Jules Verne series: the floating Island PART 2

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 Coverley 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.

Orders were sent to the engineers to give the rein to their million horses, and that is why Pinchinat was deprived of the pleasure of shaking hands with cannibals —if there were any. But they do not eat each other now in Cook’s Islands—which is perhaps regrettable.

Floating Island crossed the wide arm which projects up to the group of four islands, the line of which lies northward. A number of canoes were seen, some fairly well built and rigged, others merely dug out of the trunk of a tree, but manned with hardy fishermen who venture in pursuit of the whales so numerous in these seas.

These islands are very verdant, very fertile. When off Mangaia, there could be seen its rocky coasts, bordered by a bracelet of coral, its houses of dazzling whiteness, rough cast with quicklime made from the coral reefs, its hills clothed with the sombre verdure of tropical vegetation, their altitude not exceeding two hundred metres.

Next morning Commodore Simcoe sighted the wooded heights of Rarotonga. Near the centre rises a volcano, fifteen hundred metres high, whose summit emerges from a crown of brushwood. Among the foliage is a white building with Gothic windows. This is the Protestant temple, built amid large forests of mape trees, which descend to the shore. The trees—of great height, and much branched and with curious trunks—are crooked and gnarled, like the old apple-trees of Normandy or the old olive-trees of Provence.

Cyrus Bikerstaff did not think it convenient to land at this island, and he was supported by the council of notables, who were accustomed to be received like Kings on their travels.

At the end of the day no more of the island could be seen than the peak of the volcano, rising like a pillar on the horizon. Myriads of sea birds landed without permission and flew over Floating Island, but when night came they flew off to regain the islets incessantly lashed by the surges to the north of the archipelago.

Then a meeting was held, presided over by the Governor, in which it was proposed to modify the route of Floating Island. Continuing to the westward along the twentieth parallel, as had been decided, they would pass the Tonga Islands and the Fijis. But what had happened at Cook’s Islands was not very encouraging. Would it not be better to make for New Caledonia and the Loyalty Archipelago, where the Pearl of the Pacific would be received with French urbanity? Then after the December solstice they could return towards the Equator. It is true this would take them away from the New Hebrides, where they had promised to land the shipwrecked crew of the ketch.

During this deliberation as to a new route, the Malays were evidently a prey to very intelligible anxiety, for if the change were adopted their return home would be difficult. Captain Sarol could not conceal his disappointment, or even his anger, and anyone who had heard him speaking to his men would probably have thought his irritation rather suspicious.

“You see,” he said, “they will drop us at the Loyalties or at New Caledonia. And our friends are expecting us at Erromango. Our plans were so well arranged for the New Hebrides! Is this stroke of fortune to escape us?”

Fortunately for the Malays—unfortunately for Floating Island—the proposal for changing the route was not carried. The campaign would be proceeded with according to the programme arranged at the departure from Madeleine Bay. Only, so as to make up for the fortnight which was to have been spent at Cook’s Islands, it was decided to go to Samoa, steering north-west so as to touch at the Tonga Islands.

When this decision was known the Malays could not hide their satisfaction.

After all, what could be more natural, and had they not reason to be glad that the council of notables had not renounced its plan of putting them ashore at the New Hebrides?
CHAPTER II.

If the horizon of Floating Island seemed to be clearer in one respect, inasmuch as relations were much less acute between the Larboardites and Starboardites owing to the feelings mutually experienced by Walter Tankerdon and Di Coverley, so that the governor and superintendent believed that the future would not be complicated by intestine quarrels, the Pearl of the Pacific was none the less in danger of its existence. It was difficult to see how it could escape a catastrophe which had been so long in preparation. The farther it went towards the west the nearer it became to the regions where its destruction was certain. And the author of this criminal machination was no other than Captain Sarol.

In fact it was not by mere accident that the Malays had come to the Sandwich Islands. The ketch had put in at Honolulu with the intention of waiting for Floating Island at its annual visit. To follow it after its departure, to cruise in its waters without exciting suspicion, to be received as a shipwrecked crew, as they could not obtain admittance as passengers, and then, under pretext of being returned to their own country, to direct it towards the New Hebrides, had been Captain Sarol’s plan all through.

We know how this plan in its first developments had been put into execution. The collision between the ketch and the other vessel was imaginary. No ship had run into them in the vicinity of the Equator. It was the Malays who had scuttled their ship, but in such a way that they could keep it afloat until the arrival of the assistance demanded by the signal of distress, and then sink when the launch from Starboard Harbour had taken off the crew. In this manner no suspicion could exist with regard to the collision, and no one could doubt they were a shipwrecked crew when their ship was seen to sink, so that a shelter could not well be denied them.

It is true that the governor might not care to keep them. Perhaps there were regulations forbidding strangers to reside on the island? Perhaps it might be decided to land them on the nearest archipelago? That was a risk to run, and Captain Sarol ran it. But after the favourable opinion of the company it was resolved to keep the shipwrecked crew on the island, and take them within sight of the New Hebrides.

Such had been the course of events. For four months Captain Sarol and his ten Malays had been living at liberty on Floating Island. They had been exploring it throughout and penetrating all its secrets, and had neglected nothing in this respect. That suited them exactly. For a moment they had reason to fear that the itinerary would be modified by the council of notables, and they had been anxious to such an extent that their anxiety might seem suspicious. Fortunately for their plans, the itinerary had not been altered. In another three months Floating Island would arrive among the New Hebrides, and then would take place a catastrophe unequalled among disasters of the sea.

This archipelago of the New Hebrides is dangerous to navigation, not only by reason of the reefs which are scattered about it, and the rapidity of the currents, but also on account of the native ferocity of a part of its population. Since the epoch when it had been discovered by Quiros in 1706, since it had been explored by Bougainville in 1768, and by Cook in 1773, it had been the theatre of horrible massacres, and its evil reputation was enough to justify the fears of Sebastien Zorn regarding the result of this maritime campaign. Kanakas, Papuans, Malays, are there mingled with Australian blacks—perfidious, dastardly, refractory to every attempt at civilization. A few of the islands of the group are regular nests of rascals, and their inhabitants only live by piracies.

Captain Sarol, a Malay by birth, belonged to this class of pirates, whalers, sandalwood traders, slave dealers, who, as has been noticed by Doctor Hagon in his voyage in the New Hebrides, infest these regions. Audacious, enterprising, well acquainted with these archipelagoes of ill-repute, thoroughly master of his trade, having more than once been in command of bloodthirsty expeditions, this Sarol was no novice, and his deeds had made him notorious in this part of the Western Pacific.

A few months before, Captain Sarol and his companions having for their accomplices the murderous population of the Island of Erromango, one of the New Hebrides, had prepared an attempt which, if it succeeded, would enable them to live as respectable people wherever they pleased. They knew the reputation of this Floating Island, which the year before had voyaged in the tropics. They knew what incalculable riches were to be found in this opulent Milliard City. But as it was not likely to venture so far to the west, it was necessary to allure it within sight of this savage Erromango, where everything was prepared for assuring its complete destruction.

On the other hand, although they would be reinforced by the natives of the neighbouring islands, these New Hebrideans had no intention of attacking Floating Island when in the open sea as if it were an ordinary merchant vessel, nor of boarding it from a fleet of canoes. Thanks to the sentiments of humanity the Malays had been able to take advantage of, without awaking suspicion, Floating Island would arrive in the neighbourhood of Erromango. She would anchor a short distance from the island. Thousands of natives would invade her by surprise. They would throw her on the rocks. They would smash her. They would hand her over to pillage, to massacre. In truth this horrible plot had many chances of success. In return for the hospitality accorded to Captain Sarol and his accomplices, the Milliardites were advancing to a supreme catastrophe.

On the 9th of December, Commodore Simcoe reached the hundred and seventy-first meridian, at its intersection with the fifteenth parallel. Between this meridian and the hundred and seventy-fifth lies the group of Samoa, visited by Bougainville in 1768, by La Perouse in 1787, by Edwards in 1791. Rose Island was first sighted in the north-west—an inhabited island which did not even deserve the honour of a visit.

Two days afterwards the island of Manona was sighted, flanked by the two islets of Olosaga and Ofou. Its highest point rises seven hundred and sixty metres above sea level. Although it contains about two thousand inhabitants, it is not the most interesting island of the archipelago, and the governor gave no order to stop at it. It was better to stay a fortnight at the islands of Tetuila, Upolu, Savai, the most beautiful of the group. Manona rejoices in a certain celebrity in maritime annals. It was on its shores at Ma Oma that many of Cook’s companions perished, at the head of a bay which still retains its well justified name of Massacre Bay.

Twenty leagues separate Manona from Tetuila, its neighbour. Floating Island approached it during the night of the 14th of December. That evening the quartette, who were walking in the vicinity of Prow Battery, had “smelt” Tetuila, although it was still several miles away. The air was laden with the most delicious perfumes.

“It is not an island,” said Pinchinat, “it is Piver’s shop, it is Lubin’s manufactory, it is a fashionable perfumer’s warehouse.”

“If your Highness does not object,” observed Yvernès, “I prefer to compare it to a casket of perfumes.”

“Well, a scent-box, then,” replied Pinchinat, who had no wish to oppose the poetic flights of his comrade.

And in truth it seemed as though a current of perfumes were being borne by the breeze over the surface of these wonderful waters. These were the emanations of that scented tree to which the Kanakas of Samoa have given the name of moussooi.

At sunrise, Floating Island was coasting along Tetuila, at about six cables’ length from its northern shore. It looked like a basket of verdure, or rather tier upon tier of forests, rising to the summits, of which the highest exceeds seventeen hundred metres. A few islets lay in front of it, among others that of Amru. Hundreds of elegant canoes manned by powerful, half naked natives, working their paddles to a Samoan song in two-four time, were acting as an escort. From fifty to sixty men were in some of them. This is no exaggeration for these long vessels, which are strongly enough built to go far out to sea. Our Parisians then understood why the early Europeans had given this archipelago the name of Navigators’ Islands. But its true geographical name is Hamoa, or preferably Samoa.

Savai, Upolu, Tetuila, stretching from north-west to south-east; Olosaga, Ofou, Manona, scattered to the southeast, such are the principal islands of this group of volcanic origin. Its total area is about two thousand eight hundred square kilometres, and it has a population of thirty-five thousand six hundred inhabitants. It is necessary therefore to reduce the estimates of the first explorers by one half.

Be it observed that none of these islands could offer such favourable climatic conditions as Floating Island. The temperature ranges between twenty-six and thirty-four degrees centigrade. July and August are the coldest months, and the highest temperature occurs in February. From December to April the Samoans are deluged with abundant rains, and this is also the period when occur the storms and hurricanes so fruitful of disasters.

The trade, which is chiefly in the hands of the English, and in a minor degree of the Americans and Germans, amounts to about eighteen hundred thousand francs of imports and nine hundred thousand francs for exports. It consists mainly of agricultural products, cotton—the cultivation of which increased every year—and coprah, that is, the dried kernel of the cocoanut.

The population, which is of Malayo-Polynesian origin, contains about three hundred whites and a few thousand labourers from different islands of Melanesia. Since 1830 the missionaries have converted the Samoans to Christianity, but they retain a few of the practices of their ancient religious rites. The great majority of the natives are Protestants, owing to the influence of Germany and England. Nevertheless Catholicism has a few thousand converts, which the Mariste Fathers are doing their best to increase in number with a view of opposing Anglo-Saxon proselytism.

Floating Island stopped at the south of Tetuila, at the opening of Pago—Pago roadstead. This is the real port of the island, whose capital is Leone, situated in the central portion. This time there was no difficulty between Cyrus Bikerstaff and the Samoan authorities. Free pratique was accorded. It is not at Tetuila but at Upolu that the sovereign of the archipelago resides, and where the English, American, and German residencies are established. There were no official receptions. A certain number of Samoans took advantage of the opportunity of visiting Milliard City and its environs, while the Milliardites were assured that the population of the group would give them a cordial welcome.

The port is at the head of the bay. The shelter it offers against the winds from the offing is excellent and its access easy. Ships of war often put in there.

Among the first to land we need not be astonished at meeting Sebastien Zorn and his three comrades, accompanied by the superintendent, who had asked to join them. Calistus Munbar was as usual delightful and in high spirits. He had ascertained that an excursion to Leone in carriages drawn by New Zealand horses had been arranged among three or four families of notables. As the Coverleys and Tankerdons were going, perhaps there might be a meeting between Walter and Di, which would anything but displease him.

During the walk with the quartette he began talking about this great event in his usual grandiose way.

“My friends,” he said, “we are in a regular comic opera. With a lucky accident we shall arrive at the end of the piece. A horse runs away—a carriage upsets—”

“An attack of brigands!” said Yvernès.

“A general massacre of the excursionists!” added Pinchinat.

“And that might happen!” growled the violoncellist in a funereal voice, as if he were down in the depths of his fourth string.

“No, my friends, no!”  said Calistus Munbar. “Don’t let us go as far as a massacre! We need not go to that. Let us have a nice sort of accident, in which Walter Tankerdon will be lucky enough to save the life of Miss Coverley.”

“And then a little music from Boieldieu or Auber!” said Pinchinat, working his hand as if he were turning the handle of a barrel-organ.

“And so,” said Frascolin, “you are still thinking of this marriage?”

“Think of it, my dear Frascolin! I dream of it night and day! I am losing my good humour, though I do not look like it! I am getting thinner, though you would not think so! I shall die if it does not take place.”

“It will,” said Yvernès, in a voice of prophetic sonority, “for God does not at present require the death of your Excellency.”

And they entered a native inn, and drank to the health of the future couple in several glasses of cocoa milk, while they ate some luscious bananas.

Quite a joy to the eyes of the Parisians was this Samoan population in the streets of Pago-Pago, and amid the trees which surrounded the harbour. The men are of a stature above the average, their colour of a yellowish brown, their heads round, their bodies powerful, their limbs muscular, their faces gentle and jovial. Perhaps there was too much tattooing on their arms and bodies and even on their thighs, which were imperfectly hidden under a petticoat of grass and leaves. Their hair was black, straight or waved, according to the taste of native dandyism. But under the coating of white lime with which it was plastered it formed a wig.

“Savages in the style of Louis XV.!” said Pinchinat. “They only want the cloak, the sword, the breeches, the stockings, the red-heeled shoes, the plumed hat, and the snuff-box, to figure at the receptions at Versailles.”

The Samoans, women or girls, are as rudimentarily clothed as the men, tattooed on the hands and breast, their heads garlanded with gardenias, their necks ornamented with collars of red hibiscus, fully justifying the admiration with which they were described by the early navigators— at least, such as were young. But they were distant, and of rather affected prudery. Graceful and smiling, they enchanted the quartette, wishing them the kalofa, that is, the good morning, in a sweet and melodious voice.

An excursion, or rather a pilgrimage, which our tourists had wished for, and which they performed on the morrow, gave them the opportunity of traversing the island from one shore to the other. One of the country carriages took them to the opposite coast at França Bay, the name of which recalls a remembrance of France. There, on a monument of white coral, raised in 1884, is a plate of bronze bearing in engraved letters the never-to-be-forgotten names of Commandant De Langle, the naturalist Lamanon, and nine sailors, the companions of La Perouse, who were massacred here on the 11th of December, 1787.

Sebastien Zorn and his comrades returned to Pago-Pago through the interior of the island. What wonderful masses of trees, interlaced with lianas, cocoanut-trees, wild bananas, and many native species suitable for cabinet-making. Over the country stretched fields of taro, sugar-cane, coffee plantations, cotton plantations, cinnamon-trees. Everywhere orange-trees, guava-trees, mangoes, avocado-trees, and climbing-plants, orchids and arborescent shrubs. A flora astonishingly rich from this fertile soil, fertilized by a humid and warm climate. The Samoan fauna, reduced to a few birds, a few almost inoffensive reptiles, contains among its mammals only a small rat, the sole representative of the rodents.

Four days afterwards, on the 18th of December, Floating Island left Tetuila without any such providential accident as had been desired by the superintendent. But it was evident that the state of affairs between the two families continued to improve.

Hardly a dozen leagues separate Tetuila from Upolu. In the morning of the next day Commodore Simcoe passed in succession, at a distance of a quarter of a mile, the three islets of Nom-tua, Samusu, Salafuta, which defend the island as if they were detached forts. He took Floating Island along with great ability, and in the afternoon reached his moorings in front of Apia.

Upolu is the most important island of the archipelago, with its sixteen thousand inhabitants. Here Germany, America, and England have established their representatives, united in a sort of council for the protection of the interests of their nations. The sovereign of the group reigns amid his court at Malinuu, at the eastern extremity of Apia Point.

The aspect of Upolu is similar to that of Tetuila, a mass of mountains, dominated by the peak of Mount Mission, which constitutes the backbone of the island. These ancient extinct volcanoes are covered with thick forests, which clothe them up to their craters. At the foot of these mountains are plains and fields, joining on to the alluvial strip along the shore, in which the vegetation is in all the luxuriant variety of the tropics.

In the morning, the governor and his assistants and a few notabilities landed at the fort of Apia. Their object was to pay an official visit to the representatives of Germany, England, and the United States of America, this composite municipality in whose hands are concentrated the administrative services of the archipelago.

While Cyrus Bikerstaff and his suite visited the residents, Sebastien Zorn, Frascolin, Yvernès, and Pinchinat, who had landed with them, occupied their leisure by visiting the town.

And at first sight they were struck with the contrast presented by the European houses with the huts of the old Kanaka village, in which the natives obstinately persist in living. These dwellings are comfortable, healthy, charming in a word. Scattered along the banks of the Apia river, their low roofs are sheltered under an elegant sunshade of palm trees. There was no lack of animation in the harbour. This is the most frequented harbour of the group, and the headquarters of the Commercial Company of Hamburg, which owns a fleet employed in the local service between Samoa and the neighbouring islands.

But if the influence of the English, Americans, and Germans preponderates in this archipelago, France is represented by Catholic missionaries, whose devotion and zeal keep them in good repute among the Samoans. Genuine satisfaction, profound emotion even, seized our artists when they perceived the little church of the Mission, which has not the Puritan severity of the Protestant chapels, and a little beyond, on the hill, a school-house, on which the tricolour was flying.

They walked in this direction, and a few minutes afterwards they were being welcomed in the French quarters. The Maristes gave them a patriotic welcome. Three fathers were in residence, employed in the services of the Mission, which includes two others at Savai, and a certain number of sisters stationed in the islands.

What a pleasure it was to converse with the Superior, already advanced in years, who had lived in Samoa for a long time. He was so happy to welcome his fellow-countrymen, and what was more—artistes of his nation. The conversation was varied with refreshing drinks of which the Mission possesses the recipe.

“But first,” said the old man, “do not think, my dear sons, that the islands of our archipelago are in a savage state. It is not here that you will find natives who practise cannibalism.”

“We have not met with any up to the present,” said Frascolin.

“To our great regret,” added Pinchinat.

“Why do you regret?”

“Excuse me, father, that is the confession of a curious Parisian! It is for love of local colour!”

“Oh!” said Sebastien Zorn, “we are not at the end of our campaign yet; and we may see more than we want to of these cannibals mentioned by our comrade.”

“That is possible,” replied the Superior. “Among the approaches to the Western groups, the New Hebrides, the Solomons, navigators can only venture with extreme prudence; but in Tahiti, the Marquesas, the Society Islands, as at Samoa, civilization has made remarkable progress. I know that the massacre of the companions of La Perouse has given the Samoans the reputation of being ferocious aborigines, devoted to the practice of cannibalism; but there has been a great change since then, owing to the influence of the religion of Christ. The natives of these times are looked after by the police, rejoicing in a European Government, with two chambers in the European style—and revolutions.”

“In European style?” observed Yvernès.

“As you say, my dear son, the Samoans are not exempt from political dissensions.”

“We have them on Floating Island,” replied Pinchinat. “We are even expecting to have a dynastic war between two royal families.”

“In fact, my friends, there has been a struggle between King Tupua, who is descended from the ancient sovereigns of the archipelago, and whom we supported with our influence, and King Malietoa, the man of the English and Germans. Much blood was shed, particularly in the great battle of December, 1887. These Kings saw themselves successively proclaimed and dethroned, and finally Malietoa was declared sovereign by the three powers, in conformity with the arrangements stipulated by the court of Berlin— Berlin!”

And the old missionary could not restrain a convulsive movement as the name escaped from his lips.

“You see.” said he, “up to now the influence of the Germans has been the dominating one at Samoa. Nine-tenths of the cultivated lands are in their hands. In the environs of Apia, at Suluafata, they have obtained from the Government a very important concession in the proximity of the port, which could serve as a victualling station for their ships of war. Quick-firing guns have been introduced by them. But all that will end some day.”

“To the advantage of France?” asked Frascolin.

“No; to the advantage of the United Kingdom!”

“Oh!” said Yvernès. “England or Germany!”

“No, my dear child,” replied the Superior; “there is a notable difference.”

The conversation ended, after the Superior had given divers details as to the customs of the Samoans. He added that if the majority belonged to the Wesleyan religion, Catholicism seemed to be making more progress every day. The church of the Mission was already too small for their services, and the school required early enlargement. He appeared very happy, and his guests rejoiced with him.

The stay of Floating Island at the island of Upolu lasted three days.

The missionaries came to return the visit they had received. The French artistes took them through Milliard City, and they were struck with wonder. And why should we not say that in the room at the casino the quartette party entertained the Father and his colleagues with a few selections from their repertory? He wept with emotion, did the good old man, for he adored classical music, and to his great regret had never had an opportunity of hearing it at the festivals of Upolu.

The day before the departure, Sebastien Zorn, Frascolin, Pinchinat, Yvernès, accompanied this time by the professor of dancing and deportment, went to bid farewell to the missionaries The parting was most affectionate—the parting of people who had only known each other for a few days, and would never see each other again. The old man gave them his benediction and embraced them, and they retired in deep emotion.

Next day, the 23rd of December, Commodore Simcoe got under way at dawn, and Floating Island moved off amid a procession of canoes, who were to escort it to the neighbouring island of Savai.

This island is separated from Upolu by a strait of some seven or eight leagues. But the port of Apia being situated on the northern shore, it is necessary to coast along this shore all day before reaching the strait.

According to the itinerary arranged by the Governor, it was not intended to make the tour of Savai, but to manœuvre between it and Upolu, so as to run down southwest to the Tonga Archipelago. For this reason Floating Island advanced at very moderate speed, it being undesirable to venture during the night through this strait, which is flanked by the small islands of Apolinia and Manono.

At daybreak Commodore Simcoe manœuvred between these two islands, of which one, Apolinia, contains only two hundred and fifty inhabitants, and the other, Manono, a thousand. These natives have the reputation of being the bravest and most honest Samoans in the archipelago.

From this place Savai could be admired in all its splendour. It is protected by impregnable cliffs of granite against the attacks of the sea which the hurricanes, tornadoes and cyclones of the winter season make more formidable. Savai is covered with thick forests, dominated by an ancient volcano twelve hundred metres high, dotted with gleaming villages beneath the domes of gigantic palm trees, watered by tumultuous cascades, penetrated by deep caverns, from which escaped the violent echoes of the beating of the waves on the shore.

And, if legend is to be believed, this island is the cradle of the Polynesian races, of which its eleven thousand inhabitants have retained the purest type. Its real name is Savaiki, the famous Eden of the Maori divinities.

Floating Island slowly moved away, and lost sight of its last heights in the evening of the 24th of December.
CHAPTER III.

Since the 21st of December, the sun in its apparent movement, after stopping on the tropic of Capricorn, recommenced its course towards the north, abandoning these regions to the inclemencies of winter, and bringing spring again to the northern hemisphere.

Floating Island was not more than a dozen degrees from the tropic. In descending to the islands of Tonga-Tabou, it reached the extreme latitude fixed by the itinerary, and continuing its course to the north, remained in the most favourable climatic conditions. It is true it could not avoid a period of extreme heat while the sun was in the zenith, but this heat would be tempered by the sea breeze, and would diminish as the distance of the sun increased.

Between Samoa and the principal island of Tonga-Tabou there are eight degrees—about nine hundred kilometres. There was no need to increase the speed. Floating Island skimmed over this ever beautiful sea, which the atmosphere hardly troubled with storms, that were as rare as they were short-lived. It was enough to be at Tonga-Tabou in the first days of January, to remain there a week, and then to proceed to Fiji. From there Floating Island would run up to the New Hebrides, and there land the Malay crew; then heading north-east, it would regain the latitude of Madeleine Bay, and its second cruise would be at an end.

Life at Milliard City continued amid unchanging calm. Always this existence, as in one of the large towns of America or Europe—constant communications with the new continent by steamers or telegraphic cables, the usual family visits, the manifest tendency towards reconciliation between the two rival sections, the walks and games, the concerts of the quartette always in favour among the dilettanti.

Christmas, so dear to Protestants and Catholics, was celebrated with great pomp at the temple and at St. Mary’s church, as in the mansions, the hotels, and the houses of the commercial quarter. This solemnity meant a general holiday throughout the island during the week which ended on the 1st of January.

In the meantime, the newspapers of Floating Island, the Starboard Chronicle and the New Herald, did not cease from offering their readers the latest news, home and foreign. An item of news, published simultaneously by both papers, caused a good deal of comment.

In the papers for the 26th of December it was stated that the King of Malecarlie had been to the town hall, where the Governor had given him an audience. What was the object of this visit? Rumours of all sorts flew about the town, and they would doubtless have been based on the most unlikely hypotheses, if the newspapers next day had not contained positive information on this subject.

