Into
Space
from: ROUND THE MOON by Jules Verne
Round the Moon first
appeared in 1865. Compare this with the take-off of our astronauts.
PRELIMINARY
CHAPTER:During the year
186-, the whole world was greatly excited by a scientific experiment unprecedented
in the annals of science. The members of the Gun Club, a circle of artillerymen
formed at Baltimore after the American war, conceived the idea of putting
themselves in communication with the moon!-- yes, with the moon-- by sending to
her a projectile. Their president, Barbicane, the
promoter of the enterprise, having consulted the astronomers of the Cambridge
Observatory upon the subject, took all necessary means to ensure the success of
this extraordinary enterprise, which had been declared practicable by the
majority of competent judges. After setting on foot a public subscription,
which realized nearly L1,200,000, they began the
gigantic work.
According
to the advice forwarded from the members of the Observatory, the gun destined
to launch the projectile had to be fixed in a country situated between the 0
and 28th degrees of north or south latitude, in order to aim at the moon when
at the zenith; and its initiatory velocity was fixed at twelve thousand yards
to the second. Launched on the 1st of December, at 10hrs.
46m. 40s. P.M., it ought to reach the moon four days after its departure, that
is on the 5th of December, at midnight precisely, at the moment of her
attaining her perigee, that is her nearest distance from the earth, which is
exactly 86,410 leagues (French), or 238,833 miles mean distance (English).
The
principal members of the Gun Club, President Barbicane,
Major Elphinstone, the secretary Joseph T. Maston, and other learned men, held several meetings, at
which the shape and composition of the projectile were discussed, also the
position and nature of the gun, and the quality and quantity of powder to be
used. It was decided: First, that the projectile should be a shell made of
aluminum with a diameter of 108 inches and a thickness of twelve inches to its
walls; and should weigh 19,250 pounds. Second, that
the gun should be a Columbiad cast in iron, 900 feet
long, and run perpendicularly into the earth. Third, that the charge should
contain 400,000 pounds of gun-cotton, which, giving out six billions of litres of gas in rear of the projectile, would easily carry
it toward the orb of night.
These
questions determined President Barbicane, assisted by
Murchison the engineer, to choose a spot situated in
A
Frenchman, an enthusiastic Parisian, as witty as he was bold, asked to be
enclosed in the projectile, in order that he might reach the moon, and reconnoiter this terrestrial satellite. The name of this
intrepid adventurer was Michel Ardan. He landed in
America, was received with enthusiasm, held meetings, saw himself carried in
triumph, reconciled President Barbicane to his mortal
enemy, Captain Nicholl, and, as a token of
reconciliation, persuaded them both to start with him in the projectile. The
proposition being accepted, the shape of the projectile was slightly altered.
It was made of a cylindro-conical form. This species
of aerial car was lined with strong springs and partitions to deaden the shock
of departure. It was provided with food for a year, water for some months, and
gas for some days. A self-acting apparatus supplied the three travelers with
air to breathe. At the same time, on one of the highest points of the
On
the 30th of November, at the hour fixed upon, from the midst of an
extraordinary crowd of spectators, the departure took place, and for the first
time, three human beings quitted the terrestrial globe, and launched into
inter-planetary space with almost a certainty of reaching their destination.
These bold travelers, Michel Ardan, President Barbicane, and Captain Nicholl,
ought to make the passage in ninety-seven hours, thirteen minutes, and twenty
seconds. Consequently, their arrival on the lunar disc could not take place
until the 5th of December at twelve at night, at the exact moment when the moon
should be full, and not on the 4th, as some badly informed journalists had
announced.
But
an unforeseen circumstance, viz., the detonation produced by the Columbiad, had the immediate effect of troubling the
terrestrial atmosphere, by accumulating a large quantity of vapor, a phenomenon
which excited universal indignation, for the moon was hidden from the eyes of
the watchers for several nights.
The
worthy Joseph T. Maston, the staunchest friend of the
three travelers, started for the Rocky Mountains, accompanied by the Hon. J.
Belfast, director of the Cambridge Observatory, and reached the station of Long's Peak, where the telescope was erected which brought
the moon within an apparent distance of two leagues. The honorable secretary of
the Gun Club wished himself to observe the vehicle of his daring friends.
