The Floating Island (27 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.