The King of Malecarlie had asked for a place in the Observatory, and the company had acceded to his request.

“Well,” exclaimed Pinchinat, “you must live in Milliard City to see a thing like that; a sovereign, with a glass at his eye, watching the stars on the horizon.”

“A star of the earth interrogating his brothers in the firmament!” replied Yvernès.

The news was authentic, and this is why His Majesty was under the necessity of asking for the appointment.

He was a good King, this King of Malecarlie, and the princess his wife was a good Queen. They had done all the good they could in one of the minor states of Europe, being of enlightened liberal minds, without pretending that their dynasty, although it was one of the most ancient on the old continent, was of divine origin. The King was well informed in scientific matters, a great admirer of art, and passionately fond of music. A learned man and a philosopher, he was in no way blind with regard to the future of European sovereignties, and he was always prepared to leave his Kingdom as soon as his people wanted him no more. Having no direct heir, he in no way injured his family when the time came for him to abandon his throne and lay aside his crown.

This time had come three years before. But there had been no revolution in the Kingdom of Malecarlie, or at least no blood had been shed. By mutual agreement the contract was broken between his Majesty and his subjects. The King became a man, his subjects became citizens, and he left without more fuss than if he had been a tourist who had taken his ticket at the railway station, leaving his government to be replaced by another.

Vigorous still at sixty years of age, the King rejoiced in a constitution, better perhaps than that which his old Kingdom had given itself. But the health of the Queen was rather precarious, and required a climate free from sudden changes of temperature. This approach to uniformity of climatic conditions it was difficult to meet with elsewhere than on Floating Island, since it appeared that she was not able to submit to the fatigue of running from latitude to latitude after fine weather. It seemed as though the invention of the Floating Island Company offered these advantages, as the wealthiest men in the United States had made it the town of their adoption.

That is why, as soon as Floating Island had been constructed, the King and Queen of Malecarlie had resolved to take up their abode in Milliard City. Permission to do so had been granted them on condition that they lived as simple citizens, without any distinction or privilege.

There was not much chance of their Majesties wishing to live otherwise. They rented a small house in the Thirty-ninth Avenue, in the Starboard Section, surrounded by a garden which opened on to the large park. There lived the two sovereigns in retirement, mixing in no way with the rivalries and intrigues of the rival sections, and content with their humble existence. The King occupied himself in astronomical studies, for which he had always had a great taste. The Queen, a sincere Catholic, lived a semi-cloistral life, having not even the opportunity of devoting herself to charitable works, inasmuch as misery was unknown on the Pearl of the Pacific.

Such is the story of these ancient masters of the Kingdom of Malecarlie—a story which the superintendent related to our artistes, adding that this King and this Queen were the best people it was possible to meet, although their fortune was relatively very small.

The quartette, greatly affected at this fall from high estate, born with such philosophy and resignation, felt respectful sympathy for the dethroned sovereigns. Instead of taking refuge in France, that country of Kings in exile, their Majesties had made choice of Floating Island as wealthy people make choice of Nice or Corfu, for reasons of health. They were not, of course, exiles; they had not been driven from their Kingdom; they could live there, they could return there, if they chose to do so, as simple citizens. But they had no thought of doing so, and were content with this peaceful existence, conforming to the laws and regulations of Floating Island.

That the King and Queen of Malecarlie were not rich was true enough, compared with the majority of the Milliardites, and relatively to the wants of life in Milliard City. What could you do with two hundred thousand francs of income, when the rent of a small house was fifty thousand? The ex-sovereigns were not wealthy compared with the emperors and Kings of Europe, who do not make much of a figure compared with the Goulds, Vanderbilts, Rothschilds, Astors, Mackays, and other deities of finance. Although they indulged in no luxuries, confining themselves only to necessaries, they were not easy in their circumstances. But the Queen’s health was so well suited by this residence in the island, that the King had no thought of leaving it. Thus he wished to increase his income by his work, and a situation becoming vacant at the observatory—a situation of which the salary was very high—he had applied for it to the Governor. Cyrus Bickerstaff, after consulting the general administration at Madeleine Bay, had granted the appointment to the sovereign, and that is why the newspapers had announced that the King of Malecarlie had been appointed astronomer of Floating Island.

What a subject for conversation in other countries! There they talked about it for a couple of days and thought no more of it. It appeared quite natural that a King should seek in work the possibility of continuing this tranquil existence at Milliard City. He was a scientific man; they would profit by his science. There was nothing in that but what was honourable. If he discovered some new star, planet, or comet, they would give it his name, which would figure with honour among the mythological names with which the official annuals swarm.

As they were walking in the park, Sebastien Zorn, Pinchinat, Yvernès, and Frascolin were talking about this event. In the morning they had seen the King going to his office, and they were not yet sufficiently Americanized to accept the situation as an every-day occurrence. Then they chatted about this matter, and Frascolin observed:

“It seems that if his Majesty had not been capable of doing the work of an astronomer, he would have had to give lessons like a professor of music.”

“A King going out teaching!” exclaimed Pinchinat. “Certainly, and at the price his rich pupils would pay him for his lessons—”

“They say he is a very good musician,” observed Yvernès.

“I am not surprised at his being enthusiastic over music,” added Sebastien Zorn; “for we have seen him at the door of the casino, during our concerts, owing to his not being able to afford a stall for the Queen and himself.”

“Well, fiddlers, I have an idea!” said Pinchinat.

“An idea of his Highness’s,” replied the violoncellist, “is sure to be a queer one.”

“Queer or not, old Sebastien,” said Pinchinat, “I am sure you will approve of it.”

“Let us hear this idea,” said Frascolin.

“To give a concert at their Majesties’, to them alone in their drawing-room, and to play the best pieces in our repertory.”

“Well,” said Sebastien Zorn, “your idea is not a bad one.

“Confound it, I have many like that in my head, and when I shake it—”

“It sounds like a rattle!” said Yvernès.

“My dear Pinchinat,” said Frascolin, “let us be content to-day with your proposal. I am certain it would be a great pleasure to this good King and this good Queen.”

“To-morrow, we will write and ask for an audience,” said Sebastien Zorn.

“Better than that!” said Pinchinat. “This very evening let us call at the royal habitation with our instruments, like a band of musicians come to give them a morning greeting—”

“You mean a serenade,” said Yvernès, “for it will be at night.”

“Be it so, first violin, severe but just! Do not let us juggle with words! Is it agreed?”

“Agreed.”

It was really an excellent idea. The King would no doubt appreciate this delicate attention, and be happy to hear the French artistes.

When the day closed in, the Quartette Party, laden with their violin cases and the violoncello box, left the casino in the direction of Thirty-ninth Avenue, situated at the extremity of the Starboard Section.

It was a very quiet house, having a small court in front with a verdant lawn. On one side were the domestic offices, on the other the stables, which were not used. The house consisted of a ground floor entered from a flight of steps, and a story surmounted by a mezzanine window and a mansard roof. On the right and left two magnificent nettle trees shaded the double footpath which led to the garden. Beneath the trees in the garden, which did not measure two hundred superficial metres, extended a lawn. There was no comparison between this cottage and the mansions of the Coverleys, Tankerdons, and other notables of Milliard City. It was the retreat of a sage who lived in retirement, of a learned man, a philosopher. Abdolonymus would have been satisfied with it when he left the throne of the Kings of Sidon.

The King of Malecarlie had for his only chamberlain a valet, and the Queen for a maid of honour had but her lady’s maid. Add to this an American cook, and you have all the household of the deposed sovereigns, who once on a time were brother to brother with the emperors of the old continent.

Frascolin touched an electric bell. The valet opened the gate.

Frascolin expressed the wish of himself and comrades to present their respects to his Majesty, and begged the favour of being admitted.

The servant asked them to enter, and they stopped before the flight of steps.

Almost immediately the valet returned to inform them that the King would receive them with pleasure. They were introduced into the vestibule, where they put down their instruments, then into the drawing-room, where their Majesties entered at the same instant. That was all the ceremonial of this reception.

The artistes bowed respectfully before the King and Queen. The Queen, very simply dressed in dark coloured stuff, wore no headdress, but her abundant hair whose grey locks gave a charm to her rather pale face and somewhat weary look. She sat in an arm-chair near the window which opened on to the garden, beyond which were the trees of the park.

The King, standing, replied to the greeting of the visitors, and asked them to say what motive had brought them to this house, which was away on the outskirts of Milliard City.

The quartette felt somewhat affected as they looked at this sovereign whose appearance was one of inexpressible dignity. His look was keen under his almost black eyebrows—the profound look of a scientific man. His white beard fell large and silky on his chest. His face, of which a charming smile tempered the rather serious expression, could but arouse the sympathy of those who approached him.

Frascolin acted as spokesman, his voice trembling slightly.

“We thank your Majesty,” said he, “for having deigned to welcome artistes who desire to offer you their respectful homage.”

“The Queen and I thank you, gentlemen, and we are sensible of your compliment. To this island, where we hope to end so troubled an existence, it seems as though you had brought a little of the fine air of your France. Gentlemen, you are not unknown to a man who, though busy with science, is passionately fond of music, that art in which you have acquired such good reputation in the artistic world. We know the successes you have obtained in Europe, in America. In the applause which welcomed the Quartette Party to Floating Island we have taken part —at a distance, it is true. And we have had one regret, that at not having yet heard you as you deserve to be heard.”

The King gave a sign for his guests to sit down, while he stood before the mantelpiece, the marble of which supported a magnificent bust of the Queen, when young, by Franquetti.

To come to business, Frascolin had only to reply to the last sentence uttered by the King.

“Your Majesty is right,” said he, “and the regret expressed is fully justified as concerning that branch of music of which we are the interpreters. Chamber music demands more privacy than is obtainable with a numerous audience. It requires a little of the meditation of the sanctuary.”

“Yes, gentlemen,” said the Queen, “this music should be heard as one would hear a strain of celestial harmony, and it is really in a sanctuary that it should—”

“Will, then, your Majesties,” said Yvernès, “allow us to transform this room into a sanctuary for an hour, and be heard by your Majesties alone—”

Yvernès had not finished these words when the faces of the two sovereigns brightened.

“Gentlemen,” said the King, “you wish—you had thought of this?”

“That is the object of our visit.”

“Ah!” said the King, extending his hand to them. “I therein recognize French musicians in whom the heart equals the talent. I thank you in the name of the Queen and myself! Nothing—no! nothing could give us greater pleasure.”

And while the valet received orders to bring in the instruments and arrange the room for the improvised concert, the King and Queen invited their guests to follow them into the garden. There they talked of music as artistes might in the completest intimacy.

The King abandoned himself to his enthusiasm for this art, like a man who felt all its charm, and understood all its beauties. He showed, to the astonishment of his auditors, how well he knew the masters he was to listen to in a few minutes. He talked of the ingenuous and ingenious genius of Haydn. He recalled what a critic had said of Mendelssohn, that unequalled composer of chamber music, who expressed his ideas in the language of Beethoven. Weber, what exquisite sensibility, what a chivalrous spirit, which made him a master different from all the others! Beethoven, that prince of instrumental music.... His soul was revealed in his symphonies. The works of his genius yielded neither in grandeur nor in value to the masterpieces of poetry, painting, sculpture, or architecture—that sublime star which finally set in the choir symphony in which the voices of the instruments mingle so closely with human voices.

“And yet he was never able to dance in time.”

As may be imagined, it was from Pinchinat that this most inopportune remark emanated.

“Yes,” replied the King, smiling, “that shows that the ear is not necessarily an indispensable organ to the musician. It is with the heart, and that alone, that he hears. And has not Beethoven proved that in the incomparable symphony I mentioned, composed when his deafness did not allow him to hear a sound?”

After Haydn, Weber, Mendelssohn, Beethoven, it was of Mozart that his Majesty spoke with enthusiastic eloquence.

“Ah, gentlemen,” he said, “let me give vent to my raptures. It is such a time since I have had an opportunity of saying what I think! Were you not the first artistes I have been able to understand since my arrival at Floating Island? Mozart! Mozart! One of your dramatic composers, the greatest, in my opinion, of the end of the nineteenth century, has devoted some admirable pages to him! I have read them, and nothing will ever efface them from my memory! He tells us with what facility Mozart gave to each word its special emphasis and intonation without affecting the rhythm and character of the musical phrase. He says that to pathetic truthfulness he added the perfection of physical beauty. Was not Mozart the only one who divined with certainty as unfailing, as complete, the musical form of all the sentiments of all the shades of passion and character; that is all that forms the human drama? Mozart was not a King —what is a King nowadays?” added his Majesty, shaking his head; “I say he was a god, if they will still permit the existence of a god. He was the God of Music!”

We cannot describe, for it was indescribable, the ardour with which his Majesty manifested his admiration; and when he and the Queen had entered the room, the artistes following him, he took up a pamphlet that lay on the table. This pamphlet, which seemed to have been read and re-read, bore the title, “Mozart’s Don Juan.” Then he opened it and read these few lines from the pen of the master who most understood and best loved Mozart, the illustrious Gounod: “O Mozart! Divine Mozart! It is little you require to be understood to be adored. Thine is constant truthfulness! Thine is perfect beauty! Thine is inexhaustible charm! Thou art always profound and always clear! Thine are complete humanity and the simplicity of the child! Thou hast felt everything and expressed everything in musical phrase, which has never been surpassed, and never will be surpassed!”

Then Sebastien Zorn and his comrades took their instruments, and in the light of the electric lamp, which shed a gentle radiance through the room, they played the first of the pieces they had chosen for this concert.

It was the second quartette in A minor, op. 13 of Mendelssohn, in which the royal audience took infinite pleasure.

To this quartette succeeded the third in C major, op. 75 of Haydn, that is to say, the Austrian Hymn, executed with incomparable mastery. Never had executants been nearer perfection than in the intimacy of this sanctuary where our artistes had no one to hear them but two deposed sovereigns.

And when they had finished the hymn enriched by the genius of the composer, they played the sixth quartette in B flat op. 18 of Beethoven, the Malinconia, of character so sad, and power so penetrating, that the eyes of their Majesties were wet with tears.

Then came the admirable fugue in C minor of Mozart, so perfect, so free from all scholastic research, so natural, that it seemed to flow like limpid water, or pass like the breeze through the leaves. Finally, it was one of the most admirable quartettes of the divine composer, the tenth in D major, op. 35, which ended this never-to-be-forgotten evening, of which the nabobs of Milliard City had never had the equal.

And it was not that the Frenchmen were tired of playing these admirable works, or that the King and Queen were tired of listening to them; but it was eleven o’clock, and his Majesty said, —

“We thank you, gentlemen, and our thanks come from the depths of our hearts. Thanks to the perfection of your execution, we have enjoyed artistic delights which nothing will make us forget! It has done us so much good.”

“If the King desires it,” said Yvernès, “we could still—”

“Thank you, gentlemen, for the last time, thanks. We will not abuse your kindness. It is late, and then—tonight—I am on duty—”

This expression, in the mouth of the King, recalled our artistes to the realities. Before the sovereign who thus spoke they felt somewhat confused—they lowered their eyes.

“Yes, gentlemen,” continued the King, playfully, “am I not the astronomer of the observatory of Floating Island, and,” added he, with some emotion, “inspector of stars—of falling stars?”
CHAPTER IV.

DURING the last week of the year, devoted to Christmas joys, numerous invitations were given for dinners, parties, and official receptions; a banquet given by the Governor to the principal personages of Milliard City, attended by the Starboard and Larboard notables, testified to a certain fusion between the two sections of the town. The Tankerdons and the Coverleys found themselves at the same table. On New Year’s Day there was an exchange of cards between the mansion in the Nineteenth Avenue and that in the Fifteenth. Walter Tankerdon even received an invitation for one of Mrs. Coverley’s concerts. The welcome with which he was received by the mistress of the house appeared to be of good augury. But it was a long way from that to closer ties, although Calistus Munbar, in his characteristic way, was continually repeating to those who cared to listen to him, —

“It is done, my friends, it is done.”

Floating Island continued its peaceful navigation towards the archipelago of Tonga-Tabou. Nothing seemed likely to trouble it, when on the night of the 30th of December there occurred an unexpected meteorologic phenomenon.

Between two and three in the morning distant detonations were heard. The look-outs did not trouble about this more than was necessary. They did not suppose that it meant a naval combat, unless it was between the ships of those South American Republics who are frequently at war. After all, why should they trouble about it on Floating Island, an independent island at peace with the powers of the two worlds?

Besides, these detonations, which came from the eastern parts of the Pacific, lasted until daylight, and certainly could not be mistaken for the full regular roar of distant artillery.

Commodore Simcoe, informed by one of his officers, went to observe the horizon from the top of the observatory tower. There was no light visible on the surface of the wide segment of sea that lay before his eyes. But the sky had not its usual aspect. Reflections of flames coloured it up to the zenith. The air appeared misty, although the weather was fine and the barometer did not indicate by a sudden fall any perturbation in the atmosphere.

At daybreak the early risers of Milliard City had a strange surprise. Not only did the detonations continue, but the air was full of red and black mist, a kind of impalpable dust, which began to fall like rain. You might call it a shower of fuliginous molecules. In a few moments the streets of the town, the roofs of the houses were covered with a substance in which were combined the colours of carmine, madder, nacarat, and purple with blackish ashes.

The people were all out of doors—except Athanase Dorémus, who never got up before eleven after going to bed at eight. The quartette had, of course, jumped out of bed and gone to the observatory, where the Commodore, his officers, his astronomers, without forgetting the new royal functionary, were endeavouring to discover the cause of the phenomenon.

“It is regrettable,” remarked Pinchinat, “that this red matter is not liquid, and that this liquid is not a shower of Pomard or Château Lafitte!”

“Tippler!” said Sebastien Zorn.

But what was the cause of this phenomenon? There have been many examples of these showers of red dust, composed of silica, alumina, chromic oxide and ferric oxide. At the beginning of the century Calabria and the Abruzzi were inundated with these showers, which the superstitious inhabitants took for drops of blood when, as at Blancenberghe, in 1819, they were merely chloride of cobalt. There have also been clouds of molecules of soot or carbon borne from distant fires. There have even been showers of soot at Fernambouc in 1820, yellow showers at Orleans in 1829, and in the Basses Pyrenees in 1836 showers of pollen drifted from firs in bloom.

What origin could be attributed to this fall of dust mingled with scoriæ, with which the air seemed laden and which fell on Floating Island and the surrounding sea in thick reddish masses?

The King of Malecarlie gave it as his opinion that these substances came from some volcano in the islands to the west. His colleagues at the observatory agreed with him. They collected several handfuls of these scoriæ, the temperature of which was above that of the air, and which had not cooled down in their passage through the atmosphere. An eruption of great violence would explain the irregular detonations that had been heard. These regions are strewn with craters, some in activity, others extinct, but susceptible of revival under subterranean action; without counting those which geologic upheavals occasionally lift from the ocean’s depths, the force of their projection being often extraordinary.

And in the midst of this archipelago of Tonga to which Floating Island was going, had not a few years before the peak of Tufua been covered with its eruptive matters for an area of more than a hundred kilometres? And for hours had not the detonations of the volcano been heard two hundred kilometres away?

Then, in the month of August, 1883, the eruption of Krakatoa had desolated the parts of the islands of Java and Sumatra adjoining Sunda Strait, destroying entire villages, causing earthquakes, covering the soil with compact mud, raising the sea in formidable waves, infecting the atmosphere with sulphurous vapours, and wrecking ships. Really, it might be asked if Floating Island were not threatened with dangers of this kind.

Commodore Simcoe began to be uneasy, for navigation threatened to become very difficult. He gave orders to slacken speed, and Floating Island began to move with extreme slowness.

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 Munbar, “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.”

“Well, my dear Eucalistus, a man does not scrape the strings of a violoncello for forty years without becoming a philosopher, and philosophy teaches that the only way of being happy in marriage is not to get married.”

In the morning of the 6th of January the heights of Vavao appeared on the horizon, the most important island of the northern group. This group is very different, owing to its volcanic formation, from the two others, Hapai and Tonga-Tabou. The three lay between seventeen and twenty-two degrees south latitude and a hundred and seventy-six and a hundred and seventy-eight degrees west latitude. They have an area of two thousand four hundred square kilometres distributed over a hundred and fifty islands, peopled by sixty thousand inhabitants.

The ships of Tasman were there in 1643, and Cook’s ships in 1773, during his second voyage of discovery in the Pacific. After the overthrow of the dynasty of Finare-Finare, and the foundation of a Federal State in 1797, a civil war decimated the population of the archipelago.

Navigation is difficult enough amid this maze of islands and islets planted with cocoanut trees which it is necessary to follow to reach Nu-Ofa, the capital of the Vavao group. Vavao is volcanic, and being such is subject to earthquakes. This is taken into account in building the houses, not one of which has a nail in it. Wattled rushes form the walls with laths of cocoanut wood, and on piles or trunks of trees an oval roof is laid. The whole is very fresh and neat. This more particularly attracted the notice of our artistes posted at Prow Battery, while Floating Island passed along the channels bordered with Kanaka villages. Here and there a few European houses displayed the flags of Germany or England.

But if this part of the archipelago is volcanic, it was not to one of its volcanoes that could be attributed the formidable eruption of scoriæ and cinders that had been spread over these regions. The Tongans had not even been plunged into darkness, the western breezes having driven the clouds of eruptive matter towards the opposite horizon. Probably the crater from which they came belonged to some isolated island in the east, unless it was a volcano of recent formation between Samoa and Tonga.

The stay at Vavao lasted but a week. This island was worth visiting, although a few years before it had been ravaged by a terrible cyclone, which had thrown down the little church of the French Maristes and destroyed a quantity of native dwellings. Nevertheless the country remained very attractive with its numerous villages, enclosed by belts of orange trees, its fertile plains, its fields of sugarcane and yams, its clumps of banana trees, mulberry trees, bread-fruit trees, and sandalwood trees. The only domestic animals were pigs and poultry. The only birds were thousands of pigeons and noisy parrots of brilliant colours. For reptiles there were only a few harmless serpents and lovely green lizards, which could be mistaken for leaves fallen from the trees.

The superintendent had not exaggerated the beauty of the native type—which is common to the Malay race of the different archipelagoes of the central Pacific. Superb men of tall stature, rather stout, perhaps, but of admirable build and noble attitude, and a colour as of copper shaded with olive. The women graceful and well proportioned, hands and feet of a delicacy of form and a smallness that must move to envy the Germans and English of the European colony. The women are employed only in the making of mats, baskets, and fabrics like those of Tahiti, and their fingers are not deformed by such manual labour. And then it is easy to judge of the perfection of Tongan beauty. Neither the abominable trousers nor the trained skirt had been adopted in the native fashions. Mere cotton drawers or a belt for the men, the caraco and short petticoat with ornaments in fine dried bark for the women, who are at once distant and coquettish. In both sexes the headdress is elaborate, the girls raising their hair over their foreheads and piling it up on a trellis of cocoanut fibre in the shape of a comb.

But there was nothing in all this to make Sebastien Zorn recall his resolution. He would not marry either at Vavao or at Tonga-Tabou or anywhere else in this sublunary world.

It was always a great satisfaction for his comrades and himself to land on these archipelagoes. They were pleased enough with Floating Island, but to set foot on firm ground was none the less pleasing to them. Real mountains, real country, real water-courses were a change from imitation streams and artificial shores. It required a Calistus Munbar to assign to his Pearl of the Pacific a superiority over the works of nature.

Although Vavao is not the usual residence of King George, he possesses at Nu-ofa a palace, let us say a pretty cottage, at which he frequently lives. But on this island of Tonga-Tabou are found the royal palace and the establishments of the English residents.

Floating Island was to make its last stoppage there almost at the limit of the Tropic of Capricorn, the extreme point it would reach in the course of its voyage across the southern hemisphere.

After leaving Vavao, the voyage of the Milliardites for two days was one of considerable variety. One island was not lost sight of until another rose to view; all of them presenting the same volcanic character due to the action of plutonian force. It was with this northern group as with the central group of Hapai. The hydrographic charts of these regions are extremely accurate, and allowed Commodore Simcoe to venture without danger amid the channels of the labyrinth between Hapai and Tonga-Tabou. Besides there was no paucity of pilots if he had wanted their services. A number of vessels were moving among the islands—for the most part schooners under the German flag employed in the coasting trade, while the larger merchant vessels take away the cotton and coprah and coffee and maize, the principal productions of the archipelago. Not only would pilots have hastened to come if Ethel Simcoe had asked them, but also the crews of their double canoes, united by a platform and able to carry two hundred men. Yes! Hundreds of natives would have come at the first signal, and what a harvest they would have had if the pilotage dues were calculated on the tonnage of Floating Island. Two hundred and fifty-nine million tons! But Commodore Simcoe, to whom all these figures were familiar, had no want of their good offices. He had confidence in himself, and trusted to the merit of the officers who executed his orders with absolute precision.

Tonga-Tabou was sighted on the morning of the 9th of January, when Floating Island was but three or four miles away from it. Very low, its foundation not being due to geologic effort, it has not been thrust up from below like so many other islands that seem to have remained motionless after coming to the surface of the sea to breathe. It has been gradually built by infusorians, who have raised tier upon tier of coral, and what labour! A hundred kilometres in circumference, an area of from seven to eight hundred superficial kilometres on which live twenty thousand inhabitants.

Commodore Simcoe stopped off the port of Maofuga. Communications were immediately opened between the sedentary island and the movable island, a sister of the Latona of mythologic memory. What a difference there was between this archipelago and the Marquesas, Paumotu, and the Society Islands! English influence is here predominant, and King George the First was in no hurry to offer a cordial welcome to these Milliardites of American origin.

