THE _JULES VERNE_
The swell of the sea caused the strange-looking craft to rise and sink a
little, and sometimes the water ran bubbling all around the low rim of the
aperture, in the center of which the red-capped man stood, resting on some
invisible support, repeating his salutations and amicable smiles, and
balancing his body to the rocking of the waves with the unconscious
skill of a sailor.
The Ark was running slowly, but it would very soon have left the stranger
in its wake if he had not also been in motion. It was evident that the
object under his feet must be a submersible vessel of some kind, although
it was of a type which Captain Arms, standing beside Cosmo on the bridge,
declared that he had never set eyes on before. It lay so low in the water
that nothing could be seen of its motive machinery, but it kept its place
alongside the Ark with the ease of a dolphin, and gradually edged in closer
and closer.
When it was so near that he could be heard speaking in a voice hardly
raised above the ordinary pitch, the man, first again lifting his cap with
an easy gesture, addressed Cosmo Versál by name, using the English language
with a scarcely perceptible accent:
"M. Versál, I offer you my felicitations upon the magnificent appearance of
your Ark, and I present my compliments to the ladies and gentlemen of your
company."
And then he bowed once more to the passengers, who were almost crowding
each other over the side in their eagerness to both see and hear.
"Thank you," responded Cosmo, "but who are you?"
"Capitaine Yves de Beauxchamps, of the French army."
"Where's the navy, then?" blurted out Captain Arms.
De Beauxchamps glanced at the speaker a little disdainfully, and then
replied gravely:
"Alas! At the bottom of the sea--with all the other navies."
"And how have you escaped?" demanded Cosmo Versál.
"As you see, in a submersible."
"Can it be possible!" exclaimed Cosmo. "And you have been in the sea ever
since the beginning of the flood?"
"Since the first rise of the ocean on the coast at Brest."
"Have you no companions?"
"Six--in truth, seven."
"Astonishing!" said Cosmo Versál. "But I heard nothing of the preparation
of a submersible. In fact, the idea of such a thing never occurred to me.
You must have made your preparations secretly."
"We did. We did not share your certainty, M. Versál, concerning the arrival
of a deluge. Even when we embarked we were not sure that it would be more
than an affair of the coasts."
"But you must be on the point of starvation by this time. The flood has
only begun. This cessation is but for a time, while we are passing a gap in
the nebula. You will come aboard the Ark. I had chosen my company, but your
gallant escape, and the ability that you have shown, prove that you are
worthy to aid in the re-establishment of the race, and I have no doubt that
your companions are equally worthy."
The Frenchman bowed politely, and with a slight smile replied:
"I believe, M. Versál, that the _Jules Verne_ is as safe and comfortable,
and proportionately as well provisioned, as your Ark."
"So you call it the _Jules Verne?_" returned Cosmo, smiling in his turn.
"We were proud to give it that name, and its conduct has proved that it is
worthy of it."
"But you will surely come aboard and shake hands, and let us offer you a
little hospitality," said Cosmo.
"I should be extremely happy to pay my compliments to the ladies,"
responded De Beauxchamps, "but I must postpone that pleasure for the
present. In the meantime, however, I should be glad if you would lower a
landing stage, and permit me to send aboard the seventh member of our
party, who, I venture to think, may find the Ark a more comfortable abode
than our submersible."
"And who may that person be?"
"_The King of England._"
Exclamations of surprise and wonder were heard on all sides.
"Yes," resumed the Frenchman, "we picked up his majesty the first day after
the deluge began to descend from the sky."
"I will lower a ladder at once," Cosmo called out, and immediately ran down
to the lowest deck, commanding his men to make haste.
The _Jules Verne_ was skillfully brought close up to the side of the Ark,
so that the visible part of her rounded back was nearly in contact with the
bottom of the companion-ladder when it had been lowered. The sea was so
calm that there was little difficulty in executing this maneuver. De
Beauxchamps disappeared in the depths of the submersible, and after a few
minutes re-emerged into sight, supporting on his arm a stout, rather short
man, whose face, it was evident, had once been full and ruddy, but now it
was pale and worn.
