"Nothing more than you know yourself."

"But surely, Count Timascheff, you can inform me whether upon
the northern shore of the Mediterranean--"

"Are you certain that this is the Mediterranean?"
asked the count significantly, and added, "I have discovered

no sign of land."
The captain stared in silent bewilderment. For some moments

he seemed perfectly stupefied; then, recovering himself, he began
to overwhelm the count with a torrent of questions. Had he noticed,

ever since the 1st of January, that the sun had risen in the west?
Had he noticed that the days had been only six hours long,

and that the weight of the sphere" target="_blank" title="n.大气；空气；气氛">atmosphere was so much diminished?
Had he observed that the moon had quite disappeared, and that

the earth had been in imminenthazard of running foul of the
planet Venus? Was he aware, in short, that the entire motions

of the terrestrial sphere had undergone a complete modification?
To all these inquiries, the count responded in the affirmative.

He was acquainted with everything that had transpired; but, to Servadac's
increasing astonishment, he could throw no light upon the cause

of any of the phenomena.
"On the night of the 31st of December," he said, "I was proceeding

by sea to our appointed place of meeting, when my yacht was suddenly
caught on the crest of an enormous wave, and carried to a height

which it is beyond my power to estimate. Some mysterious force
seemed to have brought about a convulsion of the elements.

Our engine was damaged, nay disabled, and we drifted entirely at the mercy
of the terrible hurricane that raged during the succeeding days.

That the _Dobryna_ escaped at all is little less than a miracle,
and I can only attribute her safety to the fact that she occupied

the center of the vast cyclone, and consequently did not experience
much change of position."

He paused, and added: "Your island is the first land we have seen."
"Then let us put out to sea at once and ascertain the extent of the disaster,"

cried the captain, eagerly. "You will take me on board, count, will you not?"
"My yacht is at your service, sir, even should you require to make a tour

round the world."
"A tour round the Mediterranean will suffice for the present, I think,"

said the captain, smiling.
The count shook his head.

"I am not sure," said he, "but what the tour of the Mediterranean
will prove to be the tour of the world."

Servadac made no reply, but for a time remained silent and
absorbed in thought.

After the silence was broken, they consulted as to what course was
best to pursue; and the plan they proposed was, in the first place,

to discover how much of the African coast still remained, and to carry
on the tidings of their own experiences to Algiers; or, in the event

of the southern shore having actually disappeared, they would make their
way northwards and put themselves in communication with the population

on the river banks of Europe.
Before starting, it was indispensable that the engine of the

_Dobryna_ should be repaired: to sail under canvas only would
in contrary winds and rough seas be both tedious and difficult.

The stock of coal on board was adequate for two months' consumption;
but as it would at the expiration of that time be exhausted,

it was obviously the part of prudence to employ it in reaching
a port where fuel could be replenished.

The damage sustained by the engine proved to be not very serious;
and in three days after her arrival the _Dobryna_ was again ready

to put to sea.
Servadac employed the interval in making the count acquainted

with all he knew about his small domain. They made an entire
circuit of the island, and both agreed that it must be beyond

the limits of that circumscribed territory that they must seek
an explanation of what had so strangely. transpired.

It was on the last day of January that the repairs of the schooner
were completed. A slight diminution in the excessively high

temperature which had prevailed for the last few weeks, was the only
apparent change in the general order of things; but whether this

was to be attributed to any alteration in the earth's orbit was
a question which would still require several days to decide.

The weather remained fine, and although a few clouds had accumulated,
and might have caused a trifling fall of the barometer, they were not

sufficiently threatening to delay the departure of the _Dobryna_.
Doubts now arose, and some discussion followed, whether or

not it was desirable for Ben Zoof to accompany his master.
There were various reasons why he should be left behind, not the least

important being that the schooner had no accommodation for horses,
and the orderly would have found it hard to part with Zephyr,

and much more with his own favorite Galette; besides, it was advisable
that there should be some one left to receive any strangers that

might possibly arrive, as well as to keep an eye upon the herds
of cattle which, in the dubiousprospect before them, might prove

to be the sole resource of the survivors of the catastrophe.
Altogether, taking into consideration that the brave fellow would

incur no personal risk by remaining upon the island, the captain was
induced with much reluctance to forego the attendance of his servant,

hoping very shortly to return and to restore him to his country,
when he had ascertained the reason of the mysteries in which

they were enveloped.
On the 31st, then, Ben Zoof was "invested with governor's powers,"

and took an affecting leave of his master, begging him, if chance
should carry him near Montmartre, to ascertain whether the beloved

"mountain" had been left unmoved.
Farewells over, the _Dobryna_ was carefully steered through the creek,

and was soon upon the open sea.
CHAPTER X

A SEARCH FOR ALGERIA
The _Dobryna_, a strong craft of 200 tons burden, had been built

in the famous shipbuilding yards in the Isle of Wight. Her sea
going qualities were excellent, and would have amply sufficed for a

circumnavigation of the globe. Count Timascheff was himself no sailor,
but had the greatest confidence in leaving the command of his yacht

in the hands of Lieutenant Procope, a man of about thirty years of age,
and an excellent seaman. Born on the count's estates, the son

of a serf who had been emancipated long before the famous edict
of the Emperor Alexander, Procope was sincerely attached, by a tie

of gratitude as well as of duty and affection, to his patron's service.
After an apprenticeship on a merchant ship he had entered

the imperial navy, and had already reached the rank of lieutenant
when the count appointed him to the charge of his own private yacht,

in which he was accustomed to spend by far the greater part of his time,
throughout the winter generally cruising in the Mediterranean,

whilst in the summer he visited more northern waters.
The ship could not have been in better hands. The lieutenant was

well informed in many matters outside the pale of his profession,
and his attainments were alike creditable to himself

and to the liberal friend who had given him his education.
He had an excellent crew, consisting of Tiglew the engineer,

four sailors named Niegoch, Tolstoy, Etkef, and Panofka,
and Mochel the cook. These men, without exception, were all sons

of the count's tenants, and so tenaciously, even out at sea,
did they cling to their old traditions, that it mattered little

to them what physical disorganization ensued, so long as they
felt they were sharing the experiences of their lord and master.

The late astounding events, however, had rendered Procope
manifestly uneasy, and not the less so from his consciousness

that the count secretly partook of his own anxiety.
Steam up and canvas spread, the schooner started eastwards.

With a favorable wind she would certainly have made eleven knots
an hour had not the high waves somewhat impeded her progress.

Although only a moderatebreeze was blowing, the sea was rough,
a circumstance to be accounted for only by the diminution

in the force of the earth's attraction rendering the liquid
particles so buoyant, that by the mere effect of oscillation

they were carried to a height that was quite unprecedented.
M. Arago has fixed twenty-five or twenty-six feet as the maximum

elevation ever attained by the highest waves, and his astonishment would
have been very great to see them rising fifty or even sixty feet.