There can be no doubt in this regard. Here, on one side, is the Earth, drawing away rapidly, followed by its familiar satellite, the Moon, presently divided into an elegant crescent. There, on the other, is the new star, an immense cannonball which literally fills the horizons.
The four queens, whose knowledge of astronomy is very slight, have nevertheless understood the situation without any need of explanation. Niam-Niam is also up to date, and, far from being terrified, is making the minaret resound with gales of laughter.
“Ha ha! Well and truly stumped, the others! Can’t climb up any more—too high!”
The first moment of surprise has passed; throats paralyzed by emotion now permit speech. They feel themselves and ascertain that no one is seriously injured, or even bruised.
“My word!” exclaims Angelina. “This is better than falling to the ground. We haven’t been crushed and we’ve been saved from our enemies.”
“But where are we going?” asks Désolant.
“That’s the big question!”
Suddenly, Niam-Niam screams and throws himself along the minaret, which is now a simple tube in which the staircase forms a screw-thread. He reaches the platform and soon comes back, with a face as long as a meter rule.
“What is it?” Farandoul asks.
“Oh, master—the rice! Stolen! Lost! The coffee—lost! All lost!”
“Ah! A bad situation,” murmurs Farandoul. “Evidently, we presently form, if not a star, at least a sort of aerolith dragged along in the wake of an unknown heavenly body. Nothing grows on our aerolith, and we’ll have difficulty prospering here!”
VIII.
The first rays of the day-star appeared about half an hour later. Farandoul took out his watch and confirmed that it could not be any later than half past midnight on Earth.
The Sun rises early here! he thought. We must take advantage of that. And the entire company followed him along the screw-thread to reach the platform. On the way, the white queen Angelina, turning around to speak to her friend, did not notice a window open to the clouds. She stepped into the gap and disappeared through the opening.
Anguish tightened every chest; they all closed their eyes in order not to see her cartwheeling through the void. A second exclamation from Angelina made them reopen them. The poor child, still very pale, was sitting outside on the wall of the minaret. The extraordinary thing was that she seemed to her friends inside to be upside down without being aware of it.
“What’s happening?” Farandoul asked.
“I don’t understand it at all—I can’t fall,” Angelina replied, naively. “I thought I’d be heading head-first into space, but not at all—I’m stuck outside, like this!”
“I have it!” cried Farandoul and Désolant at the same time. The former continued: “Our minaret, in its capacity as a new star gravitating through space, possesses a force of attraction. All the laws of physics have been realigned. We can walk on the surface, as freely as we used to on the surface of the Earth. Outside quickly! Let’s explore our new world.”
And everyone went out of the window to follow Angelina. Only Niam-Niam refused to take the risk; Désolant had to grab hold of him to deposit him on the wall, and it still took him a few minutes to pluck up the courage to walk other than on all fours.
The new world, as Farandoul had called it, lacked extent. The minaret had been severed two-thirds of the way down; the top floors formed our friends’ whole domain. The inhabitants of this little world observed that they could come and go all the way around the minaret without any difficulty; the center always stayed beneath their feet. They soon spread out around the surface, the most distant appearing to the others to be walking upside down. The ladies were amused by these bizarre appearances and laughed loudly.
All of a sudden, Angelina, invisible on the other side, screeched: “The Arnautes!”
“What do you mean, the Arnautes?” cried Farandoul, racing away from his friends to the antipodes in a few strides. “I think we’re safe from them here!”
But what a surprise awaited him on the other side! A ladder and two Arnautes were rotating 20 meters from the minaret, dragged in its wake as it was itself in that of the comet.
The two poor devils, clinging convulsively to their ladder, seemed half dead with fright. They were looking at their enemies with expressions of utter bewilderment, doubtless astonished—if they were any long capable of being astonished by anything—to see them walking upside down.