The
accumulation of the clouds in the atmosphere prevented all observation on the
5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, and 10th of December. Indeed it was thought that all
observations would have to be put off to the 3d of January in the following
year; for the moon entering its last quarter on the 11th, would then only
present an ever-decreasing portion of her disc, insufficient to allow of their
following the course of the projectile.
At
length, to the general satisfaction, a heavy storm cleared the atmosphere on
the night of the 11th and 12th of December, and the moon, with half-illuminated
disc, was plainly to be seen upon the black sky.
That
very night a telegram was sent from the station of Long's
Peak by Joseph T. Maston and
It
ended with the double hypothesis: either the attraction of the moon would draw
it to herself, and the travelers thus attain their
end; or that the projectile, held in one immutable orbit, would gravitate
around the lunar disc to all eternity.
With
such alternatives, what would be the fate of the travelers? Certainly they had
food for some time. But supposing they did succeed in their rash enterprise,
how would they return? Could they ever return? Should they hear from them?
These questions, debated by the most learned pens of the day, strongly
engrossed the public attention.
It
is advisable here to make a remark which ought to be well considered by hasty
observers. When a purely speculative discovery is announced to the public, it
cannot be done with too much prudence. No one is obliged to discover either a planet, a comet, or a satellite; and whoever makes
a mistake in such a case exposes himself justly to the derision of the mass.
Far better is it to wait; and that is what the impatient Joseph T. Maston should have done before sending this telegram forth
to the world, which, according to his idea, told the whole result of the
enterprise. Indeed this telegram contained two sorts of errors, as was proved
eventually. First, errors of observation, concerning the distance of the
projectile from the surface of the moon, for on the 11th of December it was
impossible to see it; and what Joseph T. Maston had
seen, or thought he saw, could not have been the projectile of the Columbiad. Second, errors of theory on
the fate in store for the said projectile; for in making it a satellite of the
moon, it was putting it in direct contradiction of all mechanical laws.
One
single hypothesis of the observers of Long's Peak
could ever be realized, that which foresaw the case of the travelers (if still
alive) uniting their efforts with the lunar attraction to attain the surface of
the disc.
Now
these men, as clever as they were daring, had survived the terrible shock
consequent on their departure, and it is their journey in the projectile car
which is here related in its most dramatic as well as in its most singular
details. This recital will destroy many illusions and surmises; but it will
give a true idea of the singular changes in store for such an enterprise; it
will bring out the scientific instincts of Barbicane,
the industrious resources of Nicholl, and the
audacious humor of Michel Ardan. Besides this, it
will prove that their worthy friend, Joseph T. Maston,
was wasting his time, while leaning over the gigantic telescope he watched the
course of the moon through the starry space.
CHAPTER
I
TWENTY
MINUTES PAST TEN TO FORTY-SEVEN MINUTES PAST TEN P. M.
As
The
three travelers approached the orifice of the enormous cast-iron tube, and a
crane let them down to the conical top of the projectile. There, an opening
made for the purpose gave them access to the aluminum car. The tackle belonging
to the crane being hauled from outside, the mouth of the Columbiad
was instantly disencumbered of its last supports.
Nicholl, once introduced with his companions
inside the projectile, began to close the opening by means of a strong plate,
held in position by powerful screws. Other plates, closely fitted, covered the lenticular glasses, and the travelers, hermetically
enclosed in their metal prison, were plunged in profound darkness.
"And
now, my dear companions," said Michel Ardan,
"let us make ourselves at home; I am a
domesticated man and strong in housekeeping. We are bound to make the best of
our new lodgings, and make ourselves comfortable. And first let us try and see
a little. Gas was not invented for moles."
So
saying, the thoughtless fellow lit a match by striking it on the sole of his
boot; and approached the burner fixed to the receptacle, in which the
carbonized hydrogen, stored at high pressure, sufficed for the lighting and
warming of the projectile for a hundred and forty-four hours, or six days and
six nights. The gas caught fire, and thus lighted the projectile looked like a
comfortable room with thickly padded walls, furnished with a circular divan,
and a roof rounded in the shape of a dome.
Michel
Ardan examined everything, and declared himself
satisfied with his installation.
