transcriber's note: this etext was produced from amazing stories april-may 1953. extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed. turnover point by alfred coppel illustrator: emsh _every era in history has had its pop ganlon's. along in years and not successful and not caring much anyway. a matter of living out their years, following an obscure path to oblivion._ _it was that way in ancient egypt, just as it will be when the solar system shrinks to our size. and once in a while such men are given an opportunity to contribute to the society that has forgotten them...._ * * * * * pop ganlon was no hero--he was only a spaceman. a spaceman and a father. in fact, pop was rather no-account, even in a profession that abounded with drifters. he had made a meagre living prospecting asteroids and hauling light freight and an occasional passenger out in the belt region. coffee and cakes, nothing more. not many people knew pop had a son in the patrol, and even fewer knew it when the boy was blasted to a cinder in a back alley in lower marsport. pop went on eating and breathing, but his life was over after that. he hit the bottle a little harder and his ship, _the luck_, grew rustier and tackier, and those were the only outward signs that pop ganlon was a living dead man. he kept on grubbing among the cold rocks and pushing _the luck_ from marsport to callisto and back with whatever low-mass payloads he could pick up. he might have lived out his string of years like that, obscure and alone, if it hadn't been for john kane. kane was pop ganlon's ticket to a sort of personal immortality--if there is such a thing for an old spaceman. it was in yakki, down-canal from marsport, that kane found pop. there is a small spaceport there--a boneyard, really--for buckets whose skippers can't pay the heavy tariff imposed by the big ramp. all the wrecks nest there while waiting hopefully for a payload or a grubstake. they have all of solis lacus for a landing field, and if they spill it doesn't matter much. the drifting red sands soon cover up the scattered shards of dural and the slow, lonely life of yakki goes on like before. the patrol was on kane's trail and the blaster in his hand was still warm when he shoved it up against pop ganlon's ribs and made his proposition. he wanted to get off mars--out to callisto. to blackwater, to ley's landing, it didn't matter too much. just off mars, and quickly. his eyes had a metallic glitter and his hand was rock-steady. pop knew he meant what he said when he told him life was cheap. someone else's life, not kane's. * * * * * that's how it happened that _the luck_ lifted that night from yakki, outward bound for ley's landing, with pop and kane aboard her alone. sitting at the battered console of _the luck_, pop watched his passenger. he knew kane, of course. or rather, he knew of him. a killer. the kind that thrives and grows fat on the frontiers. the bulky frame, the cropped black hair, the predatory eyes that looked like two blaster muzzles. they were all familiar to pop. kane was all steel and meanness. the kind of carrion bird that took what others had worked for. not big time, you understand. in another age he'd have been a torpedo--a hireling killer. but out among the stars he was working for himself. and doing well. pop didn't care. his loyalty to the patrol had stopped quite suddenly not long before--in a dark alley in lower marsport. this was only a job, he told himself now. a job for coffee and cakes, and maybe a grubstake to work a few more lonely rocks. life had become a habit for pop, even if living had ended. "what are you staring at, pop?" kane's voice was like the rest of him. harsh and cold as space itself. "at you, i guess," pop said, "i was wondering what you'd done--and where--and to whom." "you're a nosey old man," kane said. "just get me to ley's landing. that's what i'm paying for, not a thing more." pop nodded slowly and turned back to the control board. they were above the belt by now, and a few short hours from turnover point. the cranky drives of _the luck_ needed all his attention. presently he said, "we'll be turning over soon. want to get some rest?" kane laughed. "no thanks, old man. i'll stay here and watch you." pop eyed the ready blaster and nodded again. he wondered vaguely how it would feel to die under the blast of such a weapon. it couldn't be very painful. he hoped it wasn't painful. perhaps the boy hadn't suffered. it would be nice to be sure, he thought. there wasn't much for pop to remember about the boy. he'd never been one for writing many letters. but the district patrolman had come down to yakki and looked pop up--afterward. he'd said the boy was a good officer. a good cop. died doing his job, and all that sort of thing. pop swallowed hard. his job. what had 'his job' been that night in lower marsport, he wondered. had someone else finished it for him? he remembered about that time hearing on the mars radio that a triangle post office had been knocked over by a gunman. that might have been it. the patrol would be after anyone knocking over emv triangle property. the earth-mars-venus government supported the patrol for things like that. pop guided _the luck_ skillfully above the belt, avoiding with practiced ease the few errant chunks of rock that hurtled up out of the swarms. he talked to kane because he was starved for talk--certainly not because he was trying to play sherlock. pop had long ago realized that he was no mental giant. besides, he owed the patrol nothing. not a damned thing. "made this trip often?" pop tried to strike up a conversation with kane. his long loneliness seemed sharper, somehow, more poignant, when he actually had someone to talk to. "not often. i'm no space pig." it was said with scorn. "there's a lot to spacing, you know," pop urged. kane shrugged. "i know easier ways to make a buck, old timer." "like how?" "a nosey old man, like i said," kane smiled. somehow, the smile wasn't friendly. "okay, pop, since you ask. like knocking off wacky old prospectors for their dust. or sticking up sandcar caravans out in syrtis. who's the wiser? the red dust takes care of the leftovers." pop shook his head. "not for me. there's the patrol to think of." kane laughed. "punks. bell-boys. they'd better learn to shoot before they leave their school-books." pop ganlon frowned slightly. "you talk big, mister." kane's eyes took on that metallic glitter again. he leaned forward and threw a canvas packet on the console. it spilled crisp new emv certificates. large ones. "i take big, too," he said. pop stared. not at the money. it was more than he had ever seen in one pile before, but it wasn't that that shook him. it was the canvas packet. it was marked: _postal service, emv_. pop suddenly felt cold, as though an icy wind had touched him. "you ... you killed a patrolman for this," he said slowly. "that's right, pop," grinned kane easily. "burned him down in an alley in lower marsport. it was like taking candy from a baby...." pop ganlon swallowed hard. "like taking candy from a ... baby. as easy as that...." "as easy as that, old man," kane said. * * * * * pop knew he was going to die then. he knew kane would blast him right after turnover point, and he knew fear. he felt something else, too. something that was new to him. hate. an icy hate that left him shaken and weak. so the boy's job hadn't been finished. it was still to do. there was no use in dreaming of killing kane. pop was old. kane was young--and a killer. pop was alone and without weapons--save _the luck_.... time passed slowly. outside, the night of deep space keened soundlessly. the stars burned bright, alien and strange. it was time, thought pop bleakly. time