Propeller Island

by Jules Verne

  After the fireworks on the large lawn, dancing was resumed in the park and at the town hall, and continued until daylight.

  Such was the memorable festival, of which the remembrance would be perpetuated through the long and happy series of ages that the future—it was hoped—had in store for Floating Island.

  Two days afterwards the stay terminated and Commodore Simcoe gave orders to get under way at dawn. The roar of cannon saluted the departure of the island as it had saluted its arrival, and it returned the salutes gun for gun from both Tahiti and the naval division.

  The direction was north-west, so as to pass in review the other isles of the archipelago. Thus it coasted along the picturesque outline of Moorea, bristling with superb peaks; Raiatea, the Holy Island, the cradle of the native royalty; Bora-Bora, dominated by a mountain a thousand metres high; then the islets of Motu-Iti, Mapeta, Tubuai, Manu, the heads of the Tahitian chain stretched across these regions.

  On the 19th of November, as the sun descended towards the horizon, the last summits of the archipelago disappeared.

  Floating Island then steered south-west, as shown by the charts displayed on the windows of the casino.

  And who at this moment would notice Captain Sarol, as, with a gloomy look in his eye and a fierce expression on his face, with a menacing hand he showed his Malays the route to the New Hebrides, situated twelve hundred leagues to the westward?

  END OF THE FIRST PART.

  Part II

  CHAPTER I.

  FOR six months, Floating Island, after leaving Madeleine Bay, had been voyaging from archipelago to archipelago across the Pacific. Not an accident had occurred in the course of this marvellous journey. At this period of the year the equatorial regions are calm, the trade winds blowing steadily between the tropics. Even if there had been a storm, the solid basis which bore Milliard City, the two harbours, the park and the country, would not have experienced the least shock. The squall would have passed, the tempest would have abated. Hardly would it have been noticed on the surface of the Pearl of the Pacific.

  That which was rather to be feared under these circumstances was the monotony of too uniform an existence. But our Parisians would have been the first to agree that there was none of this. On this immense desert of ocean oasis succeeded oasis, such as the groups they had already visited, the Sandwich Isles, the Marquesas, Paumotu, the Society Islands, such as those they would explore before turning northwards, the Cook Islands, Samoa, Fiji, the New Hebrides, and others perhaps. So many stopping places, so many opportunities of exploring these countries so interesting from an ethnographic point of view.

  As far as the Quartette Party were concerned how could they think of complaining even if they had the time? Perhaps they might consider themselves separated from the rest of the world. Were not the postal services with the two continents regular? Not only did the petroleum ships bring their cargoes for the wants of the electric works almost to the day, but there was not a fortnight without steamers unloading at Starboard Harbour or Larboard Harbour, their cargoes of all sorts and the batches of newspapers with which the inhabitants filled up their leisure time.

  The salaries of the artistes were paid with a punctuality that bore witness to the inexhaustible resources of the Company. Thousands of dollars found their way into their pockets, and accumulated there, and they would be rich, very rich at the expiration of such an engagement. Never had instrumentalists been made so much of, and they could not regret the results, “relatively mediocre,” of their tour across the United States of America.

  “Come,” said Frascolin one day to the violoncellist, “have you got over your prejudices against Floating Island?”

  “No,” replied Sebastien Zorn.

  “And yet,” added Pinchinat, “we shall have a good bag when the campaign is over?”

  “To have a good bag is not everything, you must be sure of carrying the bag away with you.”

  “And you are not sure?”

  “No.”

  What answer could there be to that? And yet there was nothing to fear for the said bag, as the instalments in the form of bills had been sent to America, and paid into the Bank of New York. The best thing to do was to leave the obstinate man alone to his unjustifiable suspicions.