"It
is a prison," said he, "but a traveling prison; and, with the right
of putting my nose to the window, I could well stand a lease of a hundred
years. You smile, Barbicane. Have you any _arriere-pensee_? Do you say to yourself, `This prison may
be our tomb?' Tomb, perhaps; still I would not change it for Mahomet's, which
floats in space but never advances an inch!"
While
Michel Ardan was speaking, Barbicane
and Nicholl were making their last preparations.
Nicholl's chronometer marked twenty minutes past
"My
friends," said he, "it is twenty minutes past ten. At forty- seven
minutes past ten Murchison will launch the electric spark on the wire which
communicates with the charge of the Columbiad. At
that precise moment we shall leave our spheroid. Thus we still have
twenty-seven minutes to remain on the earth."
"Twenty-six
minutes thirteen seconds," replied the methodical Nicholl.
"Well!"
exclaimed Michel Ardan, in a good-humored tone,
"much may be done in twenty-six minutes. The gravest questions of morals
and politics may be discussed, and even solved. Twenty-six minutes well
employed are worth more than twenty-six years in which nothing is done. Some
seconds of a Pascal or a
"And
you conclude, then, you everlasting talker?" asked Barbicane.
"I
conclude that we have twenty-six minutes left," replied Ardan.
"Twenty-four
only," said Nicholl.
"Well,
twenty-four, if you like, my noble captain," said Ardan;
"twenty-four minutes in which to investigate----"
"Michel,"
said Barbicane, "during the passage we shall have
plenty of time to investigate the most difficult questions. For the present we
must occupy ourselves with our departure."
"Are
we not ready?"
"Doubtless; but there are still some
precautions to be taken, to deaden as much as possible the first shock."
"Have
we not the water-cushions placed between the partition- breaks, whose
elasticity will sufficiently protect us?"
"I
hope so, Michel," replied Barbicane gently,
"but I am not sure."
"Ah,
the joker!" exclaimed Michel Ardan. "He
hopes!--He is not sure!-- and he waits for the moment
when we are encased to make this deplorable admission! I beg to be allowed to
get out!"
"And
how?" asked Barbicane.
"Humph!"
said Michel Ardan, "it is not easy; we are in
the train, and the guard's whistle will sound before twenty-four minutes are
over."
"Twenty,"
said Nicholl.
For
some moments the three travelers looked at each other. Then they began to
examine the objects imprisoned with them.
"Everything
is in its place," said Barbicane. "We have
now to decide how we can best place ourselves to resist the shock. Position
cannot be an indifferent matter; and we must, as much as possible, prevent the
rush of blood to the head."
"Just
so," said Nicholl.
"Then," replied Michel Ardan, ready to suit the action to the word, "let us
put our heads down and our feet in the air, like the clowns in the grand
circus."
"No,"
said Barbicane, "let us stretch ourselves on our
sides; we shall resist the shock better that way. Remember that, when the
projectile starts, it matters little whether we are in it or before it; it
amounts to much the same thing."
"If
it is only `much the same thing,' I may cheer up," said Michel Ardan.
"Do
you approve of my idea, Nicholl?" asked Barbicane.
"Entirely,"
replied the captain. "We've still thirteen minutes and a half."
"That
Nicholl is not a man," exclaimed Michel;
"he is a chronometer with seconds, an escape, and eight holes."
But
his companions were not listening; they were taking up their last positions
with the most perfect coolness. They were like two methodical travelers in a
car, seeking to place themselves as comfortably as possible.
We
might well ask ourselves of what materials are the hearts of these Americans
made, to whom the approach of the most frightful danger added no pulsation.
Three
thick and solidly-made couches had been placed in the projectile. Nicholl and Barbicane placed them
in the center of the disc forming the floor. There the three travelers were to
stretch themselves some moments before their departure.
During
this time, Ardan, not being able to keep still,
turned in his narrow prison like a wild beast in a cage, chatting with his
friends, speaking to the dogs Diana and Satellite, to whom, as may be seen, he
had given significant names.
"Ah, Diana! Ah, Satellite!" he
exclaimed, teasing them; "so you are going to show the moon-dogs the good
habits of the dogs of the earth! That will do honor to the canine race! If ever
we do come down again, I will bring a cross type of `moon-dogs,' which will
make a stir!"