to turn _the luck_. "turnover point," he said softly. kane motioned with his blaster. "get at it." pop began winding the flywheel. it made a whirring sound in the confined space of the tiny control room. outside, the night began to pivot slowly. "we have to turn end-for-end," pop said. "that way we can decelerate on the drop into callisto. but, of course, you know all about that, mr. kane." "i told you i'm no space pig," kane said brusquely. "i can handle a landing and maybe a takeoff, but the rest of it i leave for the boatmen. like you, pop." pop spun the flywheel in silence, listening to the soft whir. presently, he let the wheel slow and then stop. he straightened and looked up at kane. the blaster muzzle was six inches from his belly. he swallowed against the dryness in his throat. "you ... you're going to kill me," pop said. it wasn't a question. kane smiled, showing white teeth. "i ... i know you are," pop said unsteadily. "but first, i want to say something to you." "talk, old timer," kane said. "but not too much." "that boy--that boy you killed in marsport. he was my son," pop said. kane's face did not change expression. "okay. so what?" pop's lips twitched. "i just wanted to hear you say it." he looked at the impassive face of the killer. "you made a mistake, mr. kane. you shouldn't have done that to my boy." "is that all?" pop nodded slowly. "i guess that's all." kane grinned. "afraid, old man?" "i'm a space pig," pop said. "space takes care of its own." "you're in a bad way, old timer," kane said, "and you haven't much sense. i'm doing you a favor." pop lifted his hands in an instinctive gesture of futile protection as the blaster erupted flame. there was a smell in the control room like burnt meat as kane holstered his weapon and turned the old man over with a foot. pop was a blackened mass. kane dragged him to the valve and jettisoned the body into space. * * * * * alone among the stars, _the luck_ moved across the velvet night. the steady beat of flame from her tubes was a tiny spark of man-made vengeance on the face of the deeps. from her turnover point, she drove outward toward the spinning jovian moons. for a short while she could be seen from the emv observatory on callisto, but very soon she faded into the outer darkness. much later, the observatory at land's end on triton watched her heading past the gibbous mass of pluto--out into the interstellar fastnesses. the thrumming of the jets was still at last. a wild-eyed thing that may once have been a man stared in horror at the fading light of the yellow star far astern. it had taken kane time to understand what had happened to him, and now it was too late. space had taken care of its own. the air in _the luck_ was growing foul and the food was gone. death hung in the fetid atmosphere of the tiny control room. the old man--the boy--the money. they all seemed to spin in a narrowing circle. kane wanted suddenly to shriek with laughter. a circle. the turnover circle. the full circle that the old man had made instead of the proper half-turn of a turnover. three hundred sixty degrees instead of one hundred eighty. three hundred sixty degrees to leave the nose of _the luck_ pointing outward toward the stars, instead of properly toward the sun. a full circle to pile g on g until the jovian moons were missed, and the uranian moons and triton, too. _ad astra per ardua...._ with the last fragment of his failing sanity, kane thought of how pop ganlon and the boy must be laughing. he was still thinking that as the long night closed in around him. * * * * * transcriber's note: this etext was produced from space science fiction july 1953. extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed. let'em breathe space! by lester del rey illustrated by eberle eighteen men and two women in the closed world of a space ship for five months can only spell tension and trouble--but in this case, the atmosphere was _literally_ poisoned. [illustration] * * * * * five months out from earth, we were half-way to saturn and three-quarters of the way to murder. at least, i was. i was sick of the feuding, the worries and the pettiness of the other nineteen aboard. my stomach heaved at the bad food, the eternal smell of people, and the constant sound of nagging and complaints. for ten lead pennies, i'd have gotten out into space and tried walking back to earth. sometimes i thought about doing it without the pennies. but i knew i wasn't that tough, in spite of what i looked. i'd been built to play fullback, and my questionable brunet beauty had been roughed up by the explosion years before as thoroughly as dock fighting on all the planets could have done. but sometimes i figured all that meant was that there was more of me to hurt, and that i'd had more experience screaming when the anodyne ran out. anyhow, whole-wheat pancakes made with sourdough for the ninth "morning" running was too damned much! i felt my stomach heave over again, took one whiff of the imitation maple syrup, and shoved the mess back fast while i got up faster. * * * * * it was a mistake. phil riggs, our scrawny, half-pint meteorologist, grinned nastily and reached for the plate. "'smatter, paul? don't you like your breakfast? it's good for you--whole wheat contains bran. the staff of life. man, after that diet of bleached paste...." * * * * * there's one guy like that in every bunch. the cook was mad at us for griping about his coffee, so our group of scientists on this cockeyed saturn expedition were getting whole wheat flour as punishment, while captain muller probably sat in his cabin chuckling about it. in our agreement, there was a clause that we could go over muller's head on such things with a unanimous petition--but riggs had spiked that. the idiot liked bran in his flour, even for pancakes! or else he was putting on a good act for the fun of watching the rest of us suffer. "you can take your damned whole wheat and stuff it--" i started. then i shrugged and dropped it. there were enough feuds going on aboard the cranky old _wahoo_! "seen jenny this morning, phil?" he studied me insolently. "she told doc napier she had some stuff growing in hydroponics she wanted to look at. you're wasting your time on that babe, boy!" "thanks for nothing," i muttered at him, and got out before i really decided on murder. jenny sanderson was our expedition biologist. a natural golden blonde, just chin-high on me, and cute enough to earn her way through a ph. d. doing modelling. she had a laugh that would melt a brass statue and which she used too much on doc napier, on our chief, and even on grumpy old captain muller--but sometimes she used it on me, when she wanted something. and i never did have much use for a girl who was the strong independent type where there was a man to do the dirty work, so that was okay. i suppose it was natural, with only two women among eighteen men for month after month, but right then i probably liked doc napier less than the captain, even. i pulled myself away from the corridor to hydroponics, started for observation, and then went on into the cubbyhole they gave me for a cabin. on the _wahoo_, all a man could do was sleep or sit around and think about murder. well, i had nobody to blame but myself. i'd asked for the job when i first heard dr. pietro had collected funds and priorities for a trip to study saturn's rings at close hand. and because i'd done some technical work for him on the moon, he figured he might as well take me as any other good all-around mechanic and technician. he hadn't asked me, though--that had been my own stupid idea. paul tremaine, self-cure expert! i'd picked up a nice phobia against space when the super-liner _lauri ellu_ cracked up with