However, at Maofuga the quartette discovered a small French centre. There resides the Bishop of Oceania, who was then making a pastoral tour among the different groups. There are the Catholic mission, the house of the sisters, the schools for the boys and girls. Needless to say, the Parisians were received with cordiality by their compatriots. As to their excursions, there were only two places of importance for them to go to, Nakualofa, the capital, and the village of Mua, where four hundred inhabitants profess the Catholic religion.

When Tasman discovered Tonga-Tabou he gave it the name of Amsterdam-—name hardly justified by its houses of pandanus leaves and cocoanut fibres. It is true that European habitations are not wanting; but the native name is more appropriate for this island.

The port of Maofuga is situated on the northern coast. If Floating Island had taken up its position a few miles more to the west of Nakualofa, its royal gardens and its royal palace would have been in sight of it. If, on the contrary, Commodore Simcoe had gone more to the east, he would have found a bay cut deeply into the coast, the head of which is occupied by the village of Mua. He did not do this because the island would have run the risk of being wrecked among the hundreds of islets, the channels between which only give passage to vessels of moderate tonnage. Floating Island had therefore to remain off Maofuga during the whole of the stay.

Though a certain number of Milliardites landed, there were not many who thought of exploring the interior of the island. It is charming nevertheless, and deserves the praises which Elisée Reclus has showered upon it. Doubtless the heat is very great, the atmosphere stormy, the rains of extreme violence and calculated to calm the ardour of an excursionist, and a man must be touched with the tourist’s mania who would venture into the country. Nevertheless this is what Frascolin, Pinchinat, and Yvernès did, for it was impossible to persuade the violoncellist to leave his comfortable room in the casino before the evening, when the sea-breeze refreshed the beach of Maofuga. Even the superintendent begged to be excused for being unable to accompany the enthusiasts.

“I should melt on the road,” he told them.

“Well, we could carry you along in a bottle!” replied his Highness.

This engaging prospect did not persuade Calistus Munbar, who preferred to retain his solid state.

Very fortunately for the Milliardites, the sun had been moving northward for three weeks, and Floating Island could keep it at a distance, so as to maintain a normal temperature.

Next morning the three friends left Maofuga at daybreak, and started for the capital of the island. Certainly it was warm; but the warmth was bearable under cover of the cocoanut trees, the leki-lekis, the toui-touis, which are the candle trees, the cocas, whose red and black berries formed bunches of dazzling gems.

It was nearly noon when the capital showed itself in full bloom—an expression which is not inappropriate at this season of the year. The King’s palace seemed to rise from a gigantic bouquet of verdure. There was a striking contrast between the native huts covered with flowers and the houses of English aspect which belonged to the Protestant missionaries. The influence of these Wesleyan ministers has been considerable, and after massacring a certain number of them the Tongans have adopted their creed. Observe, however, that they have not entirely renounced the practices of their Kanaka mythology; with them the high priest is superior to the King. In the teachings of their curious cosmogony good and evil geniuses play an important part. Christianity will not easily uproot the taboo which is always held in honour, and when it has been decided to break it, it cannot be done without expiatory sacrifices in which human life is sometimes sacrificed.

It should be mentioned that according to the accounts of explorers—particularly that of Aylie Marin in his travels in 1882—Nakualofa is still but half-civilized.

Frascolin, Pinchinat, and Yvernès had no desire to pay their respects at the feet of King George. This is not to be understood in a metaphoric sense, as the custom is to kiss the sovereign’s feet. And our Parisians congratulated themselves when, in the square of Nakualofa, they noticed the “tui” whom they call his Majesty, clothed in a sort of white shirt, with a little skirt of native stuff tied round his waist. This kissing of the feet would certainly have been among the most disagreeable remembrances of the voyage.

“You can see,” said Pinchinat, “that water-courses are not very abundant in this country.”

At Tonga-Tabou, at Vavao, as in the other islands of the archipelago, the maps show neither stream nor lagoon. The rain-water is collected in cisterns, and that is all the natives have, the subjects of George I. being as careful with it as their sovereign.

During the day the three tourists, greatly fatigued, returned to the port of Maofuga, and regained their rooms in the casino with great satisfaction. To the incredulous Sebastien Zorn they affirmed that their excursion had been most interesting. But the poetic inducements of Yvernès could not prevail on the violoncellist to start next morning for the village of Mua.

The journey promised to be long and very fatiguing. They might have easily spared themselves this fatigue by using one of the electric launches that Cyrus Bikerstaff offered to put at their disposal. But to explore the interior of this curious country was a consideration of some value, and the tourists started on foot for Mua Bay along the coral shore which bordered the islets, where there seemed to have collected all the cocoanut trees in Oceania.

Their arrival at Mua could not take place before the afternoon. There was a place evidently pointed out for the Frenchmen to stay at. This was the residence of the Catholic missionaries. In welcoming his guests the Superior’s delight was most affecting — the welcome recalled the way in which they had been received by the Maristes of Samoa. What an excellent evening! What interesting conversation, in which France was more talked of than the Tongan colony! These good men could not think without regret of their native land so far away.

It was with a certain pride that the Superior showed, to the admiration of his visitors, the establishments of the Mission—the house which was built for nothing by the natives of Mua, and the beautiful church due to the Tongan architects, of which their brethren in France would not be ashamed.

During the evening they took a walk in the environs of the village and visited the ancient tombs of Tui-Tonga, where schist and coral are intermingled with primitive and charming art. They even visited that old plantation of meas, banyans or monstrous fig-trees, with their roots interlaced like serpents, the circumference of which, in places, exceeds sixty metres. Frascolin measured them, and having entered the figures in his note-book, had them certified as correct by the Superior. After that, there could be no doubt as to the existence of such a vegetable phenomenon.

A good supper was followed by a good night in the best rooms of the mission. After that was a good breakfast and hearty farewells from the missionaries, and the return to Floating Island as five o’clock was striking from the belfry of the town hall. This time the three excursionists had not to have recourse to metaphorical amplification to assure Sebastien Zorn that their journey had left them with pleasant memories.

Next day Cyrus Bikerstaff received a visit from Captain Sarol under the following circumstances.

A certain number of Malays—about a hundred—had been recruited at the New Hebrides and taken to Tonga-Tabou to work in the clearings—an indispensable importation considering the indifference, or rather idleness, of the Tongans, who live from day to day. These clearings had been finished a short time before, and the Malays were awaiting an opportunity of returning to their country. Would the Governor allow them to take passage on Floating Island? It was this permission which Captain Sarol had come to ask. In five or six weeks they would arrive at Erromango, and the carriage of these natives would not be much expense.

It would not have been generous to refuse these men a service so easy to render; and so the Governor gave his permission, for which he was thanked by Captain Sarol, and also by the Maristes of Tonga-Tabou, for whom these Malays had been imported.

Who could doubt that Captain Sarol had in this way increased the number of his accomplices? that these New Hebrideans would come to his assistance when he had need of them, and that he could only congratulate himself at having met with them at Tonga-Tabou and introduced them on to Floating Island?

This was the last day the Milliardites were to spend in the archipelago, the departure being fixed for the morning.

During the afternoon they were able to be present at one of those half-civil, half-religious festivals in which the natives take part with extraordinary enthusiasm.

The programme of these festivals, to which the Tongans are as partial as their congeners in Samoa and the Marquesas, comprises several dances. As these were of a kind to interest our Parisians, they went ashore about three o’clock.



The superintendent accompanied them, and this time Athanase Dorémus expressed a wish to join them. The presence of a professor of dancing and deportment was surely appropriate at a ceremony of this kind? Sebastien Zorn decided to follow his comrades, more desirous, doubtless, of hearing the Tongan music than of looking at the choregraphic eccentricities of the population.

When they arrived on the spot, the festival was in full swing. The Kava liquor extracted from the dried root of the pepper plant was circulating in gourds and flowing down the throats of a hundred dancers, men and women, young men and girls, the girls having coquettishly decorated their long hair, which they had to wear in that fashion until their wedding-day.

The orchestra was of the simplest. For instruments, the nasal flute known as the fanghu-fanghu, more than a dozen nafas, as the drums are called, on which they thump vigorously, “and even in time,” as Pinchinat remarked.

Evidently the highly superior Athanase Dorémus felt the most perfect contempt for the dances, which did not enter into the category of quadrilles, polkas, mazurkas, and waltzes of the French school. And he did not fail to shrug his shoulders in protest against Yvernès, to whom these dances appeared to be marked with real originality.

First there were seated dances, composed of attitudes, pantomimic gestures, balancings of the body, to a rhythm slow and sad and of strange effect.

To these succeeded standing dances, in which the Tongans abandoned themselves to all the impetuosity of their temperament, representing in pantomime the fury of warriors on the war-path. The quartette looked at this spectacle from an artistic point of view, and wondered what the natives would have done if they had been excited by the fascinating music of a Parisian ball-room.

And then Pinchinat—the idea was characteristic—proposed to his comrades to send for their instruments from the casino, and treat these dancers to the wildest six-eights and most formidable two-fours of Lecoq, Audran, and Offenbach.

The proposal was agreed to, and Calistus Munbar had no doubt that the effect would be prodigious.

Half an hour afterwards the instruments had been brought, and the players began.

Immense surprise of the natives, and also immense delight at listening to this violoncello and these three violins, going at their loudest, and giving off music that was ultra-French.

The natives remained not unaffected, and it was clearly proved that their characteristic dances are instinctive, that they learn without masters—whatever Athanase Dorémus might think. The men and women strove to outdo each other in leaping and swaying when Sebastien Zorn, Yvernès, Frascolin, and Pinchinat attacked the furious rhythms of Orphée  aux Enfers. The superintendent could not contain himself, and took part in a wild quadrille, while the professor of dancing and deportment veiled his face before such horrors. At the height of this cacophony, in which mingled the nasal flutes and the sonorous drums, the fury of the dancers attained its maximum of intensity, and we know not where it would have stopped, if something had not happened to put an end to this infernal choregraphy.

A Tongan—tall and very strong—wonder-struck at the notes which the violoncellist drew from his instrument, hurled himself on the violoncello, seized it, and rushed away with it, shouting, “Taboo! taboo!”

The violoncello was tabooed! It could not be touched again without sacrilege! The high priest, King George, the dignitaries of his court, the whole population of the island would rise, if this sacred custom were violated.

Sebastien Zorn did not care about this. He had no idea of parting with this masterpiece of Gand and Benardel. Off he went after the thief. In a moment his comrades were following in pursuit. There was a general stampede.

But the Tongan sprang along with such speed that they had to give up their attempt to catch him. In a few minutes he was far away, very far away.

Sebastien Zorn and the others, unable to do more, returned to find Calistus Munbar, out of breath. To say that the violoncellist was in a state of indescribable fury would be insufficient. He foamed, he choked! Tabooed or not, they would have to give him back his instrument. Even if Floating Island had to declare war against Tonga-Tabou—and had not war broken out for less serious motives?—the violoncello must be restored to its owner.

Fortunately, the authorities of the island had intervened in the matter. An hour later they had caught the native, and obliged him to bring back the instrument. The restitution was not effected without trouble, and a crisis was only just avoided in which the ultimatum of Cyrus Bikerstaff might, on this question of taboo, have perhaps raised the religious passions of the whole archipelago.

But the breaking of the taboo had to take place in regular form, according to the usual ceremonies. As was customary, a considerable number of pigs had their throats cut, and were cooked in a hole filled with hot stones, and there were sweet potatoes, taros, and macore fruits, which were also afterwards eaten, to the extreme satisfaction of the Tongan stomachs.

The violoncello had its strings let down in the fray, and Sebastien Zorn had to tune it up again, after ascertaining that it had lost none of its qualities by reason of the incantations of the natives.
CHAPTER VI.

In leaving Tonga-Tabou, Floating Island steered northwest towards the Fiji archipelago, moving away from the tropic in the track of the sun, which was mounting towards the Equator. There was no need for haste. Two hundred leagues only separated it from the Fijian group, and Commodore Simcoe took it along at moderate speed.

The breeze was variable, but what mattered the breeze to this powerful concern? If, now and then, violent storms broke on this twenty-third parallel, the Pearl of the Pacific did not even dream of being anxious. The electricity which saturated the atmosphere was drawn off by the numerous conductors with which its buildings were provided. As to the rain, even in the torrents that the storm-clouds poured down, it was welcome. The park and the country grew verdant under it, rare as it was. Life passed under the most fortunate conditions, amid festivals, concerts, receptions. At this time, friendly communications between the sections were frequent, and it seemed as though nothing would threaten their safety in the future.

Cyrus Bikerstaff had no reason to repent of having given a passage to the New Hebrideans embarked at Captain Sard’s request. These natives endeavoured to make themselves useful. They set to work in the fields, as they had done at Tonga. Sarol and his Malays hardly left them during the day, and at night they returned to the two ports in which the municipality had given them quarters. No complaint was made against them. Perhaps an opportunity offered for converting them. Up to then they had not adopted Christianity, like a large number of the New Hebrides population, despite the efforts of the Anglican and Catholic missionaries. The clergy of Floating Island had considered this, but the Governor would allow no attempt of such a nature.

These New Hebrideans are between twenty and forty years of age. Darker in hue than the Malays, although they are not so well built as the natives of Tonga or Samoa, they were apparently endowed with more endurance. The little money that they had earned in the service of the Maristes of Tonga-Tabou, they kept with great care, and did not attempt to spend in alcoholic drinks, which would not readily have been sold to them. Being free of all expense, they had probably never been so happy in their savage archipelago.

Thanks to Captain Sarol, these natives would unite with their compatriots, and connive at the work of destruction, the hour of which was approaching. Then all their native ferocity would appear. Were they not the descendants of the murderers who have so formidable a reputation among the people of this part of the Pacific?

Meanwhile, the Milliardites lived in the thought that nothing could compromise an existence which had been so logically provided for and so wisely organized. The quartette continued their successful career. People were never tired of hearing them or applauding them. The works of Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn, Mendelssohn, were run through completely.

Besides the regular concerts at the casino, Mrs. Coverley gave musical evenings, which were largely attended. The King and Queen of Malecarlie many times honoured them with their presence. If the Tankerdons had not yet visited the mansion in the Fifteenth Avenue, at least Walter had become assiduous in his attendance at the concerts. It was certain that his marriage with Miss Coverley would come off some day or other. It was talked about openly in the Starboardite and Larboardite drawing-rooms. Even the witnesses to the inevitable marriage were named. The only thing wanting was the announcement from the heads of the families. Would anything happen that would oblige Jem Tankerdon and Nat Coverley to make it?

This circumstance, so impatiently expected, was soon about to take place. But at the cost of what danger, and how greatly the safety of Floating Island was menaced!

In the afternoon of the 16th of January, at about halfway between Tonga and Fiji,, a ship was signalled in the south-east. It seemed to be heading for Starboard Harbour, and was apparently a steamer of some eight hundred tons. No flag floated from its peak, and none was hoisted when it was within a mile of the island.

The ship did not attempt to enter one of the harbours, but apparently was passing, and doubtless would soon be out of sight.

The night came, very dark and moonless. The sky was covered with lofty fleecy clouds, which absorbed all the light and reflected none. There was no wind. The calm was absolute in sea and sky. The silence was profound amid the thick darkness.

About eleven o’clock came an atmospheric change. The weather became very stormy. The air. was rent by lightning until midnight, and the growls of the thunder continued, without a drop of rain falling.

Perhaps these rumblings, due to some distant storm, prevented the Customs’ officers on duty about the Stern Battery from hearing strange hissings and curious roarings, which troubled this part of the coast. These were not the hiss of the lightning or the rumbling of the thunder. The phenomenon, whatever it was, did not occur until between two and three o’clock in the morning.

Next day a new cause of uneasiness spread in the outer quarters of the town. The men engaged in watching the flocks pasturing in the country were seized with a sudden panic and dispersed in all directions, some towards the ports and some towards the gate of Milliard City.

A serious fact was that fifty sheep had been half devoured during the night, and their remains were found in the vicinity of Stern Battery. A few dozen cows, hinds, bucks, in the enclosures of the park, and some twenty horses had met with the same fate.

No doubt these animals had been attacked by wild beasts. What wild beasts? Lions, tigers, leopards, hyænas? Was that improbable? Had any of these formidable carnivores ever appeared on Floating Island? Could it be possible for these animals to arrive by sea? Was the Pearl of the Pacific in the neighbourhood of the Indies, of Africa, of Malaysia, the former of which comprises these varieties of ferocious animals?

No! Floating Island was not near the mouth of the Amazon, or the mouth of the Nile, and yet, about seven o’clock in the morning two women ran into the square of the town hall who had been pursued by an enormous alligator, which had regained the banks of the Serpentine River and disappeared in the water. At the same time the agitation of the plants along the banks indicated that other saurians were struggling there at that very moment.

The effect of this incredible news can be judged. An hour afterwards the look-outs noticed several tigers, lions, and leopards bounding across the country. Several sheep running towards Prow Battery were attacked by two immense tigers. The domestic animals began to run about in all directions, terrified at the roar of the wild beasts. And so did the men whose occupations called them out into the fields in the morning. The first tram for Larboard Harbour had barely time to run into the siding. Three lions had pursued it, and in a hundred yards more would have reached it.

There was no doubt that during the night Floating Island had been invaded by a band of ferocious animals, and so would Milliard City if precautions were not immediately taken.

It was Athanase Dorémus who brought our artistes the news. The professor of dancing and deportment had gone out earlier than usual, and had not dared to return to his house. He had taken refuge in the casino, from which no human power could remove him.

“Come, now!” said Pinchinat. “Your lions and tigers and alligators are imaginary.”

But he had to yield to the evidence. The municipality had given orders to shut the town gates and bar the entrance to the ports and the custom-house stations along the coast. At the same time the service of trams was suspended, and people were prohibited from venturing into the park or the country until the dangers of this inexplicable invasion had been removed.

Then at the moment the gates were being closed at the extremity of the First Avenue near the square of the observatory, a couple of tigers had bounded from fifty yards beyond with eyes aflame and mouths open. A few seconds more and these ferocious animals would have been through the gate.

At the side of the town hall the same precaution had been taken, and Milliard City had nothing to fear from an attack.

What an incident, what a subject for copy, what varied reports in the Starboard Chronicle, the New Herald and other journals of Floating Island!

Terror was at its height. Mansions and houses were barricaded. The shops closed their shutters. Not a door remained open. At the windows of the upper storeys affrighted faces appeared. The only people in the streets were the detachments of militia under the orders of Colonel Stewart and the police under the command of their officers.

Cyrus Bikerstaff and his assistants, Barthélemy Ruge and Hubley Harcourt, who had met at the earliest moment, remained on duty at the town hall. By the telegraph from the two ports, the batteries and the posts along the shore, the municipality received the most disquieting news. There were wild beasts almost every where, hundreds at least, said the telegrams, to which perhaps fear had added a cipher too many. It was undoubtedly the case that a number of lions, tigers, panthers, and caymans were at large in the island.

What, then, had happened? Had a menagerie broken out of its cages and taken refuge on Floating Island? But whence had this menagerie come? What ship had brought it? Was it the steamer that had been seen the evening before? If so, where had this steamer come from? Had she communicated with the shore during the night? Had the animals swum ashore and landed on the low part of the coast near the mouth of Serpentine River? Had the ship sunk immediately afterwards? And yet, as far as the look-outs could see, as far as Commodore Simcoe’s glasses could carry, there was not a fragment of wreckage on the surface of the sea, and Floating Island had hardly moved during the night! Besides, if this ship had foundered, why had not the crew taken refuge on the island as the carnivores had done?

The telephone from the town hall questioned the different posts on this subject, and the posts replied that there had been neither collision nor shipwreck. There could be no mistake in this matter, although the darkness had been profound. Evidently, of all the hypotheses this was the least likely.

“Mystery! mystery!” Yvernès continued to repeat.

He and his comrades were gathered at the casino, where Athanase Dorémus was sharing their early breakfast, which would be followed by their luncheon and their dinner at six o’clock.

“My word!” said Pinchinat, munching his chocolate journal, which he had soaked in the smoking basin. “I give up these dogs or wild beasts. Anyhow, let us eat Mormein, Dorémus, until we are eaten.”

“Who knows?” replied Zorn. “Perhaps by lions, or tigers, or cannibals.”

“I would rather have cannibals!”  replied his Highness “Every one to his taste, eh?”

He laughed, this indefatigable joker, but the professor of dancing and deportment did not laugh, and Milliard City, a prey to terror, had no cause for laughter.

At eight o’clock in the morning, the council of notables, convoked at the town hall, had all attended the Governor’s summons. There was nobody in the avenues nor in the streets except the squads of militia and police going to the positions assigned to them.

The council, at which Cyrus Bikerstaff presided, immediately began its deliberations.

“Gentlemen,” said the Governor, “you are acquainted with the cause of this well-justified panic which has seized on the people of Floating Island. During the night our island has been invaded by a band of carnivores and saurians. It is urgent that we proceed to the destruction of these animals, and we shall certainly do so. But the people must conform to the measures we decide upon. If traffic is still authorized in Milliard City, the gates of which are shut, it cannot be permitted in the park and in the country. Hence, until fresh orders, communications are forbidden between the town, the two ports and the batteries.”

These measures being approved, the council passed to the discussion of the means which would permit of the destruction of the formidable animals which infested Floating Island.

“Our militia and our sailors,” continued the Governor, “are organizing expeditions to the different points of the island. Those of you who are sportsmen we would like to join us, to direct their movements so as to prevent any possible catastrophe.”

“Years ago,” said Jem Tankerdon, “I had some shooting in India and in America, and it will not be my first attempt. I am ready, and my eldest son will accompany me.”

“We thank the honourable Jem Tankerdon,” replied Cyrus Bikerstaff, “and for my part I will follow his example. At the same time as Colonel Stewart’s militia, a squad of sailors will be in the field, under Commodore Simcoe’s orders, and their ranks are open to you, gentlemen.”

Nat Coverley made a similar proposition to that of Jem Tankerdon, and finally all the notables whose age allowed, offered their services. Magazine rifles of long range were not wanting at Milliard City. There was little doubt that, thanks to everyone’s devotion and courage, Floating Island would soon be cleared of this formidable band. But, as Cyrus Bikerstaff repeated, the main point was not to have to regret anyone’s death.

“These wild beasts, of which we cannot estimate the number,” he added, “must be destroyed as quickly as possible. To leave them time to acclimatize themselves, to multiply, would be to endanger the safety of our island.”

“It is not likely,” said one of the notables, “that there are many of these animals.”

“Quite so. It could only come from some ship which was carrying a menagerie,” replied the Governor, “some ship from India, from the Philippines, or the Sunda Islands, on account of some Hamburg house, which is noted for its trade in these animals. The animals may have escaped or been thrown overboard owing to their becoming unmanageable.”

The principal market for wild beasts is at Hamburg, the current prices being two thousand francs for elephants, twenty-seven thousand for giraffes, twenty-five thousand for hippopotamuses, five thousand for lions, four thousand for tigers, two thousand for jaguars—good prices, as will be seen, which have a tendency to rise, while those for snakes are going down.

A member of the council having observed that the menagerie in question might have some representatives of the ophidians, the Governor replied that no ophidians had as yet been reported. Besides if lions, tigers, and alligators had been able to swim ashore, that would not have been possible with snakes.

Cyrus Bikerstaff remarked, —

“I think we have nothing to fear from the presence of boas, coral-snakes, rattle-snakes, najas, vipers, and other examples of that kind. Nevertheless, we will do all that is necessary to reassure the people on this subject. But we must not lose time, gentlemen, and before inquiring into the cause of this invasion of wild beasts, let us destroy them. They are here, and they must not remain here.”

Nothing could be more sensible, and it could not have been better put.
CHAPTER VII.

The total destruction of the animals which had invaded Floating Island must be proceeded with. Not a single pair of these formidable beasts must escape, as the future safety of the island was in danger. This pair would multiply, and the people might just as well live in the forests of India or Africa.

And at the outset, contrary to what had been asked by certain families under their influence of terror, there was no reason why the population should take refuge on the steamers at the two ports, and escape from Floating Island. Besides, the ships were not large enough.

The Milliardites set to work without losing a moment. A few had not hesitated to propose extreme methods; amongst others that of introducing the sea on to the island, of burning down the trees in the parks so as to drown or burn all this vermin. But in any case the means would not be efficacious as regards the amphibians, and it would be better to proceed by means of well-organized shooting parties.

This is what was done.

Captain Sarol, the Malays, and the New Hebrideans had offered their services, which had been eagerly accepted by the Governor. These gallant fellows were desirous of showing their gratitude to the Governor. In reality Captain Sarol was afraid that this incident would interrupt his plans, that the Milliardites and their families would abandon Floating Island. That would oblige the management to go back direct to Madeleine Bay, and thus foil his intentions.

The quartette showed themselves equal to the circumstances and worthy of their nationality. It would not be said that four Frenchmen had not risked their lives when danger was to be incurred. They put themselves under the direction of Calistus Munbar, who, according to his account, had been in a worse plight before, and shrugged his shoulders in sign of contempt for lions, tigers, panthers, and other inoffensive beasts! Perhaps he had been a tamer, this grandson of Barnum, or at least a manager of a travelling menagerie?

The hunt began that morning, and opened well.

During the first hour two crocodiles had the imprudence to venture out of Serpentine River, and as we know saurians, though formidable in their liquid element, are much less so on land owing to the difficulty they have in turning, Captain Sarol and his Malays attacked them with courage, and not without one receiving a wound, cleared the park.

