fatality was
bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could
Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had
changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which
he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent
startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she
had been absent, the
Dobryna
, he conjectured, would have explored the
Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy,
and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from
one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon
ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning
its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the
rescue of himself and his orderly.
The wind being adverse, the
Dobryna
did not make very rapid progress;
but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the
sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed
unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on
board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which
must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested
itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted.
Servadac took it for granted that the
Dobryna
was endeavoring to
put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an
island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not
unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently
making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif,
and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to
investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he
might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty
minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island,
where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast.
They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the
point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to
accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a
passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea,
and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of
its waters.
Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great
surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly
betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the
waters—a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely
any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the
manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused,
in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge
disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the
phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to
the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion.
Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his
entire attention to the
Dobryna
, which, now little more than a mile
from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly
changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to
facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her
two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered
direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing
her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor,
imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was
lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the
island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him.
"First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one
other word, tell me what has happened."
The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast
to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a
bringing him to the presence of his rival. But no longer now could
Servadac regard him in the light of an adversary; circumstances had
changed, and all animosity was absorbed in the eagerness with which
he hailed the prospect of obtaining some information about the recent
startling and inexplicable events. During the twenty-seven days that she
had been absent, the
Dobryna
, he conjectured, would have explored the
Mediterranean, would very probably have visited Spain, France, or Italy,
and accordingly would convey to Gourbi Island some intelligence from
one or other of those countries. He reckoned, therefore, not only upon
ascertaining the extent of the late catastrophe, but upon learning
its cause. Count Timascheff was, no doubt, magnanimously coming to the
rescue of himself and his orderly.
The wind being adverse, the
Dobryna
did not make very rapid progress;
but as the weather, in spite of a few clouds, remained calm, and the
sea was quite smooth, she was enabled to hold a steady course. It seemed
unaccountable that she should not use her engine, as whoever was on
board, would be naturally impatient to reconnoiter the new island, which
must just have come within their view. The probability that suggested
itself was that the schooner's fuel was exhausted.
Servadac took it for granted that the
Dobryna
was endeavoring to
put in. It occurred to him, however, that the count, on discovering an
island where he had expected to find the mainland of Africa, would not
unlikely be at a loss for a place of anchorage. The yacht was evidently
making her way in the direction of the former mouth of the Shelif,
and the captain was struck with the idea that he would do well to
investigate whether there was any suitable mooring towards which he
might signal her. Zephyr and Galette were soon saddled, and in twenty
minutes had carried their riders to the western extremity of the island,
where they both dismounted and began to explore the coast.
They were not long in ascertaining that on the farther side of the
point there was a small well-sheltered creek of sufficient depth to
accommodate a vessel of moderate tonnage. A narrow channel formed a
passage through the ridge of rocks that protected it from the open sea,
and which, even in the roughest weather, would ensure the calmness of
its waters.
Whilst examining the rocky shore, the captain observed, to his great
surprise, long and well-defined rows of seaweed, which undoubtedly
betokened that there had been a very considerable ebb and flow of the
waters—a thing unknown in the Mediterranean, where there is scarcely
any perceptible tide. What, however, seemed most remarkable, was the
manifest evidence that ever since the highest flood (which was caused,
in all probability, by the proximity of the body of which the huge
disc had been so conspicuous on the night of the 31st of December) the
phenomenon had been gradually lessening, and in fact was now reduced to
the normal limits which had characterized it before the convulsion.
Without doing more than note the circumstance, Servadac turned his
entire attention to the
Dobryna
, which, now little more than a mile
from shore, could not fail to see and understand his signals. Slightly
changing her course, she first struck her mainsail, and, in order to
facilitate the movements of her helmsman, soon carried nothing but her
two topsails, brigantine and jib. After rounding the peak, she steered
direct for the channel to which Servadac by his gestures was pointing
her, and was not long in entering the creek. As soon as the anchor,
imbedded in the sandy bottom, had made good its hold, a boat was
lowered. In a few minutes more Count Timascheff had landed on the
island. Captain Servadac hastened towards him.
"First of all, count," he exclaimed impetuously, "before we speak one
other word, tell me what has happened."
The count, whose imperturbable composure presented a singular contrast
to the French officer's enthusiastic vivacity, made a
Similar Books