  In fact, the future appeared more settled than ever. It seemed as though the rivalry of the two sections had entered on a period of appeasement. Cyrus Bikerstaff and his assistants had reason to congratulate themselves. The superintendent assumed more airs than ever since “the great event of the ball at the town hall. “Yes! Walter Tankerdon had danced with Miss Coverley. Were people to conclude that the estrangement between the families had become easier? It was certain that Jean Tankerdon and his friends no longer spoke of making Floating Island an industrial and commercial island. In the best society the incident at the ball was much spoken of. A few perspicacious persons saw in it a reconciliation, perhaps a union which might put an end to dissensions private and public.

  And if these previsions were realized, a young man and a young woman assuredly worthy of one another would accomplish their dearest wish we have every reason to believe.

  There was no doubt that Walter Tankerdon had not remained insensible to the charms of Miss Coverley. He had been so for a year already. Under the circumstances he had confided the secret of his feelings to no one. Miss Coverley had guessed it, she had understood him, and had been pleased at his discretion. Perhaps she had clearly read her own heart—and was this heart ready to respond to Walter’s? She had let no sign of it appear. She was as distant as her dignity and the estrangement between the families demanded.

  But an observer might have remarked that Walter and Miss Coverley never took part in the discussions which occasionally arose in the mansion in the Fifteenth Avenue or in that in the Nineteenth. When the intractable Jean Tankerdon abandoned himself to some fulminating diatribe against the Coverleys, his son would bow his head, remain silent, and retreat. When Nat Coverley stormed against the Tankerdons his daughter lowered her eyes, her pretty face turned pale, and she tried to turn the conversation, without succeeding, it is true. That these two personages saw nothing is the common lot of fathers over whose eyes Nature has put a bandage. But—at least Calistus Munbar affirmed it— neither Mrs. Coverley nor Mrs. Tankerdon were in a similar state of blindness. The mothers had not eyes to see nothing, and this state of mind in their children was a subject of constant apprehension, as the only remedy possible was inapplicable. They felt that in face of the enmity between the rivals, in face of their self-esteem, constantly injured by questions of precedence, any reconciliation, any union was inadmissible. And yet Walter and Di loved one another. Their mothers had found that out.

  More than once the young man had been asked to make his choice among the marriageable girls of the Larboard section. There were many charming ones amongst them, perfectly educated, with fortunes almost equal to his own, and whose families would have been delighted at such a union. His father had spoken to him pretty plainly on the subject, and so had his mother, though not so pressingly. Walter had always refused, giving as a reason that he had no desire to be married. But the old Chicago merchant would not listen to this—when you can get hundreds of millions as a wedding present you ought not to remain unmarried. If his son could not find a girl to his taste on Floating Island—among his own circle—well, let him travel through America or through Europe. With his name, his fortune, to say nothing of his appearance, he would have only too many to choose from—would he like a princess of the imperial or royal blood? Thus said John Tankerdon. Each time his father brought him to the foot of the wall, Walter declined to clear it, to go in search of a wife abroad. And once when his mother said to him, —

  “My dear child, is there any girl here that you like?”

  “Yes, mother,” he replied.

  And as Mrs. Tankerdon did not ask which girl, her son did not think it necessary to tell her.

  A similar state of affairs existed in the Coverl
ey family. That the old New Orleans banker wished to marry his daughter to one of the young fellows visiting the house, where the receptions were very fashionable, could not be doubted. If none of them were agreeable to her, well, her father and mother would willingly have consented to her marriage with a foreigner. They would visit France, Italy, England. Miss Coverley’s answer was that she did not wish to leave Milliard City. She was very well on Floating Island; she only asked to be left there. Mr. Coverley was very uneasy at this reply, the real motive of which escaped him.

  Besides, Mrs. Coverley had not put the question to her daughter as bluntly as Mrs. Tankerdon had to Walter, as need scarcely be said, and it is presumable that Miss Coverley would hardly have dared to reply with the same frankness—even to her mother.