Meanwhile twelve more were observed, which doubtless constituted the band. These were animals of large size, measuring from four to five metres, and consequently very dangerous. As they had taken refuge under the water, the sailors stood ready to send them a few of their explosive bullets, which would shatter the hardest carapaces.

On the other hand the detachments of hunters went out over the country. One of the lions was killed by Jem Tankerdon, who had reason to say that this was not his first attempt, and who recovered his coolness and skill as an old hunter in the Far West. The beast was superb— one of those worth from five to six thousand francs. A steel slug had passed through its heart at the moment it bounded on the quartette, and Pinchinat affirmed that he felt the wind of its tail as it went by!

In the afternoon, during an attack in which one of the militia was bitten in the shoulder, the Governor brought down a lioness of remarkable beauty.

The day did not end before a couple of tigers had fallen under the bullets of Commodore Simcoe, at the head of a detachment of sailors, one of whom, seriously wounded by a claw, had to be taken to Starboard Harbour. According to report, these terrible felines appeared to be the most numerous of the carnivores landed on Floating Island.

At the fall of night, the wild beasts on being resolutely pursued had retired under the trees at Prow Battery, whence it was proposed to dislodge them at break of day.

From the evening to the morning frightful growls spread terror among the female and infant population of Milliard City.

At daybreak the hunt commenced as on the day before. At the Governor’s orders, conformably to the advice of Commodore Simcoe, Colonel Stewart brought up his artillery against the carnivores so as to sweep their hiding-places. Two cannons from Starboard Harbour, working on the Hotchkiss system in firing charges of bullets, were brought into the vicinity of Prow Battery.

At this place the clumps of nettle-trees were traversed by the tramway which branched towards the observatory. It was under the shelter of these trees that a certain number of the wild beasts had passed the night. A few heads of lions and tigers with gleaming eyes appeared among the lower branches. The sailors, the militia, the hunters, led by Jem and Walter Tankerdon, Nat Coverley, and Hubley Harcourt, took up their position on the left of this clump, waiting for the rush of wild beasts which the discharge from the cannon did not kill on the spot.

At Commodore Simcoe’s signal the two pieces of cannon were fired simultaneously. Formidable growls were heard in reply. There was no doubt many of the carnivores had been hit. The others (about twenty) rushed out, and passing near the quartette, were saluted with a fusillade, which struck two mortally. At this moment an enormous tiger jumped on to the group, and Frascolin was struck by so terrible a leap that he rolled for ten paces.

His comrades rushed to his help. They raised him, almost unconscious. But he almost immediately recovered. He had only received a shock. Ah! what a shock!

Meanwhile the caymans were being pursued under the waters of the Serpentine River, but how could they be got rid of with certainty? Fortunately, Hubley Harcourt thought of raising the sluices of the river, and it was possible to attack the saurians under the best conditions, not without success.

The only victim to be regretted was a magnificent dog belonging to Nat Coverley. Seized by an alligator, the poor animal was cut in two by a bite. But a dozen of these saurians had succumbed under the bullets of the militia, and it was possible that Floating Island was definitely delivered from these redoubtable reptiles.

On the whole it had been a good day. Six lions, eight tigers, five jaguars, nine panthers, male and female, were among the beasts slain.

The evening came, and the quartette, including Frascolin, recovered from his shock, had just sat down at the table in the restaurant.

“I should like to believe that we are at the end of our troubles,” said Yvernès.

“Unless this steamer, like a second Noah’s Ark, contained all the animals in creation,” said Pinchinat.

This was not probable, and Athanase Dorémus felt himself sufficiently reassured to return to his house in the Twenty-fifth Avenue. There in the barricaded house he found his old servant in despair at the thought that nothing was left of her old master but a few shapeless fragments.

This night was tranquil enough. Only a few distant roars had been heard on the Larboard Harbour side. It was to be hoped that next day, by proceeding to a general hunt across the country, the destruction of these wild beasts would be complete.

The group of hunters met in the early morning. During the twenty-four hours, it need scarcely be said that Floating Island had remained stationary, all the machinery staff being engaged with the rest.

The squads, each comprising twenty men with magazine rifles, had orders to advance through the island. Colonel Stewart did not consider it advisable to use cannon against the wild beasts, now they had dispersed. Thirteen tracked to the vicinity of Stern Battery fell to his gun. But he had to rescue, not without difficulty, two customs officers from the neighbouring post, who had been knocked down by a tiger and a panther, and had received serious wounds.

This last attack brought up to fifty-three the number of animals killed since the beginning of the day before.

It was four o’clock in the morning. Cyrus Bikerstaff and Commodore Simcoe, Jem Tankerdon and his son, Nat Coverley and the two assistants, escorted by a detachment of militia, were proceeding towards the town hall, where the council were awaiting the reports from the two ports and the two batteries.

At their approach, when they were within a hundred yards of the hall, loud shouts arose. A number of people, women and children, seized with a sudden panic, were running along First Avenue.

Immediately the Governor, Commodore Simcoe, and their companions rushed towards the square, the gate of which ought to have been shut. But by some inexplicable negligence this gate was open, and there could be no doubt that one of the wild beasts—the last perhaps—had entered by it.

Nat Coverley and Walter Tankerdon were the first to run into the square.

Suddenly, while he was within three yards of Nat Coverley, Walter Tankerdon was knocked down by an enormous tiger.

Nat Coverley, having no time to slip a cartridge into his gun, drew the hunting knife at his belt, and jumped to the rescue of Walter at the moment the animal’s claws struck the young man’s shoulder.

Walter was saved, but the tiger turned and attacked Nat Coverley.

He stabbed the animal with his knife without reaching the heart, and fell under.

The tiger recoiled, his throat roaring, his jaws open, his tongue bleeding—

There was the report of a gun.

It was Jem Tankerdon who had fired.

There was a second report.

It was the bullet which had exploded in the tiger’s body.

They raised Walter, his shoulder wounded.

As to Nat Coverley, if he was not hurt, he had at least been close to death.

He rose, and advancing towards Jem Tankerdon, said in a solemn voice:

“You have saved me—thanks!”

“You have saved my son—thanks!” replied Jem Tankerdon.

And they shook hands in token of a reconciliation which might end in a sincere friendship.

Walter was immediately taken to the mansion in Nineteenth Avenue, where his family had taken refuge; while Nat Coverley regained his house on the arm of Cyrus Bikerstaff.

We need not be astonished if next morning Mrs. Tankerdon visited Mrs. Coverley to express her thanks for the service rendered to Walter, and if Mrs. Coverley visited Mrs. Tankerdon to express her thanks for the service rendered Nat Coverley. Let us even say that Miss Coverley accompanied her mother, and was it not natural that both should ask how the young man was progressing?

In fact everything was for the best, and, rid of its formidable visitors, Floating Island could safely resume its voyage towards the Fijis,


CHAPTER VIII.

“HOW many did you say?” asked Pinchinat.

“Two hundred and fifty-five, my friends,” replied Frascolin. “Yes, there are two hundred and fifty-five islands and islets in the Fiji Archipelago.”

“And how does that interest us,” replied Pinchinat, “if the Pearl of the Pacific does not make two hundred and fifty-five stoppages?”

“You will never learn geography!” proclaimed Frascolin.

“And you—you know too much,” replied his Highness.

And that was always the sort of welcome the second violin received when he tried to instruct his recalcitrant comrades.

However, Sebastien Zorn, who listened more willingly, allowed himself to be taken before the map at the casino, on which the position was marked each day. It was easy to follow the itinerary of Floating Island since its departure from Madeleine Bay. This itinerary formed a sort of large S, of which the lower loop curved up to the Fiji group.

Frascolin showed the violoncellist this collection of islands, discovered by Tasman in 1643—an archipelago comprised between the sixteenth and twentieth parallels of south latitude, and between the hundred and seventy-fourth and hundred and seventy-ninth meridians of east longitudes.

“So we are going to take our cumbrous machine among those hundreds of pebbles scattered on the road?” observed Sebastien Zorn.

“Yes, my old string-fellow,” replied Frascolin, “and if you look with attention—”

“And shut your mouth,” added Pinchinat.

“Why?”

“Because the proverb says that the fly cannot enter a closed mouth!”

“Of what fly are you speaking?”

“The one that stings you whenever you want to break out against Floating Island!”

Sebastien Zorn shrugged his shoulders disdainfully, and turned to Frascolin.

“You were saying?”

“I was saying that to reach the two large islands of Viti-Levu and Vanua-Levu, there are three passages which cross the eastern group, those of Nanuku, Lakemba, and Oneata.”

“To say nothing of the passage where you are smashed into a thousand pieces!” exclaimed Sebastien Zorn. “That will be the end of it! Is it possible to navigate such seas with such a town, and a large population in that town? No, it is contrary to the laws of nature!”

“The fly!” retorted Pinchinat. “That is Zorn’s fly; see it!”

In fact, the obstinate violoncellist was always full of these dismal prognostics, and made no attempt to control them.

In this part of the Pacific the first group of the Fijis forms quite a barrier to ships arriving from the East. But there were passages wide enough for Commodore Simcoe to venture to bring Floating Island through them besides those pointed out by Frascolin. Among these islands the most important are the two Levus, situated in the west, and Ono, Ngaloa, Kandavu, &c.

A sea is enclosed within their summits emerged from the depths of the ocean, the Koro Sea, and if this archipelago, discovered by Cook, visited by Bligh in 1789, by Wilson in 1792, is so minutely known, it is because the remarkable voyages of Dumont D’Urville in 1828 and in 1833, of the American Wilkes in 1839, of the English Erskine in 1853, and the Herald expedition, under Captain Durham of the British Navy, have enabled them to be charted with a precision that does honour to the hydrographers.

Hence there was no hesitation on the part of Commodore Simcoe. Coming from the south-east, he entered the Voulanga passage, leaving to port the island of that name, in shape like a cut cake served on a coral dish. Next morning Floating Island entered the interior sea, which is protected against the ocean surges by substantial submarine chains.

It need hardly be said that all fears had not been allayed regarding the wild beasts. The Milliardites remained constantly on the alert. Constant expeditions were organized through the woods, fields and waters. No trace of wild beasts was discovered. No growling was heard by day or night.

The most positive result was the complete reconciliation that had been effected between the two sections of the town. After the Coverley-Tankerdon affair, the Starboardite and Larboardite families visited each other, invited each other, received each other. Every evening there was a ball and concert at one of the chief notables’, particularly at the mansion in Nineteenth Avenue and the mansion in the Fifteenth. The Quartette Party had more than they could do; the enthusiasm they provoked did not diminish; on the contrary it increased.

At last the great news came one morning while Floating Island was beating with its powerful screws the tranquil surface of this Koro Sea. Jem Tankerdon had gone officially to the house of Nat Coverley, and demanded the hand of Miss Di Coverley for his son Walter. And Nat Coverley had given Miss Coverley’s hand to Walter Tankerdon, the son of Jem Tankerdon. The question of dowry had led to no difficulty. It would be two hundred millions for each of the young couple.

“They should have enough to live on—even in Europe,” remarked Pinchinat, judiciously.

Felicitations reached both families from all parts. The Governor, Cyrus Bikerstaff, made no attempt to hide his extreme satisfaction. Thanks to this marriage, there would disappear all those causes of rivalry which had menaced the future of Floating Island. The King and Queen of Malecarlie were among the first to send their compliments and good wishes. Visiting cards, printed in gold on aluminium, rained into the boxes at the mansions. The journals had paragraph after paragraph regarding the splendours in preparation—such as had never been seen at Milliard City, nor anywhere else on the globe. Cablegrams were sent to Paris with regard to the trousseau. The linendrapers’ shops, the establishments of the great dressmakers, the jewellers, received the most extraordinary orders. A special steamer, starting from Marseilles, would come by Suez and the Indian Ocean, bringing these marvels of French industry. The wedding day was to be five weeks from then, on the 27th of February. The tradesmen of Milliard City had their share of profit in the affair. They had to furnish their contingent to this wedding outfit, and fortunes were to be made out of the orders they received from the nabobs of Floating Island.

There could be no doubt who would organize the entertainments. Calistus Munbar was evidently the man. His state of mind was indescribable when the marriage of Walter Tankerdon and Miss Coverley was publicly announced. We know how he desired it, how he would have done everything to bring it about. It was the realization of his dream, and as the municipality intended to give him a free hand, rest assured that he would be at the height of his powers in organizing an ultra-marvellous festival.

At the date chosen for the nuptial ceremony, Commodore Simcoe announced in a note to the newspapers that Floating Island would be in that part of the sea between Fiji and the New Hebrides. Before then it would stop at Viti-Levu, where the stay would last twelve days—the only one it was proposed to make amid this vast archipelago.

The voyage was delightful. Many whales played on the surface of the sea. With the thousand jets of water from their blowholes, it seemed like an immense basin of Neptune, in comparison with which that of Versailles was but a child’s toy, as Yvernès said. But also in hundreds appeared enormous sharks, escorting Floating Island as if they were following a ship under way.

This portion of the Pacific is the boundary of Polynesia, which here is bordered by Melanesia, in which the group of the New Hebrides is situated. [xx] It is cut by the hundred and eightieth degree of longitude—the conventional line which forms the boundary between the two parts of this immense ocean. When they reach this meridian, sailors coming from the east omit a day from their calendar, and, inversely, those coming from the west add one. Without this precaution there would be no concordance of dates. The preceding year Floating Island had not had to make this change, for it had not advanced to the westward beyond this meridian. But this time it had to conform to the rule, and as it came from the east, the 22nd of January had to become the 23rd.

Of the two hundred and fifty-five islands of which the archipelago of Fiji is composed, only a hundred are inhabited. The total population does not exceed a hundred and twenty-eight thousand inhabitants—a very slight density for an extent of twenty-one thousand square kilometres.

Of these islets, mere fragments of atolls, or summits of submarine mountains, fringed with coral, there are none that measure more than a hundred and fifty superficial kilometres. This political domain England has annexed to her colonial empire. If the Fijians have at length decided to submit to a British Protectorate, it is because they were in 1859 threatened with a Tongan invasion, which was checked by the United Kingdom. The archipelago is divided into seventeen districts, administered by the native chiefs, more or less related to the royal family of the last King, Thakumbau.

“Is it the consequence of the English system,” asked Commodore Simcoe, who was talking on this subject with Frascolin, “that the Fijis will be like Tasmania? I do not know, but it is certain that the natives are disappearing. The colony does not prosper, nor does the population increase, as is shown by the numerical inferiority of the women compared to the men.”

“That is a sign of the approaching extinction of a race,” said Frascolin; “and in Europe there are already a few States which this inferiority menaces.”

“Here,” said the commodore, “the natives are really but serfs, like the natives of the neighbouring islands, recruited by the planters for the work of clearing the ground. Diseases decimate them, and in 1875 small-pox swept off more than thirty thousand. But it is an admirable country, as you can see. If the temperature is high in the interior of the islands, it is at least moderate on the shore. The country is very fertile in fruits and vegetables, in trees—cocoanut trees, bananas, etc. There is little more than the trouble of gathering the yams and taros, and the nourishing sap of the palm which produces sago.”

“Sago!”  exclaimed Frascolin, “what a remembrance of our Swiss Family Robinson ‘!”

“As to the pigs and the fowls,” said the commodore, “these animals have multiplied since their importation with extraordinary prolificness. They furnish all the means of subsistence. Unfortunately, the natives are inclined to indolence, although they are intelligent and witty.”

“And as they have high spirits—” said Frascolin.

“The children amuse themselves,” replied Commodore Simcoe.

In fact, all these natives, Polynesians, Melanesians, and others, are nothing but children.

In approaching Viti-Levu, Floating Island sighted many intermediate islands, such as Vanua-Vatu, Moala, Ngau, without stopping at them.

From all parts came scudding along the coast flotillas of those long out-rigger canoes with intersecting bamboos, which serve to maintain the equilibrium of the vessel and carry the cargo. They were gracefully handled, but did not seek to enter Starboard Harbour or Larboard Harbour. Probably they would not have been allowed to on account of the evil reputation of these Fijians. These natives have embraced Christianity, it is true. Since the European missionaries established themselves at Lecumba, in 1835, they have nearly all become Wesleyans, mingled with a few thousand Catholics. But previously they were so addicted to the practice of cannibalism that perhaps they have not yet quite lost the taste for human flesh. Besides, it is a matter of religion. Their gods love blood. Kindness is regarded among these people as weakness, and even sin. To eat an enemy is to do him honour. They cook the man they despise, but they do not eat him. Children furnished the principal joints at their festivities, and the time is not so distant when King Thakumbau delighted to sit under a tree, from every branch of which hung a human limb reserved for the royal table. Sometimes a tribe—as happened to the Nulocas in Viti-Levu near Namosi—was devoured completely except a few females, one of whom died in 1880

Decidedly if Pinchinat did not meet on one of these islands the grandchildren of cannibals retaining the customs of their ancestors, he would have to give up asking for local colour in these archipelagoes of the Pacific.

The western group of the Fijis comprises two large islands, Viti-Levu and Vanua-Levu, and two smaller islands, Kandavu and Taviuni. More to the north-west lie the Wassava Islands and the Ronde Passage, by which Commodore Simcoe would make his way out towards the New Hebrides.

On the afternoon of the 25th of January the heights of Viti-Levu appeared on the horizon. This mountainous island is the largest of the archipelago, being a third larger than Corsica. Its peaks run from twelve to fifteen hundred metres above the level of the sea. These are volcanoes, extinct, or rather dormant, and apt to be disagreeable when they wake up. Viti-Levu has an area of six thousand four hundred and seventy-five square kilometres, and is connected with Vanua-Levu, its neighbour to the north, by a submarine barrier of reefs, which were doubtless above water when the land was formed. Above this barrier Floating Island could venture without danger. To the north of Viti-Levu the depths are estimated at from four to five hundred metres, and to the south from five hundred metres to two thousand.

Formerly the capital of the archipelago was Levuka, in the island of Ovalau, to the east of Viti-Levu. Perhaps the offices founded by English houses are still more important than those of Suva, the present capital, in the island of Viti-Levu. But the harbour of the latter has many advantages, being situated at the south-east extremity of the island, between two deltas. The port of call used by steamers in the Fijis occupies the head of Ngalao Bay, at the south of the island of Kandavu, the position of which is the nearest to New Zealand, Australia, and the French islands of New Caledonia and the Loyalties.

Floating Island stopped at the mouth of Suva harbour. The formalities were completed the same day and free pratique was accorded. As the visit would be a source of profit to both colonists, and natives, the Milliardites were sure of an excellent welcome, in which there was probably more interest than sympathy.

Next day, the 26th of January, the tradesmen of Floating Island who had purchases to make or sales to effect went ashore early in the morning. The tourists, and among them our Parisians, were almost as early. Although Pinchinat and Yvernès made fun of Frascolin—the distinguished pupil of Commodore Simcoe—concerning his ethno-geographical studies, they none the less availed themselves of his knowledge. To the questions of his comrades on the inhabitants of Viti-Levu, their customs, their practices, the replies of the second violin were always instructive. Sebastien Zorn did not disdain to refer to him occasionally, and when Pinchinat learnt that these regions were not long ago the principal theatre of cannibalism, he could not restrain a sigh as he said:

“Yes—but we shall arrive too late, and you will see that these Fijians, enervated by civilization, have come down to fricasseed fowl and pigs’ feet à la Sainte Menehould!”

“Cannibal!” exclaimed Frascolin, “you deserve to have figured on the table of King Thakumbau. Ah! ah! Entrecote de Pinchinat à la Bordelaise.”

“Come,” said Sebastien Zorn, “if we are to waste our time in these useless recriminations—”

“We shall make no progress by a forward movement,” said Pinchinat. “That is the sort of phrase you like, isn’t it, my old Violoncelluloidist? Well, forward, march!”

The town of Suva, built on the right of a little bay, has its buildings scattered on the back of a green hill. It has quays for mooring ships, roads furnished with plank sideways, like the beaches of our large bathing places. The wooden houses have but one floor; a few of them have two floors, but all are cheerful and fresh-looking. In the suburbs the native huts display their gable-ends raised into horns and ornamented with shells. The roofs are substantial, to resist the winter rains from May to October, which fall in torrents. In fact in March, 1871, according to Frascolin, who was very strong on statistics, Mbua, situated in the east of the island, had a rainfall in one day of thirty-eight centimetres.

Viti-Levu, like the other islands of the archipelago, is subject to great differences in climate, and the vegetation differs on each shore. On the side exposed to the southeast trades the atmosphere is humid, and magnificent forests cover the soil. On the other side are immense savannahs suitable for cultivation. But it is noticeable that certain trees tend to disappear, among others the sandal-wood, almost entirely exhausted, and also the dakua, a pine peculiar to Fiji.

However, in their promenades, the quartette discovered that the flora of the island is of tropical luxuriance. Everywhere are forests of cocoanut trees and palms, their trunks covered with parasitic orchids, clumps of casuarinas, pandanus, acacias, tree ferns, and in the marshy parts numbers of mangrove trees with roots winding out of the ground. But the cultivation of cotton and tea has not given the results the climate had led people to expect. The soil of Viti-Levu, as in the rest of the group, is clayey and yellowish in colour, formed of volcanic cinders to which decomposition has given the productive qualities.

The fauna is not more varied than in other parts of the Pacific; some forty species of birds, acclimatized parrots and canaries, bats, rats in legions, reptiles of non-venomous species, much appreciated by the natives from a commissariat point of view, lizards, and horrible cockroaches of cannibalistic voracity. But of wild beasts there were none which provoked this sally from Pinchinat.

“Our Governor, Cyrus Bikerstaff, should have kept a few lions, tigers, panthers, crocodiles, and landed these useful carnivores in the Fijis. It would be a curious experiment in acclimatisation.”

The natives, of mixed Polynesian and Melanesian race, still yield some fine examples, less remarkable, however, than those of Samoa and the Marquesas. The men are copper-coloured, almost black, their heads covered with a thick mass of hair, among them being a number of half-breeds, and they are tall and strong. Their clothing is rudimentary enough, oftenest being but mere cotton drawers made of the native fabric called “masi,” produced by a species of mulberry tree, which also produces paper. In its first stage this fabric is quite white, but the Fijians know how to dye it and stripe it, and it is in demand in all the archipelagoes of the Eastern Pacific. It must be added that the men do not disdain to clothe themselves, when opportunity offers, in old European garments sent out from the old clothes stores of the United Kingdom or Germany. A fine field for joking was thus offered to a Parisian, when he saw these Fijians clad in worn-out trousers, a great-coat the worse for age, and even a black coat, which, after many phases of decadence, had come to end its days on the back of a native of Viti-Levu.

“You might make a romance out of one of those coats!” observed Yvernès.

“A romance that might end in a waistcoat.” replied Pinchinat.

The women have the short petticoat and masi jacket, which they wear in a fashion more or less decent. They are well-built, and with the attractions of youth some of them might pass for pretty. But what a detestable habit they have—as have also the men—in plastering their hair with lime so as to form a sort of calcareous hat to preserve themselves against sunstroke. And then they smoke as much as their husbands and brothers the tobacco of the country, which has the odour of burning hay, and when the cigarette is not between their teeth it is stuck into the lobe of their ears in the place where in Europe you have the pendants of diamonds and pearls.

In general these women are reduced to the condition of slaves, doing the hardest of household work, and the time is not distant when, after toiling to encourage the indolence of their husband, they were strangled on his tomb.

On many occasions, during the three days they devoted to their excursions round Suva, our tourists endeavoured to visit the native huts. They were repulsed, not by the inhospitality of their owners, but by the abominable odour that was given forth. All these natives, rubbed over with cocoanut oil, live in promiscuity with the pigs, the fowls, the dogs, the cats, in evil-smelling huts, the choking light being obtained by burning the resinous gum of the dammana. No! They could not stop there. And if they had taken their places at the Fijian fireside, would they not, at the risk of failing in politeness, have had to steep their lips in the bowl of kava, the special Fijian drink? Though extracted from the dried bark of the pepper plant, this pimentoed kava is unpleasing to European palates owing to the way in which it is prepared. Is it not enough to provoke the most insurmountable repugnance? They do not grind their pepper, they chew it, they triturate it through their teeth, then they spit it out into the water in a vase, and offer it you with a savage insistence that will hardly bear refusal. And nothing remains but to thank them by pronouncing these words, which are current in the archipelago, E mana ndina, otherwise amen.

Do not let us forget the cockroaches which swarm in the huts, the white ants which devastate them, and mosquitoes—mosquitoes in thousands—that can be seen on the walls, on the ground, on the clothes in innumerable bands.
CHAPTER IX.

WHILE our artistes were passing their time in walking about, and taking note of the customs of the archipelago, a few notables of Floating Island had not disdained to enter into communication with the native authorities of the archipelago. The “papalangis,” as strangers are called in these islands, had no fear of being badly received.

During the stay the Tankerdon and Coverley families organized excursions in the neighbourhood of Suva, and in the forests which clothe its heights up to their topmost peaks.

And with regard to this, the superintendent made a very just observation to his friends the quartette.

“If our Milliardites are so fond of these excursions into high altitudes, it shows that Floating Island is not sufficiently undulating. It is too flat, too uniform. But I hope that some day we shall have an artificial mountain, rivalling the loftiest summits of the Pacific. Meanwhile, every time they have an opportunity our citizens are eager to ascend a few hundred feet, and breathe the pure and refreshing air of space. It meets a want of human nature.”

“Very well,” said Pinchinat. “But a suggestion, my dear Eucalistus! When you build your mountain in sheet steel or aluminium, do not forget to put a nice volcano inside it—a volcano with plenty of fireworks.”