"If
there _are_ dogs in the moon," said Barbicane.
"There
are," said Michel Ardan, "just as there are
horses, cows, donkeys, and chickens. I bet that we shall find chickens."
"A
hundred dollars we shall find none!" said Nicholl.
"Done,
my captain!" replied Ardan, clasping Nicholl's hand. "But, by the bye, you have already
lost three bets with our president, as the necessary funds for the enterprise
have been found, as the operation of casting has been successful, and lastly,
as the Columbiad has been loaded without accident,
six thousand dollars."
"Yes,"
replied Nicholl. "Thirty-seven minutes six
seconds past ten."
"It
is understood, captain. Well, before another quarter of an hour you will have
to count nine thousand dollars to the president; four thousand because the Columbiad will not burst, and five thousand because the
projectile will rise more than six miles in the air."
"I
have the dollars," replied Nicholl, slapping the
pocket of this coat. "I only ask to be allowed to pay."
"Come,
Nicholl. I see that you are a man of method, which I
could never be; but indeed you have made a series of bets of very little
advantage to yourself, allow me to tell you."
"And
why?" asked Nicholl.
"Because,
if you gain the first, the Columbiad will have burst,
and the projectile with it; and Barbicane will no
longer be there to reimburse your dollars."
"My
stake is deposited at the bank in
"Ah,
you practical men!" exclaimed Michel Ardan;
"I admire you the more for not being able to understand you."
"Forty-two
minutes past ten!" said Nicholl.
"Only
five minutes more!" answered Barbicane.
"Yes,
five little minutes!" replied Michel Ardan;
"and we are enclosed in a projectile, at the bottom of a gun 900 feet
long! And under this projectile are rammed 400,000 pounds of gun-cotton, which
is equal to 1,600,000 pounds of ordinary powder! And friend Murchison, with his
chronometer in hand, his eye fixed on the needle, his finger on the electric
apparatus, is counting the seconds preparatory to launching us into
interplanetary space."
"Enough,
Michel, enough!" said Barbicane, in a serious
voice; "let us prepare. A few instants alone separate us from an eventful
moment. One clasp of the hand, my friends."
"Yes,"
exclaimed Michel Ardan, more moved than he wished to
appear; and the three bold companions were united in a last embrace.
"God
preserve us!" said the religious Barbicane.
Michel
Ardan and Nicholl stretched
themselves on the couches placed in the center of the disc.
"Forty-seven
minutes past ten!" murmured the captain.
"Twenty
seconds more!" Barbicane quickly put out the gas
and lay down by his companions, and the profound silence was only broken by the
ticking of the chronometer marking the seconds.
Suddenly
a dreadful shock was felt, and the projectile, under the force of six billions
of litres of gas, developed by the combustion of pyroxyle, mounted into space.
CHAPTER
II
THE
FIRST HALF-HOUR
What
had happened? What effect had this frightful shock produced? Had the ingenuity
of the constructors of the projectile obtained any happy result? Had the shock
been deadened, thanks to the springs, the four plugs, the water-cushions, and
the partition-breaks? Had they been able to subdue the frightful pressure of
the initiatory speed of more than 11,000 yards, which was enough to traverse
Nothing then. The darkness was
profound. But its cylindro- conical partitions had
resisted wonderfully. Not a rent or a dent anywhere! The wonderful projectile
was not even heated under the intense deflagration of the powder, nor
liquefied, as they seemed to fear, in a shower of aluminum.
The
interior showed but little disorder; indeed, only a few objects had been
violently thrown toward the roof; but the most important seemed not to have
suffered from the shock at all; their fixtures were intact.
On
the movable disc, sunk down to the bottom by the smashing of the partition-breaks
and the escape of the water, three bodies lay apparently lifeless. Barbicane, Nicholl, and Michel Ardan-- did they still breathe? or
was the projectile nothing now but a metal coffin, bearing three corpses into
space?
Some
minutes after the departure of the projectile, one of the bodies moved, shook
its arms, lifted its head, and finally succeeded in getting on its knees. It
was Michel Ardan. He felt himself all over, gave a
sonorous "Hem!" and then said:
"Michel
Ardan is whole. How about the others?"
The
courageous Frenchman tried to rise, but could not stand. His head swam, from
the rush of blood; he was blind; he was a drunken man.