  This was how matters stood. Although neither of them could doubt the state of their feelings, and they had often exchanged looks, they had never said a word to each other. If they had met, it was only at official entertainments, at the receptions of Cyrus Bikerstaff, at some ceremony at which the Milliardite notables felt it necessary to be present, if only to maintain their position. Under these circumstances Walter Tankerdon and Miss Coverley maintained complete reserve, being so placed that any imprudence might have the most unfortunate consequences.

  Judge then of the effect produced by the extraordinary incident at the Governor’s ball, an incident in which many endeavoured to see a scandal, and of which the whole town was talking next day. The superintendent had asked Miss Coverley to dance with him: he was not there at the opening of the quadrille; that artful Munbar! Walter Tankerdon, had offered himself in his place, and the lady had accepted him as her partner. That explanation would be asked for regarding this fact, of such importance to the fashionable world of Milliard City, was probable, even certain. Mr. Tankerdon would question his son; Mr. Coverley would question his daughter on the subject. What would Miss Coverley say? What would Walter say? Had Mrs. Coverley and Mrs. Tankerdon interfered, and what had been the result? With all his ferret-like perspicacity, all his diplomatic acuteness, Calistus Munbar could not discover. When Frascolin asked him about it, he was content to reply with a wink of his right eye, which was worth nothing, for he knew absolutely nothing. The interesting thing to notice was that, since this memorable day, whenever Walter met Mrs. Coverley and Miss Coverley, he bowed respectfully, and the girl and her mother returned his salute.

  According to the superintendent this was “an immense step in advance.”

  In the morning of the 25th of November an event happened which had nothing to do with the position of the two preponderating families of Floating Island.

  At daybreak the look-out at the observatory reported several large vessels steering south-west. These ships were in line, keeping their distances. Evidently they formed a division of one of the Pacific squadrons.

  Commodore Simcoe telegraphically informed the governor, who gave orders for salutes to be exchanged with the ships of war.

  Frascolin, Yvernès, and Pinchinat went to the observatory tower, in the hope of seeing this exchange of international courtesy.

  The glasses were directed at these ships, to the number of four, which were from five to six miles distant. There was no flag at their peaks, and the Frenchmen could not recognize their nationality.

  “Nothing indicates to what navy they belong?” said Frascolin to the officer.

  “Nothing,” he replied; “but from their appearance they are evidently British. Besides, in these parts we hardly ever meet with any men-of-war that are not either English, French, or American.”

  The ships were approaching at very moderate speed, and if they did not change their course they would pass very close to Floating Island.

  A good many sight-seers went out to the Prow Battery to watch the approach of the ships.

  An hour later the vessels were within two miles of them. From their large funnels the smoke poured forth, which the westerly breeze bore to the furthest limits of the horizon.

  When they were within a mile and a half, the officer was able to announce that they formed the British West Pacific division—Great Britain possessing or having under its protection certain archipelagoes in these parts, such as Tonga, Samoa, and Cook’s Islands.

  In the morning of the 29th of November the look-outs caught sight of the first heights of Cook’s Archipelago, situated in 20 deg. south latitude and 160 deg. west longitude. Known as the Mangaia Islands and the Hervey Islands, and then named after Cook, who landed here in 1770, it is composed of the Islands of Mangaia, Rarotonga, Watson, Mittri, Hervey, Palmerston, Hagemeister, &c. Its population, of Maori origin, decreased from twenty thousand to twelve thousand, is formed of Malay Polynesians, whom the European missionaries have converted to Christianity. The islanders, pertinacious as to their independence, have always resisted foreign invasion. They believe they are still their own masters, although they have gradually submitted to the protecting influence—we know what that means—of the British.

  The first island of the group to be met with was Mangaia, the most important and the most peopled—in fact the capital of the archipelago. The plan of campaign allowed of a stay here of a fortnight.

