The next aim was to determine the amount of depression on either side of the ridge, and for this purpose the Dobryna was shifted for a distance of half a mile both to the right and left, and the soundings taken at each station. “Five fathoms and a flat bottom,” was the unvaried announcement after each operation. Not only, therefore, was it evident that the submerged chain between Cape Bon and Cape Furina no longer existed, but it was equally clear that the convulsion had caused a general leveling of the sea-bottom, and that the soil, degenerated, as it has been said, into a metallic dust of unrecognized composition, bore no trace of the sponges, sea-anemones, star-fish, sea-nettles, hydrophytes, and shells with which the submarine rocks of the Mediterranean had hitherto been prodigally clothed.
The Dobryna now put about and resumed her explorations in a southerly direction. It remained, however, as remarkable as ever how completely throughout the voyage the sea continued to be deserted; all expectations of hailing a vessel bearing news from Europe were entirely falsified, so that more and more each member of the crew began to be conscious of his isolation, and to believe that the schooner, like a second Noah’s ark, carried the sole survivors of a calamity that had overwhelmed the earth.
On the 9th of February the Dobryna passed over the site of the city of Dido, the ancient Byrsa—a Carthage, however, which was now more completely destroyed than ever Punic Carthage had been destroyed by Scipio Africanus or Roman Carthage by Hassan the Saracen.
In the evening, as the sun was sinking below the eastern horizon, Captain Servadac was lounging moodily against the taffrail. From the heaven above, where stars kept peeping fitfully from behind the moving clouds, his eye wandered mechanically to the waters below, where the long waves were rising and falling with the evening breeze.
All at once, his attention was arrested by a luminous speck straight ahead on the southern horizon. At first, imagining that he was the victim of some spectral illusion, he observed it with silent attention; but when, after some minutes, he became convinced that what he saw was actually a distant light, he appealed to one of the sailors, by whom his impression was fully corroborated. The intelligence was immediately imparted to Count Timascheff and the lieutenant.
“Is it land, do you suppose?” inquired Servadac, eagerly.
“I should be more inclined to think it is a light on board some ship,” replied the count.
“Whatever it is, in another hour we shall know all about it,” said Servadac.
“No, captain,” interposed Lieutenant Procope; “we shall know nothing until to-morrow.”
“What! not bear down upon it at once?” asked the count in surprise.