"Bur-r!"
said he. "It produces the same effect as two bottles of Corton, though perhaps less agreeable to swallow."
Then, passing his hand several times across his forehead and rubbing his
temples, he called in a firm voice:
"Nicholl! Barbicane!"
He
waited anxiously. No answer; not even a sigh to show that the hearts of his
companions were still beating. He called again. The same
silence.
"The
devil!" he exclaimed. "They look as if they had fallen from a fifth
story on their heads. Bah!" he added, with that imperturbable confidence
which nothing could check, "if a Frenchman can get on his knees, two
Americans ought to be able to get on their feet. But first let us light
up."
Ardan felt the tide of life return by degrees. His
blood became calm, and returned to its accustomed circulation. Another effort
restored his equilibrium. He succeeded in rising, drew a match from his pocket,
and approaching the burner lighted it. The receiver had not suffered at all.
The gas had not escaped. Besides, the smell would have betrayed it; and in that
case Michel Ardan could not have carried a lighted
match with impunity through the space filled with hydrogen. The gas mixing with
the air would have produced a detonating mixture, and the explosion would have
finished what the shock had perhaps begun. When the burner was lit, Ardan leaned over the bodies of his companions: they were lying one on the other, an inert mass, Nicholl
above, Barbicane underneath.
Ardan lifted the captain, propped him up against the
divan, and began to rub vigorously. This means, used with judgment, restored Nicholl, who opened his eyes, and instantly recovering his
presence of mind, seized Ardan's hand and looked
around him.
"And
Barbicane?" said he.
"Each
in turn," replied Michel Ardan. "I began
with you, Nicholl, because you were on the top. Now
let us look to Barbicane." Saying which, Ardan and Nicholl raised the
president of the Gun Club and laid him on the divan. He seemed to have suffered
more than either of his companions; he was bleeding, but Nicholl
was reassured by finding that the hemorrhage came from a slight wound on the
shoulder, a mere graze, which he bound up carefully.
Still,
Barbicane was a long time coming to himself, which
frightened his friends, who did not spare friction.
"He
breathes though," said Nicholl, putting his ear
to the chest of the wounded man.
"Yes,"
replied Ardan, "he breathes like a man who has
some notion of that daily operation. Rub, Nicholl;
let us rub harder." And the two improvised practitioners worked so hard
and so well that Barbicane recovered his senses. He
opened his eyes, sat up, took his two friends by the hands, and his first words
were--
"Nicholl, are we moving?"
Nicholl and Ardan
looked at each other; they had not yet troubled themselves about the
projectile; their first thought had been for the traveler, not for the car.
"Well,
are we really moving?" repeated Michel Ardan.
"Or
quietly resting on the soil of
"Or
at the bottom of the
"What
an idea!" exclaimed the president.
And
this double hypothesis suggested by his companions had the effect of recalling
him to his senses. In any case they could not decide on the position of the
projectile. Its apparent immovability, and the want of communication with the
outside, prevented them from solving the question. Perhaps the projectile was
unwinding its course through space. Perhaps after a short rise it had fallen
upon the earth, or even in the
The
case was serious, the problem interesting, and one that must be solved as soon
as possible. Thus, highly excited, Barbicane's moral
energy triumphed over physical weakness, and he rose to his feet. He listened.
Outside was perfect silence; but the thick padding was enough to intercept all
sounds coming from the earth. But one circumstance struck Barbicane,
viz., that the temperature inside the projectile was singularly high. The
president drew a thermometer from its case and consulted it. The instrument
showed 81@ Fahr.
"Yes,"
he exclaimed, "yes, we are moving! This stifling heat, penetrating through
the partitions of the projectile, is produced by its friction on the
atmospheric strata. It will soon diminish, because we are already floating in
space, and after having nearly stifled, we shall have to suffer intense cold.
"What!"
said Michel Ardan. "According to your showing, Barbicane,
we are already beyond the limits of the terrestrial atmosphere?"
"Without a doubt, Michel. Listen to me. It is
fifty-five minutes past ten; we have been gone about eight minutes; and if our
initiatory speed has not been checked by the friction, six seconds would be
enough for us to pass through the forty miles of atmosphere which surrounds the
globe."
