The Floating Island (47 page)

A little before noon the
observers prepared to catch the solar disc at the instant of its culmination.
Two sextants, one in the hands of the King of Malecarlie, the other in the
hands of Commodore Simcoe, were directed towards the horizon.

As soon as the altitude was
taken, the calculations began, with the needful corrections, and the result
gave 29
⁰
17’ latitude south. About two o’clock a second observation,
made under the same favourable conditions, indicated 179
⁰
32’
longitude east.

And so, since Floating Island had
been a prey to this gyratory folly, the currents had carried it about a
thousand miles to the south-east.

When the position was marked on
the map, this was what appeared.

The nearest islands
—
a hundred miles
distant at least
—
were
the Kermadecs, barren rocks, hardly inhabited, without resources; and, besides,
how could they be reached? Three hundred miles to the south was New Zealand,
and how could that be reached if the currents took them along the open sea? To
the west, fifteen hundred miles, was Australia
—
to
the east, several thousand miles, was South America, in the neighbourhood of
Chili. Beyond New Zealand was the Antarctic Ocean. Was it there, on the lands
of the Pole, that Floating Island was to be wrecked? Was it there that
navigators would one day find a whole population dead of misery and hunger?

Commodore Simcoe proceeded to
study the currents of these seas with the greatest care. But what would happen
if they did not change, if they did not meet opposing currents, if one of those
formidable tempests broke out which are so frequent in the circumpolar regions?

The news was well calculated to
provoke alarm. Feeling rose higher and higher against the authors of the
trouble
—
these
mischievous nabobs of Milliard City, who were responsible for this state of
affairs. It required all the influence of the King of Malecarlie, all the
energy of Commodore Simcoe and Colonel Stewart, all the devotion of their
officers, all their authority over the sailors and soldiers of the militia to
prevent an insurrection.

The day passed without change.
All had to submit to be rationed, and to restrict themselves to the absolutely
necessary as regards food
—
the
wealthiest as well as those who were not so wealthy.

Meanwhile a service of look-outs
was carefully arranged, and the horizon strictly watched. If a ship appeared,
they would signal it, and perhaps it would be possible to enter into
communication with it. Unfortunately Floating Island had drifted out of the
maritime routes, there being few vessels which traverse these regions bordering
on the Antarctic Ocean. And beyond to the south, there arose before the
affrighted imagination the spectre of the Pole lighted by the volcanic gleams
of Erebus and Terror.

A fortunate circumstance occurred
in the night of the 3rd of April. The north wind, which had been violent for
some hours, fell suddenly. A dead calm succeeded, and the breeze went suddenly
round to the south-east, in one of those atmospheric caprices so frequent at
the periods of the equinox.

Commodore Simcoe began to hope.
Floating Island need only be forced a hundred miles to the westward for the
counter-current to take it near Australia or New Zealand. Anyhow, its progress
towards the Polar Sea would be checked, and it was possible that ships might be
met with in the vicinity of the large islands of Australasia.

As the sun rose, the breeze
freshened from the southeast. Floating Island was plainly enough affected by
it. Its high buildings, the observatory, the town hall, the temple, the
cathedral, offered a certain resistance to the wind. They acted as sails for
this enormous vessel of four hundred and thirty-two million tons.

Although the sky was swept by
swift clouds, the solar disc appeared at intervals, and a good observation
would probably be taken. In fact, on two occasions the sun was caught between
the clouds, and the calculation showed that since the day before, Floating
Island had mounted two degrees towards the north-west.

It was difficult to admit that
this was entirely due to the influence of the wind. The conclusion was that the
Island had drifted into one of the eddies which divide the great currents of
the Pacific; that it had had the good fortune to enter one that was taking it
to the north-west, and that its chances of safety were considerable. But there
must be no delay, for it was necessary to further reduce the rations. The
reserves were diminishing at a rate which caused anxiety in the presence of ten
thousand inhabitants to feed.

When the last astronomical
observation was communicated to the ports and the town it somewhat allayed the
excitement. We know how suddenly a crowd will pass from one sentiment to
another, from despair to hope. That is what happened. These people, very
different to the miserable masses of the great continental cities, ought to be
and were less subject to panic, more reflective, more patient. But with a
threatened famine was not everything to be feared?

During the morning the wind
showed a tendency to freshen. The barometer fell slowly. The sea rose in long,
powerful waves, proving that it was subject to great agitation in the
south-east. Floating Island, hitherto impassible, was no longer insensible to
these enormous disturbances of level. Some of the houses shook from top to
bottom, and the things in them began to shift, as if there were an earthquake.
The phenomenon was new to the Milliardites, and gave rise to considerable
uneasiness.

Commodore Simcoe and his staff
remained constantly on duty at the observatory, where the whole administration
was concentrated. The shocks began to affect the observatory, and the extreme
seriousness of the matter was recognized.

“It is too evident,” said the
Commodore, “that Floating Island has been injured below. Its compartments have
opened. Its hull has no longer the rigidity which rendered it so solid.”

“It is to be hoped,” said the
King of Malecarlie, “that it will not have to stand a violent storm, for it is
no longer strong enough to resist it.”

Yes! And now the people began to
lose confidence in the artificial soil. They felt that their foothold was about
to fail them. Better a hundred times be smashed on the rocks of the Antarctic
lands. To fear every moment that Floating Island would open and be swallowed up
in the depths of the Pacific, which had never yet been sounded, was enough to
make the bravest hearts fail as they thought of it.

