Off on a Comet (33 page)

"One moment, your Excellency," said Hakkabut, sidling up with a
hypocritical smile; "I suppose I am to fix my own prices."

"You will, of course, charge ordinary prices—proper market prices;
European prices, I mean."

"Merciful heavens!" shrieked the old man, "you rob me of my rights; you
defraud me of my privilege. The monopoly of the market belongs to me. It
is the custom; it is my right; it is my privilege to fix my own prices."

Servadac made him understand that he had no intention of swerving from
his decision.

"Merciful heavens!" again howled the Jew, "it is sheer ruin. The time of
monopoly is the time for profit; it is the time for speculation."

"The very thing, Hakkabut, that I am anxious to prevent. Just stop now,
and think a minute. You seem to forget
my
rights; you are forgetting
that, if I please, I can confiscate all your cargo for the common
use. You ought to think yourself lucky in getting any price at all. Be
contented with European prices; you will get no more. I am not going
to waste my breath on you. I will come again to-morrow;" and, without
allowing Hakkabut time to renew his lamentations, Servadac went away.

All the rest of the day the Jew was muttering bitter curses against
the thieves of Gentiles in general, and the governor of Gallia in
particular, who were robbing him of his just profits, by binding him
down to a maximum price for his goods, just as if it were a time of
revolution in the state. But he would be even with them yet; he would
have it all out of them: he would make European prices pay, after all.
He had a plan—he knew how; and he chuckled to himself, and grinned
maliciously.

True to his word, the captain next morning arrived at the tartan. He
was accompanied by Ben Zoof and two Russian sailors. "Good-morning, old
Eleazar; we have come to do our little bit of friendly business with
you, you know," was Ben Zoof's greeting.

"What do you want to-day?" asked the Jew.

"To-day we want coffee, and we want sugar, and we want tobacco. We must
have ten kilogrammes of each. Take care they are all good; all first
rate. I am commissariat officer, and I am responsible."

"I thought you were the governor's aide-de-camp," said Hakkabut.

"So I am, on state occasions; but to-day, I tell you. I am
superintendent of the commissariat department. Now, look sharp!"

Hakkabut hereupon descended into the hold of the tartan, and soon
returned, carrying ten packets of tobacco, each weighing one kilogramme,
and securely fastened by strips of paper, labeled with the French
government stamp.

"Ten kilogrammes of tobacco at twelve francs a kilogramme: a hundred and
twenty francs," said the Jew.

Ben Zoof was on the point of laying down the money, when Servadac
stopped him.

"Let us just see whether the weight is correct."

Hakkabut pointed out that the weight was duly registered on every
packet, and that the packets had never been unfastened. The captain,
however, had his own special object in view, and would not be diverted.
The Jew fetched his steelyard, and a packet of the tobacco was suspended
to it.

"Merciful heavens!" screamed Isaac.

The index registered only 133 grammes!

"You see, Hakkabut, I was right. I was perfectly justified in having
your goods put to the test," said Servadac, quite seriously.

"But—but, your Excellency—" stammered out the bewildered man.

"You will, of course, make up the deficiency," the captain continued,
not noticing the interruption.

"Oh, my lord, let me say—" began Isaac again.

"Come, come, old Caiaphas, do you hear? You are to make up the
deficiency," exclaimed Ben Zoof.

"Ah, yes, yes; but—"

The unfortunate Israelite tried hard to speak, but his agitation
prevented him. He understood well enough the cause of the phenomenon,
but he was overpowered by the conviction that the "cursed Gentiles"
wanted to cheat him. He deeply regretted that he had not a pair of
common scales on board.

"Come, I say, old Jedediah, you are a long while making up what's
short," said Ben Zoof, while the Jew was still stammering on.

As soon as he recovered his power of articulation, Isaac began to pour
out a medley of lamentations and petitions for mercy. The captain was
inexorable. "Very sorry, you know, Hakkabut. It is not my fault that the
packet is short weight; but I cannot pay for a kilogramme except I have
a kilogramme."