"Just
so," replied Nicholl; "but in what
proportion do you estimate the diminution of speed by friction?"
"In the proportion of one-third, Nicholl. This diminution is considerable, but according
to my calculations it is nothing less. If, then, we had an
initiatory speed of 12,000 yards, on leaving the atmosphere this speed would be
reduced to 9,165 yards. In any case we have already passed through this
interval, and----"
"And
then," said Michel Ardan, "friend Nicholl has lost his two bets: four thousand dollars
because the Columbiad did not burst; five thousand
dollars because the projectile has risen more than six miles. Now, Nicholl, pay up."
"Let
us prove it first," said the captain, "and we will pay afterward. It
is quite possible that Barbicane's reasoning is
correct, and that I have lost my nine thousand dollars. But a new hypothesis
presents itself to my mind, and it annuls the wager."
"What
is that?" asked Barbicane quickly.
"The
hypothesis that, for some reason or other, fire was never set to the powder,
and we have not started at all."
"My
goodness, captain," exclaimed Michel Ardan,
"that hypothesis is not worthy of my brain! It cannot be a serious one.
For have we not been half annihilated by the shock? Did I not recall you to
life? Is not the president's shoulder still bleeding from the blow it has
received?"
"Granted,"
replied Nicholl; "but
one question."
"Well,
captain?"
"Did
you hear the detonation, which certainly ought to be loud?"
"No,"
replied Ardan, much surprised; "certainly I did
not hear the detonation."
"And
you, Barbicane?"
"Nor
I, either."
"Very
well," said Nicholl.
"Well
now," murmured the president "why did we not hear the
detonation?"
The
three friends looked at each other with a disconcerted air. It was quite an
inexplicable phenomenon. The projectile had started, and consequently there must
have been a detonation.
"Let
us first find out where we are," said Barbicane,
"and let down this panel."
This
very simple operation was soon accomplished.
The
nuts which held the bolts to the outer plates of the right-hand scuttle gave
way under the pressure of the English wrench. These bolts were pushed outside,
and the buffers covered with India-rubber stopped up the holes which let them
through. Immediately the outer plate fell back upon its hinges like a porthole,
and the lenticular glass which closed the scuttle
appeared. A similar one was let into the thick partition on the opposite side
of the projectile, another in the top of the dome, and finally a fourth in the
middle of the base. They could, therefore, make observations in four different directions;
the firmament by the side and most direct windows, the earth or the moon by the
upper and under openings in the projectile.
Barbicane and his two companions immediately
rushed to the uncovered window. But it was lit by no ray of light. Profound darkness
surrounded them, which, however, did not prevent the president from exclaiming:
"No,
my friends, we have not fallen back upon the earth; no, nor are we submerged in
the
"Hurrah!
hurrah!" exclaimed Michel Ardan
and Nicholl in one voice.
Indeed,
this thick darkness proved that the projectile had left the earth, for the
soil, brilliantly lit by the moon-beams would have been visible to the
travelers, if they had been lying on its surface. This darkness also showed
that the projectile had passed the atmospheric strata, for the diffused light
spread in the air would have been reflected on the metal walls, which
reflection was wanting. This light would have lit the window, and the window
was dark. Doubt was no longer possible; the travelers had left the earth.
"I
have lost," said Nicholl.
"I
congratulate you," replied Ardan.
"Here
are the nine thousand dollars," said the captain, drawing a roll of paper
dollars from his pocket.
"Will
you have a receipt for it?" asked Barbicane,
taking the sum.
"If
you do not mind," answered Nicholl; "it is
more business-like."
And
coolly and seriously, as if he had been at his strong-box, the president drew
forth his notebook, tore out a blank leaf, wrote a proper receipt in pencil,
dated and signed it with the usual flourish, [1] and gave it to the captain,
who carefully placed it in his pocketbook. Michel Ardan,
taking off his hat, bowed to his two companions without speaking. So much
formality under such circumstances left him speechless. He had never before
seen anything so "American."
[1]
This is a purely French habit.
This
affair settled, Barbicane and Nicholl
had returned to the window, and were watching the constellations. The stars
looked like bright points on the black sky. But from that side they could not
see the orb of night, which, traveling from east to west,
would rise by degrees toward the zenith. Its absence drew the following remark
from Ardan:
"And
the moon; will she perchance fail at our rendezvous?"