It was impossible to doubt that
fresh injuries had occurred in some of the compartments. Partitions had given
way, and the rivets of the plates must have been torn out. In the park, along
the Serpentine, on the surface of the outer streets of the town, there were
strange undulations resulting in dislocations of the soil. Already some of the
buildings had begun to lean, and if they fell, they would break in the
substructure on which their foundation rested. That the sea had made its way
into the subsoil was unmistakable, for the water line had altered. Nearly all
round, at the two ports as at the batteries, the line had sunk a foot, and if
it sunk more the waves would come over the coast. Floating Island was in
danger; its foundering was only a question of a few hours.

Commodore Simcoe would have kept
this quiet, for it would probably cause a panic and worse perhaps. To what
excesses might not the people be led against those responsible for this
disaster? They could not seek safety in flight like the passengers of a ship,
throw themselves into boats, or construct a raft, as a crew does, in the hope
of being saved from the sea. No! The raft was Floating Island itself; and it
was going down.

From hour to hour during the day
Commodore Simcoe noted the changes in the water line. Floating Island continued
to settle down. Hence infiltration must be taking place in the compartments,
slow, but incessant and irresistible.

At the same time the weather was
getting worse. The sky was covered with red, coppery hues. The barometer was
falling more quickly. The atmosphere had every sign of an approaching storm.
Behind the accumulated vapours the horizon became so restricted that it seemed
to be limited to the shore of Floating Island.

As the evening came on, terrible
gusts of wind arose. In the fury of the surge the compartments burst, the
crossbars broke, the plates were torn away. Everywhere was a sound of the
cracking of metal. The avenues of the town, the lawns of the park, threatened
to gape open. As night approached, Milliard City was abandoned for the country,
which, less laden with heavy buildings, seemed to be safer. The whole
population lay scattered between the ports and the batteries.

About nine o’clock a violent
shock shook Floating Island to its foundations. The works at Starboard Harbour,
which furnished the electric light, fell into the sea. The darkness was so
profound that neither sky nor sea was visible.

Immediately more quakings of the
ground took place, and the houses began to fall as if they were built of cards.
In a few hours nothing would be left of the superstructure of Floating Island.

“Gentlemen,” said Commodore
Simcoe, “we can no longer remain at the observatory, which is in danger of
being a heap of ruins. Let us get into the country, and wait until the storm is
over.”

“It is a cyclone,” replied the
King of Malecarlie, showing the barometer, fallen to 713 millimetres.

Floating Island had been caught
in one of those cyclonic movements which act like powerful condensers. These
eddying tempests formed by a mass of water, whose gyration takes place round an
almost vertical axis, move from east to west along the north of the southern
hemisphere. A cyclone is the atmospheric phenomenon most fraught with
disasters, and to escape from it, its comparatively calm centre must be
reached, or at least the right side of its trajectory, the workable semicircle
which is free from the fury of the waves. But this manœuvre was impossible for
want of motors. This time it was not human stupidity nor the imbecile obstinacy
of its leaders which was ruining Floating Island, but a formidable atmospheric
disturbance which would end by annihilating it.

The King of Malecarlie, Commodore
Simcoe, Colonel Stewart, Sebastien Zorn and his comrades, the astronomers, and the
officers, abandoned the observatory, where they were no longer safe. It was
time. Scarcely had they gone a hundred yards, before the lofty tower collapsed
with a horrible noise, fell through the ground, and disappeared into the abyss.

A moment afterwards the entire
edifice was a mass of ruins.

Nevertheless the quartette
thought of going up First Avenue and running to the casino, where their
instruments were, which they wished to save if possible. The casino was still
standing. They reached it, they mounted to their rooms, they carried off the
two violins, the alto, and the violoncello to the park, in which they sought
refuge.

There were gathered several
thousand persons of both sections. The Tankerdon and Coverley families were
there, and perhaps it was fortunate for them that amid the darkness they could
not see each other, could not recognize each other.

Walter had, however, been
fortunate enough to meet with Di. He would try and save her at the moment of
the supreme catastrophe. He would cling with her to some piece of wreckage.

The girl divined that the young
man was near her, and this cry escaped her,
—

“Ah! Walter!”

“
Di, dear Di!
I am here! I will not leave you any more.”

As to our Parisians, they would
not leave each other. They would remain together. Frascolin had lost nothing of
his coolness. Yvernès was very nervous. Pinchinat was ironically resigned.
Sebastien Zorn said to Athanase Dorémus, who had at last decided to join his
compatriots,
—

“I told them it would end badly!
I predicted it!”

“Enough of your tremolos in a
minor key, old Isaiah,” said his Highness; “start on your penitential psalms.”

Towards midnight the force of the
cyclone increased. The converging winds raised monstrous waves and hurled them
against Floating Island. Where would this strife of the elements take them? To
be sheltered on some reef? To be rent asunder in mid-ocean?

The hull was now rent in a
thousand places. The joints were cracking everywhere. St. Mary’s church, the
temple, the town hall, had fallen through the gaping fissures through which the
sea came leaping up. Of these magnificent edifices not a vestige remained. What
riches, what treasures, pictures, statues, objects of art had vanished for ever!
The people would see no more of this superb Milliard City when daylight came,
if ever the daylight came for them.

The sea began to spread over the
country, over the park. The island sank lower and lower in the water. The
surface of Floating Island was at the level of the sea, and the cyclone was
driving the waves over on to it.

No shelter now anywhere. Prow
Battery, which was then to windward, afforded no protection against the waves
or the squalls which swept on to it. The compartments opened, and the
dislocation continued, with a noise that was heard above the most violent rolls
of thunder. The supreme catastrophe was approaching.

About three in the morning the
park cracked along a length of two kilometres in the bed of Serpentine River,
and through this the sea flowed. Instant flight was inevitable, and the people
dispersed into the country. Some ran towards the ports, others towards the
batteries. Families were separated; mothers in vain sought for their children;
while the sea rolled over Floating Island as if in an enormous tidal wave.