four hundred passengers on my first watch as second engineer. i'd gotten free and into a suit, but after they rescued me, it had taken two years on the moon before i could get up nerve for the shuttle back to earth. and after eight years home, i should have let well enough alone. if i'd known anything about pietro's expedition, i'd have wrapped myself in my phobia and loved it. but i didn't know then that he'd done well with priorities and only fair with funds. the best he could afford was the rental of the old earth-mars-venus triangle freighter. naturally, when the _wahoo's_ crew heard they were slated for what would be at least three years off earth without fancy bonus rates, they quit. since nobody else would sign on, pietro had used his priorities to get an injunction that forced them back aboard. he'd stuffed extra oxygen, water, food and fertilizer on top of her regular supplies, then, filled her holds with some top level fuel he'd gotten from a government assist, and set out. and by the time i found out about it, my own contract was iron-bound, and i was stuck. as an astrophysicist, pietro was probably tops. as a man to run the lunar observatory, he was a fine executive. but as a man to head up an expedition into deep space, somebody should have given him back his teething ring. not that the _wahoo_ couldn't make the trip with the new fuel; she'd been one of the early survey ships before they turned her into a freighter. but she was meant for a crew of maybe six, on trips of a couple of months. there were no game rooms, no lounges, no bar or library--nothing but what had to be. the only thing left for most of us aboard was to develop our hatreds of the petty faults of the others. even with a homogeneous and willing crew, it was a perfect set-up for cabin fever, and we were as heterogeneous as they came. naturally the crew hated the science boys after being impressed into duty, and also took it out on the officers. the officers felt the same about both other groups. and the scientists hated the officers and crew for all the inconveniences of the old _wahoo_. me? i was in no-man's land--technically in the science group, but without a pure science degree; i had an officer's feelings left over from graduating as an engineer on the ships; and i looked like a crewman. it cured my phobia, all right. after the first month out, i was too disgusted to go into a fear funk. but i found out it didn't help a bit to like space again and know i'd stay washed up as a spaceman. * * * * * we'd been jinxed from the start. two months out, the whole crew of scientists came down with something doc napier finally diagnosed as food poisoning; maybe he was right, since our group ate in our own mess hall, and the crew and officers who didn't eat with us didn't get it. our astronomer, bill sanderson, almost died. i'd been lucky, but then i never did react to things much. there were a lot of other small troubles, but the next major trick had been fumes from the nuclear generators getting up into our quarters--it was always our group that had the trouble. if eve nolan hadn't been puttering with some of her trick films at the time--she and walt harris had the so-called night shift--and seen them blacken, we'd have been dead before they discovered it. and it took us two weeks of bunking with the sullen crew and decontamination before we could pick up life again. engineer wilcox had been decent about helping with it, blaming himself. but it had been a mess. naturally, there were dark hints that someone was trying to get us; but i couldn't see any crewman wiping us out just to return to earth, where our contract, with its completion clause, would mean he wouldn't have a dime coming to him. anyhow, the way things were going, we'd all go berserk before we reached saturn. the lunch gong sounded, but i let it ring. bullard would be serving us whole wheat biscuits and soup made out of beans he'd let soak until they turned sour. i couldn't take any more of that junk, the way i felt then. i heard some of the men going down the corridor, followed by a confused rumble of voices. then somebody let out a yell. "hey, _rooob_!" that meant something. the old yell spacemen had picked up from carney people to rally their kind around against the foe. and i had a good idea of who was the foe. i heard the yell bounce down the passage again, and the slam of answering feet. then the gravity field went off. or rather, was cut off. we may have missed the boat in getting anti-gravity, if there is such a thing, but our artificial gravity is darned near foolproof. it was ten years since i'd moved in free fall, but space tech had done a good job of training good habits. i got out of my bunk, hit the corridor with a hand out, bounced, kicked, and dove toward the mess hall without a falter. the crewmen weren't doing so well--but they were coming up the corridor fast enough. i could have wrung muller's neck. normally, in case of trouble, cutting gravity is smart. but not here, where the crew already wanted a chance to commit mayhem, and had more experience than the scientists. yet, surprisingly, when i hit the mess hall ten feet ahead of the deckhands, most of the scientists were doing all right. hell, i should have known pietro, sanderson and a couple others would be used to no-grav; in astronomical work, you cut your eye teeth on that. they were braced around the cook, who huddled back in a corner, while our purser-steward, sam, was still singing for help. the fat face of the cook was dead white. bill sanderson, looking like a slim, blond ballet dancer and muscled like an apache expert, had him in one hand and was stuffing the latest batch of whole wheat biscuits down his throat. bill's sister, jenny, was giggling excitedly and holding more biscuits. the deckhands and grundy, the mate, were almost at the door, and i had just time enough to slam it shut and lock it in their faces. i meant to enjoy seeing the cook taken down without any interruption. sam let out a final yell, and bullard broke free, making a mess of it without weight. he was sputtering out bits of the biscuit. hal lomax reached out a big hand, stained with the chemicals that had been his life's work, and pushed the cook back. and suddenly fat little bullard switched from quaking fear to a blind rage. the last of the biscuit sailed from his mouth and he spat at hal. "you damned hi-faluting black devil. you--_you_ sneering at my cooking. i'm a white man, i am--i don't have to work for no black ni...." * * * * * i reached him first, though even sam started for him then. you can deliver a good blow in free-fall, if you know how. his teeth against my knuckles stopped my leap, and the back of his head bounced off the wall. he was unconscious as he drifted by us, moving upwards. my knuckles stung, but it had been worth it. anyhow, jenny's look more than paid for the trouble. the door shattered then, and the big hulk of mate grundy tumbled in, with the two deckhands and the pair from the engine room behind him. sam let out a yell that sounded like protest, and they headed for us--just as gravity came on. i pulled myself off the floor and out from under bullard to see the stout, oldish figure of captain muller standing in the doorway, with engineer wilcox slouched easily beside him, looking like the typical natty space officer you see on television. both held gas guns. "all right, break it up!" muller ordered. "you men get back to your work. and you, dr. pietro--my contract calls for me to deliver you to saturn's moon, but it doesn't forbid me to haul you the rest of the way in irons. i won't have this aboard my ship!" pietro nodded, his little gray goatee bobbing, his lean body coming upright