The ladder and the two Arnautes formed a satellite of the minaret and were orbiting around it in a regular manner—but the minaret, better equipped than our own globe, possessed a whole constellation of satellites, for, in addition to the ladder, several other objects were rotating at various distances.
In the largest of these satellites, Niam-Niam joyfully recognized the lost sack of rice, then, behind it, a copper cooking-pot, a coffee-pot, a pipe, a bag of coffee and two plucked chickens.
“That’s useful,” said Désolant. “Can we go and fetch them.”
Niam-Niam tugged his ear and made a grimace.
Behind the chickens, another larger satellite appeared, rising over the minaret’s horizon. It was another human satellite; the legs appeared first, then a body and skirts that had ridden up to various degrees, and then a head…and the colonists of the minaret recognized, to their surprise, the sweet face of Miss Flora MacKlaknavor, ruddy and hatless, more terrified than seemed possible, advancing slowly and majestically three meters from the minaret.
Before our friends had recovered from their surprise, the poor child passed overhead and disappeared, whimpering.
The most pressing matter was to study the path of the minaret around the unknown star. It soon became clear that they were gradually drawing nearer to it. At daybreak, 300 or 400 meters had separated the minaret from its surface; now they were passing over it at much closer range.
The new world was exactly similar to the Earth, and if our friends had not seen the later disappear into the distance they would easily have been able to believe that they were above some region of the paternal star: the same general physiognomy, the same vegetation and…the same inhabitants; for, behind a clump of trees, they perceived with a perfectly comprehensible astonishment two individuals similar in every respect to human beings.
These two creatures were running with the typical gait of the Earth’s inhabitants; they had arms, legs, hair and beards, and were even wearing clothes. They too had perceived their satellite and were trying to enter into communication with its inhabitants. Farandoul hastily took his telescope out of his pocket, looked with sustained attention, and seemed to be struck by a prodigious astonishment.
“Unbelievable!” he cried. “They’re French soldiers!”
Caroline grabbed the telescope in her turn. “An officer,” she said, “and an African chasseur.”
“Very strange! Is France colonizing the comets?”
But the minaret, carried away along its orbit, had already left the two French soldiers far behind.
The minaret’s satellites were rotating around it with chronometric regularity. The savant Désolant recorded their periods in his notebook. The Arnautes were tracing the most distant orbit around their primary; their revolution was completed in 11 minutes 38.25 seconds. The sack of rice, much closer, only took six minutes 12 seconds. Finally, the unfortunate Miss Flora MacKlaknavor accomplished her journey in exactly four minutes.
We’re in a sticky situation here, Farandoul thought. It’s rather glorious for us to be elevated to the status of stars, but I can’t see any way that we can survive on our planet, without provisions gravitating around us as if to subject us to the torture of Tantalus. In a couple of hours, we’ll be victims of famine!
An appeal from Niam-Niam interrupted the course of his reflections. The young savage, tormented by a healthy appetite, was hunting high and low with the vague hope of discovering something to eat. His search had not been in vain; he had caught a bat in the minaret’s stairwa
y and discovered a few pigeons’ nests hidden in the sculptures under the balcony. Twenty unhappy pigeons, frightened by their voyage through the sky, were hiding in holes with their heads tucked under their wings.
That was a small resource. Niam-Niam was ordered to collect these birds carefully and to shut the up in the little cupola that terminated the minaret. The culinary question remaining open, one of the queens suggested that for lack of petit pois to accompany the pigeon, the rice would furnish an excellent seasoning.
Farandoul started. “We don’t have to grow thinner,” he cried, “while the satellites of Tantalus pass regularly before our famished eyes! We’ll try fishing for the satellites!”
Descending through a window into the minaret’s interior, he searched for a means of fabricating a harpoon large enough to reach the coveted satellites. It was not easy, but necessity is the mother of invention, and they finally succeeded by cutting up one of the steps to fashion two narrow strips, which were then joined end to end and solidly tied together with cords. An Arnaute spear supplied even greater length, and its barbed point completed the harpoon.