“And why, Mr. Facetious?” replied Calistus Munbar.

“And why not?” replied his Highness.

As a matter of course Walter Tankerdon and Miss Coverley took part in these excursions arm-in-arm.

The curiosities of the capital of Viti-Levu were visited, their “mbure-kalou,” the temples of the spirits, and also the place used for the political assemblies. These constructions, raised on a base of dry stones, are composed of plaited bamboos, of beams covered with a sort of vegetable lace-work, of laths ingeniously arranged to support the thatch of the roofs. The tourists went to see the hospital, the botanic garden, laid out like an amphitheatre, behind the town. These walks often lasted until late, and the tourists returned, lantern in hand, as in the good old times.

And Captain Sarol and his Malays and the New Hebrideans embarked at Samoa. What were they doing during this stay? Nothing out of their usual way. They did not go ashore, knowing Viti-Levu and its neighbours, some by having frequented these parts during their coasting cruises, others by having worked there for the planters. They very much preferred to remain on Floating Island, exploring it in every part—town, harbours, park, country, and batteries. A few weeks more, and thanks to the kindness of the company, thanks to Governor Cyrus Bikerstaff these fellows would land in their own country, after a sojourn of five months on Floating Island.

Occasionally our artistes talked to Sarol, who was very intelligent, and spoke English fluently. Sarol spoke to them enthusiastically of the New Hebrides, of the natives of the group, of their way of living, their cooking—which interested his Highness particularly. The secret ambition of Pinchinat was to discover some new dish, the recipe for which he could communicate to the gastronomic societies of Old Europe.

On the 30th of January, Sebastien Zorn and his comrades, at whose disposal the Governor put one of the electric launches of Starboard Harbour, went away with the intention of ascending the course of the Rewa, one of the principal rivers of the Island. The captain of the launch, an engineer, and two sailors were on board, with a Fijian pilot. In vain had Athanase Dorérnus been asked to join the excursionists; the feeling of curiosity was extinct in the professor of dancing and deportment. And then, during his absence, a pupil might apply, and he would therefore rather not leave the dancing-room.

At six o’clock in the morning, well armed, and furnished with a few provisions, for they would not return until the evening, the launch left the Bay of Suva, and ran along the coast to the bay of the Rewa.

Not only reefs, but sharks showed themselves in great numbers in these parts, and as much care had to be taken of one as of the other.

“Phew!” said Pinchinat. “Your sharks are only saltwater cannibals! I’ll undertake to say that those fellows have lost the taste for human flesh.”

“Do not trust them,” replied the pilot, “any more than you would trust the Fijians of the interior.”

Pinchinat contented himself with shrugging his shoulders. He was getting weary of these pretended cannibals, who did not even become cannibalistic on festival days!

The pilot was thoroughly acquainted with the bay and the course of the Rewa. Up this important river, called also the Wai-Levu, the tide is apparent for a distance of forty-five kilometres, and vessels can go up as far as eighty.

The width of the Rewa exceeds two hundred yards at its mouth. It runs between sandy banks, low on the left, steep on the right, from which the banana and cocoanut trees rise luxuriantly from a wide stretch of verdure. Its name is Rewa-Rewa, conformably to that duplication of the word which is almost general among the people of the Pacific. And, as Yvernès remarked, is this not an imitation of the childish pronunciation one finds in such words as papa, dada, bonbon, etc.? In fact, these natives have barely emerged from childhood.

The true Rewa is formed by the Wai-Levu (the great water) and the Wai-Manu, and its principal mouth bears the name of Wai-Ni-Ki.

After the circuit of the delta, the launch ran past the village of Kamba, half hidden in its basket of flowers. It did not stop here, so as to lose nothing of the flood-tide, nor did it stop at the village of Naitasiri. Besides, at this epoch the village had been declared “taboo,” with its houses, its trees, its inhabitants, up to the waters of the Rewa which bathed its beach. The natives would permit no one to set foot in it.

As the excursionists ran along in front of Naitasiri, the pilot pointed out a tall tree, a tavala, which rose in an angle of the bank.

“And what is there remarkable about that tree?” asked Frascolin.

“Nothing,” replied the pilot, “except that its bark is gashed from its roots to the fork. These indicate the number of human bodies that were cooked there and then eaten.”

“Like the notches of a baker on his sticks,” observed Pinchinat, shrugging his shoulders as a sign of incredulity.

But he was wrong. The Fiji Islands are pre-eminently the country of cannibalism, and, it is necessary to repeat it, these practices are not entirely extinct. The love of good living will keep them alive for a long time yet among the tribes of the interior. Yes, the love of good living! for, in the opinion of the Fijians, nothing is comparable in taste and delicacy to human flesh, which is much superior to beef. If the pilot were to be believed, there was a certain chief, Ra-Undrenudu, who set up stones on his estate, and when he died these stones numbered eight hundred and twenty-two.

“And do you know what these stones indicated?”

“It is impossible for us to guess,” said Yvernès, “even if we apply all our intelligence as instrumentalists!”

“They showed the number of human bodies this chief had devoured.”

“By himself?”

“By himself.”

“He was a large eater!” replied Pinchinat, whose opinion was made up regarding these “Fijian fairytales.”

About eleven o’clock a bell rang on the right bank. The village of Naililii, composed of a few straw huts, appeared among the foliage, under the shade of cocoanut trees and banana trees. A Catholic mission is established in this village. Could the tourists stop an hour and shake hands with the missionary, a compatriot? The pilot saw no reason why they should not, and the launch was moored to the root of a tree.

Sebastien Zorn and his comrades landed, and they had not walked for two minutes before they met with the Superior of the mission.

He was a man of about fifty, of pleasant face and energetic figure. Happy to be able to welcome Frenchmen, he took them to his hut in the village, which comprises about a hundred Fijians. He insisted that his guests must accept some of the refreshments of the country. He assured them that this did not mean the repugnant kava, but a sort of drink, or rather soup, of agreeable flavour, obtained by cooking the cyrenæ, molluscs very abundant on the beaches of the Rewa.

This missionary admitted that it was a hard task to withdraw his faithful from the lord of “bukalo,” that is to say, human flesh. “And as you are going towards the interior, my dear guests,” added he, “be prudent, and keep on your guard.”

“Do you hear that, Pinchinat?” said Sebastien Zorn.

They left a little before the noonday angelus sounded from the bell of the little church. As they proceeded the launch met several canoes laden with bananas. This is the local currency in which the natives pay their taxes. The river banks continued to be bordered with laurels, acacias, citron trees, and cactus with blood-red flowers. Over them the banana and cocoanut trees raise their lofty branches laden with bunches, and all this verdure stretches back to the mountains dominated by the peak of Mbugge-Levu.

Among these masses of foliage are one or two European factories, little in keeping with the savage nature of the country. These are sugar factories, fitted up with the best modern machinery, and their products, as a traveller, M. Verschnur, says, “can advantageously bear comparison with the sugars of the Antilles and other colonies.”

About one o’clock the launch reached the end of its voyage on the Rewa. In two hours the ebb would begin, and it was as well to take advantage of it for the return journey. The run down would not take long, as the tide ebbs quickly. The excursionists ought to be back on Floating Island before ten o’clock in the evening.

A little time could be spent here, and it could not be better employed than in visiting the village of Tampoo, the first huts of which were visible about half a mile away.

It was arranged that the engineer and two sailors should remain in charge of the launch, while the pilot piloted his passengers to the village, where the ancient customs were preserved in all their Fijian purity. In this part of the island the missionaries have wasted their trouble and their sermons. There still reign the sorcerers; there still are worked the sorceries, particularly those bearing the complicated name of “Vaka-Ndran-in-Kan-Tacka,” that is to say, “incantation by leaves.” Here the people worship the Katvavous, the gods whose existence had no beginning, and will have no end, and who do not disdain special sacrifices that the governor-general is powerless to prevent, and even to punish.

Perhaps it would have been more prudent not to venture among these suspicious tribes. But our artistes, quite Parisian in their curiosity, insisted on it, and the pilot consented to accompany them, advising them not to get far away from each other.

On entering Tampoo, which consisted of a hundred straw huts, they met some women, real savages, wearing but cotton drawers knotted round their waist: they betrayed no surprise at the sight of the strangers. They were occupied in the preparation of curcuma, made of roots preserved in trenches previously lined with grasses and banana leaves. These roots were taken out, grilled, scraped, pressed into baskets lined with ferns, and the juice which ran out was poured into bamboos. This juice serves as food and pomatum, and in both respects is very widely used.

The party entered the village. There was no welcome on the part of the natives, who were in no hurry to greet the visitors, or to offer them hospitality. The exterior of the huts was not attractive. Considering the odour that issued from them in which that of rancid cocoanut oil prevailed, the quartette congratulated themselves that the laws of hospitality were not much honoured here.

However, when they arrived before the habitation of the chief—a Fijian of tall stature, and stern and ferocious look—he advanced towards them amid an escort of natives. His woolly hair was white with lime. He had assumed his ceremonial garb, a striped shirt, a belt round his body, an old carpet slipper on his left foot, and—how did Pinchinat restrain a burst of laughter?—an old blue coat with gold buttons, patched in many places, and its unequal tails flapping against his calves. As he advanced towards the papalangis, the chief stumbled against a stump, lost his equilibrium, and fell to the ground.

Immediately, conformably to the etiquette of the “bale muri,” the whole of the escort fell down flat “in order to take their share in the absurdity of this fall.”

This was explained by the pilot, and Pinchinat approved of the formality as being no more ridiculous than many others in use in European courts—at least in his opinion.

When the natives had got up, the chief and the pilot exchanged a few sentences in Fijian, of which the quartette did not understand a word. These sentences, translated by the pilot, were merely asking why the strangers had come to the village of Tampoo. The reply being that they wished to visit the village and take a walk round the neighbourhood, permission was given, after an exchange of several questions and replies.

The chief, however, manifested neither pleasure nor displeasure at this arrival of tourists in Tampoo, and at a sign from him the natives returned to their huts.

“After all,” said Pinchinat, “they do not seem to be so very bad.”

“That is no reason for our not being careful,” replied Frascolin.

For an hour our artistes walked about the village without being interfered with by the natives. The chief in his blue coat had gone into his hut, and it was obvious that the visit was treated as a matter of indifference.

After moving about Tampoo without any hut being opened to welcome them, Sebastien Zorn, Yvernès, Pinchinat, Frascolin, and the pilot strolled towards the ruins of some temples, like abandoned huts, which were not far from the dwelling of one of the sorcerers of the place.

This sorcerer, who was seated at his door, gave them anything but an encouraging look, and his gestures appeared to indicate that he certainly was not giving them a blessing.

Frascolin tried to enter into conversation with him through the pilot; but he assumed so repulsive a look, and so threatening an attitude, that they had to abandon any hope of a word from this Fijian porcupine.

Meanwhile, in spite of the advice which had been given him, Pinchinat had strolled off through a thick clump of bananas on the side of a hill.

When Sebastien Zorn, Yvernès and Frascolin had been rebuffed by the sorcerer’s surliness, and were preparing to leave Tampoo, their comrade was out of sight.

The time had come for them to get back to the launch. The tide had begun to ebb, and there were none too many hours for them to run down the Rewa.

Frascolin, uneasy at not seeing Pinchinat, hailed him in a loud voice.

There was no reply.

“Where is he, then?” asked Sebastien Zorn.

“I do not know,” replied Yvernès.

“Did any of you see him go away?” asked the pilot.

No one had seen him.

“Probably he has gone back to the launch by the footpath from the village,” said Frascolin.

“Then he was wrong,” said the pilot “But let us lose no time, and rejoin him.”

They left, not without considerable anxiety. As they went through Tampoo the pilot remarked that not a Fijian was visible. All the doors of the huts were shut. There was no gathering in front of the chiefs house. The women who were occupied in the preparation of curcuma had disappeared. It seemed that the village had been abandoned for some time.

The party hurried along. Frequently they shouted for the absent one, and the absent one did not reply. Had he not, then, got back to the shore where the launch was moored? Or was the launch no longer then in charge of the engineer and two sailors?

There remained but a few hundred yards to traverse. They hurried along, and as soon as they were through the trees saw the launch and the three men at their posts.

“Our comrade?” shouted Frascolin.

“Is he not with you?” replied the engineer.

“No—not for the last half-hour.”

“Has he not come back?” asked Yvernès.

“No.”

What had become of him? The pilot did not conceal his extreme uneasiness.

“We must return to the village,” said Sebastien Zorn. “We cannot abandon Pinchinat.”

The launch was left in charge of one of the sailors, although it was dangerous to do so. But it was better to return to Tampoo in force and well armed this time. If they had to search all the huts, they would not leave the village, they would not return to Floating Island until they had found Pinchinat.

They went back along the road to Tampoo. The same solitude in the village and its surroundings. Where had the population gone? Not a sound was heard in the streets, and the huts were empty.

There could be no doubt as to what had happened. Pinchinat had ventured into the banana wood; he had been seized and dragged away—where? As to the fate reserved for him by these cannibals whom he derided, it was only too easy to imagine it! A search in the environs of Tampoo produced no result. How could you find a track through this forest region, which is known only to the Fijians? Besides, was it not to be feared that they would try to capture the launch, guarded only by a single sailor? If that misfortune happened, all hope of rescuing Pinchinat was at an end, the safety of his companions would be endangered.

The despair of Frascolin, Yvernès, and Sebastien Zorn was indescribable. What could be done? The pilot and the engineer did not know what to do.

Frascolin, who had preserved his coolness, said, —

“We must return to Floating Island.”

“Without our comrade?” asked Yvernès.

“Do you think so?” added Sebastien Zorn.

“I do not see what else to do,” replied Frascolin. “The governor of Floating Island should be informed; the authorities of Viti-Levu should be communicated with and asked to take action—”

“Yes; let us go!” said the pilot, “and if we are to take advantage of the tide, we have not a minute to lose.”

“It is the only way of saving Pinchinat,” said Frascolin, “if it is not too late.”

The only way, in fact.

They left Tampoo, fearing that they might not find the launch at her post. In vain the name of Pinchinat was shouted by all! And if they had been less excited they might have seen among the bushes a few savage Fijians watching their departure.

The launch had not been interfered with. The sailor had seen no one prowling on the banks of the Rewa.

It was with inexpressible sadness that Sebastien Zorn, Frascolin and Yvernès decided to take their places in the boat. They hesitated; they shouted again. But they had to go, as Frascolin said, and they were right in doing so.

The engineer set the dynamos going, and the launch with the tide under her flew down the Rewa at prodigious speed.

At six o’clock the western point of the delta was rounded, and half an hour afterwards they were alongside the pier at Starboard Harbour.

In a quarter of an hour Frascolin and his two comrades had by means of the tram reached Milliard City, and were at the town hall.

As soon as he had heard what had occurred, Cyrus Bikerstaff started for Suva, and there he asked for an interview with the governor-general of the archipelago, which was granted him.

When this official learned what had passed at Tampoo, he admitted that it was a very serious matter. This Frenchman was in the hands of one of the tribes of the interior who evaded all authority.

“Unfortunately,” he added, “we cannot do anything before to-morrow. Our boats cannot get up to Tampoo against the tide. Besides, it is indispensable for us to go in force, and the best way would be to go through the bush.”

“Quite so,” replied Cyrus Bikerstaff; “but it is not tomorrow, but to-day—this very moment—that we should start.”

“I have not the necessary men at my disposal,” said the governor.

“We have them, sir,” replied Cyrus Bikerstaff. “Under the orders of one of your officers who know the country—”

“Very well, sir, you can start at once.”

Half an hour afterwards, a hundred men, sailors and militia, landed at Suva, under the orders of Commodore Simcoe, who had asked to take the command of the expedition. The superintendent, Sebastien Zorn, Yvernès, Frascolin, were at his side. A detachment of the Viti-Levu police went with them.

The expedition started into the bush under the guidance of the pilot, who knew these difficult regions of the interior. They went the shortest way, and at a rapid rate, so as to reach Tampoo as quickly as possible.

It was not necessary to go as far as the village. About an hour after midnight orders were given for the column to halt.

In the deepest part of an almost impenetrable thicket the glare of a fire was noticed. Doubtless the natives of Tampoo were gathered here, the village being within half an hour’s march to the east.

Commodore Simcoe, the pilot, Calistus Munbar, the three Parisians, went on in front.

They had not gone a hundred yards before they stopped.

In the light of the fire, surrounded by a tumultuous crowd of men and women, Pinchinat, half naked, was tied to a tree, and the Fijian chief was advancing towards him axe in hand.

“Forward! Forward!” shouted Commodore Simcoe to his sailors and militia.

Sudden surprise and well-grounded terror on the part of the natives, on whom the detachment spared neither fire nor steel. In a moment the place was deserted, and the whole band had dispersed under the trees.

Pinchinat, detached from the tree, fell into the arms of his friend Frascolin.

How can we describe the joy of these artistes, these brothers—in which were mingled a few tears, and also well-merited reproaches.

“But, you wretch,” said the violoncellist, “what possessed you to go away from us?”

“Wretch as much as you like, my old Sebastien,” replied Pinchinat, “but do not sit upon an alto as poorly clothed as I am at this moment. Pass me my clothes, so that I can present myself before the authorities in a more suitable fashion.”

His clothes were found at the foot of a tree, and he put them on with the greatest coolness imaginable. Then when he was “presentable “he went to shake hands with the commodore and superintendent.

“Well,” said Calistus Munbar, “do you now believe in the cannibalism of the Fijians?”
CHAPTER X.

The departure of Floating Island was fixed for the 2nd of February. The day before the excursions ended, the different tourists returned to Milliard City. The Pinchinat affair created a great sensation. All the Pearl of the Pacific was interested in his Highness, for the Concert Party were held in universal esteem. The council of notables accorded its entire approbation to the energetic conduct of the governor, Cyrus Bikerstaff. The newspapers warmly congratulated him. Pinchinat became the celebrity of the day. Could you have an alto terminating his artistic career in the stomach of a Fijian? It was cheerfully admitted that the natives of Viti-Levu had not absolutely renounced their cannibalistic tastes. After all, human flesh was so good, according to them, and this fellow, Pinchinat, was so appetizing!

Floating Island started at daybreak and moved off towards the New Hebrides. This would take it about twelve degrees or two hundred leagues out of the way; but it could not be avoided if Captain Sarol and his companions were to be landed in the New Hebrides. No one regretted it, however. Everybody was glad to be of service to these brave fellows who had shown so much courage in the proceedings against the wild beasts. And they appeared to be so satisfied at being taken home in this way after such a long absence! Added to which it would be an opportunity of visiting a group with which the Milliardites were not yet acquainted.

The voyage proceeded with intentional slowness. It was in these regions between the Fijis and the New Hebrides in one hundred and seventy degrees thirty-five minutes of east longitude, and nineteen degrees thirteen minutes south latitude, that the steamer from Marseilles chartered by the Tankerdon and Coverley families was to meet Floating Island.

The marriage of Walter and Miss Coverley was more than ever the subject of general interest. How could anything else be thought of? Calistus Munbar had not a minute to himself. He was preparing and organizing the different elements of a festival that would make its mark in the annals of Floating Island. That he grew thin over the task need surprise nobody.

Floating Island did not move more than from twenty to twenty-five kilometres a day. It came within sight of Viti, whose superb banks are bordered with luxuriant forests of sombre verdure. It took three days traversing the tranquil waters from Wanara to Ronde. The passage to which this name is given on the charts afforded a wide road for the Pearl of the Pacific. A number of terrified whales collided with the steel hull, which trembled at the blows. But the plates of the compartments held firm and there were no damages.

At length in the afternoon of the sixth, the last summits of Fiji disappeared below the horizon. At this moment Commodore Simcoe left the Polynesian for the Melanesian region of the Pacific.

During the three next days, Floating Island continued to drift towards the west, after reaching the nineteenth degree of south latitude. On the 10th of February it was in the locality where it had been arranged for the steamer from Europe to meet it. The point marked on the charts displayed in Milliard City was known to all. The lookouts at the observatory were on the alert. The horizon was swept by hundreds of telescopes, and as soon as the ship was signalled—all the population were expectant- was not this as it were the prologue of the drama the people were so eager for, the marriage of Walter Tankerdon and Miss Coverley?

Floating Island had only to remain stationary, to keep in position against the currents of these seas shut in by archipelagoes. Commodore Simcoe gave his orders accordingly, and his officers saw that they were carried out.

“The position is decidedly most interesting!” said Yvernès.

This was during the two hours’ rest that he and his comrades habitually allowed themselves after luncheon.

“Yes,” replied Frascolin, “and we shall have no reason to regret this campaign on Floating Island—whatever friend Zorn may think.”

“Wait until it is over,” said the violoncellist, “and when we have pocketed the fourth instalment of the salary we have earned.”

“Well,” said Yvernès, “the company has paid us three since our departure, and I very much approve of what Frascolin, our worthy accountant, has done in sending this large sum to the bank at New York.”

In fact the worthy accountant had deemed it wise to pay the money through the bankers of Milliard City into one of the best banks in the Union. This was not out of any distrust, but because a bank on shore seemed to offer more security than one floating over five or six thousand metres of Pacific water.

It was during this conversation, amid the scented wreaths of smoke from pipes and cigars, that Yvernès was led to make the following observation, —

“The marriage festivities promise to be splendid, my friends. Our superintendent is sparing neither imagination nor pains. He will have showers of dollars, and the fountains of Milliard City will flow with generous wine, I have no doubt. But do you know what is wanting about this ceremony?”

“A cataract of liquid gold flowing from rocks of diamonds,” exclaimed Pinchinat.

“No,” replied Yvernès, “a cantata.”

“A cantata?” asked Frascolin.

“Undoubtedly,” said Yvernès; “there will be music, we shall play our most favourite pieces, appropriate to the circumstances, but if there is no cantata, no nuptial song, no epithalamium in honour of the young couple—”

“Why not?” said Frascolin. “If you, Yvernès, will throw together a few lines of unequal length with a rhyme here and there, Sebastien Zorn, who has had experience as a composer, can easily set your words to music.”

“Excellent idea!” said Pinchinat.

“That will suit you, old growler! Something matrimonial, you know, with plenty of spiccatos and allegros and molto agitatos and a delirious coda—at five dollars a note.”

“No; for nothing this time,” said Frascolin.

“It shall be the Quartette Party’s offering to the nabobs of Floating Island.”

It was agreed upon, and the violoncellist declared himself ready to implore the inspiration of the God of Music if the God of Poetry would pass his inspiration into the heart of Yvernès.

And it was from this noble collaboration that there originated the Cantata of Cantatas, in imitation of the Song of Songs, in honour of the union of the Tankerdons and the Coverleys.

During the afternoon of the 10th, a report got about that a large steamer was in sight, coming from the north-east. Its nationality was unknown, as it was still ten miles off when the shades of twilight sank upon the sea.

The steamer seemed to be coming at full speed, and there was no doubt it was making for Floating Island. Probably it would not come alongside until sunrise.

The news produced an indescribable effect. All the feminine imaginations were excited at the thought of the marvels of jewellery and fashion brought by this ship, which had been transformed into a huge wedding basket, of five or six hundred horse power.

There was no mistake as to the steamer being bound for Floating Island. Early in the morning she had rounded the jetty of Starboard Harbour, and displayed the flag of the Floating Island Company.

Suddenly another item of news came through the telephones to Milliard City. The flag of this vessel was awaft.

What then had happened? An accident—a death on board? That would be a sorry omen for the marriage that was to assure the future of Floating Island.

But there was something else. The steamer in question was not the one expected, and it did not come from Europe. It came from America, from Madeleine Bay. Besides, the steamer laden with the nuptial treasures was not behind time. The wedding was fixed for the 27th, and it was now only the 11th.

What, then, did this ship mean? What news did it bring? Why was its flag awaft? Why had the Company sent it off to the New Hebrides, where they knew it would fall in with Floating Island?

Had they to communicate any message of exceptional gravity to the Milliardites?

Yes, and this was soon to be known.

The steamer had hardly come alongside than a passenger landed.

He was one of the superior officers of the Company, who declined to reply to the questions of the numerous and impatient crowd that had assembled on the pier of Starboard Harbour.

A tram was ready to start, and without losing a moment, the man jumped into one of the cars.

Ten minutes later he had reached the town hall, and demanded an audience of the Governor “on urgent business” —an audience which was immediately granted.

Cyrus Bikerstaff received the visitor in his office, the door of which was closed.

A quarter of an hour had not elapsed before each of the members of the council of thirty notables was summoned telephonically to a meeting of urgency in the assembly room.

Meanwhile, imagination ran riot in the harbour and the town, and apprehension, following on curiosity, was at its height

At twenty minutes to eight the council had assembled under the presidency of the Governor. The visitor then made the following declaration; —

“On the 23rd of January, the Floating Island Company, Limited, stopped payment, and William T. Pomering was appointed liquidator, with full powers to do his best for the interests of the said Company.”

William T. Pomering, on whom these functions had devolved, was the new arrival.

The news spread, and, in truth, did not provoke as much excitement as it had produced in Europe. Why should it? Floating Island, as Pinchinat said, was a detached piece of the United States of America. There was nothing in a failure to astonish Americans, still less to overwhelm them. Was it not one of the phases natural to business, an incident acceptable and accepted? The Milliardites looked at the matter with their habitual coolness. The Company had gone under. Well? That might happen to the most respectable financial companies. Were its liabilities considerable? Very considerable; for, according to the liquidator, they amounted to five hundred million dollars. And what had caused this failure? Speculations —insane, if you please, as they had turned out badly— but which might have succeeded—an immense undertaking for founding a new town on land in Arkansas, which had been swallowed up in a geological depression that no one could have foreseen. After all, it was not the Company’s fault, and if the land came up again, the shareholders might come up again at the same time. Solid as Europe appeared, it might go down some day in a similar way. But there was nothing of that sort to be feared with regard to Floating Island, and did not that triumphantly show its superiority over estates on the continents or terrestrial islands!