smoothly. "quite right, captain. nor does it forbid me to let you and your men spend the sixteen months on the moon--where _i_ command--in irons. why don't you ask sam what happened before you make a complete fool of yourself, captain muller?" sam gulped and looked at the crew, but apparently pietro was right; the little guy had been completely disgusted by bullard. he shrugged apologetically. "bullard insulted dr. lomax, sir. i yelled for someone to help me get him out of here, and i guess everybody got all mixed up when gravity went off, and bullard cracked his head on the floor. just a misunderstanding, sir." muller stood there, glowering at the cut on my knuckles, and i could feel him aching for a good excuse to make his threat a reality. but finally, he grunted and swung on his heel, ordering the crew with him. grundy threw us a final grimace and skulked off behind him. finally there was only wilcox, who grinned, shrugged, and shut the door quietly behind him. and we were left with the mess free-fall had made of the place. i spotted jenny heading across the room, carefully not seeing the fatuous glances pietro was throwing her way, and i swung in behind. she nodded back at me, but headed straight for lomax, with an odd look on her face. when she reached him, her voice was low and businesslike. "hal, what did those samples of hendrix's show up?" hendrix was the farmer, in charge of the hydroponics that turned the carbon dioxide we breathed out back to oxygen, and also gave us a bit of fresh vegetables now and then. technically, he was a crewman, just as i was a scientist; but actually, he felt more like one of us. lomax looked surprised. "what samples, jenny? i haven't seen hendrix for two weeks." "you--" she stopped, bit her lip, and frowned. she swung on me. "paul, have you seen him?" i shook my head. "not since last night. he was asking eve and walt to wake him up early, then." "that's funny. he was worried about the plants yesterday and wanted hal to test the water and chemical fertilizer. i looked for him this morning, but when he didn't show up, i thought he was with you, hal. and--the plants are dying!" "all of them?" the half smile wiped off hal's face, and i could feel my stomach hit my insteps. when anything happens to the plants in a ship, it isn't funny. she shook her head again. "no--about a quarter of them. i was coming for help when the fight started. they're all bleached out. and it looks like--like chromazone!" that really hit me. they developed the stuff to fight off fungus on venus, where one part in a billion did the trick. but it was tricky stuff; one part in ten-million would destroy the chlorophyll in plants in about twenty hours, or the hemoglobin in blood in about fifteen minutes. it was practically a universal poison. hal started for the door, then stopped. he glanced around the room, turned back to me, and suddenly let out a healthy bellow of seeming amusement. jenny's laugh was right in harmony. i caught the drift, and tried to look as if we were up to some monkey business as we slipped out of the room. nobody seemed suspicious. then we made a dash for hydroponics, toward the rear of the ship. we scrambled into the big chamber together, and stopped. everything looked normal among the rows of plant-filled tanks, pipes and equipment. jenny led us down one of the rows and around a bend. the plants in the rear quarter weren't sick--they were dead. they were bleached to a pale yellow, like boiled grass, and limp. nothing would save them now. "i'm a biologist, not a botanist--" jenny began. hal grunted sickly. "yeah. and i'm not a life hormone expert. but there's one test we can try." he picked up a pair of rubber gloves from a rack, and pulled off some wilted stalks. from one of the healthy tanks, he took green leaves. he mashed the two kinds together on the edge of a bench and watched. "if it's chromazone, they've developed an enzyme by now that should eat the color out of those others." * * * * * in about ten seconds, i noticed the change. the green began to bleach before my eyes. jenny made a sick sound in her throat and stared at the rows of healthy plants. "i checked the valves, and this sick section is isolated. but--if chromazone got into the chemicals.... better get your spectroanalyzer out, hal, while i get captain muller. paul, be a dear and find hendrix, will you?" i shook my head, and went further down the rows. "no need, jenny," i called back. i pointed to the shoe i'd seen sticking out from the edge of one of the tanks. there was a leg attached. i reached for it, but lomax shoved me back. "don't--the enzymes in the corpse are worse than the poison, paul. hands off." he reached down with the gloves and heaved. it was hendrix, all right--a corpse with a face and hands as white as human flesh could ever get. even the lips were bleached out. jenny moaned. "the fool! the stupid fool. he _knew_ it was dangerous without gloves; he suspected chromazone, even though none's supposed to be on board. and i warned him . . ." "not against this, you didn't," i told her. i dropped to my knees and took another pair of gloves. hendrix's head rolled under my grasp. the skull was smashed over the left eye, as if someone had taken a sideswipe at hendrix with a hammer. no fall had produced that. "you should have warned him about his friends. must have been killed, then dumped in there." "murder!" hal bit the word out in disgust. "you're right, paul. not too stupid a way to dispose of the body, either--in another couple of hours, he'd have started dissolving in that stuff, and we'd never have guessed it was murder. that means this poisoning of the plants wasn't an accident. somebody poisoned the water, then got worried when there wasn't a report on the plants; must have been someone who thought it worked faster on plants than it does. so he came to investigate, and hendrix caught him fooling around. so he got killed." "but who?" jenny asked. i shrugged sickly. "somebody crazy enough--or desperate enough to turn back that he'll risk our air and commit murder. you'd better go after the captain while hal gets his test equipment. i'll keep watch here." it didn't feel good in hydroponics after they left. i looked at those dead plants, trying to figure whether there were enough left to keep us going. i studied hendrix's body, trying to tell myself the murderer had no reason to come back and try to get me. i reached for a cigarette, and then put the pack back. the air felt almost as close as the back of my neck felt tense and unprotected. and telling myself it was all imagination didn't help--not with what was in that chamber to keep me company. ii muller's face was like an iceberg when he came down--but only after he saw hendrix. before then i'd caught the fat moon-calf expression on his face, and i'd heard jenny giggling. damn it, they'd taken enough time. hal was already back, fussing over things with the hunk of tin and lenses he treated like a newborn baby. doc napier came in behind them, but separately. i saw him glance at them and look sick. then both muller and napier began concentrating on business. napier bent his nervous, bony figure over the corpse, and stood up almost at once. "murder all right." "so i guessed, dr. napier," muller growled heavily at him. "wrap him up and put him between hulls to freeze. we'll bury him when we land. tremaine, give a hand with it, will you?" "i'm not a laborer, captain muller!" napier protested. i started to tell him where he could get off, too. but jenny shook her head at us. "please. can't you see captain muller is trying to keep too many from knowing about this? i should think you'd be glad to help. please?" put that way, i guess it made