"Do
not alarm yourself," said Barbicane;
"our future globe is at its post, but we cannot see her from this side;
let us open the other."
"As
Barbicane was about leaving the window to open the
opposite scuttle, his attention was attracted by the approach of a brilliant
object. It was an enormous disc, whose colossal dimension could not be
estimated. Its face, which was turned to the earth, was very bright. One might
have thought it a small moon reflecting the light of the large one. She
advanced with great speed, and seemed to describe an orbit round the earth,
which would intersect the passage of the projectile. This body revolved upon
its axis, and exhibited the phenomena of all celestial bodies abandoned in
space.
"Ah!"
exclaimed Michel Ardan, "What is that? another projectile?"
Barbicane did not answer. The appearance of this
enormous body surprised and troubled him. A collision was possible, and might
be attended with deplorable results; either the projectile would deviate from
its path, or a shock, breaking its impetus, might precipitate it to earth; or,
lastly, it might be irresistibly drawn away by the powerful asteroid. The
president caught at a glance the consequences of these three hypotheses, either
of which would, one way or the other, bring their experiment to an unsuccessful
and fatal termination. His companions stood silently looking into space. The
object grew rapidly as it approached them, and by an optical illusion the
projectile seemed to be throwing itself before it.
"By
Jove!" exclaimed Michel Ardan, "we shall
run into one another!"
Instinctively
the travelers drew back. Their dread was great, but it did not last many
seconds. The asteroid passed several hundred yards from the projectile and
disappeared, not so much from the rapidity of its course, as that its face
being opposite the moon, it was suddenly merged into
the perfect darkness of space.
"A
happy journey to you," exclaimed Michel Ardan,
with a sigh of relief. "Surely infinity of space is large enough for a
poor little projectile to walk through without fear. Now, what is this
portentous globe which nearly struck us?"
"I
know," replied Barbicane.
"Oh,
indeed! you know everything."
"It
is," said Barbicane, "a simple meteorite,
but an enormous one, which the attraction of the earth has retained as a
satellite."
"Is
it possible!" exclaimed Michel Ardan; "the
earth then has two moons like Neptune?"
"Yes,
my friends, two moons, though it passes generally for having only one; but this
second moon is so small, and its speed so great, that the inhabitants of the
earth cannot see it. It was by noticing disturbances that a French astronomer,
M. Petit, was able to determine the existence of this second satellite and
calculate its elements. According to his observations, this meteorite will
accomplish its revolution around the earth in three hours and twenty minutes,
which implies a wonderful rate of speed."
"Do
all astronomers admit the existence of this satellite?" asked Nicholl.
"No,"
replied Barbicane; "but if, like us, they had
met it, they could no longer doubt it. Indeed, I think that this meteorite,
which, had it struck the projectile, would have much embarrassed us, will give
us the means of deciding what our position in space is."
"How?"
said Ardan.
"Because
its distance is known, and when we met it, we were exactly four thousand six
hundred and fifty miles from the surface of the terrestrial globe."
"More
than two thousand French leagues," exclaimed Michel Ardan.
"That beats the express trains of the pitiful globe called the
earth."
"I
should think so," replied Nicholl, consulting
his chronometer; "it is eleven o'clock, and it is only thirteen minutes
since we left the American continent."
"Only
thirteen minutes?" said Barbicane.
"Yes,"
said Nicholl; "and if our initiatory speed of
twelve thousand yards has been kept up, we shall have made about twenty
thousand miles in the hour."
"That
is all very well, my friends," said the president, "but the insoluble
question still remains. Why did we not hear the detonation of the Columbiad?"
For
want of an answer the conversation dropped, and Barbicane
began thoughtfully to let down the shutter of the second side. He succeeded;
and through the uncovered glass the moon filled the projectile with a brilliant
light. Nicholl, as an economical man, put out the
gas, now useless, and whose brilliancy prevented any observation of the
inter-planetary space.