Hakkabut pleaded for some consideration.

"A bargain is a bargain," said Servadac. "You must complete your
contract."

And, moaning and groaning, the miserable man was driven to make up the
full weight as registered by his own steelyard. He had to repeat the
process with the sugar and coffee: for every kilogramme he had to weigh
seven. Ben Zoof and the Russians jeered him most unmercifully.

"I say, old Mordecai, wouldn't you rather give your goods away, than
sell them at this rate? I would."

"I say, old Pilate, a monopoly isn't always a good thing, is it?"

"I say, old Sepharvaim, what a flourishing trade you're driving!"

Meanwhile seventy kilogrammes of each of the articles required were
weighed, and the Jew for each seventy had to take the price of ten.

All along Captain Servadac had been acting only in jest. Aware that
old Isaac was an utter hypocrite, he had no compunction in turning a
business transaction with him into an occasion for a bit of fun. But
the joke at an end, he took care that the Jew was properly paid all his
legitimate due.

A month passed away. Gallia continued its course, bearing its little
population onwards, so far removed from the ordinary influence of human
passions that it might almost be said that its sole ostensible vice was
represented by the greed and avarice of the miserable Jew.

After all, they were but making a voyage—a strange, yet a transient,
excursion through solar regions hitherto untraversed; but if the
professor's calculations were correct—and why should they be
doubted?—their little vessel was destined, after a two years' absence,
once more to return "to port." The landing, indeed, might be a matter
of difficulty; but with the good prospect before them of once again
standing on terrestrial shores, they had nothing to do at present
except to make themselves as comfortable as they could in their present
quarters.

Thus confident in their anticipations, neither the captain, the count,
nor the lieutenant felt under any serious obligation to make any
extensive provisions for the future; they saw no necessity for expending
the strength of the people, during the short summer that would intervene
upon the long severity of winter, in the cultivation or the preservation
of their agricultural resources. Nevertheless, they often found
themselves talking over the measures they would have been driven to
adopt, if they had found themselves permanently attached to their
present home.

Even after the turning-point in their career, they knew that at least
nine months would have to elapse before the sea would be open to
navigation; but at the very first arrival of summer they would be bound
to arrange for the
Dobryna
and the
Hansa
to retransport themselves
and all their animals to the shores of Gourbi Island, where they would
have to commence their agricultural labors to secure the crops that must
form their winter store. During four months or thereabouts, they would
lead the lives of farmers and of sportsmen; but no sooner would their
haymaking and their corn harvest have been accomplished, than they
would be compelled again, like a swarm of bees, to retire to their
semi-troglodyte existence in the cells of Nina's Hive.

Now and then the captain and his friends found themselves speculating
whether, in the event of their having to spend another winter upon
Gallia, some means could not be devised by which the dreariness of a
second residence in the recesses of the volcano might be escaped. Would
not another exploring expedition possibly result in the discovery of
a vein of coal or other combustible matter, which could be turned to
account in warming some erection which they might hope to put up?
A prolonged existence in their underground quarters was felt to be
monotonous and depressing, and although it might be all very well for a
man like Professor Rosette, absorbed in astronomical studies, it was ill
suited to the temperaments of any of themselves for any longer period
than was absolutely indispensable.

One contingency there was, almost too terrible to be taken into account.
Was it not to be expected that the time might come when the internal
fires of Gallia would lose their activity, and the stream of lava would
consequently cease to flow? Why should Gallia be exempt from the destiny
that seemed to await every other heavenly body? Why should it not roll
onwards, like the moon, a dark cold mass in space?

In the event of such a cessation of the volcanic eruption, whilst the
comet was still at so great a distance from the sun, they would indeed
be at a loss to find a substitute for what alone had served to render
life endurable at a temperature of 60 degrees below zero. Happily,
however, there was at present no symptom of the subsidence of the lava's
stream; the volcano continued its regular and unchanging discharge, and
Servadac, ever sanguine, declared that it was useless to give themselves
any anxiety upon the matter.