sense. we found some rubber sheeting in one of the lockers, and began wrapping hendrix in it; it wasn't pleasant, since he was beginning to soften up from the enzymes he'd absorbed. "how about going ahead to make sure no one sees us?" i suggested to jenny. muller opened his mouth, but jenny gave one of her quick little laughs and opened the door for us. doc looked relieved. i guessed he was trying to kid himself. personally, i wasn't a fool--i was just hooked; i knew perfectly well she was busy playing us off against one another, and probably having a good time balancing the books. but hell, that's the way life runs. "get pietro up here!" muller fired after us. she laughed again, and nodded. she went with us until we got to the 'tween-hulls lock, then went off after the chief. she was back with him just as we finished stuffing hendrix through and sealing up again. muller grunted at us when we got back, then turned to lomax again. the big chemist didn't look happy. he spread his hands toward us, and hunched his shoulders. "a fifty-times over-dose of chromazone in those tanks--fortunately none in the others. and i can't find a trace of it in the fertilizer chemicals or anywhere else. somebody deliberately put it into those tanks." "why?" pietro asked. we'd filled him in with the rough details, but it still made no sense to him. "suppose you tell me, dr. pietro," muller suggested. "chromazone is a poison most people never heard of. one of the new _scientific_ nuisances." pietro straightened, and his goatee bristled. "if you're hinting . . ." "i am _not_ hinting, dr. pietro. i'm telling you that i'm confining your group to their quarters until we can clean up this mess, distil the water that's contaminated, and replant. after that, if an investigation shows nothing, i _may_ take your personal bond for the conduct of your people. right now i'm protecting my ship." "but captain--" jenny began. muller managed a smile at her. "oh, not you, of course, jenny. i'll need you here. with hendrix gone, you're the closest thing we have to a farmer now." * * * * * "captain muller," pietro said sharply. "captain, in the words of the historical novelists--drop dead! dr. sanderson, i forbid you to leave your quarters so long as anyone else is confined to his. i have ample authority for that." "under emergency powers--" muller spluttered over it, and pietro jumped in again before he could finish. "precisely, captain. under emergency situations, when passengers aboard a commercial vessel find indications of total irresponsibility or incipient insanity on the part of a ship's officer, they are considered correct in assuming command for the time needed to protect their lives. we were poisoned by food prepared in your kitchen, and were nearly killed by radioactivity through a leak in the engine-room--and no investigation was made. we are now confronted with another situation aimed against our welfare--as the others were wholly aimed at us--and you choose to conduct an investigation against our group only. my only conclusion is that you wish to confine us to quarters so we cannot find your motives for this last outrage. paul, will you kindly relieve the captain of his position?" they were both half right, and mostly wrong. until it was proved that our group was guilty, muller couldn't issue an order that was obviously discriminatory and against our personal safety in case there was an attack directed on us. he'd be mustered out of space and into the lunar cells for that. but on the other hand, the "safety for passengers" clause pietro was citing applied only in the case of overt, direct and physical danger by an officer to normal passengers. he might be able to weasel it through a court, or he might be found guilty of mutiny. it left me in a pretty position. jenny fluttered around. "now, now--" she began. i cut her off. "shut up, jenny. and you two damned fools cool down. damn it, we've got an emergency here all right--we may not have air plants enough to live on. pietro, we can't run the ship--and neither can muller get through what's obviously a mess that may call for all our help by confining us. why don't you two go off and fight it out in person?" [illustration] surprisingly, pietro laughed. "i'm afraid i'd put up a poor showing against the captain, paul. my apologies, captain muller." muller hesitated, but finally took pietro's hand, and dropped the issue. "we've got enough plants," he said, changing the subject. "we'll have to cut out all smoking and other waste of air. and i'll need jenny to work the hydroponics, with any help she requires. we've got to get more seeds planted, and fast. better keep word of this to ourselves. we--" a shriek came from jenny then. she'd been busy at one of the lockers in the chamber. now she began ripping others open and pawing through things inside rubber-gloves. "captain muller! the seeds! the seeds!" hal took one look, and his face turned gray. * * * * * "chromazone," he reported. "every bag of seed has been filled with a solution of chromazone! they're worthless!" "how long before the plants here will seed?" muller asked sharply. "three months," jenny answered. "captain muller, what are we going to do?" the dour face settled into grim determination. "the only sensible thing. take care of these plants, conserve the air, and squeeze by until we can reseed. and, dr. pietro, with your permission, we'll turn about for earth at once. we can't go on like this. to proceed would be to endanger the life of every man aboard." "please, danton." jenny put her hand on pietro's arm. "i know what this all means to you, but--" pietro shook her off. "it means the captain's trying to get out of the expedition, again. it's five months back to earth--more, by the time we kill velocity. it's the same to saturn. and either way, in five months we've got this fixed up, or we're helpless. permission to return refused, captain muller." "then if you'll be so good as to return to your own quarters," muller said, holding himself back with an effort that turned his face red, "we'll start clearing this up. and not a word of this." napier, lomax, pietro and i went back to the scientists' quarters, leaving muller and jenny conferring busily. that was at fifteen o'clock. at sixteen o'clock, pietro issued orders against smoking. dinner was at eighteen o'clock. we sat down in silence. i reached for my plate without looking. and suddenly little phil riggs was on his feet, raving. "whole wheat! nothing but whole wheat bread! i'm sick of it--sick! i won't--" "sit down!" i told him. i'd bitten into one of the rolls on the table. it was white bread, and it was the best the cook had managed so far. there was corn instead of baked beans, and he'd done a fair job of making meat loaf. "stop making a fool of yourself, phil." he slumped back, staring at the white bun into which he'd bitten. "sorry. sorry. it's this air--so stuffy. i can't breathe. i can't see right--" pietro and i exchanged glances, but i guess we weren't surprised. among intelligent people on a ship of that size, secrets wouldn't keep. they'd all put bits together and got part of the answer. pietro shrugged, and half stood up to make an announcement. * * * * * "beg pardon, sirs." we jerked our heads around to see bullard standing in the doorway. he was scared stiff, and his words got stuck in his throat. then he found his voice again. "i heard as how hendrix went crazy and poisoned the plants and went and killed himself and we'll all die if we don't find some trick, and what i want to know, please, sirs, is are what they're saying right and you know all kinds of tricks and can you save us because i can't go on like this not knowing and hearing them talking