt the author of the papers, and we must hope that he will be
able to give us some valuable information."

"Beyond a question the documents have originated with him," assented
the lieutenant. "Gallia was the word written at the top of every one of
them, and Gallia was the first word uttered by him in our hearing."

The astronomer slept on. Meanwhile, the three together had no
hesitation in examining his papers, and scrutinizing the figures on his
extemporized blackboard. The handwriting corresponded with that of the
papers already received; the blackboard was covered with algebraical
symbols traced in chalk, which they were careful not to obliterate;
and the papers, which consisted for the most part of detached scraps,
presented a perfect wilderness of geometrical figures, conic sections of
every variety being repeated in countless profusion.

Lieutenant Procope pointed out that these curves evidently had reference
to the orbits of comets, which are variously parabolic, hyperbolic, or
elliptic. If either of the first two, the comet, after once appearing
within the range of terrestrial vision, would vanish forever in the
outlying regions of space; if the last, it would be sure, sooner or
later, after some periodic interval, to return.

From the
prima facie
appearance of his papers, then, it seemed
probable that the astronomer, during his sojourn at Formentera, had been
devoting himself to the study of cometary orbits; and as calculations of
this kind are ordinarily based upon the assumption that the orbit is a
parabola, it was not unlikely that he had been endeavoring to trace the
path of some particular comet.

"I wonder whether these calculations were made before or after the 1st
of January; it makes all the difference," said Lieutenant Procope.

"We must bide our time and hear," replied the count.

Servadac paced restlessly up and down. "I would give a month of my
life," he cried, impetuously, "for every hour that the old fellow goes
sleeping on."

"You might be making a bad bargain," said Procope, smiling. "Perhaps
after all the comet has had nothing to do with the convulsion that we
have experienced."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed the captain; "I know better than that, and so do
you. Is it not as clear as daylight that the earth and this comet have
been in collision, and the result has been that our little world has
been split off and sent flying far into space?"

Count Timascheff and the lieutenant looked at each other in silence. "I
do not deny your theory," said Procope after a while. "If it be correct,
I suppose we must conclude that the enormous disc we observed on the
night of the catastrophe was the comet itself; and the velocity with
which it was traveling must have been so great that it was hardly
arrested at all by the attraction of the earth."

"Plausible enough," answered Count Timascheff; "and it is to this comet
that our scientific friend here has given the name of Gallia."

It still remained a puzzle to them all why the astronomer should
apparently be interested in the comet so much more than in the new
little world in which their strange lot was cast.

"Can you explain this?" asked the count.

"There is no accounting for the freaks of philosophers, you know," said
Servadac; "and have I not told you that this philosopher in particular
is one of the most eccentric beings in creation?"

"Besides," added the lieutenant, "it is exceedingly likely that his
observations had been going on for some considerable period before the
convulsion happened."

Thus, the general conclusion arrived at by the Gallian Academy of
Science was this: That on the night of the 31st of December, a comet,
crossing the ecliptic, had come into collision with the earth, and that
the violence of the shock had separated a huge fragment from the
globe, which fragment from that date had been traversing the remote
inter-planetary regions. Palmyrin Rosette would doubtless confirm their
solution of the phenomenon.

To the general population of the colony the arrival of the stranger was
a matter of small interest. The Spaniards were naturally too indolent
to be affected in any way by an incident that concerned themselves so
remotely; while the Russians felt themselves simply reliant on their
master, and as long as they were with him were careless as to where or
how they spent their days. Everything went on with them in an accustomed
routine; and they lay down night after night, and awoke to their
avocations morning after morning, just as if nothing extraordinary had
occurred.

All night long Ben Zoof would not leave the professor's bedside. He had
constituted himself sick nurse, and considered his reputation at stake
if he failed to set his patient on his feet again. He watched every
movement, listened to every breath, and never failed to administer
the strongest cordials upon the slightest pretext. Even in his sleep
Rosette's irritable nature revealed itself. Ever and again, sometimes
in a tone of uneasiness, and sometimes with the expression of positive
anger, the name of Gallia escaped his lips, as though he were dreaming
that his claim to the discovery of the comet was being contested or
denied; but although his attendant was on the alert to gather all he
could, he was able to catch nothing in the incoherent sentences that
served to throw any real light upon the problem that they were all eager
to solve.

When the sun reappeared on the western horizon the professor was still
sound asleep; and Ben Zoof, who was especially anxious that the repose
which promised to be so beneficial should not be disturbed, felt
considerable annoyance at hearing a loud knocking, evidently of some
blunt heavy instrument against a door that had been placed at the
entrance of the gallery, more for the purpose of retaining internal
warmth than for guarding against intrusion from without.

"Confound it!" said Ben Zoof. "I must put a stop to this;" and he made
his way towards the door.

"Who's there?" he cried, in no very amiable tone.

"I." replied the quavering voice.

"Who are you?"

"Isaac Hakkabut. Let me in; do, please, let me in."

"Oh, it is you, old Ashtaroth, is it? What do you want? Can't you get
anybody to buy your stuffs?"

"Nobody will pay me a proper price."

"Well, old Shimei, you won't find a customer here. You had better be
off."

"No; but do, please—do, please, let me in," supplicated the Jew. "I
want to speak to his Excellency, the governor."

"The governor is in bed, and asleep."

"I can wait until he awakes."

