Propeller Island

by Jules Verne

  A certain amount of alarm seized on the Milliardites. Were the dismal prognostics of Sebastien Zorn regarding the issue of the campaign on the point of realization?

  Towards noon the darkness was profound. The people had left their houses which could not stand if the metal hull were lifted by plutonian forces. There was equal danger in the case of the sea rising and sweeping over the coast.

  The governor and the commodore went to Prow Battery, followed by some of the people. Officers were sent to both harbours with orders to remain there. The engineers were at their posts ready to manœuvre the island if it became necessary to retreat in the opposite direction. The misfortune was that the navigation became more difficult as the sky grew darker.

  About three o’clock in the afternoon the people could hardly see ten yards in front of them. There was no trace of diffused light, such was the mass of cinders which absorbed the solar rays. It was feared that Floating Island, laden with the weight of the scoria fallen on its surface, would not be able to maintain its water line on the surface of the ocean.

  It was not a ship that could be lightened by throwing overboard cargo, or clearing it of its weight. All that could be done was to trust in the strength of the construction.

  The evening, or rather the night came, and still the only way to tell the time was by the clock. The darkness was complete. Beneath the shower of scoriæ it was impossible to keep the electric moons aloft, and they were brought down. But the lighting of the streets and houses which had gone on through the day was to be continued as long as the phenomenon lasted.

  The night came; the situation remained unchanged. It seemed, however, that the detonations were less frequent and also less violent. The fury of the eruption was diminishing and the rain of cinder, carried away to the south by rather a strong breeze, began to abate.

  The Milliardites, regaining confidence a little, went into their houses, hoping that next day Floating Island would find itself under normal conditions. And then they could proceed to a long and complete clearing up.

  No matter! What a miserable New Year’s Day for the Pearl of the Pacific, and by how little Milliard City had escaped the fate of Pompeii and Herculaneum. Although it was not situated at the foot of Vesuvius, did not its voyage bring it within range of the volcanoes with which the bed of the Pacific is strewn?

  The governor, his assistants, and the council of notables remained in constant attendance at the town hall. The look-outs on the tower watched every change on the horizon or at the zenith. So as to maintain its south westerly direction, Floating Island had not stopped its progress, but its speed was only two or three miles an hour. When day came—or at least when the darkness cleared off —its course would be laid for the Tonga Archipelago. Then doubtless it would be ascertained which of the islands of this part of the ocean had been the theatre of such an eruption.

  In any case it was manifest as the night advanced that the phenomenon was passing away.

  About three o’clock in the morning there was a fresh incident which caused another outbreak of alarm among the dwellers in Milliard City.

  Floating Island received a shock which was felt through all the compartments of its hull. The shock was not sufficient force to cause the destruction of the houses or throw the engines out of work. The screws were not stopped in their propulsive movement. Nevertheless there was no doubt there had been a collision at the fore-end.

  What had happened? Had Floating Island grounded on a shoal? No, for it continued to move. Had it then struck against a reef? Amid this profound darkness had it run into some vessel crossing its course, which had not been able to see it lights?

  From this collision had there resulted any serious injuries, if not of a nature to imperil its safety, at least sufficient to require important repairs at the next stopping-place?

  Cyrus Bikerstaff and Commodore Simcoe made their way not without difficulty through the thick bed of scoriæ and cinders to the Prow Battery.

  There the customs’ officers informed them that the shock was due to a collision. A ship of large tonnage, a steamer passing from west to east, had been rammed by the prow of Floating Island. The shock had not been serious for the island, but perhaps it had been different for the steamer. They had only sighted her at the moment of the collision. Shouts had been heard, but they had lasted only a few moments. The chief of the station and his men had run to the battery, but had seen nothing and heard nothing. Had the vessel gone down where she was? The hypothesis was unfortunately only too probable.

  As to Floating Island, they had found that the collision had not caused it any serious damage. Its mass was such that even at reduced speed it would crumple in any vessel, no matter how strong she might be—even an ironclad of the first class—and sink it there and then. Something of this sort had doubtless happened.

  As to the nationality of this ship, the chief of the station thought he had heard orders given in a rough voice—one of those roars peculiar to the commanders of English vessels. He could not, however, say so positively.

  This was a serious matter, and might have consequences no less serious. What would the United Kingdom say? An English vessel was a part of England, and we know that Great Britain does not allow amputation with impunity. What claims and responsibilities Floating Island might expect!

  Thus the New Year began. At ten o’clock in the morning Commodore Simcoe was still unable to make any observations. The air was still thick with vapours, although the freshening breeze was beginning to blow away the rain of cinders. At length the sun pierced the mists of the horizon.

  In what a state were Milliard City, the park, the country, the works, the ports! What a lot of cleaning had to be done! After all, that concerned the road officers. It was merely a question of time and money, and neither was wanting.

  The most urgent work was started on first. The engineers went to Prow Battery on the side of the coast where the collision had occurred. The damages were insignificant. The solid hull of steel was no more injured than the wedge driven into a piece of wood—the ship, for instance.