outside the galley and none of them telling me--" lomax cut into his flood of words. "you'll live, bullard. farmer hendrix did get killed in an accident to some of the plants, but we've still got air enough. captain muller has asked the help of a few of us, but it's only a temporary emergency." bullard stared at him, and slowly some of the fear left his face--though not all of it. he turned and left with a curt bow of his head, while pietro added a few details that weren't exactly lies to lomax's hasty cover-up, along with a grateful glance at the chemist. it seemed to work, for the time being--at least enough for riggs to begin making nasty remarks about cooked paste. then the tension began to build again. i don't think any of the crew talked to any of our group. and yet, there seemed to be a chain of rumor that exchanged bits of information. only the crew could have seen the dead plants being carried down to our refuse breakdown plant; and the fact it was chromazone poisoning must have been deduced from a description by some of our group. at any rate, both groups knew all about it--and a little bit more, as was usual with rumors--by the second day. muller should have made the news official, but he only issued an announcement that the danger was over. when peters, our radioman-navigator, found sam and phil riggs smoking and dressed them down, it didn't make muller's words seem too convincing. i guessed that muller had other things on his mind; at least he wasn't in his cabin much, and i didn't see jenny for two whole days. my nerves were as jumpy as those of the rest. it isn't too bad cutting out smoking; a man can stand imagining the air is getting stale; but when every unconscious gesture toward cigarettes that aren't there reminds him of the air, and when every imagined stale stench makes him want a cigarette to relax, it gets a little rough. maybe that's why i was in a completely rotten mood when i finally did spot jenny going down the passage, with the tight coveralls she was wearing emphasizing every motion of her hips. i grabbed her and swung her around. "hi, stranger. got time for a word?" she sort of brushed my hand off her arm, but didn't seem to mind it. "why, i guess so, paul. a little time. captain muller's watching the 'ponics." "good," i said, trying to forget muller. "let's make it a little more private than this, though. come on in." she lifted an eyebrow at the open door of my cabin, made with a little giggle, and stepped inside. i followed her, and kicked the door shut. she reached for it, but i had my back against it. "paul!" she tried to get around me, but i wasn't having any. i pushed her back onto the only seat in the room, which was the bunk. she got up like a spring uncoiling. "paul tremaine, you open that door. you know better than that. paul, please!" "what makes me any different than the others? you spend plenty of time in muller's cabin--and you've been in pietro's often enough. probably doc napier's, too!" her eyes hardened, but she decided to try the patient and reason-with-the-child line. "that is different. captain muller and i have a great deal of business to work out." "sure. and he looks great in lipstick!" it was a shot in the dark, but it went home. i wished i'd kept my darned mouth shut; before i'd been suspecting it--now i knew. she turned pink and tried to slap me, which won't work when the girl is sitting on a bunk and i'm on my feet. "you mind your own business!" "i'm doing that. generations should stick together, and he's old enough to be your father!" she leaned back and studied me. then she smiled slowly, and something about it made me sick inside. "i like older men, paul. they make people my own age seem so callow, so unfinished. it's so comforting to have mature people around. i always did have an electra complex." "the greeks had plenty of names for it, kid," i told her. "don't get me wrong. if you want to be a slut, that's your own business. but when you pull the innocent act on me, and then fall back to sophomore psychology--" this time she stood up before she slapped. before her hand stung my face, i was beginning to regret what i'd said. afterwards, i didn't give a damn. i picked her up off the floor, slapped her soundly on the rump, pulled her tight against me, and kissed her. she tried scratching my face, then went passive, and wound up with one arm around my neck and the other in the hair at the back of my head. when i finally put her down she sank back onto the bunk, breathing heavily. "why, paul!" and she reached out her arms as i came down to meet them. for a second, the world looked pretty good. then a man's hoarse scream cut through it all, with the sound of heavy steps in panic flight. i jerked up. jenny hung on. "paul.... paul...." but there was the smell of death in the air, suddenly. i broke free and was out into the corridor. the noise seemed to come from the shaft that led to the engine room, and i jumped for it, while i heard doors slam. this time, there was a commotion, like a wet sack being tossed around in a pentagonal steel barrel, and another hoarse scream that cut off in the middle to a gargling sound. * * * * * i reached the shaft and started down the center rail, not bothering with the hand-grips. i could hear something rustle below, followed by silence, but i couldn't see a thing; the lights had been cut. i could feel things poking into my back before i landed; i always get the creeps when there's death around, and that last sound had been just that--somebody's last sound. i _knew_ somebody was going to kill me before i could find the switch. then i stumbled over something, and my hair stood on end. i guess my own yell was pretty horrible. it scared me worse than i was already. but my fingers found the switch somehow, and the light flashed on. sam lay on the floor, with blood still running from a wide gash across his throat. a big kitchen knife was still stuck in one end of the horrible wound. and one of his fingers was half sliced off where the blade of a switch-blade shiv had failed on him and snapped back. something sounded above me, and i jerked back. but it was captain muller, coming down the rail. the man had obviously taken it all in on the way down. he jerked the switch-blade out of sam's dead grasp and looked at the point of the knife. there was blood further back from the cut finger, but none on the point. "damn!" muller tossed it down in disgust. "if he'd scratched the other man, we'd have had a chance to find who it was. tremaine, have you got an alibi?" "i was with jenny," i told him, and watched his eyes begin to hate me. but he nodded. we picked sam up together and lugged his body up to the top of the shaft, where the crowd had collected. pietro, peters, the cook, grundy and lomax were there. beyond them, the dark-haired, almost masculine head of eve nolan showed, her eyes studying the body of sam as if it were a negative in her darkroom; as usual, bill sanderson was as close to her as he could get. but there was no sign now of jenny. i glanced up the corridor but saw only wilcox and phil riggs, with walt harris trailing them, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. muller moved directly to pietro. "six left in my crew now, dr. pietro. first hendrix, now sam. can you still say that the attack is on _your_ crew--when mine keep being killed? this time, sir, i demand . . ." "give 'em hell, captain," ape-man grundy broke in. "cut the fancy stuff, and let's get the damned murdering rats!" muller's eyes quartered him, spitted his carcass, and began turning him slowly over a bed of coals. "mister grundy, i am master of the _wahoo_. i fail to remember asking for your piratical advice. dr. pietro, i