"Then wait where you are."

And with this inhospitable rejoinder the orderly was about to return to
his place at the side of his patient, when Servadac, who had been roused
by the sound of voices, called out, "What's the matter, Ben Zoof?"

"Oh, nothing, sir; only that hound of a Hakkabut says he wants to speak
to you."

"Let him in, then."

Ben Zoof hesitated.

"Let him in, I say," repeated the captain, peremptorily.

However reluctantly, Ben Zoof obeyed. The door was unfastened, and Isaac
Hakkabut, enveloped in an old overcoat, shuffled into the gallery. In a
few moments Servadac approached, and the Jew began to overwhelm him with
the most obsequious epithets. Without vouchsafing any reply, the captain
beckoned to the old man to follow him, and leading the way to the
central hall, stopped, and turning so as to look him steadily in the
face, said, "Now is your opportunity. Tell me what you want."

"Oh, my lord, my lord," whined Isaac, "you must have some news to tell
me."

"News? What do you mean?"

"From my little tartan yonder, I saw the yawl go out from the rock here
on a journey, and I saw it come back, and it brought a stranger; and I
thought—I thought—I thought—"

"Well, you thought—what did you think?"

"Why, that perhaps the stranger had come from the northern shores of the
Mediterranean, and that I might ask him—"

He paused again, and gave a glance at the captain.

"Ask him what? Speak out, man?"

"Ask him if he brings any tidings of Europe," Hakkabut blurted out at
last.

Servadac shrugged his shoulders in contempt and turned away. Here was
a man who had been resident three months in Gallia, a living witness
of all the abnormal phenomena that had occurred, and yet refusing to
believe that his hope of making good bargains with European traders was
at an end. Surely nothing, thought the captain, will convince the old
rascal now; and he moved off in disgust. The orderly, however, who
had listened with much amusement, was by no means disinclined for the
conversation to be continued. "Are you satisfied, old Ezekiel?" he
asked.

"Isn't it so? Am I not right? Didn't a stranger arrive here last night?"
inquired the Jew.

"Yes, quite true."

"Where from?"

"From the Balearic Isles."

"The Balearic Isles?" echoed Isaac.

"Yes."

"Fine quarters for trade! Hardly twenty leagues from Spain! He must have
brought news from Europe!"

"Well, old Manasseh, what if he has?"

"I should like to see him."

"Can't be."

The Jew sidled close up to Ben Zoof, and laying his hand on his arm,
said in a low and insinuating tone, "I am poor, you know; but I would
give you a few reals if you would let me talk to this stranger."

But as if he thought he was making too liberal an offer, he added, "Only
it must be at once."

"He is too tired; he is worn out; he is fast asleep," answered Ben Zoof.

"But I would pay you to wake him."

The captain had overheard the tenor of the conversation, and interposed
sternly, "Hakkabut! if you make the least attempt to disturb our
visitor, I shall have you turned outside that door immediately."

"No offense, my lord, I hope," stammered out the Jew. "I only meant—"

"Silence!" shouted Servadac. The old man hung his head, abashed.

"I will tell you what," said Servadac after a brief interval; "I will
give you leave to hear what this stranger has to tell as soon as he is
able to tell us anything; at present we have not heard a word from his
lips."

The Jew looked perplexed.

"Yes," said Servadac; "when we hear his story, you shall hear it too."

"And I hope it will be to your liking, old Ezekiel!" added Ben Zoof in a
voice of irony.

They had none of them long to wait, for within a few minutes Rosette's
peevish voice was heard calling, "Joseph! Joseph!"

The professor did not open his eyes, and appeared to be slumbering on,
but very shortly afterwards called out again, "Joseph! Confound the
fellow! where is he?" It was evident that he was half dreaming about
a former servant now far away on the ancient globe. "Where's my
blackboard, Joseph?"

"Quite safe, sir," answered Ben Zoof, quickly.

Rosette unclosed his eyes and fixed them full upon the orderly's face.
"Are you Joseph?" he asked.

"At your service, sir," replied Ben Zoof with imperturbable gravity.

"Then get me my coffee, and be quick about it."

Ben Zoof left to go into the kitchen, and Servadac approached the
professor in order to assist him in rising to a sitting posture.

"Do you recognize your quondam pupil, professor?" he asked.

"Ah, yes, yes; you are Servadac," replied Rosette. "It is twelve years
or more since I saw you; I hope you have improved."

"Quite a reformed character, sir, I assure you," said Servadac, smiling.

"Well, that's as it should be; that's right," said the astronomer with
fussy importance. "But let me have my coffee," he added impatiently; "I
cannot collect my thoughts without my coffee."

Fortunately, Ben Zoof appeared with a great cup, hot and strong. After
draining it with much apparent relish, the professor got out of bed,
walked into the common hall, round which he glanced with a pre-occupied
air, and proceeded to seat himself in an armchair, the most comfortable
which the cabin of the
Dobryna
had supplied. Then, in a voice full
of satisfaction, and that involuntarily recalled the exclamations of
delight that had wound up the two first of the mysterious documents that
had been received, he burst out, "Well, gentlemen, what do you think of
Gallia?"

There was no time for anyone to make a reply before Isaac Hakkabut had
darted forward.

"By the God—"

"Who is that?" asked the startled professor; and he frowned, and made a
gesture of repugnance.