  On the sea there was no wreckage. From the observatory tower the most powerful glasses could see nothing, although Floating Island had not moved two miles since the collision.

  It was only right to prolong the investigations in the name of humanity.

  The governor conferred with Commodore Simcoe. Orders were given to the engineers to stop the engines, and to the electric launches of both ports to proceed to sea.

  The search, which extended over a range of five or six miles, yielded no result. It seemed only too true that the vessel, rammed below the water line, had sunk without leaving a trace of her disappearance.

  Commodore Simcoe then resumed his ordinary speed.

  At noon the observation indicated that Floating Island was a hundred and fifty miles south-west of Samoa.

  Meanwhile, the look-outs were instructed to watch with extreme care.

  About five o’clock in the evening they reported thick smoke in the south-west.

  Was this smoke due to the final eruptions of the volcano which had so greatly troubled these regions? This was hardly likely as the charts showed neither an island nor an islet in the vicinity. Had a new crater arisen from the sea?

  No, and it was manifest that the smoke was approaching Floating Island.

  An hour afterwards three vessels came in sight together, approaching rapidly.

  Half an hour later they were recognized as ships of war. It was the division of the British squadron which, five weeks before, had passed Floating Island.

  At nightfall the ships were within four miles of Prow Battery. Were they going to pass in the offing and continue their course? It was not probable, as from their lights they seemed to be remaining stationary.

  “These vessels evidently intend to communicate with us,” said the commodore to the governor.

  “Wait and see,” replied Cyrus Bikerstaff.

  But in what way would the governor reply to the commander
of the division if he had come to make a claim with regard to the recent collision? It was possible, in fact, that such was his intention; perhaps the crew had been picked up, perhaps they had been saved in their boats. It would be time to act when they knew what was the matter.

  They knew in the morning very early.

  At sunrise, the flag of the rear-admiral floated from the mizen of the leading cruiser, which slowly approached within two miles of Larboard Harbour. A boat was launched, and came towards the port.

  A quarter of an hour afterwards Commodore Simcoe received the message, —

  “Captain Turner, of Her Britannic Majesty’s cruiser Herald desires to be conducted at once to the governor of Floating Island.”

  Cyrus Bikerstaff, being informed of this, authorized the officer of the port to allow the landing to take place, and replied that he would await Captain Turner at the town hall.

  Ten minutes afterwards a car placed at the disposal of the chief of the staff, who was accompanied by a lieutenant, deposited these two personages before the municipal palace.

  The governor immediately received them in the room adjoining his office.

  The usual salutations were exchanged—very stiffly on both sides.

  Then carefully punctuating his words, as if he were reciting some quotations from current literature, Captain Turner expressed himself thus in one long interminable sentence, —

  “I have the honour to acquaint his Excellency the Governor of Floating Island, at this moment in a hundred and seventy-seven degrees thirteen minutes east of the meridian of Greenwich, and in sixteen degrees fifty-four minutes south latitude, that during the night of the 31st of December and the 1st of January, the steamer Glen, of Glasgow, of three thousand five hundred tons, laden with wheat, indigo, rice, and wine, a cargo of considerable value, was run into by Floating Island, belonging to the Floating Island Company, Limited, whose offices are at Madeleine Bay, Lower California, United States of America, although the steamer was showing the regulation lights, a white at the foremast, green at the starboard side, and red at the port side, and that having got clear after the collision she was met with next morning thirty-five miles from the scene of the disaster, ready to sink on account of a gap in her port side, and that she did sink after fortunately putting her captain, his officers and crew on board the Herald, Her Britannic Majesty’s cruiser of the first-class under the flag of Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Collinson, who reports the fact to his Excellency Governor Cyrus Bikerstaff, requesting him to acknowledge the responsibility of the Floating Island Company, Limited, under the guarantee of the inhabitants of the said Floating Island, in favour of the owners of the said Glen, the value of which in hull, engines, and cargo amounts to the sum of twelve hundred thousand pounds sterling, that is six millions of dollars, which sum should be paid into the hands of the said Admiral Sir Edward Collinson, or in default he will forcibly proceed against the said Floating Island.”

  One long sentence of about three hundred words, cut up with commas, but without a single full-stop. But it said all and left no way of escape. Yes or no, would the governor decide to admit the claim made by Sir Edward Collinson, and accept the statement as to the responsibility of the Company and the estimated value of twelve hundred thousand pounds attributed to the steamer Glen, of Glasgow?

  Cyrus Bikerstaff replied by the usual arguments in cases of collision.

  The weather was very obscure on account of a volcanic eruption which had happened in the westward. If the Glen had her lights going, so had Floating Island. Neither of them could see each other. The matter was beyond the control of either party; and according to the usual practice in such matters, each had to bear his own losses, and there was no question of claim or responsibility.

  Captain Turner’s reply, —

  “His Excellency would doubtless be right in the case of two vessels navigating under ordinary conditions. If the Glen fulfilled these conditions, it was manifest that Floating Island did not; it could not be considered a ship; it constituted a constant danger in moving its enormous mass across the maritime routes; it was like an island, an islet, a reef which shifted its position in such a way that it could not be placed on the chart. England had always protested against this obstacle to which it was impossible to give a definite position hydrographically, and Floating Island would always be responsible for accidents of this nature, &c., &c.”