"It is he!" exclaimed an English member of Cosmo's company to some of his
fellow-countrymen who had forced their way to the front.
_"It is the king!"_
And then occurred a singular thing, inspired by the marvelous circumstances
of this meeting of the sovereign of a drowned kingdom, upon the bosom of
the waters that had destroyed it, with the mere handful which remained
alive out of all the millions of his subjects.
These loyal Englishmen bared their heads (and there were three women among
them) and sang, with a pathos that surely the old hymn had never expressed
before, their national anthem: "God Save the King."
The effect was immense. Every head aboard the Ark was immediately
uncovered. De Beauxchamps removed his cap, and one or two bared heads could
be seen peering out of the interior of the submersible below him. As the
king was steadied across to the bottom of the companion-ladder, the voices
of the singers rose louder, and many of the other passengers, moved by
sympathy, or carried away by epidemic feeling, joined in the singing. Never
had any monarch a greeting like that! Its recipient was moved to the depths
of his soul, and but for the aid given him would have been unable to ascend
the swaying steps.
As he was assisted upon the deck, the song ceased and a great cheer broke
forth. There were tears in his eyes, and he trembled in every limb, when he
returned the welcoming pressure of Cosmo Versál's hand.
The moment he saw that the king was safely aboard the Ark, De Beauxchamps,
with a farewell salutation, disappeared into the interior of the _Jules
Verne_, and the submersible sank out of sight as gently as if it had been a
huge fish that had come to the top of the sea to take a look about.
After the sensation caused by the arrival of the English monarch aboard the
Ark had somewhat quieted down, and after his majesty had had an opportunity
to recover himself, Cosmo Versál invited his new guest to tell the story of
his escape. They were seated in Cosmo's cabin, and there were present
Joseph Smith, Professor Jeremiah Moses, Professor Abel Able, and Amos
Blank, beside several other members of the ship's company, including two of
the loyal Englishmen who quite naturally had been the first to strike up
the national anthem on seeing their rescued king.
Richard Edward, or Richard IV as he was officially entitled, was one of the
best kings England ever had. He was popular not only because of his almost
democratic manners and the simplicity of his life, but more because he was
a great lover of peace. We have already seen how he was chosen, solely on
that account, to be of the number of the rulers invited to go in the Ark.
He had not even replied to Cosmo's invitation, but that was simply because,
like everybody about him in whom he placed confidence, he regarded Cosmo
Versál as a mere mountebank, and thought that there was no more danger of a
flood that would cover the earth than of the fall of the moon out of the
sky.
Before responding to Cosmo's request he made a gracious reference to the
indifference with which he had formerly treated his present host.
"I am sorry, Mr. Versál," he said, with a deprecatory smile, "that I did
not sooner recognize the fact that your knowledge surpassed that of my
scientific advisers."
"Your majesty was not alone," replied Cosmo gravely, turning with his
finger a small globe that stood on his desk. "From all these deep-sunken
continents" (waving his hand toward the globe), "if the voices once heard
there could now speak, there would arise a mighty sound of lament for that
great error."
The king looked at him with an expression of surprise. He glanced from
Cosmo's diminutive figure to his great overhanging brow, marked with the
lines of thought, and a look of instinctive deference came into his eyes.
"But," continued Cosmo Versál, "it is bootless to speak of these things
now. I beg that your majesty will condescend to enlighten us concerning the
fate of that great kingdom, of ancient renown, over which you so worthily
reigned."
An expression of deepest pain passed across the face of Richard Edward. For
some moments he remained buried in a mournful silence, and many sighs came
from his breast. All looked at him with profound commiseration. At last he
raised his head, and said, sorrowfully and brokenly:
"My kingdom is drowned--my subjects have perished, almost to the last
soul--my family, my gracious consort, my children--all, all--gone!"
Here he broke down, and could speak no more. Not a word was heard, for a
time in the room, and the two Englishmen present wept with their
unfortunate king.