The moment had come; Désolant and Farandoul maneuvered the harpoon, waiting for the satellites. Flora Klaknavor was the first to rise; she extended her hand toward the harpoon, but the queens swiftly came forward and lowered the point. Poor Flora disappeared over the horizon.
The coffee-pot and the pipe came next, traveling in convoy. The re-raised harpoon hooked them without difficulty. As soon as they arrived in the zone of attraction they fell down to the minaret of their own accord.
“The chickens! The chickens!” cried Niam-Niam.
The harpoon was quickly re-elevated, but it only seized one as the passed by; the other continued ion its course.
“Next time!” said Farandoul, getting ready for another satellite.
The copper cooking-pot rose over the horizon. The harpoon reached its height, but a false movement caused it to miss the catch.
“We need it, though, to cook the chicken!” murmured Angelina.
“Quick! The sack of rice…it’s too high!”
“No! Come on, Niam-Niam—climb up on my shoulders!”
Niam-Niam was agile; he leapt on to Farandoul’s shoulders and grabbed the heavy harpoon.
“Very good! Very good!”
Niam-Niam had nerve; he intended to have three meals a day, as on Earth, so, when the sack of rice passed over his head, he threw the harpoon with all his strength and all his skill.
He reached it at the first attempt, but the sack was heavy; Niam-Niam had to cling hard to the harpoon to prevent it from departing with the satellite. Finally, he had the joy of seeing it descend. Farandoul and Désolant seized the harpoon and the three of them, combining their efforts, brought the rebel satellite into the zone of attraction.
The rice was theirs! It would provide food for at least three weeks, perhaps a month. Niam-Niam was about to jump down from Farandoul’s shoulders when an unexpected incident occurred.
Satellite MacKlaknavor, which they had forgotten, had completed its tour of the minaret and come back. Miss Flora’s extended hands seized poor Niam-Niam’s wooly hair and lifted him off his elevated station.
Niam-Niam opened his mouth to scream, but was unable to utter a sound. He was dragged into space by the ruddy Flora and passed in his turn into the condition of a star.
“Let’s keep still and wait!” said Farandoul.
Flora and Niam-Niam reappeared four minutes later. The passengers in the minaret could not help smiling at the sight of his frightened expression, but they burst out laughing when they saw that, in spite of his terror, Niam-Niam had taken advantage of his involuntary passage across the firmament to capture the satellite-cooking-pot and the satellite-chicken. The result of this laughter was that they missed him again.
Niam-Niam’s desolation was redoubled, but four minutes later he grabbed the harpoon and his friends’ efforts drew him to the ground with his cooking-pot, his chicken and his persecutor, Miss Flora MacKlaknavor. The minaret had one more inhabitant! Miss Klaknavor overwhelmed Farandoul with her thanks; the latter forwarded them to Niam-Niam, her true savior.
The queens received this new companion coldly; they could not forget that it was to the Klaknavors that they owed the pleasure of voyaging through the sky on an exceedingly narrow star. As for Miss Flora, she dared not move, and released squeals of terror on seeing the minaret’s guests, now accustomed to their situation, carelessly walking around the monument.
“Now that we’ve finished fishing for satellites, it’s a matter of dining,” said Farandoul, after a momentary pause. “What do you think, Mesdames?”
Niam-Niam was about to reply when a shot rang out! A bullet whistled past and flattened itself out two paces away from the black queen Kalunda, who immediately dived for her bow.
“The Arnautes! We forgot about the Arnautes!”
Indeed, the Arnautes, still hanging on to their ladder, having witnessed the angling of the minaret’s satellites, had been awaiting their turn impatiently. Finally, realizing that no one aboard the star appeared to be thinking about their salvation, the more impatient of the two had used a bullet to jog the memories of the minaret’s inhabitants.
No one wanted to have them for companions. The only response Farandoul made was to show them that the harpoon was much too short—but the Arnaute, becoming increasingly furious, seized his comrade’s weapon and dispatched a second bullet at our friends.