  It was evident that Captain Turner’s arguments were not devoid of a certain logic. In his heart Cyrus Bikerstaff felt that they were just. But he could not himself give a decision. The matter would be brought before those who had the right to do so, and all he could do was to acknowledge the receipt of Sir Edward Collinson’s claim. Fortunately there had been no loss of life.

  “Very fortunately,” replied Captain Turner, “but there has been the loss of the ship, and thousands have been swallowed up in the damage done by Floating Island. Will the Governor consent to hand over to Admiral Sir Edward Collinson the estimated value of the Glen and her cargo?”

  How could the governor consent to this payment? After all, Floating Island offered a sufficient guarantee. It was there to answer for any damage, if the tribunals decided that it was responsible, after investigating the causes of the accident and the value of the loss.

  “That is your Excellency’s last word?” asked Captain Turner.

  “That is my last word,” said Cyrus Bikerstaff, “for I am not in a position to admit the Company’s responsibility.”

  Further salutes, stiffer than ever, exchanged between the governor and the English captain. Departure of the latter by the car which took him to Larboard Harbour, and return to the Herald by the steam launch.

  When Cyrus Bikerstaff’s reply was made known to the council of notables, it received their full and entire approbation, as it did that of the whole population of Floating Island.

  That being settled, Commodore Simcoe gave orders for Floating Island to resume its voyage at full speed.

  But if Admiral Collinson persisted, would it be possible to evade his pursuit? Were not his vessels of much superior speed? And if he enforced his claim with a few melinite shells, would it be possible to resist it? Doubtless the batteries of the island were capable of replying to the Armstrongs with which the cruisers of the division were armed. But the field offered to the English fire was infinitely greater. What would become of the women and children under the impossibility of finding shelter? Every shot would tell, while the batteries of the Prow and Stern would lose about fifty per cent, of her projectiles in aiming at a small and moving target.

  It was therefore necessary to wait and see what Admiral Sir Edward Collinson would do.

  They had not to wait long.

  At nine forty-five a blank cartridge was fired from the central turret of the Herald, at the same time as the flag of the United Kingdom ran up to the mast-head.

  Under the presidency of the governor and his assistants the council of notables was in session at the town hall. This time Jem Tankerdon and Nat Coverley were of the same opinion. These Americans, being practical men, did not think of attempting a resistance which might endanger the safety of everybody and everything on Floating Island.

  A second gun was fired. This time a shell whistled over, aimed in such a way as to fall half a cable’s length off in the sea, where it exploded with formidable violence, throwing up enormous masses of water.

  By the governor’s orders Commodore Simcoe hauled down the flag which had been hoisted in reply to that of the Herald. Captain Turner returned to Larboard Harbour. There he received securities signed by Cyrus Bikerstaff, and endorsed by the chief notables, for the sum of twelve hundred thousand pounds.

  Three hours later the smoke of the squadron disappeared in the west, and Floating Island continued its course towards the Tonga archipelago.

  CHAPTER V.

  “AND then,” said Yvernès, “we shall put in at the principal islands of Tonga-Tabou.”

  “Yes, my dear fellow,” replied Calistus M
unbar, “you will have time to make acquaintance with this archipelago, which you can call the archipelago of Hapai, and even the Friendly Islands, as they were called by Captain Cook in acknowledgment of the good welcome he received.”

  “And we shall probably be better treated than we were at Cook’s Islands,” said Pinchinat.

  “That is probable.”

  “Shall we visit all the islands of this group?” inquired Frascolin.

  “Certainly not, considering that there are about a hundred and fifty of them.”

  “And afterwards?” asked Yvernès.

  “Afterwards, we shall go to the Fijis, then to the New Hebrides, then as soon as we have landed those Malays we shall return to Madeleine Kay, where our campaign will end.”

  “Will Floating Island stop at many places in the Tonga Islands?”

  “At Vavao and at Tonga-Tabou only,” replied the superintendent, “and it is not there that you will find the real savages of your dreams, my dear Pinchinat.”

  “Evidently there are none in the West Pacific,” replied his Highness.

  “Pardon me, there are a respectable number in the New Hebrides and Solomon Islands. But at Tonga the subjects of George the First are almost civilized, and I may add the ladies are charming. I would not, however, advise you to marry one of these delightful Tongans.”

  “For what reason?”

  “Because marriages between foreigners and natives are not usually happy. There is generally incompatibility of temper.”

  “Good!” exclaimed Pinchinat, “and yet this old fiddler Zorn was thinking of getting married at Tonga-Tabou!”

  “I!” retorted the violoncellist, shrugging his shoulders. “Neither at Tonga-Tabou nor elsewhere, understand, you clumsy joker.”

  “Evidently our conductor is a wise man,” replied Pinchinat. “You see, my dear Calistus—and even allow me to call you Eucalistus, so much do you inspire me with sympathy—”

  “I have no objection, Pinchinat.”