trust you will have no objections if i ask mr. peters to investigate your section and group thoroughly?" "none at all, captain muller," pietro answered. "i trust peters. and i feel sure you'll permit me to delegate mr. tremaine to inspect the remainder of the ship?" muller nodded curtly. "certainly. until the madman is found, we're all in danger. and unless he is found, i insist i must protect my crew and my ship by turning back to earth." "i cannot permit that, sir!" "your permission for that was not requested, dr. pietro! yes, bullard?" the cook had been squirming and muttering to himself for minutes. now he darted out toward grundy, and his finger pointed to lomax. "he done it! i seen him. killed the only friend i had, he did. they went by my galley--and--and he grabbed my big knife, that one there. and he killed sam." * * * * * "you're sure it was lomax?" muller asked sharply. "sure i'm sure. sam, he was acting queer lately. he was worried. told me he saw something, and he was going to know for sure. he borrowed my switch-blade knife that my wife gave me. and he went out looking for something. then i heard him a-running, and i looked up, and there was this guy, chasing him. sure, i seen him with my own eyes." eve nolan chuckled throatily, throwing her mannish-cut hair back from her face. she was almost pretty with an expression on her countenance, even if it was amused disgust. "captain muller, that's a nice story. but dr. lomax was with me in my darkroom, working on some spectroanalysis slides. bill sanderson and phil riggs were waiting outside for us. and mr. peters saw us come out together when we all ran down here." peters nodded. muller stared at us for a second, and the hunting lust died out of his eyes, leaving them blank and cold. he turned to bullard. "bullard, an explanation might make me reduce your punishment. if you have anything to say, say it now!" the cook was gibbering and actually drooling with fear. he shook, and sweat popped out all over him. "my knife--i hadda say something. they stole my knife. they wanted it to look like i done it. god, captain, you'da done the same. can't punish a man for trying to save his life. i'm a good man, i am. can't whip a good man! can't--" "give him twenty-five lashes with the wire, mr. grundy," muller said flatly. pietro let out a shriek on top of the cook's. he started forward, but i caught him. "captain muller's right," i told him. "on a spaceship, the full crew is needed. the brig is useless, so the space-enabling charter recognizes flogging. something is needed to maintain discipline." pietro dropped back reluctantly, but lomax faced the captain. "the man is a coward, hardly responsible, captain muller. i'm the wounded party in this case, but it seems to me that hysteria isn't the same thing as maliciousness. suppose i ask for clemency?" "thank you, dr. lomax," muller said, and actually looked relieved. "make it ten lashes, mr. grundy. apparently no real harm has been done, and he will not testify in the future." grundy began dragging bullard out, muttering about damn fool groundlubbers always sticking their noses in. the cook caught at lomax's hand on the way, literally slobbering over it. lomax rubbed his palm across his thigh, looking embarrassed. muller turned back to us. "very well. mr. peters will begin investigating the expedition staff and quarters; mr. tremaine will have free run over the rest of the ship. and if the murderer is not turned up in forty-eight hours, we head back to earth!" pietro started to protest again, but another scream ripped down the corridor, jerking us all around. it was jenny, running toward us. she was breathing hoarsely as she nearly crashed into dr. pietro. her face was white and sick, and she had to try twice before she could speak. "the plants!" she gasped out. "poison! they're dying!" iii it was chromazone again. muller had kept most of the gang from coming back to hydroponics, but he, jenny, pietro, wilcox and myself were enough to fill the room with the smell of sick fear. now less than half of the original space was filled with healthy plants. some of the tanks held plants already dead, and others were dying as we watched; once beyond a certain stage, the stuff acted almost instantly--for hours there was only a slight indication of something wrong, and then suddenly there were the dead, bleached plants. wilcox was the first to speak. he still looked like some nattily dressed hero of a space serial, but his first words were ones that could never have gone out on a public broadcast. then he shrugged. "they must have been poisoned while we were all huddled over sam's body. who wasn't with us?" "nonsense," pietro denied. "this was done at least eighteen hours ago, maybe more. we'd have to find who was around then." "twenty hours, or as little as twelve," jenny amended. "it depends on the amount of the dosage, to some extent. and...." she almost managed to blush. "well, there have been a lot of people around. i can't even remember. mr. grundy and one of the men, mr. wilcox, dr. napier--oh, i don't know!" muller shook his head in heavy agreement. "naturally. we had a lot of work to do here. after word got around about hendrix, we didn't try to conceal much. it might have happened when someone else was watching, too. the important thing, gentlemen, is that now we don't have reserve enough to carry us to saturn. the plants remaining can't handle the air for all of us. and while we ship some reserve oxygen...." he let it die in a distasteful shrug. "at least this settles one thing. we have no choice now but to return to earth!" "captain muller," pietro bristled quickly, "that's getting to be a monomania with you. i agree we are in grave danger. i don't relish the prospect of dying any more than you do--perhaps less, in view of certain peculiarities! but it's now further back to earth than it is to saturn. and before we can reach either, we'll have new plants--or we'll be dead!" "some of us will be dead, dr. pietro," wilcox amended it. "there are enough plants left to keep some of us breathing indefinitely." pietro nodded. "and i suppose, in our captain's mind, that means the personnel of the ship can survive. captain muller, i must regard your constant attempt to return to earth as highly suspicious in view of this recurrent sabotage of the expedition. someone here is apparently either a complete madman or so determined to get back that he'll resort to anything to accomplish his end. and you have been harping on returning over and over again!" muller bristled, and big heavy fist tightened. then he drew himself up to his full dumpy height. "dr. pietro," he said stiffly, "i am as responsible to my duties as any man here--and my duties involve protecting the life of every man and woman on board; if you wish to return, i shall be _most_ happy to submit this to a formal board of inquiry. i--" "just a minute," i told them. "you two are forgetting that we've got a problem here. damn it, i'm sick of this fighting among ourselves. we're a bunch of men in a jam, not two camps at war now. i can't see any reason why captain muller would want to return that badly." muller nodded slightly. "thank you, mr. tremaine. however, for the record, and to save you trouble investigating there is a good reason. my company is now building a super-liner; if i were to return within the next six months, they'd promote me to captain of that ship--a considerable promotion, too." for a moment, his honesty seemed to soften pietro. the scientist mumbled some sort of apology, and turned to the plants. but it bothered me; if muller had pulled something, the smartest thing he could have done would be to have said just what he did. besides, knowing