The pressing point was to act. The assets of the Company consisted of the value of Floating Island, hull, works, hotels, houses, country, flotilla—in a word, all that was borne by the floating apparatus designed by William Tersen, all that was connected with it, and the establishments at Madeleine Bay into the bargain. Was it advisable for a new company to be formed to take over the assets by arrangement? Yes. There was no hesitation on this point, and the proceeds of the sale would be applied to the liquidation of the Company’s debts. But in forming this new company, would it be necessary to apply to outside sources? Were not the Milliardites rich enough to pay for Floating Island out of their own pockets? From mere tenants would it not be preferable to become owners of this Pearl of the Pacific?

That there were millions in the pocket-books of the members of the council of notables we know. And so they were of opinion that it was advisable to buy Floating Island, and without delay. Had the liquidator power to treat? He had. If the Company could realize without delay the sum required for its liquidation, the money must come from the notables of Milliard City, among whom were some of the largest shareholders. Now that the rivalry had ceased between the two principal families and the two sections of the town, the matter could be easily managed. Among the Anglo-Saxons of the United States there is no delay in business matters. The money was at once forthcoming. In the opinion of the notables there was no need to appeal to the public. Jem Tankerdon, Nat Coverley, and a few others offered four hundred million dollars. There was no discussion as to the price. It could be taken or left—and the liquidator took it.

The council met at thirteen minutes past eight in the room at the town hall. When it separated at forty-seven minutes past nine, the ownership of Floating Island had passed into the hands of the two richest Milliardites and a few of their friends under the name of Jem Tankerdon, Nat Coverley & Co.

Just as the news of the Company’s failure had caused no emotion among the population of Floating Island, neither did the news of its acquisition by the chief notables. It seemed only natural, and if it had been necessary to raise a more considerable sum, the money would have been there in a moment. It was a great satisfaction to the Milliardites to feel that they were at home, or at least that they were no longer dependent on an outside company. And so the Pearl of the Pacific, as represented by all classes, conveyed its thanks to the two heads of the families who had so well understood the general feeling.

That very day a meeting was held in the park, and a motion to this effect carried amid a triple round of cheers. Delegates were nominated, and a deputation sent to the Coverley and Tankerdon mansions.

The deputation was graciously received, and departed with the assurance that nothing would be changed with regard to the regulations, usages, and customs of Floating Island. The administration would remain as it was. All the functionaries would be retained in their functions, and all the employés in their employ.

And how could it be otherwise?

Hence it resulted that Commodore Ethel Simcoe remained in charge of the navigating branch, having the chief direction of the movements of Floating Island, conformably to the itineraries decided on by the council of notables. The same as regards Colonel Stewart and the command of the militia. There was no change in the observatory, and the King of Malecarlie continued to be astronomer. Nobody was discharged from the place he occupied at the ports, at the works, or in the municipal administration. Athanase Dorémus was not even relieved of his useless functions, although pupils obstinately declined to attend the classes in dancing and deportment.

There was no change in the arrangements with the Quartette Party, who, to the end of the voyage, would continue to draw the unheard-of salary that had been promised at their engagement.

“These people are extraordinary,” said Frascolin, when he learnt that matters had been arranged to the general satisfaction.

“That is because they have plenty of money.” said Pinchinat.

“Perhaps we might take advantage of this change of proprietors to withdraw from our engagement,” observed Sebastien Zorn, who could not shake off his absurd prejudice against Floating Island.

“Withdraw!” exclaimed his Highness. “Let me see you try!”

And with his left hand, opening and closing his fingers as if he were stopping the fourth string, he threatened to give the violoncellist one of those blows of the fist which attain a speed of eight metres and a half in a second.

But a change had to take place in the position of the Governor. Cyrus Bikerstaff, being the direct representative of the Floating Island Company, considered that he ought to resign, and under the circumstances the determination appeared reasonable. His resignation was accepted, but in terms most flattering to the Governor. His two assistants, Barthélemy Ruge and Hubley Harcourt, half ruined by the failure of the company, in which they were large shareholders, intended to leave Floating Island by one of the next steamers.

At the same time Cyrus Bikerstaff agreed to remain at the head of the municipal administration until the end of the voyage.

Thus was accomplished without noise, without discussion, without trouble, without rivalry, this important financial transformation, and the business was so wisely, so quickly completed, that that very day the liquidator was able to re-embark, taking with him the signatures of the principal purchasers and the guarantee of the council of notables.

As to the personage of such prodigious consideration known as Calistus Munbar, superintendent of the fine arts and amusements of the incomparable Pearl of the Pacific, he was simply confirmed in his office and emoluments, and, really, could a successor have been found to this irreplaceable man?

“Come!” said Frascolin, “everything is for the best, the future of Floating Island is assured; there is nothing more to fear.”

“We shall see!” murmured the obstinate violoncellist. Under these conditions, then, the marriage of Walter Tankerdon and Miss Coverley would take place. The two families would be united by pecuniary interests, which in America, as elsewhere, form the strongest social ties. What assurance of prosperity for the citizens of Floating Island! Now it belonged to the Milliardites, it would seem more independent than ever, more mistress of its destinies. Before, a cable had attached it to Madeleine Bay, in the United States—now the cable was broken! At present everything was flourishing. Is it necessary to insist on the happiness of the parties in question, to express the inexpressible, to depict the happiness that radiated around them? What appeared but a marriage of policy was really a love match. Both Walter and Di loved each other with an affection into which interest in no way entered. They both had the qualities which would assure them the happiest of lives. This Walter had a soul of gold, and Miss Di’s was of the same metal—figuratively speaking, be it understood, and not in the sense that their millions might justify. They were made for one another, and never was this somewhat hackneyed phrase more strictly true. They counted the days, they counted the hours, which separated them from this longed-for date of the 27th of February. They regretted one thing, that Floating Island did not move towards the hundred and eightieth meridian, when, coming from the west, it would have to eliminate twenty-four hours from its calendar. Their happiness might be advanced a day. No! It was in sight of the New Hebrides that the ceremony was to take place, and all they could do was to resign themselves to it.

But the ship laden with all the marvels of Europe had not yet arrived. Here was a wealth of things with which they would willingly have dispensed. What need had they of these quasi-regal magnificences? They mutually gave each other their love—what more could they give?

But the families and the friends and the people of Floating Island desired that this ceremony should be surrounded with extraordinary brilliancy. And so glasses were obstinately levelled at the eastern horizon. Jem Tankerdon and Nat Coverley even offered a handsome prize to whoever first sighted this steamer, whose propeller could never propel fast enough for the public impatience.

Meanwhile the programme of the festivities was carefully elaborated. It comprised games, receptions, the double ceremony at the Protestant temple and the Catholic cathedral, the gala evening at the town hall, the festival in the park. Calistus Munbar had an eye for everything, he was everywhere, he was indefatigable, it might even be said he was ruining his health. What would you have? His temperament drove him ahead, and you could no more stop him than you could stop an express train.

The cantata was ready. Yvernès, the poet, and Sebastien Zorn, the musician, proved worthy of each other. This cantata would be sung by the choral masses of an orpheonic society founded expressly for the purpose. The effect would be very grand when it was heard in the square of the observatory, electrically lighted, at the fall of night. Then would come the appearance of the young couple before the officer of the civil power, and the religious marriage would be celebrated at midnight amid the fairy surroundings of Milliard City.

At last the expected ship was signalled in the offing. It was one of the look-outs at Starboard Harbour who won the prize, which was worth a respectable number of dollars.

It was nine o’clock in the morning of the 19th of February when the steamer came into harbour, and the landing at once began.

Useless to give in detail the names of the articles, jewels, dresses, objects of art, which composed this nuptial cargo. Suffice it to know that they were on view in the vast saloons of the Coverley mansion, and the show was an unprecedented success. The whole population of Milliard City wanted to inspect these marvels. That numbers of people extraordinarily rich might obtain such magnificent products at a price may be true; but we must also take into account the taste and artistic feeling which had presided at their selection, and that could not be sufficiently admired. If any one is anxious to see a list of the said articles, he will find them in the Starboard Chronicle and New Herald of the 21st and 22nd of February. If they are not satisfied at that, it is because absolute satisfaction does not exist in this world.

“Fichtre!”  said Yvernès, when he came away from the saloons in Fifteenth Avenue in company with his three comrades.

“Fichtre!” said Pinchinat, “appears to me to be the correct expression. It intimates that you would like to marry Miss Coverley without her dowry—for herself alone.”

As to the two young people, the truth is that they took but little notice of this stock of masterpieces of art and fashion.

After the steamer’s arrival, Floating Island resumed its westerly course so as to reach the New Hebrides. If one of the islands was sighted before the 27th, Captain Sarol would be landed with his companions, and Floating Island would begin its return journey.

The Malay captain was very familiar with these regions of the Western Pacific, and this made the task of navigating an easy one. By request of Commodore Simcoe who had secured his services, he remained on duty at the observatory tower. As soon as the first heights appeared nothing would be easier than to approach the island of Erromango, one of the most easterly of the group—which would enable them to avoid the numerous reefs of the New Hebrides.

Was it chance, or was it that Captain Sarol, desirous of being present at the marriage festivities, took the Island along so slowly that the first islands were not signalled until the morning of the 27th of February—the very day fixed for the wedding.

It mattered little, however. The marriage of Walter Tankerdon and Di Coverley would be none the less happy for having been celebrated in view of the New Hebrides, and it gave so much pleasure to these brave Malays—and they made no secret of it—who would be free to take part in the festivities on Floating Island.

Several islets were first sighted and passed according to the very precise indications of Captain Sarol, and Floating Island then steered for Erromango, leaving to the south the heights of Tanna.

In these regions Sebastien Zorn, Frascolin, Pinchinat, and Yvernès were not far—three hundred miles at the outside—from the French possessions in this part of the Pacific, the Loyalty Islands and New Caledonia, that penitentiary situated at the antipodes of France.

Erromango is much wooded in the interior, undulated with many hills, at the foot of which extend wide cultivable plateaux. Commodore Simcoe stopped within a mile of Cook Bay, on the eastern coast. It was not prudent to approach nearer, as the coral reefs ran half a mile out to sea at the water level. The Governor’s intention was not to remain stationary off this island, nor to stay at any other island in the Archipelago. After the festivities the Malays would land, and Floating Island would steer towards the Equator, on the way to Madeleine Bay.

It was one o’clock in the afternoon when Floating Island remained stationary.

By order of the authorities every one had a holiday, even the sailors and militiamen, with the exception of the customs officers on duty along the coast.

Needless to say the weather was magnificent, and the sea-breeze refreshing. According to the usual expression, “The sun shone on them.”

“Positively,” said Pinchinat, “this haughty disc appears to be at the orders of the shareholders! They will ask him, as Joshua did, to make the day longer, and he will obey them! O power of gold!”

We need not enlarge on the different items of the sensational programme that had been drawn up by the superintendent. At three o’clock all the inhabitants, those of the country as well as those of the town and the forts, flocked into the park along the banks of the Serpentine. The notables mixed familiarly with the populace. The sports were carried on with an enthusiasm which might perhaps be accounted for by the value of the prizes. Dances were organized in the open air. The most brilliant was given in one of the large halls of the casino, in which the young people danced with much grace and animation. Yvernès and Pinchinat took part in these dances, and yielded to none in their duties as partners to the prettiest of the Milliardites. Never had his Highness been so amiable, never had he shown so much wit, never had he such a success. All the Tankerdons and Coverleys were there, and the graceful sisters of the bride seemed to be very happy at her happiness. Miss Coverley walked about on Walter’s arm, in which there was nothing strange considering that they were citizens by birth of free America. They were applauded, they were offered flowers, compliments were bestowed on them, which they received with perfect affability.

And during the hours that followed refreshments were served in profusion, so that nothing should interfere with the people’s good humour.

When night came, the park was resplendent with the electric fires that the aluminium moons poured down in torrents. The sun had wisely disappeared below the horizon. Would he not have been humiliated by these artificial effluences which made the night as bright as the day!

The cantata was sung between nine and ten o’clock, with such success as neither poet nor musician had ever hoped for. Perhaps, at this moment, the violoncellist felt inclined to withdraw his unjust prejudices against the Pearl of the Pacific.

Eleven o’clock struck, and a long procession advanced towards the town hall. Walter Tankerdon and Miss Coverley were walking in the midst of their relatives. The whole population accompanied them along First Avenue.

Governor Cyrus Bikerstaff was waiting in the grand saloon of the town hall. The finest of all the marriages it had been given him to celebrate during his administrative career, was about to be accomplished.

Suddenly shouts were heard towards the outer quarter of the Larboard section.

The procession stopped in the middle of the avenue.

Almost immediately with these shouts, which increased, detonations were heard.

A moment afterwards some customs officers—many of them wounded—ran into the square opposite the town hall.

Anxiety was at its height. Through the crowd ran that unreasoning fear which precedes an unknown danger.

Cyrus Bikerstaff appeared on the steps of the town hall, followed by Commodore Simcoe, Colonel Stewart, and the notables, who had just joined them.

To the questions put to them, the customs officers replied that Floating Island had just been invaded by a band of New Hebrideans—three or four thousand of them —and that Captain Sarol was at their head.
CHAPTER XI.

SUCH was the outbreak of the abominable conspiracy prepared by Captain Sarol with the concurrence of the Malays rescued with him by Floating Island, the New Hebrideans embarked at Samoa, and the natives of Erromango and the neighbouring islands. What would it end in? No one could say, considering the conditions under which this sudden and terrible attack was made.

The New Hebridean group comprises at least a hundred and fifty islands, which, under the protection of England, forms a geographical dependency of Australia. Nevertheless, here, as at the Solomon Islands, situated in the north-west of the same regions, this question of protectorate is an apple of discord between France and the United Kingdom. And again, the United States do not look favourably on the establishment of European colonies in an ocean of which they dream of claiming the exclusive enjoyment.

The population of the New Hebrides is composed of negroes and Malays of Kanaka origin. But the character of these natives, their temperament, their instincts, differ according as they belong to the northern or southern islands—which permits of the archipelago being divided into two groups.

In the northern group at Santo Island at Saint Philip Bay, the natives are of a higher type, their colour not so dark and their hair not so woolly. The men, short and strong, gentle and peaceful, rarely attack the business establishments or European ships. The same may be said regarding Vaté or Sandwich Island, in which most of the villages are flourishing, among others, Port Vila, the capital of the archipelago—which also bears the name of Franceville—where our colonists avail themselves of the riches of an admirable soil, luxuriant pasturages, fields adapted for cultivation, land suitable for plantation of coffee, bananas, cocoanuts, and the lucrative industry of coprah-making. In this group the customs of the natives have completely changed since the arrival of the Europeans. Their moral and intellectual level has been raised. Thanks to the efforts of the missionaries, the scenes of cannibalism, so frequent formerly, have ceased to exist. Unfortunately the Kanaka race is disappearing, and it is only too evident that it will finish by becoming extinct, to the detriment of this northern group, in which it has been transformed by the contact of European civilization.

But these regrets would be misplaced with regard to the southern islands of the archipelago. And it was not without reason that Captain Sarol had chosen this group for his criminal attempt on Floating Island. On these islands the natives remain veritable Papuans, and may be relegated to the lowest scale of humanity, at Tanna as at Erromango. Concerning this last, an old sandal-wood dealer remarked to Doctor Hayers, “If this island could speak, it would tell things that would make the hair stand on your head.”

In fact, the race of these Kanakas of inferior origin has not been improved by Polynesian blood, as in the northern islands. At Erromango, of ten thousand five hundred inhabitants, the English missionaries, five of whom have been massacred since 1839, have converted only half. The other half remains Pagan. Besides, converted or not, they all still represent those savage natives, who deserve their evil reputation, although they are of shorter stature and less robust constitution than those of Santo Island and Sandwich Island. And hence the serious dangers against which it is necessary to warn tourists venturing into the southerly group.

We may mention a few examples. Fifty years ago the brig Aurore was piratically attacked, and there were severe repressive measures in consequence on the part of France. In 1869 the missionary Gordon was killed by tomahawks. In 1875 the crew of an English ship was treacherously attacked and massacred, and then eaten by cannibals. In 1894, in the neighbouring Louisiade Archipelago, at Rossel Island, a French merchant and his workmen, and the captain of a Chinese ship and his crew, perished under the blows of cannibals. Finally the English cruiser Royalist was forced to undertake a campaign to punish these savage people for having massacred a great number of Europeans. And as Pinchinat was being told this story, he, who had recently escaped from the terrible molars of the Fijians, forbore to shrug his shoulders.

Such were the people among whom Captain Sarol had recruited his accomplices. He had promised them the pillage of this opulent Pearl of the Pacific, not an inhabitant of which was to be spared. Of these savages, who were awaiting his appearance at the approaches to Erromango, some had come from the neighbouring islands, separated by narrow arms of the sea; principally from Tanna, which is within thirty-five miles to the south. From here had come the sturdy natives of the district of Wanissi, savage worshippers of the god Teapolo, and whose nudity is almost complete, the natives of Plage Noire, of Sangalli, the most formidable and the most dreaded of the archipelago.

But although the northern group is relatively less savage, it does not follow that no contingent from there had placed itself under Captain Sarol. To the north of Sandwich Island there is the island of Api, with its eighteen thousand inhabitants, where they eat their prisoners, the body of which is reserved for the young people, the arms and thighs for the full-grown men, the intestines for the dogs and pigs. There is the island of Paama with its ferocious tribes, who yield in nothing to the natives of Api. There is the island of Mallicolo, with its cannibal Kanakas.

There is finally Aurora Island, one of the worst of the archipelago, in which no white man lives, and in which, a few years before, had been massacred the crew of the French coaster. It was from these different islands that reinforcements had come to Captain Sarol.

As soon as Floating Island appeared, as soon as it was within a few cables’ lengths of Erromango, Captain Sarol had given the signal expected by the natives.

In a few minutes the rocks at the water level had given passage to three or four thousand savages.

The danger was most serious, for these New Hebrideans let loose on Milliard City would recoil from no attempt, from no violence. They had the advantage of surprise, and were armed not only with long javelins tipped with bone, which make very dangerous wounds, and with arrows poisoned with a sort of vegetable venom, but with Snider rifles, the use of which has greatly spread in the archipelago.

At the beginning of this affair, which had been a long time in preparation—for it was Sarol who was marching at the head of the assailants—the militia, the sailors, the functionaries, every man in a fit state to fight, was called upon.

Cyrus Bikerstaff, Commodore Simcoe, and Colonel Stewart were quite equal to the occasion. The King of Malecarlie had offered his services. Although he was no longer in the vigour of youth, he at least had courage. The natives were still at Larboard Harbour, where the officer of the port was trying to organize resistance. But no doubt the bands would not delay to precipitate themselves on the town.

To begin with, orders were given to shut the gates of the enclosure round Milliard City, in which almost the whole population had assembled for the marriage festivities.

That the country and park would be ravaged was to be expected. That the two harbours and the electrical works would be devastated was to be feared. That the batteries at the Prow and Stern would be destroyed, there was nothing to prevent. The greatest misfortune would be that the artillery of Floating Island would be turned against the town, and it was not impossible that the Malays knew how to use it.

First of all, at the King of Malecarlie’s proposal, most of the women and children were sent to the town hall. This vast municipal hotel was plunged in profound obscurity, as was the entire island, for the electrical apparatus had ceased working, owing to the engineers having to escape from the assailants.

However, by Commodore Simcoe’s efforts, the arms deposited at the town hall were distributed to the militia and the sailors, and there was no scarcity of ammunition. Leaving Di with Mrs. Tankerdon and Mrs. Coverley, Walter came to join the group, which now included Jem Tankerdon, Nat Coverley, Calistus Munbar, Pinchinat, Yvernès, Frascolin, and Sebastien Zorn.

“Well,” murmured the violoncellist, “it seems as though this was to be the end of it.”

“But it is not the end of it!” exclaimed the Superintendent. “No! it is not the end; and it is not our dear Floating Island which will succumb to a handful of Kanakas!”

Well spoken, Calistus Munbar! We can understand what rage devoured you at the thought of these rascally New Hebrideans interrupting so well-organized a festival! Yes! he must hope to repulse them. Unfortunately they were not superior in number, and they had not the advantage of the offensive.

The reports of guns were heard in the distance, in the direction of both harbours. Captain Sarol had begun by interfering with the working of the screws, without which Floating Island could not get away from Erromango, which was his basis of operations.

The Governor, the King of Malecarlie, Commodore Simcoe, Colonel Stewart, united in a committee of defence, had at first thought of making a sortie. No, that would be to sacrifice a number of the defenders of whom they had such want. There was no mercy to be hoped from these savages, who, like the wild beasts a fortnight before, had invaded Floating Island. Besides, would they not attempt to wreck it on the rocks of Erromango, and then hand it over to pillage?

An hour afterwards the assailants arrived before the gates of Milliard City. They tried to break them in in vain. They tried to climb them, but were driven back by firearms.

As Milliard City had not been taken by surprise, it had become difficult to force an entry in the darkness. And so Captain Sarol drew off his savages towards the park and country, and there waited for daylight.

Between four and five o’clock the first hues of the morning appeared on the eastern horizon. The militia and sailors under Commodore Simcoe and Captain Stewart, leaving half their forces at the town hall, marched to the observatory square, expecting that Captain Sarol would endeavour to force the gates on that side; for as no help could come from without, it was necessary, at all costs, to prevent the savages from penetrating into the town.

The quartette followed the defenders, whose officers led them towards the end of First Avenue.

“To have escaped from the cannibals of Fiji,” said Pinchinat, “to be obliged to defend one’s cutlets from the cannibals of the New Hebrides!”

“They will not eat the whole of us!”  said Yvernès.

“And I will resist to my last fragment!” added Yvernès.

Sebastien Zorn remained silent. We know that what he thought of the adventure would not prevent him from doing his duty.

As soon as the light came, shots began to be interchanged through the gates of the square. There was a courageous defence in the enclosure of the observatory. There were victims on both sides. Among the Milliardites, Jem Tankerdon was wounded in the shoulder slightly, but he would not abandon his post. Nat Coverley and Walter were conspicuous in the fight. The King of Malecarlie endeavoured to bring down Captain Sarol, who did not spare himself among the savages.

In truth, the assailants were too many. All that Erromango, Tanna, and the neighbouring islands could furnish were in this attack on Milliard City. There was one fortunate circumstance, however, and Commodore Simcoe noticed it: Floating Island, instead of drifting on to Erromango, was being gently carried by a slight current towards the northern group, although it would have been better if it had been moving out to sea.

Nevertheless time went on, the savages redoubled their efforts, and in spite of their courageous resistance, the defenders could not keep them back. About ten o’clock the gates were forced. Before the howling crowd that swarmed into the square Commodore Simcoe had to retreat towards the town hall, which could be defended like a fortress.

In their retreat, the militia and sailors gave way foot by foot. Perhaps now they had entered the town, the New Hebrideans, carried away by their instincts, of pillage, might disperse through the different quarters, and thus give the Milliardites some advantage.

Vain hope! Captain Sarol would not allow his men to leave First Avenue. By it they would reach the town hall, where they would overcome the last efforts of the besieged. When Captain Sarol was master of that, the victory would be complete. The hour of pillage and massacre would sound.

“Decidedly there are too many of them,” said Frascolin, whose arm was grazed by a javelin.

And the arrows rained, and the bullets too, as the retreat became quicker.

About two o’clock the defenders had been driven back to the town hall square. Of dead there were already fifty—of wounded about twice or thrice as many. Before the town hall was reached by the savages, its doors were closed; the women and children were moved into the interior apartments, where they would be sheltered from the projectiles. Then Cyrus Bikerstaff, the King of Malecarlie, Commodore Simcoe, Colonel Stewart, Jem Tankerdon, Nat Coverley, their friends, the militiamen and the sailors, posted themselves at the windows, and the firing recommenced with fresh violence.

“We must hold this,” said the Governor. “This is our last chance, and it will require a miracle to save us.”

The assault was immediately ordered by Captain Sarol, who felt sure of success, although the task was a serious one. In fact, the doors were strong, and it would be difficult to break them in without artillery. The savages attacked them with tomahawks, under the fire from the windows, which made them lose heavily. But that did not matter to their chief; though if he could be killed, his death might change the face of matters.

Two hours elapsed. The town hall still held out. If the bullets decimated the assailants, their masses were renewed unceasingly. In vain the most skilful marksmen, Jem Tankerdon, Colonel Stewart, endeavoured to hit Captain Sarol. While numbers of his people fell around him, he seemed invulnerable.

And it was not Sarol, amid a more furious fusillade than ever, whom a Snider bullet had hit on the central balcony. It was Cyrus Bikerstaff, shot full in the chest. He fell—he could only utter a few stifled words, the blood mounted to his throat. He was carried into the room behind, where he soon yielded his last breath. Thus died the first governor of Floating Island, an able administrator, an honest and great man.

The assault was pursued with redoubled fury. The doors were yielding to the axes of the savages. How could the last fortress of Floating Island be saved? How could they save the women, the children, all those within from a general massacre?