On the 15th of December, Gallia was 276,000,000 leagues from the sun,
and, as it was approximately to the extremity of its axis major, would
travel only some 11,000,000 or 12,000,000 leagues during the month.
Another world was now becoming a conspicuous object in the heavens, and
Palmyrin Rosette, after rejoicing in an approach nearer to Jupiter than
any other mortal man had ever attained, was now to be privileged to
enjoy a similar opportunity of contemplating the planet Saturn. Not
that the circumstances were altogether so favorable. Scarcely 31,000,000
miles had separated Gallia from Jupiter; the minimum distance of Saturn
would not be less than 415,000,000 miles; but even this distance,
although too great to affect the comet's progress more than had been
duly reckoned on, was considerably shorter than what had ever separated
Saturn from the earth.

To get any information about the planet from Rosette appeared quite
impossible. Although equally by night and by day he never seemed to quit
his telescope, he did not evince the slightest inclination to impart the
result of his observations. It was only from the few astronomical works
that happened to be included in the
Dobryna's
library that any details
could be gathered, but these were sufficient to give a large amount of
interesting information.

Ben Zoof, when he was made aware that the earth would be invisible to
the naked eye from the surface of Saturn, declared that he then, for his
part, did not care to learn any more about such a planet; to him it
was indispensable that the earth should remain in sight, and it was his
great consolation that hitherto his native sphere had never vanished
from his gaze.

At this date Saturn was revolving at a distance of 420,000,000 miles
from Gallia, and consequently 874,440,000 miles from the sun, receiving
only a hundredth part of the light and heat which that luminary bestows
upon the earth. On consulting their books of reference, the colonists
found that Saturn completes his revolution round the sun in a period of
29 years and 167 days, traveling at the rate of more than 21,000 miles
an hour along an orbit measuring 5,490 millions of miles in length. His
circumference is about 220,000 miles; his superficies, 144,000 millions
of square miles; his volume, 143,846 millions of cubic miles. Saturn
is 735 times larger than the earth, consequently he is smaller than
Jupiter; in mass he is only 90 times greater than the earth, which gives
him a density less than that of water. He revolves on his axis in 10
hours 29 minutes, causing his own year to consist of 86,630 days; and
his seasons, on account of the great inclination of his axis to the
plane of his orbit, are each of the length of seven terrestrial years.

Although the light received from the sun is comparatively feeble, the
nights upon Saturn must be splendid. Eight satellites—Mimas, Enceladus,
Tethys, Dione, Rhea, Titan, Hyperion, and Japetus—accompany the planet;
Mimas, the nearest to its primary, rotating on its axis in 221/2 hours,
and revolving at a distance of only 120,800 miles, whilst Japetus,
the most remote, occupies 79 days in its rotation, and revolves at a
distance of 2,314,000 miles.

Another most important contribution to the magnificence of the nights
upon Saturn is the triple ring with which, as a brilliant setting, the
planet is encompassed. To an observer at the equator, this ring, which
has been estimated by Sir William Herschel as scarcely 100 miles in
thickness, must have the appearance of a narrow band of light passing
through the zenith 12,000 miles above his head. As the observer,
however, increases his latitude either north or south, the band will
gradually widen out into three detached and concentric rings, of which
the innermost, dark though transparent, is 9,625 miles in breadth; the
intermediate one, which is brighter than the planet itself, being 17,605
miles broad; and the outer, of a dusky hue, being 8,660 miles broad.

Such, they read, is the general outline of this strange appendage, which
revolves in its own plane in 10 hours 32 minutes. Of what matter it
is composed, and how it resists disintegration, is still an unsettled
question; but it might almost seem that the Designer of the universe, in
permitting its existence, had been willing to impart to His intelligent
creatures the manner in which celestial bodies are evolved, and that
this remarkable ring-system is a remnant of the nebula from which Saturn
was himself developed, and which, from some unknown cause, has become
solidified. If at any time it should disperse, it would either fall
into fragments upon the surface of Saturn, or the fragments, mutually
coalescing, would form additional satellites to circle round the planet
in its path.