The
lunar disc shone with wonderful purity. Her rays, no longer filtered through
the vapory atmosphere of the terrestrial globe, shone through the glass,
filling the air in the interior of the projectile with silvery reflections. The
black curtain of the firmament in reality heightened the moon's brilliancy,
which in this void of ether unfavorable to diffusion did not eclipse the
neighboring stars. The heavens, thus seen, presented quite a new aspect, and
one which the human eye could never dream of. One may conceive the interest with
which these bold men watched the orb of night, the great aim of their journey.
In
its motion the earth's satellite was insensibly nearing the zenith, the
mathematical point which it ought to attain ninety-six hours later. Her
mountains, her plains, every projection was as clearly discernible to their
eyes as if they were observing it from some spot upon the earth; but its light
was developed through space with wonderful intensity. The disc shone like a
platinum mirror. Of the earth flying from under their feet, the travelers had
lost all recollection.
It
was captain Nicholl who first recalled their
attention to the vanishing globe.
"Yes,"
said Michel Ardan, "do not let us be ungrateful
to it. Since we are leaving our country, let our last looks be directed to it.
I wish to see the earth once more before it is quite hidden from my eyes."
To
satisfy his companions, Barbicane began to uncover
the window at the bottom of the projectile, which would allow them to observe
the earth direct. The disc, which the force of the projection had beaten down
to the base, was removed, not without difficulty. Its fragments, placed
carefully against a wall, might serve again upon occasion. Then a circular gap
appeared, nineteen inches in diameter, hollowed out of the lower part of the
projectile. A glass cover, six inches thick and strengthened with upper
fastenings, closed it tightly. Beneath was fixed an aluminum plate, held in
place by bolts. The screws being undone, and the bolts
let go, the plate fell down, and visible communication was established between
the interior and the exterior.
Michel
Ardan knelt by the glass. It was cloudy, seemingly
opaque.
"Well!"
he exclaimed, "and the earth?"
"The
earth?" said Barbicane. "There it is."
"What!
that little thread; that silver crescent?"
"Doubtless, Michel. In four days, when the
moon will be full, at the very time we shall reach it, the earth will be new,
and will only appear to us as a slender crescent which will soon disappear, and
for some days will be enveloped in utter darkness."
"That
the earth?" repeated Michel Ardan, looking with
all his eyes at the thin slip of his native planet.
The
explanation given by President Barbicane was correct.
The earth, with respect to the projectile, was entering its last phase. It was
in its octant, and showed a crescent finely traced on the dark background of
the sky. Its light, rendered bluish by the thick strata of the atmosphere was
less intense than that of the crescent moon, but it was of considerable
dimensions, and looked like an enormous arch stretched across the firmament.
Some parts brilliantly lighted, especially on its concave part, showed the
presence of high mountains, often disappearing behind thick spots, which are
never seen on the lunar disc. They were rings of clouds placed concentrically
round the terrestrial globe.
While
the travelers were trying to pierce the profound darkness, a brilliant cluster
of shooting stars burst upon their eyes. Hundreds of meteorites, ignited by the
friction of the atmosphere, irradiated the shadow of the luminous train, and
lined the cloudy parts of the disc with their fire. At this period the earth
was in its perihelion, and the month of December is so propitious to these
shooting stars, that astronomers have counted as many as twenty-four thousand
in an hour. But Michel Ardan, disdaining scientific reasonings, preferred thinking that the earth was thus
saluting the departure of her three children with her most brilliant fireworks.
Indeed
this was all they saw of the globe lost in the solar world, rising and setting
to the great planets like a simple morning or evening star! This globe, where
they had left all their affections, was nothing more than a fugitive crescent!
Long
did the three friends look without speaking, though united in heart, while the
projectile sped onward with an ever-decreasing speed.
Then an irresistible drowsiness crept over their brain. Was it weariness of
body and mind? No doubt; for after the over-excitement of those last hours
passed upon earth, reaction was inevitable.
"Well,"
said Nicholl, "since we must sleep, let us
sleep."
And
stretching themselves on their couches, they were all three soon in a profound
slumber.
But
they had not forgotten themselves more than a quarter of an hour, when Barbicane sat up suddenly, and rousing his companions with
a loud voice, exclaimed----
"I
have found it!"
"What
have you found?" asked Michel Ardan, jumping
from his bed.
"The reason why we did not hear the
detonation of the Columbiad."
"And
it is----?" said Nicholl.
"Because our projectile traveled faster
than the sound!"