The King of Malecarlie, Ethel Simcoe, and Colonel Stewart, were discussing whether it would be better to retreat by the rear of the town hall. But where would they go? To the battery at the Stern? But could they reach it? To one of the harbours? But were not the savages in possession of them? And the wounded, already numerous, how could they resolve to abandon them?

At this moment a fortunate thing happened, which would probably change the state of affairs.

The King of Malecarlie stepped out on to the balcony, without heeding the bullets and arrows which rained around him. He brought up his rifle and aimed at Captain Sarol, just as one of the doors was about to give passage to the assailants.

Captain Sarol fell dead.

The Malays drew back, carrying the body of their chief, and began to retreat towards the gates of the square.

Almost immediately shouts were heard at the top of First Avenue, where a fusillade broke out with renewed intensity.

What had happened? Had the defenders of the ports and batteries been successful? Had they advanced on the town? Had they attempted to take the natives in the rear, notwithstanding their small numbers?

“The firing is increasing near the observatory,” said Colonel Stewart.

“The scoundrels have had a reinforcement,” said Commodore Simcoe.

“I do not think so,” observed the King of Malecarlie. “This firing cannot be explained—”

“Yes! There it is again,” said Pinchinat, “and again to our advantage.”

“Look! look!” said Calistus Munbar; “the beggars are beginning to run.”

“Come, my friends,” said the King of Malecarlie, “let us chase these rascals out of the town. Forward!”

Officers, militiamen, sailors, ran downstairs and out of the principal doorway.

The square was abandoned by the crowd of savages, who fled, some down First Avenue, others along the neighbouring streets.

What was the cause of this rapid and unexpected change? Was it to be attributed to the disappearance of Captain Sarol—to the absence of leadership which had followed? Was it possible that the assailants, so superior in force, had been discouraged by the death of their chief at the very moment the town hall was about to be carried?

Led by Commodore Simcoe and Colonel Stewart, about two hundred men of the sailors and militia, with them Jem and Walter Tankerdon, Nat Coverley, Frascolin and his comrades, advanced down First Avenue, chasing the fugitives, who did not even turn to give them a bullet or an arrow, and threw away Sniders, bows, and javelins.

“Forward! Forward!”  shouted Commodore Simcoe, in a voice of thunder.

Round the observatory the firing grew fiercer. It was evident that a terrible fight was going on.

Help, then, had arrived on Floating Island! But what help? Where had it come from?

Anyhow, the assailants were retreating on all sides, a prey to an incomprehensible panic. Had they been attacked by reinforcements from Larboard Harbour?

Yes. A thousand New Hebrideans had invaded Standard Island, under the leadership of the French colonists of Sandwich Island. We need not be astonished at the quartette being greeted in their national language, when they met their brave compatriots.

It was under these circumstances that this unexpected, or it might be said quasi-miraculous intervention had taken place.

During the preceding night and since daybreak Floating Island had continued to drift towards Sandwich Island, where, it will be remembered, there resided a prosperous French colony. As soon as the colonists got wind of the attack devised by Captain Sarol, they resolved, with the aid of a thousand natives devoted to them, to go to the help of Floating Island. But to transport them the vessels of Sandwich Island were not sufficient.

Judge of the joy of these gallant colonists when, during the morning, Floating Island came drifting up on the current. Immediately they threw themselves into fishing-boats, followed by the natives, most of them swimming, and landed at Larboard Harbour.

In a moment the men in the Prow and Stern batteries, and those in the port, joined them. Across the country, across the park they ran, towards Milliard City, and owing to this diversion the town hall did not fall into the hands of the assailants, already shaken by the death of Captain Sarol.

Two hours afterwards, the New Hebridean bands, pursued on all sides, had to seek safety by plunging into the sea, so as to reach Sandwich Island, while the greater number of them fell under the bullets of the militia.

And now Floating Island had no more to fear; it was saved from pillage, massacre, and annihilation.

It might seem that the issue of this terrible affair would have evoked manifestations of public joy. No! Oh! these Americans are always astonishing! They said that there was nothing surprising in the result—that they had foreseen it. And yet how nearly had the attempt of Captain Sarol ended in a terrible catastrophe!

However, we may be allowed to think that the chief proprietors of Floating Island congratulated themselves in private at having been able to retain their property, and that at the moment when the marriage of Walter Tankerdon and Miss Coverley would make the future secure.

It should be said that when the lovers met again, they fell into each other’s arms. And no one thought of seeing in that any breach of the proprieties. Should they not have been married a day ago?

There was no need to seek for any ultra-American reserve in the welcome our Parisian artistes gave to the French colonists of Sandwich Island. What an exchange of grips of the hand! What felicitations did the Quartette Party receive from their compatriots! If the bullets had spared them, they had none the less done their duty, these two violins, this alto, and this violoncello! As to the excellent Athanase Dorémus, he had been quietly waiting in his room at the casino, ready for the pupil who never came—and who could reproach him?

An exception must be made with regard to the Superintendent. Ultra-Yankee as he was, his joy was delirious. But what would you have? In his veins flowed the blood of the illustrious Barnum, and it will be cheerfully admitted that the descendant of such an ancestor would hardly be as sane as his fellow-citizens of North America.

After the affair was over, the King of Malecarlie, accompanied by the Queen, returned to his house in Thirty-seventh Avenue, where the council of notables conveyed to him the thanks which his courage and devotion to the common cause deserved.

Thus Floating Island was safe and sound. Its safety had cost it dear.

Cyrus Bikerstaff, killed at the height of the battle, sixty militiamen and sailors hit by bullets or arrows, and almost as many among the government servants and tradesmen, who had fought so bravely.

In the public mourning the people all joined, and the Pearl of the Pacific would never forget it.

With the rapidity of execution characteristic of them, these Milliardites promptly set to work to repair damages.

After a stay of a few days at Sandwich Island all trace of the sanguinary strife would disappear.

Meantime, there was complete accord with regard to the question of the military powers, which were left in the hands of Commodore Simcoe. On this head there was no difficulty, no competition. Neither Jem Tankerdon nor Nat Coverley had any ambition on this head. Later, an election would settle the important question as to the new governor of Floating Island.

The day after, an imposing ceremony summoned the population to the quays of Starboard Harbour. The corpses of the Malays and the natives were thrown into the sea; but it was not so with those of the citizens who had died in defence of Floating Island. Their bodies were taken to the temple and the cathedral to receive the honours due to them; from Governor Cyrus Bikerstaff to the humblest amongst them, all were the object of the same prayer and the same sorrow.

Then this funeral cargo was confided to one of the swift steamers of Floating Island, and the ship departed for Madeleine Bay, carrying these honoured corpses to a Christian land.
CHAPTER XII.

Floating Island left the neighbourhood of Sandwich Island on the 3rd of March. Before its departure, the French colony and their native allies were the object of cordial gratitude on the part of the Milliardites. These were friends whom they would see again; they were brothers whom Sebastien Zorn and his comrades left on this island of the New Hebrides group, who would for the future appear in the annual itinerary.

Under Commodore Simcoe’s direction, the repairs were quickly made. The damages were not extensive. The electrical machinery was uninjured. With what remained of the stock of petroleum, the working of the dynamos was assured for many weeks. Besides, Floating Island would soon be back in that part of the Pacific where its submarine cables would allow of its communicating with Madeleine Bay. There was, consequently, the certainty of the campaign ending without disaster. Within four months Floating Island would be on the American coast.

“Let us hope so,” said Sebastien Zorn, when the Superintendent was as usual enlarging on the future of this marvellous maritime invention.

“But,” observed Calistus Munbar, “what a lesson we have received! These Malays, so obliging, this Captain Sarol, no one would have suspected them. This is the last time Floating Island will give shelter to strangers.”

“Not even if a shipwreck throws them in the way?” asked Pinchinat.

“I do not believe any more in shipwrecks or shipwrecked crews!”

But though Commodore Simcoe had charge as before of the navigation of Floating Island, it did not follow that the civil powers were in his hands. Since the death of Cyrus Bikerstaff Milliard City had had no mayor, and, as we know, the assistants had resigned their positions. Consequently it would be necessary to nominate a new governor of Floating Island.

As there was no official of the civil power they could not proceed to the marriage of Walter Tankerdon and Di Coverley. Here was a difficulty which would not have arisen had it not been for the machinations of that scoundrel Sarol! And not only the couple themselves, but all the notables of Milliard City, and all the population, were anxious that this marriage should be definitely settled. In it was one of the safest guarantees of the future. That there might be no delay, Walter Tankerdon was already talking of embarking on one of the Starboard Harbour steamers with the two families to the nearest archipelago, where a mayor could proceed with the nuptial ceremony. There were mayors at Samoa, at Tonga, at the Marquesas, and in less than a week, if they went full steam—

The wiser minds argued with the impatient young man. The people were busy getting ready for the election. In a few days the new governor would be nominated. The first act of his administration would be to celebrate with great pomp the marriage so ardently expected. The programme of the festivities would be resumed. A mayor! a mayor! That was the cry in every mouth.

“Let us hope that these elections may not revive the rivalries that may not be entirely extinct!” said Frascolin.

No, and Calistus Munbar had resolved to do his best to bring matters to an end.

“Besides,” he exclaimed, “have we not our lovers? You will, I think, agree with me that self-esteem has no chance against love?”

Floating Island continued its course to the northeast, towards the point where the twelfth degree of south latitude crosses the hundred and seventy-fifth of west longitude.

It was in these parts that the last cablegrams sent before the stay at the New Hebrides had communicated with the supply ships loading at Madeleine Bay. Commodore Simcoe was not at all anxious regarding provisions. The reserves were enough for more than a month, and there could be no trouble on this point. It is true that foreign news was running short. The political chronicle was meagre. The Starboard Chronicle complained, the New Herald was in despair. But what mattered it? Was not Floating Island a little world in itself, and what had it to do with what happened on the rest of the terrestrial spheroid? Did it want politics? Well, there would soon be politics enough for it—perhaps too much.

In fact the electoral contest began. The council of notables, in which the Larboardites equalled the Starboardites, was busy. It was certain that the choice of a new governor would give rise to discussions, for Jem Tankerdon and Nat Coverley would be on opposite sides.

A few days were spent in preliminary meetings. From the outset it was evident that the parties would not agree. Secret agitation arose in the town and ports, The agents of the two sections tried to provoke a popular movement to bring pressure on the notables. As time went on, it did not seem as though an agreement could be brought about. It began to be feared that Jem Tankerdon and the principal Larboardites would now endeavour to carry out their ideas, so objected to by the Starboardites, and make Floating Island an industrial and commercial island. Never would the other section consent to that! The more the Coverley party grew angry, the more the Tankerdon party persisted. Hence offensive recriminations, bitterness between the two camps, manifest coolness between the two families—a coolness which Walter and Di did not care to notice. What had all this rubbish about politics to do with them?

There was a very simple way of arranging these matters, at least from an administrative point of view; that was to resolve that the two competitors should take it in turn to be governor, six months one and six months the other, even a year apiece if that seemed preferable. Then there would be no rivalry, and the arrangement would satisfy both parties. But good sense has never a chance of being adopted in this world, and though it was independent of the terrestrial continents, Floating Island was none the less subject to all the passions of sub-lunary humanity.

“There,” said Frascolin one day to his companions. “There you have the difficulties I feared.”

“And what do these dissensions matter to us?” replied Pinchinat. “How can they damage us? In a few months we shall be at Madeleine Bay, and our engagement will be at an end, and we can set foot on firm ground, with a little million in our pockets.”

“If some catastrophe does not take place?” added the intractable Sebastien Zorn. “Is such a floating machine ever sure of a future? After the collision with the English ship, the invasion of the wild beasts; after the wild beasts the invasion of the New Hebrideans; after the savages the—”

“Silence, bird of ill augury!” exclaimed Yvernès. “Silence, we will put a padlock on your beak!”

Nevertheless, it was greatly to be regretted that the marriage had not been celebrated at the date fixed. The families being united by a new tie, the problem would be less difficult of solution. The newly married couple might intervene in a more efficacious fashion. After all, the agitation would not last, as the election would take place on the 15th of March.

Commodore Simcoe tried to bring about an understanding between the two sections of the town. He was asked not to interfere in what did not concern him. He had to navigate the island, let him navigate it. He had reefs to avoid, let him avoid them. Politics were not his business.

Commodore Simcoe did as he was told.

Religious passions began to enter into the debate, and the clergy—in which they were perhaps wrong—interfered more than was desirable. They had been living in such accord, the temple and the cathedral, the pastor and the bishop.

The newspapers, of course, descended into the arena. The New Herald fought for the Tankerdons, The Starboard Chronicle for the Coverleys. Ink flowed in deluges, and it was to be feared that the ink would be mingled with blood! Great Heaven! Had it not already been too much sprinkled, this virgin soil of Floating Island, during the struggle with the savages of the New Hebrides!

The bulk of the population were chiefly interested in the two young people, whose romance had been interrupted at the first chapter. But what could they do to make them happy? Already communications had ceased between the two sections of Milliard city. No more receptions, invitations, musical evenings. If this sort of thing lasted, the instruments of the Quartette Party might go mouldy in their cases, and our artistes earn their enormous salaries with their hands in their pockets.

The Superintendent, although he would not admit it, was in an agony of anxiety. He was in a false position, for his whole mind was occupied in displeasing nobody—a sure means of displeasing everybody.

On the 12th of March, Floating Island was approaching the Equator, although it had not reached the latitude in which it would meet the ships sent from Madeleine Bay. It would not be long before they did so, but apparently the elections would take place beforehand, as they were fixed for the 15th.

Meanwhile the Starboardites and Larboardites took to forecasting the result. Always the same promise of equality. No majority was possible, unless some voters would change sides. And the voters remained as firm as the teeth in a tiger’s jaw.

Then arose a genial idea. It seemed to have occurred at the same moment to the minds of all. This idea was simple, it was an honourable one, it would put an end to the rivalry. The candidates themselves would doubtless bow to this just solution.

Why not offer the government of Floating Island to the King of Malecarlie? The ex-sovereign was a wise man, of firm and liberal mind. His toleration and his philosophy would be the best guarantee against the surprises of the future. He knew men from having lived amongst them. He knew that he had to reckon with their weaknesses and their ingratitude. Ambition was not his failing, and never would the thought occur to him to substitute the personal power for the democratic institutions which existed on Floating Island. He would never be more than the president of the council of administration of the new company, Tankerdon, Coverley & Co,

An important group of merchants and functionaries of Milliard City, with whom were a certain number of the officers and sailors at the ports, decided to convey this proposal to their royal fellow-citizen.

It was in the room on the ground floor of the house in Thirty-ninth Avenue that their Majesties received the deputation. They listened with friendliness, and answered with a decided refusal. The deposed sovereigns remembered the past, and under this impression the King replied, —

“I thank you, gentlemen. We are not insensible to your request, but we are happy at present, and we hope that nothing will trouble our future. Believe me, we have finished with the illusions that are inherent to any sovereignty whatever. I am now only an astronomer at the observatory of Floating Island, and I do not wish to be anything else.”

There was no opportunity to persist, after so formal a reply, and the deputation retired.

During the few days preceding the election the excitement increased. It was impossible to arrive at an understanding. The partisans of Jem Tankerdon and Nat Coverley avoided meeting each other, even in the streets. People no longer went from one section to the other. Neither the Starboardites nor the Larboardites crossed First Avenue. Milliard City was now formed into two hostile camps. The only personage who went from one to the other, agitated, crushed, knocked up, perspiring water and blood, exhausting himself in good advice, repulsed to the right, repulsed to the left, was the despairing Superintendent, Calistus Munbar. And three or four times a day he ran aground, like a rudderless ship, in the rooms of the casino, where the quartette overwhelmed him with vain consolations.

Commodore Simcoe confined himself to his special duties. He navigated Floating Island according to the itinerary. Having a holy horror of politics, he would accept whatever governor was given him. His officers, like those of Colonel Stewart, were quite as little interested in the question which had set so many heads on the boil. It was not in Floating Island that pronunciamentos were to be feared.

However, the council of notables, in permanent session at the town hall, discussed and disputed. They were taking to personalities. The police were compelled to take certain precautions, for the crowd thronged from morning to night in front of the town hall, and raised seditious cries.

On the other hand, deplorable news got abroad. Walter Tankerdon had called at the Coverley mansion, and not been admitted. The two young people were forbidden to see one another, and as the marriage had not been celebrated before the attack of the New Hebridean bands, who dared say if it ever would be accomplished?

At last the 15th of March arrived. The election was to take place in the principal room of the town-hall. A noisy crowd blocked the square, as the Roman populace formerly did before the palace of the Quirinal, when the conclave proceeded to the elevation of a Pope to the throne of Saint Peter.

What would come out of this supreme deliberation? The forecast showed that there would be an equality of votes. If the Starboardites remained faithful to Nat Coverley and the Larboardites to Jem Tankerdon, what would happen?

The great day arrived. Between one and three o’clock the ordinary life seemed to be suspended on Floating Island. From five to six thousand people stood excited beneath the windows of the municipal edifice. They awaited the result of the voting of the notables—a result which would be immediately communicated by telephone to the two sections and the two ports.

A first scrutiny took place at thirty-five minutes past one.

The candidates had obtained the same number of suffrages.

An hour afterwards there was a second scrutiny.

It in no way modified the figures of the first.

At thirty-five minutes past three there was the third and last scrutiny.

This time neither had a vote in excess of the other.

The council then separated, and it was best to do so. If it had remained sitting, the members would have become so exasperated that they would have taken to blows. As they crossed the square on their way, some of them to the Tankerdon mansion, and some to the Coverley mansion, the crowd greeted them with the most disagreeable murmurs.

But it was necessary to put an end to this state of affairs, which was most damaging to the interests of Floating Island.

“Between ourselves,” said Pinchinat, when they had heard from the Superintendent the result of the three scrutinies, “it seems that there is a very simple way of settling the question.”

“And what is that?” asked Calistus Munbar, lifting his arms in despair to heaven. “What?”

“Cut the island in half; divide it into two equal parts, like a cake; let the two halves go on as they please, each with a governor of its own!”

“Cut our island in half!” gasped the Superintendent, as if Pinchinat had proposed to cut off a limb.

“With a cold chisel, a mallet, and a screw-wrench, the question would be solved, and there would be two moving islands instead of one on the surface of the Pacific Ocean.”

Pinchinat could never be serious, even when circumstances were of such gravity.

His advice was not accepted—at least in a material sense; but if there were no mallet and screw-wrench, if no division was made down the middle of First Avenue from Prow Battery to Stern Battery, the separation was none the less accomplished from a political point of view. The Larboardites and Starboardites had become as much strangers to each other as if a hundred leagues of sea separated them. In fact, the thirty notables had decided to vote separately in default of an understanding. On one side, Jem Tankerdon was appointed governor of his section, and he could govern it as he pleased. On the other, Nat Coverley was appointed governor of his section, and he could govern it as he pleased. Each of them would keep his port, his ships, his officers, his sailors, his militiamen, his functionaries, his tradesmen, his electrical works, his engines, his motors, his engineers, his stokers.

This was very well, but what would Commodore Simcoe do when he wanted to turn, and how could Calistus Munbar perform his duties to the common satisfaction?

As regards the latter, it is true, it was not of much importance. His place had become a sinecure. There could be no question as to amusements and festivities when Floating Island was menaced by civil war—for a reconciliation was not possible.

This was evident from a single indication. On the 17th of March the newspapers announced that the marriage between Walter Tankerdon and Miss Coverley was definitely broken off.

Yes! Broken off—in spite of their prayers, in spite of their supplications; and yet Calistus Munbar had once said that love was the strongest! Well, no! Walter and Di would not separate. They would abandon their relatives; they would marry in some foreign country; they would find a corner in the world where they could be happy without so many millions hanging round their hearts!

After the nomination of Jem Tankerdon and Nat Coverley, nothing had been changed with regard to the course of Floating Island. Commodore Simcoe continued to steer north-east. Once they reached Madeleine Bay, it was probable, if the present state of things continued, that several of the Milliardites would seek on the Continent the quiet which was no longer offered them by the Pearl of the Pacific. Perhaps even Floating Island would be abandoned. And then they would liquidate it; they would put it up to auction; they would sell it at so much a pound, like old and useless iron, and it would be melted down!

But the five thousand miles it had to travel would take another five months to accomplish. During the voyage would the direction be interfered with by the obstinacy of the two chiefs? The spirit of revolt had begun to show itself among the people. Would the Larboardites and Starboardites come to blows, and take to firing on each other, and bathing with blood the steel sidewalks of Milliard City?

No! The parties would not, apparently, go to these extremities. There would not be another secession war between north and south, or rather between the Larboard and Starboard sections of Floating Island. But the inevitable happened, at the risk of provoking a catastrophe.

In the morning of the 19th of March, Commodore Simcoe was in his office at the observatory, waiting for the first observation of altitude to be communicated to him. In his opinion Floating Island could not be far from the spat where it would meet with the supply ships. Look-outs on the tower surveyed the vast circuit of sea, so as to signal the steamers as soon as they appeared on the horizon. With the Commodore were the King of Malecarlie, Colonel Stewart, Sebastien Zorn, Pinchinat, Frascolin, Yvernès, and a few officers and functionaries— who might all be classed as neutrals, for they had not yet taken part in the intestine dissensions. The essential point for them was to arrive as soon as possible at Madeleine Bay, where this deplorable state of things would end.

At this moment two bells sounded, and two orders were transmitted to the Commodore by telephone. They came from the town hall, where Jem Tankerdon and Nat Coverley, with their respective supporters, were in different wings. Here they administered Floating Island, and we need not be astonished at the orders being contradictory.

This very morning the two governors had resolved to disagree regarding the course hitherto followed by Ethel Simcoe. Nat Coverley had decided that Floating Island should go north-east, so as to touch at the Gilbert Islands. Jem Tankerdon, with the object of opening up commercial relations, decided to go south-west, towards Australia.

Thus had the rivals committed themselves, and their friends had sworn to support them.

When he received the two orders sent simultaneously to the observatory, the Commodore remarked, —

“This is what I feared.”

“And which must not last, in the public interest,” said the King of Malecarlie.

“What do you decide?” asked Frascolin.

“I am curious to see how you will manœuvre,” said Pinchinat.

“Inform Jem Tankerdon and Nat Coverley,” said the Commodore, “that we cannot execute their orders, as they contradict each other. Besides, it is better for Floating Island to remain where it is, and wait for the ships which are to meet it here.”

This very wise reply was immediately telephoned to the town hall.

An hour passed without the observatory receiving any other orders. Probably the two governors had given up their intentions.

Suddenly Floating Island began to move in a strange manner. What did this movement indicate? That Jem Tankerdon and Nat Coverley had persisted in their obstinacy to the furthest limits.

All the persons present looked at each other interrogatively.

“What is the matter? What is the matter?”

“What is the matter?” answered the Commodore, shrugging his shoulders; “Jem Tankerdon has sent his orders direct to Watson, the engineer at Larboard Harbour, and Nat Coverley has sent contradictory orders to Somwah, the engineer at Starboard Harbour. One has given orders to go north-east, the other to go southwest. The result is that Floating Island is swinging round on its centre, and the gyration will last as long as the caprice of these two obstinate personages.”

“Well!” said Pinchinat. “This ought to end in a waltz! Athanase Dorémus might as well resign. The Milliardites do not want his lessons!”

This absurd situation—comic from one point of view— probably caused a laugh. Unfortunately the double manœuvre was extremely dangerous, as the Commodore observed. Driven round and round by six million horsepower, Floating Island was in danger of being shaken to pieces.

In fact, the engines were going full speed, the screws working at their maximum power, and the steel subsoil was all of a tremble. The motion became more noticeable. Floating Island pirouetted on its centre. The park, the country described concentric circles, and the places on the shore swung round at from ten to twelve miles an hour.

To argue with the engineers was not to be thought of. Commodore Simcoe had no authority over them. They were subject to the same passions as the Starboardites and Larboardites. Faithful servants of their chiefs, Watson and Somwah would drive on to the bitter end, engine for engine, dynamo for dynamo.

Then occurred a phenomenon, the unpleasantness of which should have calmed the heads by softening the hearts.

On account of the rotation of Floating Island, a number of Milliardites, especially the women, began to feel strangely unwell. Within the houses there were attacks of sickening nausea, principally in those which, being farthest from the centre, were most affected by this waltzing motion.

At this farcical result, Yvernès, Pinchinat, and Frascolin burst out into peals of laughter, although matters were getting most serious.

Under the influence of this continuous whirling, Sebastien Zorn became pale, very pale. He “struck his colours,” as Pinchinat said, and his heart mounted to his lips. Was this ill-timed joke never to finish? To be a prisoner on this immense turning table, which did not even have the gift of revealing the secrets of the future.

For a whole week Floating Island continued to spin round on its centre, which was Milliard City. In vain the King of Malecarlie, Commodore Simcoe, and Colonel Stewart attempted to intervene between the two powers which shared the municipal palace. Neither would lower his flag! Cyrus Bikerstaff himself, if he could have come to life again, would have found his efforts fail against such ultra-American tenacity.

Then, to add to the misfortune, the sky had been so constantly covered with clouds during this week, that it was not possible to take an altitude. Commodore Simcoe did not know where Floating Island was. Driven round by its powerful screws, it trembled in every wall of its compartments. No one thought of staying indoors. The park was crowded with people camping in the open air. On either side were heard cries of “Hurrah for Tankerdon!”  and “Hurrah for Coverley!” Eyes flashed lightnings, fists were clenched threateningly. Was civil war going to break out, with its worst excesses, now that the people had reached a paroxysm of madness?