Cosmo Versál was no less deeply moved than the others. He sat, for a while,
in complete silence. Then he arose and, going to the king, put his hand
upon his shoulder, and talked to him long, in a low, consoling voice. At
last the broken-spirited monarch was able to suppress his emotions
sufficiently to recite, but with many interruptions while he remastered
his feelings, the story of his woes and of his marvelous escape.
"Sir Francis Brook," he said, "prepared a barge, when the water invaded
London, and in that barge we escaped--her royal majesty, our children, and
a number of members of the royal household. The barge was the only vessel
of levium that existed in England. Sir Francis had furnished and
provisioned it well, and we did not think that it would be necessary to go
farther than to some high point in the interior. Sir Francis was of the
opinion that Wales would afford a secure refuge.
"It was a terrible thing to see the drowning of London, the sweeping of the
awful bore that came up the Thames from the sea, the shipping wrecked by
the tearing waves, the swirl of the fast-rising water round the immense
basin in which the city lay, the downfall of the great
buildings--Westminster Abbey was one of the first that succumbed--the
overturned boats, and even great vessels floating on their sides, or
bottom up, the awful spectacle of the bodies of the drowned tossing in
the waves--all these sights were before our horrified eyes while the
vast eddy swept us round and round until the water rose so high that we
were driven off toward the southwest.
"That we should have escaped at all was a miracle of miracles. It was the
wonderful buoyancy of the levium barge that saved us. But the terrors of
that scene can never fade from my memory. And the fearful sufferings of
the queen! And our children--but I _cannot_ go on with this!"
"Calm yourself, your majesty," said Cosmo sympathetically. "The whole
world has suffered with you. If we are spared and are yet alive, it is
through the hand of Providence--to which all of us must bow."
"We must have passed over Surrey and Hampshire," the king resumed, "the
invasion of the sea having buried the hills."
"I am surprised at that," said Cosmo. "I did not think that the sea had
anywhere attained so great an elevation before the nebula condensed. At
New York the complete drowning of the city did not occur until the
downpour from the sky began."
"Oh! that deluge from the heavens!" cried the king. "What we had suffered
before seemed but little in comparison. It came upon us after night;
and the absolute darkness, the awful roaring, the terrific force of the
falling water, the sense of suffocation, the rapid filling of the barge
until the water was about our necks--these things drove us wild with
despair.
"I tried to sustain my poor queen in my arms, but she struggled to seize
the children and hold them above the water, and in her efforts she escaped
from my hands, and henceforth I could find her no more. I stumbled about,
but it was impossible to see; it was impossible to hear. At last I fell
unconscious face downward, as it afterward appeared, upon a kind of bench
at the rear end of the barge, which was covered with a narrow metallic
roofing, and raised above the level of the bulwarks. It was there that I
had tried to shelter the queen and the children.
"In some way I must have become lodged there, under the awning, in such a
position that the pitching of the barge failed to throw me off. I never
regained consciousness until I heard a voice shouting in my ear, and felt
some one pulling me, and when I had recovered my senses, I found myself in
the submersible."
"And all your companions were gone?" asked Cosmo, in a voice shaking with
pity.
"Yes, oh, Lord! All! They had been swept overboard by the waves--and would
that I had gone with them!"
The poor king broke down again and sobbed. After a long pause Cosmo asked
gently:
"Did the Frenchman tell you how he came upon the barge?"
"He said that in rising to the surface to find out the state of things
there the submersible came up directly under the barge, canting it in such
a way that I was rolled out and he caught me as I was swept close to the
opening."
"But how was it that the downpour, entering the submersible, when the cover
was removed, did not fill it with water?"
"He had the cover so arranged that it served as an almost complete
protection from the rain. Some water did enter, but not much."
"A wonderful man, that Frenchman," said Cosmo. "He would be an acquisition
for me. What did he say his name was? Oh, yes, De Beauxchamps--I'll make a
note of that. I shouldn't wonder if we heard of him again."
Cosmo Versál was destined to encounter Yves de Beauxchamps and his
wonderful submersible _Jules Verne_ sooner, and under more dramatic
circumstances than he probably anticipated.