“Damn!” said Farandoul. “That’s a satellite that might become inconvenient for us. Fortunately, he’s a very bad shot!”
“What a strange star ours is!” said Désolant, sadly, as a third bullet flattened itself out beside him. “A world subjected to a fusillade by its own satellite! It’s exactly as if the Moon were to bombard the Earth!”
“Good! Yet another bullet! Accursed Arnautes! What if we were to reply?”
“Wait!” said Désolant. “Our satellite is deviating from its course at every rifle-shot…the force of the recoil is throwing the Arnautes and their satellite backwards every time…in a little while, we’ll see something curious! We’re not far distant from the comet that’s dragging us in its wake, and our Arnautes, rotating around us, will find themselves even closer in a minute…their rifle-shots will carrying them backwards into the comet’s zone of attraction, they’ll tip over and fall upon it! We’ll be free of them!”
Désolant’s prediction did not take long to be realized. The Arnautes, continuing their fusillade, suddenly reached the comet’s zone of attraction. The ladder to which they were clinging executed a see-saw motion, and launched them into space…
The inhabitants of the minaret watched them twirling with their ladder as they fell at least 50 meters. Fortunately for them, there was a large lake at exactly the right place to receive them; the water undoubtedly softened the impact, for they reappeared on the surface, swam a short way and soon set foot on the shore.
Just as the inhabitants of the minaret were surrendering to their satisfaction they spotted a new object of astonishment. A hundred meters away from them, on the unknown comet, men were coming at a run to assist the Arnautes—and those men were wearing the easily-recognizable red uniform of the English army!
Farandoul and Désolant rubbed their eyes.
“What can it mean? This comet, if it is a comet, is inhabited by French and English soldiers!”
The minaret, however, carried away by its velocity had already left the English soldiers far behind.
The sudden arrival of night took the reflective friends by surprise.
Désolant made a rapid calculation. They day had lasted two hours 49 minutes! And they had not yet had the lightest meal! Hunger was making itself felt; they were proceeding by starlight to begin the preparations for a meal—breakfast, lunch or dinner, it did not matter which—when the same idea occurred to all of them.
What about thirst? No one had thought about thirst. They had food-supplies, but no beverages: no w
ater to cook the rice, no water to drink!
It was serious.
Suddenly, Farandoul got up. “We shall drink, Mesdames,” he said. “I promise you that! A little while ago, our Arnautes fell into a lake, so there’s water on the unknown comet that is drawing us along. Well, why can’t we draw water from its rivers and lakes with our cooking-pot? We’re flying scarcely 100 meters above the water we desire so much, so we need a cord of that length. Let’s make one!”
The meal was postponed again. The stairway of the minaret had a simple bell-cord for a handrail; this was divided into two, and the two pieces made up 60 meters. The rest was more difficult to find; scarves, belts and bedsheets were cut into strips; the queens went so far as to offer their hair, a cruel sacrifice that Farandoul refused. Finally, they thought they had obtained the necessary length and waited impatiently for daylight.
The Moon had risen, its rays displaying some kind of expanse of water on the comet’s surface.78
“Water!” cried Farandoul. “Quickly, the cooking-pot!”
The principal difficulty was throwing the cooking-pot out of the layer of air forming the minaret’s atmosphere, in order to reach that of the comet. After a few unsuccessful attempts, Farandoul succeeded; instead of falling back, the cooking-pot slid rapidly towards the badly-needed water.
There was a stir of anxiety. Was the rope long enough? The last fathom was paid out and the cooking-pot stopped. O joy! It had reached the water! Carefully, Farandoul hauled up the full pot—but he stopped half way.
“Damn! The cooking-pot will perform a somersault as it passes into our zone of attraction, and we’ll lose out water. What can we do…? We still have one intact sheet—get hold of it. Are you ready…? Here goes!”
The Adventures of Saturnin Farandoul Page 37