  Was it then in this archipelago that Pinchinat was to make the acquaintance of veritable savages—savages like those of Robinson Crusoe, whom he had vainly sought in the Marquesas, in the Society Islands, and at Nuka Hiva? Was his Parisian curiosity about to be satisfied? Would he see absolutely authentic cannibals?

  “My dear Zorn,” said he one day to his comrade, “if there are not cannibals here, there are none anywhere else!”

  “I might say what does that matter to me? But let me ask why nowhere else?”

  “Because an island which is called Mangaia could only be peopled by cannibals.”

  And Pinchinat had only just time to evade the punch that his miserable attempt at a pun deserved.

  But whether there were cannibals or not at Mangaia, his Highness was not to have the chance of entering into communication with them.

  In fact, when Floating Island had arrived within a mile of Mangaia, a canoe put out and came alongside the pier at Starboard Harbour. It bore the minister, a German, who, more than the Mangaian chiefs, exercises his provoking tyranny over the archipelago. In this island —measuring thirty miles in circumference, peopled by four thousand inhabitants — which is carefully cultivated, rich in plantations of taros, in fields of arrowroot and yams, it was this gentleman who owned the best lands. His was the most comfortable house in Ouchora, the capital of the island, at the foot of a hill crowded with breadfruit trees, cocoanut trees, mango-trees, bourras, pimentos, to say nothing of a flower-garden, in which coleas, gardenias, and pæonies were in full bloom. His power was due to the mutois, those native policemen before whom their Mangaian Majesties have to bow.

  When this fat little man landed, the officer of the port went to meet him, and salutes were exchanged.

  “In the name of the King and Queen of Mangaia,” said the minister, “I present the compliments of their Majesties to his Excellency the Governor of Floating Island.”

  “I am under orders to accept them, and to thank you,” replied the officer, “until our Governor goes in person to present his respects.”

  “His Excellency will be welcome,” said the minister. “The sanitary state of Floating Island leaves nothing to be desired, I suppose?”

  “Never has it been better.”

  “There might, however, be a few slight epidemics, influenza, typhus, smallpox—”

  “Not even a cold, sir. Will you then give us a clean bill, and as soon as we are at our moorings we can enter into communication in all due form.”

  “That,” said the minister, not without a certain hesitation, “can only be done if the epidemic—”

  “I tell you there is no trace of one.”

  “Then the inhabitants of Floating Island intend to land.”

  “Yes, as they have recently done in the other groups to the eastward.” />
  “Very well, very well,” replied the stout little man. “Be sure they will be heartily welcome, from the moment that no epidemic—”

  “None, I tell you.”

  “Let them land then in large numbers. The inhabitants will do their utmost to make them welcome, for the Mangaians are hospitable. Only—”

  “Only?”

  “Their Majesties, in accordance with the advice of the chiefs, have decided that at Mangaia, as at the other islands of the archipelago, strangers must pay a landing tax.”

  “A tax?”

  “Yes, two piastres. It is very little, you see; two piastres for every person landing on the island.”

  It was very evident that the minister was the author of this proposal, which the King and Queen and council of chiefs had readily adopted, and of which a fair share was reserved for his Excellency. As in the groups of the Eastern Pacific there had never been such a tax heard of before, the officer of the port could not help expressing his surprise.

  “Are you in earnest?” asked he.

  “Quite in earnest,” affirmed the minister, “and in default of payment we shall not let anybody—”

  “All right!” replied the officer.

  Then bowing to his Excellency, he stepped into the telegraphic office, and reported the matter to the Commodore. Ethel Simcoe put himself in communication with the Governor. Was it advisable for Floating Island to stop off Mangaia under the circumstances?

  The reply was not long in coming. After conferring with his assistants, Cyrus Bikerstaff refused to submit to this vexatious tax.. ‘Floating Island would not stop at Mangaia, nor at any island of the archipelago. The greedy minister would get nothing by his proposition, and the Milliardites would, in the neighbouring archipelagoes, visit natives less rapacious and less exacting.