Neither one side nor the other would see anything of the approaching danger. They would not give in, even if the Pearl of the Pacific were to break into a thousand fragments, and it would continue to spin until the dynamos ceased to drive the screws.

Amid this general irritation, in which he took no part, Walter Tankerdon was a prey to the keenest anguish. He feared not for himself, but for Miss Coverley, that some sudden breaking up would annihilate Milliard City. For eight days he had not seen her. Twenty times he had begged his father to have done with this deplorable manœuvre; but all was in vain.

Then on the night of the 27th of March, taking advantage of the darkness, he endeavoured to see Miss Coverley. He wished to be near her when the catastrophe occurred. Gliding through the crowd which blocked First Avenue, he penetrated into the hostile section, so as to reach the Coverleys’ house.

A little before daybreak a terrific explosion shook the air. Driven beyond the pressure they would bear, the boilers of the Larboard section blew up with the buildings and machinery. And as the source of electrical energy suddenly gave out on this side, half Floating Island was plunged into profound darkness.
CHAPTER XIII

If the engines of Larboard Harbour were now useless, on account of the bursting of the boilers, those of Starboard Harbour were uninjured. But it was as if Floating Island had lost all power of locomotion. Reduced to its starboard screws, all it could do was to turn round and round on itself, for it could not go ahead.

This accident consequently made matters worse. While Floating Island had two sets of engines, capable of acting together, it was only necessary for an understanding to be arrived at between the Tankerdon and Coverley parties for this state of things to be put an end to. The motors would then resume their customary task of working together, and the island, after its delay of a few days, could have resumed its course to Madeleine Bay.

Now this was impossible, and Commodore Simcoe had not the propelling force necessary to enable him to leave his present position.

If Floating Island had remained stationary during the last week, if the steamers came up it might still be possible to regain the northern hemisphere.

But it was not, for an astronomic observation taken this day showed that Floating Island had drifted to the south during its prolonged gyration. It had drifted from the twelfth parallel to the seventeenth.

In fact, between the New Hebrides group and the Fiji group there are certain currents, due to the proximity of the two archipelagoes to each other, which flow to the south-east. While the engines worked together Floating Island could easily make headway against the current. But as soon as it became afflicted with vertigo it had been irresistibly drawn towards the tropic of Capricorn.

When this was recognized, Commodore Simcoe did not hide from those we have called neutrals the gravity of the circumstances.

“We have drifted,” he said, “five degrees south. What a sailor can do with a steamer when her engines break down I cannot do with Floating Island. An island has no sails, and we are at the mercy of the currents. Where will they take us? I do not know. As to the steamers despatched from Madeleine Bay, they will seek us in vain in the place agreed upon, and it is towards the least frequented portion of the Pacific that we are drifting, at the rate of from eight to ten miles an hour.”

In these few sentences Ethel Simcoe stated the position, which it was impossible to modify. Floating Island was like an immense wreck delivered over to the caprices of the currents. If they ran towards the north, it would go north; if they ran towards the south, it would go south— perhaps to the extreme limits of the Antarctic Ocean. And then—

This state of things soon became known to the people at Milliard City, as at both harbours. A feeling of great fear arose. Hence—which was very human—a certain softening of asperities under the fear of this new peril. They no longer dreamt of coming to blows in a fratricidal strife, and if hatreds continued, they would not at least lead to violence. Gradually every one returned to his section, his quarter, his house. Jem Tankerdon and Nat Coverley gave up their dispute for first place. At the proposal of the two governors, the council of notables came to the only reasonable decision dictated by the circumstances, and transferred its powers to the hands of Commodore Simcoe, the only chief to whom the safety of Floating Island was henceforth entrusted.

Ethel Simcoe accepted the task without hesitation. He reckoned on the devotion of his friends, his officers, his staff. But what could he do with this vast floating apparatus, with an area of twenty-seven square kilometres, become unmanageable, now that it had no longer its two sets of engines?

And was there not some foundation for saying that this was the condemnation of Floating Island, up to then regarded as the masterpiece of marine construction, inasmuch as such accidents would render it the sport of the winds and waves?

It is true that this accident was not due to the forces of nature, over which the Pearl of the Pacific had triumphed since its foundation. It was the fault of these intestine dissensions, these rivalries of the Milliardites, this unreasonable obstinacy of some to go south and others to go north. It was their immeasurable madness that had brought about the explosion of the Larboard boilers.

But what was the good of recriminations? What was necessary was to inquire into the damages at Larboard Harbour. Commodore Simcoe assembled his officers and his engineers. The King of Malecarlie went with them. It was assuredly not this royal philosopher who was surprised at human passions bringing about such a catastrophe.

The commission went to the Larboard engine works. The explosion of the over-driven boilers had caused the deaths of two engineers and six stokers. The ravages were no less complete in the workshops where the electricity was produced for the different services of this half of Floating Island. Fortunately, the starboard dynamos continued to work, and as Pinchinat observed, —

“We have got off with the loss of one eye.”

“That may be,” replied Frascolin, “but we have also lost a limb, and the one that is left is of little use to us.”

To be blind and lame was too much.

The result of the inquiry was that the damages could not be repaired, and that it would be impossible to arrest the movement towards the south. Hence the need of waiting until Floating Island got out of the current which was taking it below the tropic.

This being ascertained, the next thing was to examine the state of the compartments of the hull. Had they not suffered from the gyratory movement which had so violently shaken them? Were the plates strained, the rivets started?

If leaks had opened, what means were there of stopping them?

The engineers proceeded to this second inquiry. Their reports, communicated to Commodore Simcoe, were anything but comforting. In many places the shaking had cracked the plates and broken the ties. Thousands of rivets had been started, and there had been a good deal of breakage. Certain compartments had already been invaded by the sea. But as the line of flotation had not been lowered, the strength of the hull had not been seriously affected, and the new proprietors of Floating Island had nothing to fear for their property. It was near the Stern Battery that the cracks were most numerous. At Larboard Harbour one of the piers had dropped off into the sea when the explosion occurred. But Starboard Harbour was all right, and its docks afforded every safety for vessels against the waves of the sea.

Orders were given to repair all that was repairable. It was important that the population should be tranquillized. It was enough, it was too much, that without its larboard screws Floating Island could not make for the nearest land. For that there was no remedy.

There remained the serious question of hunger and thirst. Would the reserves be sufficient for a month, for two months?

These particulars were furnished to Commodore Simcoe.

With regard to the water there was nothing to fear. One of the distilling apparatus had been destroyed by the explosion, but the other, which continued at work, could furnish all requirements.

With regard to provisions, the state of affairs was not so promising. Taking everything into account, their duration would not exceed a fortnight, unless these ten thousand people were placed on short rations. The fruits and vegetables came, as we know, from the outside. And outside—where was that? Where was the nearest land, and how could it be reached?

Then, whatever might be the effect, Commodore Simcoe had to make instant arrangements as to putting the people on rations. That evening the telephones and telautographs spread this melancholy news.

Whereupon general dismay in Milliard City and the two ports, and a presentiment of worse catastrophes. Would not the spectre of famine, to adopt a familiar image, soon appear on the horizon, as there existed no means of replenishing the stock of provisions? In fact, Commodore Simcoe had not a single ship to send to the American continent. Fate had so willed it that the last had been sent away three weeks before with the mortal remains of Cyrus Bikerstaff and the defenders in the battle at Erromango. It was to be feared that matters of mere self-esteem would put Floating Island in a worse position than when it was invaded by the New Hebrideans.

What is the use of possessing millions, of being as rich as Rothschilds, Mackays, Astors, Vanderbilts, Goulds, when no riches can keep away famine? Doubtless, these nabobs had the greater part of their fortunes safely placed in the banks of the new and old continents. But who knew if the day were not approaching when a million would not procure a pound of meat or a pound of bread!

After all, the fault was in their absurd dissensions, their stupid rivalries, their desire to seize upon power! The culprits were the Tankerdons and the Coverleys, who had caused all the trouble. Let them take care of reprisals, of the rage of the officers, and functionaries, and employees, and tradesmen, of the whole of the population they had brought into such danger! To what excesses might not these betake themselves when they were suffering the tortures of hunger.

Let us say, that no reproaches were levelled against Walter Tankerdon nor Miss Coverley, who shared none of the blame deserved by their families. No! The young man and the girl were not responsible! They were the bond that might have assured the future of both sections, and it was not they who had broken it!

For two days, owing to the state of the sky, no observation could be taken, and the position of Floating Island could not be ascertained with any certainty.

On the 31st of March the zenith at dawn was clear enough, and the mists in the offing soon died away. There was reason to hope that an altitude could be taken under good conditions.

The observation was awaited with feverish impatience. Many hundreds of the inhabitants went out to Prow Battery. Walter Tankerdon joined them. But neither his father, nor Nat Coverley, nor any of the notables, who could be justly accused of having brought about this state of affairs, left their houses, where they were kept indoors by public indignation.

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 290 17’ latitude south. About two o’clock a second observation, made under the same favourable conditions, indicated 1790 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.

Walter Tankerdon, who had not left Di, tried to lead her towards Starboard Harbour. She had not strength to follow him. He lifted her, almost inanimate; he carried her in his arms; and in this way he went through the terror-stricken crowd, amid this horrible darkness.

At five o’clock in the morning, more cracking and rending of metal were heard in the east.

A piece about half a square mile in area had been detached from Floating Island.

It was Starboard Harbour, with its works, its engines, its warehouses, that had drifted off.

Beneath the redoubled blows of the cyclone, then at the height of its violence, Floating Island was thrown about like a wreck. Its hull became broken up. The compartments divided; and some, as the waves leapt over them, disappeared in the depths of the ocean.

“After the burst-up of the company,” said Pinchinat, “the burst-up of Floating Island.”

That was the summing-up of the situation.

Of the marvellous Floating Island there now remained but a few scattered pieces, like the sporadic fragments of a shattered comet, floating not in space, but on the surface of the wide Pacific.
CHAPTER XIV.

When the day broke, a spectator from a height of a few hundred feet would have seen three fragments of Floating Island, measuring two or three hectares each, floating on the sea, and about a dozen of smaller size at a short distance from one another.

The cyclone began to die away with the first appearance of daylight. With the rapidity peculiar to these great atmospheric disturbances, its centre moved thirty miles towards the east. But the sea, so terribly lashed, continued tremendous, and the wrecks large and small rolled and pitched like vessels on an ocean in fury.

The part of Floating Island which had suffered most was that which had formed the base of Milliard City. It had sunk beneath the weight of its edifices. In vain would you search for any vestige of its monuments, of the houses which bordered the main avenues of both sections. Never had the separation between Larboardites and Starboardites been more complete, and never assuredly had they dreamt of such.

Was the number of victims considerable? It was to be feared so, although the people had taken refuge in time in the centre of the country, where the ground offered more resistance to dismemberment.

Well! Were they satisfied, these Coverleys and Tankerdons, of the result due to their culpable rivalry? It was not one of them who would govern, to the exclusion of the other. Swallowed up was Milliard City, and with it the enormous price they had paid for it, But do not pity their fate! There remained to them millions enough in the coffers of the American and European banks to assure them of their daily bread in their old age.

The largest fragment comprised that portion of the country which extended between the observatory and Prow Battery. Its area was about three acres, and on it the shipwrecked people—if we can so describe them—were gathered to the number of three thousand.

On the next largest portion were some of the buildings in the neighbourhood of Larboard Harbour, the port, with some of the storehouses of provisions and one of the tanks of fresh water. The electric works, the buildings in which were the machinery and boilers, had disappeared at the time of the explosion. On this second fragment two thousand people had taken refuge.

With regard to Starboard Harbour, it will not have been forgotten that this part of Floating Island had been violently forced off at three o’clock in the morning. It had doubtless sunk, for as far as the eye could reach, nothing could be seen of it.

With the first two fragments floated a third, of an area of from four to five hectares, comprising that portion of the country about Stern Battery, on which were about four thousand people. And there were twelve more pieces, measuring a few hundred square metres each, on which the rest of the people saved from the disaster had taken refuge.

That was all that was left of the Pearl of the Pacific.

There must, therefore, have been many hundred victims of the catastrophe; and the survivors might be thankful that Floating Island had not been swallowed up entirely in the waters of the Pacific.

But if they were far from land, how were these fragments to reach a coast? Were the people to perish by famine? And would there survive a single witness of this disaster, unequalled in maritime necrology?

No, there was no need to despair. These drifting fragments bore energetic men, and all that was possible to do for the common safety would be done.

It was on the fragment around Prow Battery that were gathered Commodore Ethel Simcoe, the King and Queen of Malecarlie, the staff of the observatory, Colonel Stewart, some of the officers, a certain number of the notables of Milliard City, the clergy—in fact, an important part of the population.

There also were the Coverley and Tankerdon families, overwhelmed by the frightful responsibility which rested on their chiefs. And were they not also smitten in their dearest affections, for Walter and Di had disappeared! Were they on one of the other fragments? Could they ever hope to see them again?

The Quartette Party with their precious instruments were complete. To use a well-known formula, “death alone would separate them.” Frascolin was still taking matters coolly, and had not lost all hope. Yvernès, who was accustomed to look at things on their extraordinary side, remarked;

“It would be difficult to imagine a grander finish.”

Sebastien Zorn was nearly crazy. To have been the prophet predicting the misfortunes of Floating Island, as Jeremiah did the misfortunes of Sion, did not console him. He was hungry, he was cold, he was continually coughing.

And Calistus Munbar? Well, the superintendent was simply sublime—yes, sublime! He would not despair of the safety of the people, or the safety of Floating Island. Floating Island could be repaired. The fragments were sound, and it could not be said that the elements had triumphed over this masterpiece of naval architecture.

It was certain that danger was no longer imminent. All that could sink during the cyclone had sunk with Milliard City—its hotels, its houses, the works, the batteries, all the heavy superstructure. The fragments now were in good condition. They were floating higher than before, and the waves were not sweeping over their surface.

Here was a respite, a tangible amelioration, and as the fear of immediate sinking was removed, the people’s spirits had improved. They were much calmer. Only the women and children, incapable of reasoning, had failed to overcome their terror.

And what had happened to Athanase Dorémus? At the commencement of the breaking up, the professor of dancing and deportment had been carried away with his old servant on one of the fragments. But a current had brought him towards the piece on which were his compatriots of the quartette.

Commodore Simcoe, like the captain of a disabled ship, aided by his devoted staff, had set to work. In the first place, would it be possible to join up the pieces that were floating separately? If it were impossible, could they establish communications between them? This last question was easily answered in the affirmative, for several boats had remained uninjured in Larboard Harbour. By sending them from one fragment to another, Commodore Simcoe could ascertain what resources were left, what amount of fresh water and provisions.

But was he able to find out the longitude and latitude of this flotilla of wreckage?

No! For want of instruments to take an altitude, the position could not be determined, and hence they could not know if they were near any island or continent.

About nine o’clock in the morning, Commodore Simcoe embarked with two of his officers in a boat which had come from Larboard Harbour to fetch him. In this boat he visited the different fragments, and this was what he ascertained in the course of the inquiry.

The distilling apparatus at Larboard Harbour had been destroyed, but the tank contained enough drinking water for a fortnight, if the consumption were reduced to what was strictly necessary. The reserves in the store-houses were sufficient for the food of the people for nearly as long.

It was therefore necessary that in two weeks at the outside a landing should be effected on some point in the Pacific.

This information was in a certain measure reassuring. But Commodore Simcoe could not help discovering that there had been many hundred victims of this terrible night. The grief of the Tankerdon and Coverley families was inexpressible. Neither Walter nor Di had been found on any of the fragments visited by the boat. At the moment of the catastrophe the young man, carrying his betrothed, was going towards Starboard Harbour, and of this part of Floating Island nothing remained on the surface of the Pacific.

In the afternoon the wind abated from hour to hour, the sea fell, and the fragments were barely affected by the undulations of the surge. By means of the boats from Larboard Harbour, Commodore Simcoe provided for the food of the people, sending them what was necessary to save them from dying of hunger.

Communications became easier and more rapid. The different pieces, obedient to the laws of attraction, like fragments of cork on the surface of a basin of water, approached one another. And was not that of good augury to the confident Calistus Munbar, who saw in it the reconstitution of the Pearl of the Pacific?

The night went by in darkness. The time had gone when the avenues of Milliard City, the streets of the commercial quarters, the lawns in the park, the fields and prairies were bright with electric lights, when the aluminium moons poured in profusion a dazzling effulgence over the surface of Floating Island!

Amid the darkness there were a few collisions between the fragments. These shocks could not be avoided, but fortunately they were not violent enough to cause serious damage.

At daybreak it was seen that the pieces were all very near together, and floating on a tranquil sea. In a few strokes of the oar it was easy to pass from one to the other. Commodore Simcoe had every facility for regulating the consumption of food and fresh water. That was the important point, and the people understood it and were resigned.

The boats took several families about. They went in search of those they had not yet found. What happiness among these who were met with again, who gave no thought to the dangers with which they were still threatened. What sorrow for those who vainly sought for the absent?

It was evidently a fortunate circumstance that the sea had calmed down. But it was perhaps regrettable that the wind had not continued blowing from the south-east. It would have helped the current which in this part of the Pacific runs towards the Australian coast.

By order of Commodore Simcoe, look-outs were posted to watch every point of the horizon. If a ship appeared, they would make signals. But ships are few in these distant regions at this period of the year when the equinoctial storms prevail.

There was, therefore, a very poor chance of noticing either smoke or masts and sails along the line of sky and water. And yet about two in the afternoon Commodore Simcoe received the following communication from one of the look-outs:

“In the north-east there is something on the move, and although the hull cannot be distinguished, it is certain that a vessel is passing in the offing.”

This news caused extraordinary excitement. The King of Malecarlie, Commodore Simcoe, the officers and engineers, all went to the side where the vessel had been signalled from. Orders were given to attract attention by hoisting flags at the end of spars and by simultaneous discharges of the firearms they had left. If the night came before these signals were noticed, a fire would be lighted, and during the night, as it would be visible at a great distance, it was impossible that it could escape being perceived.

It was not necessary to wait until the evening. The mass in question visibly approached. Clouds of smoke rolled overhead, and there could be no doubt it was making for the fragments of Floating Island.

The glasses kept it in view, although its hull was very little above the sea, and it possessed neither masts nor sails.

“My friends,” Commodore Simcoe soon exclaimed, “I am not mistaken! It is a piece of our island! It is Starboard Harbour which was carried away by the currents. Doubtless Mr. Somwah has repaired his engines, and is coming to us.”

Demonstrations verging on madness welcomed the news. It seemed that the safety of all was now assured. It was as it were a vital part of Floating Island which came back with this piece of Starboard Harbour.

Matters had, in fact, happened as Commodore Simcoe supposed. After the breaking off, Starboard Harbour, seized by a counter-current, had drifted off to the northeast. When day came Mr. Somwah had repaired the slight damages to his engines, and returned to the scene of the wreck, bringing with him several hundred more survivors.

Three hours afterwards, Starboard Harbour was not more than a cable’s length from the flotilla. And what transports of joy, what shouts of enthusiasm welcomed its arrival. Walter Tankerdon and Di Coverley, who had taken refuge there before the catastrophe, were there side by side.

With the arrival of Starboard Harbour, with its reserves of provisions and water, there was some chance of safety. The stores contained enough oil to drive the engines and dynamos and work the screws for some days. Its five million horse-power would enable it to reach the nearest land. This land, according to the observations made by the officer of the port, was New Zealand.

But the difficulty was that these thousands of people could not take passage on Starboard Harbour, its area being only from six to seven thousand square metres. Would it have to be sent fifty miles away in search of help?

No! The voyage would require considerable time, and there were not many hours to spare. There was not a day to lose if the people were to be preserved from the horrors of famine.

“We can do better than that,” said the King of Malecarlie. “The fragments of Starboard Harbour and the batteries can carry all the survivors of Floating Island. Fasten these three fragments together by strong chains, and tow them one behind the other as if they were barges. Then, with Starboard Harbour at the head, its five million horse-power can take us to New Zealand.”

The advice was excellent, it was practicable, it had every chance of success, now that Starboard Harbour possessed such enormous locomotive power. Confidence returned to the people as if they were already in sight of port.

The rest of the day was employed in the work necessitated by the fixing of the chains which were furnished by the stores of Starboard Harbour. Commodore Simcoe estimated that in this way a speed of from eight to ten miles a day could be obtained. In five days they would, if assisted by the current, accomplish the fifty miles which separated them from New Zealand. There was no doubt that the provisions would last until then. But to provide against delays, the rations were prudently maintained as before.

The preparations being complete, Starboard Harbour took the head of the procession about seven o’clock in the evening. Under the propulsion of its screws the two other fragments were slowly towed over the calm sea.

Next morning at daylight the look-outs had lost sight of the fragments left behind.

Nothing of importance occurred during the 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th of April. The weather was favourable, the motion of the sea was hardly perceptible, and the voyage continued under excellent conditions.

About eight o’clock on the morning of the 9th of April, the land was sighted on the port bow—a high land that could be seen from a considerable distance.

Observations being taken with the instruments at Starboard Harbour, there was no doubt as to the identity of this land. It was the northern island of New Zealand.

A day and a night passed, and on the 10th of April, in the morning, Starboard Harbour ran aground about a cable length from the shore in Ravaraki Bay.

What satisfaction, what security the people experienced when they felt the real ground beneath their feet, and not the artificial soil of Floating Island. And yet how long might not this substantial maritime apparatus have lasted, if human passions, stronger than the winds and the sea, had not driven it to destruction.

The shipwrecked people were very hospitably received by the New Zealanders, who gave everybody food who required it.

As soon as they arrived at Auckland, the marriage of Walter Tankerdon with Di Coverley was at last celebrated with all the pomp the circumstances deserved. Let us add that the Quartette Party were heard for the last time at this ceremony, at which all the Milliardites were present. It would be a happy union—would it had taken place sooner, in the interest of all! Doubtless the young couple only possessed a poor million each—

“But,” as Pinchinat said, “there is every reason to believe that they will still find happiness with such a moderate fortune.”

The Tankerdons and Coverleys and other notables intended to return to America, where they would no longer dispute over the government of a Floating Island.

The same determination was come to by Commodore Simcoe, Colonel Stewart and their officers, the staff of the observatory, and even the superintendent, Calistus Munbar, who had not given up the idea of building a new artificial island.

The King and Queen of Malecarlie made no secret as to their regret for Floating Island, in which they had hoped to peacefully terminate their existence. Let us hope that these ex-sovereigns found a corner of the earth where they could spend their last days sheltered from political discussions.

And the Quartette Party?

Well, the Quartette Party, whatever Sebastien Zorn might say, had not done so badly, and if they bore any ill-will to Calistus Munbar for having taken them against their will, it would have been sheer ingratitude.

From the 25th of May the preceding year until the 10th of April a little more than eleven months had elapsed, during which our artistes had lived the luxurious life we know. They had received the fourth instalment of their salary, three instalments of which were deposited in the banks of San Francisco and New York, payable to them on demand.

After the marriage ceremony at Auckland, Sebastien Zorn, Yvernès, Frascolin, and Pinchinat went to take leave of their friends, not forgetting Athanase Dorémus. Then they embarked on a steamer bound for San Diego.

Arriving on the 3rd of May in this capital of Lower California, their first care was to apologize through the newspapers for having failed to keep their appointment eleven months before, and to express their sincere regret at what had happened.

“Gentlemen, we would have waited for you for twenty years!”

That was the reply they received from the amiable director of concerts at San Diego.

Nobody could have been more accommodating or more gracious. The only way to acknowledge such courtesy was to give this concert which had been announced for so long.

And before a public as numerous as enthusiastic, the quartette in F major, from Op. 9 of Mozart, was for these virtuosos escaped from the wreck of Floating Island one of the greatest successes of their artistic career.

Such is the end of the story of the ninth wonder of the world, this incomparable Pearl of the Pacific! All is well that ends well, as people say, but all is bad that ends badly, and was such the case with Floating Island?

Ended, no! It will be rebuilt some day—at least Calistus Munbar says so.

And yet—we cannot repeat it too often—to create an artificial island, an island that moves on the surface of the seas, is it not to overstep the limits assigned to human genius, and is it not forbidden to man, who disposes not of the winds or the waves, to so recklessly usurp the functions of the Creator?
THE END.

[i] Jules-Verne, Jean Jules I erne, Biography, translated and adapted by Roger Greaves, Macdonald and Jane’s, London, 1976; p 2.

[ii] Allotte de la Fuye, Marguerite Jules Verne, translated by Erik Do Manny, Stapes Press Ltd, London, 1954; p 39.

[iii] ibid; p 39.

[iv] ibid; pps 46-7.

[v] ibid; p 85.

[vi] ibid; p 51.

[vii] ibid; p 78.

[viii] ibid; p 94.

[ix] ibid; p 94.

[x] ibid; p 96.

[xi] ibid; p 98.

[xii]Chesneaux, Jean The Political and Social Ideas of Jules Verne, translated by Thomas Wikeley, Thames and Hudson, London, 1972; p 23.

[xiii] Allotte de la Fuye, ibid; p 97.

[xiv] Chesneaux, ibid; p 20.

[xv] Jules-Verne, ibid; p 225.

[xvi] sec Chesneaux, ibid; p 181.

[xvii] ibid; p 158.

[xviii] ibid; p 198, my italics.

[xix] ibid; p 208.

[xx] These positions are according to the French charts, the zero meridian of which passes through Paris—a meridian which was generally adopted at this period.