that pietro's injunction had robbed him of a chance like that was enough to rankle in any man's guts and make him work up something pretty close to insanity. i marked it down in my mental files for the investigation i was supposed to make, but let it go for the moment. muller stood for a minute longer, thinking darkly about the whole situation. then he moved toward the entrance to hydroponics and pulled out the ship speaker mike. "all hands and passengers will assemble in hydroponics within five minutes," he announced. he swung toward pietro. "with your permission, doctor," he said caustically. the company assembled later looked as sick as the plants. this time, muller was hiding nothing. he outlined the situation fully; maybe he shaded it a bit to throw suspicion on our group, but in no way we could pin down. finally he stated flatly that the situation meant almost certain death for at least some of those aboard. "from now on, there'll be a watch kept. this is closed to everyone except myself, dr. pietro, mr. peters, and dr. jenny sanderson. at least one of us will be here at all times, equipped with gas guns. anyone else is to be killed on setting foot inside this door!" he swung his eyes over the group. "any objections?" * * * * * grundy stirred uncomfortably. "i don't go for them science guys up here. takes a crazy man to do a thing like this, and everybody knows...." eve nolan laughed roughly. "everybody knows you've been swearing you won't go the whole way, grundy. these jungle tactics should be right up your alley." "that's enough," muller cut through the beginnings of the hassle. "i trust those i appointed--at least more than i do the rest of you. the question now is whether to return to earth at once or to go on to saturn. we can't radio for help for months yet. we're not equipped with sharp beams, we're low powered, and we're off the lanes where earth's pick-ups hunt. dr. pietro wants to go on, since we can't get back within our period of safety; i favor returning, since there is no proof that this danger will end with this outrage. we've agreed to let the result of a vote determine it." wilcox stuck up a casual hand, and muller nodded to him. he grinned amiably at all of us. "there's a third possibility, captain. we can reach jupiter in about three months, if we turn now. it's offside, but closer than anything else. from there, on a fast liner, we can be back on earth in another ten days." muller calculated, while peters came up to discuss it. then he nodded. "saturn or jupiter, then. i'm not voting, of course. bullard is disqualified to vote by previous acts." he drew a low moan from the sick figure of bullard for that, but no protest. then he nodded. "all those in favor of jupiter, your right hands please!" i counted them, wondering why my own hand was still down. it made some sort of sense to turn aside now. but none of our group was voting--and all the others had their hands up, except for dr. napier. "seven," muller announced. "those in favor of saturn." again, napier didn't vote. i hesitated, then put my hand up. it was crazy, and pietro was a fool to insist. but i knew that he'd never get another chance if this failed, and.... "eight," muller counted. he sighed, then straightened. "very well, we go on. dr. pietro, you will have my full support from now on. in return, i'll expect every bit of help in meeting this emergency. mr. tremaine was correct; we cannot remain camps at war." pietro's goatee bobbed quickly, and his hand went out. but while most of the scientists were nodding with him, i caught the dark scowl of grundy, and heard the mutters from the deckhands and the engine men. if muller could get them to cooperate, he was a genius. pietro faced us, and his face was serious again. "we can hasten the seeding of the plants a little, i think, by temperature and light-and-dark cycle manipulations. unfortunately, these aren't sea-algae plants, or we'd be in comparatively little trouble. that was my fault in not converting. we can, however, step up their efficiency a bit. and i'm sure we can find some way to remove the carbon dioxide from the air." "how about oxygen to breathe?" peters asked. "that's the problem," pietro admitted. "i was wondering about electrolyzing water." wilcox bobbed up quickly. "can you do it on ac current?" lomax shook his head. "it takes dc." "then that's out. we run on 220 ac. and while i can rectify a few watts, it wouldn't be enough to help. no welders except monatomic hydrogen torches, even." pietro looked sicker than before. he'd obviously been counting on that. but he turned to bullard. "how about seeds? we had a crop of tomatoes a month ago--and from the few i had, they're all seed. are any left?" bullard rocked from side to side, moaning. "dead. we're all gonna be dead. i told him, i did, you take me out there, i'll never get back. i'm a good man, i am. i wasn't never meant to die way out here. i--i--" he gulped and suddenly screamed. he went through the door at an awkward shuffle, heading for his galley. muller shook his head, and turned toward me. "check up, will you, mr. tremaine? and i suggest that you and mr. peters start your investigation at once. i understand that chromazone would require so little hiding space that there's no use searching for it. but if you can find any evidence, report it at once." peters and i left. i found the galley empty. apparently bullard had gone to lie on his stomach in his bunk and nurse his terror. i found the freezer compartments, though--and the tomatoes. there must have been a bushel of them, but bullard had followed his own peculiar tastes. from the food he served, he couldn't stand fresh vegetables; and he'd cooked the tomatoes down thoroughly and run them through the dehydrator before packing them away! * * * * * it was a cheerful supper, that one! bullard had half-recovered and his fear was driving him to try to be nice to us. the selection was good, beyond the inevitable baked beans; but he wasn't exactly a chef at best, and his best was far behind him. muller had brought wilcox, napier and peters down to our mess with himself, to consolidate forces, and it seemed that he was serious about cooperating. but it was a little late for that. overhead, the fans had been stepped up to counteract the effect of staleness our minds supplied. but the whine of the motors kept reminding us our days were counted. only jenny was normal; she sat between muller and pietro, where she could watch my face and that of napier. and even her giggles had a forced sound. there were all kinds of things we could do--in theory. but we didn't have that kind of equipment. the plain fact was that the plants were going to lose the battle against our lungs. the carbon dioxide would increase, speeding up our breathing, and making us all seem to suffocate. the oxygen would grow thinner and thinner, once our supplies of bottled gas ran out. and eventually, the air wouldn't support life. "it's sticky and hot," jenny complained, suddenly. "i stepped up the humidity and temperature controls," i told her. she nodded in quick comprehension, but i went on for muller's benefit. "trying to give the plants the best growing atmosphere. we'll feel just as hot and sticky when the carbon dioxide goes up, anyhow." "it must already be up," wilcox said. "my two canaries are breathing faster." "canaries," muller said. he frowned, though he must have known of them. it was traditional to keep them in the engine-room, though the reason behind it had long since been lost. "better kill them, mr. wilcox." wilcox jerked, and his face paled a bit. then he nodded. "yes, sir!" that was when i got scared. the idea that two birds breathing could hurt our chances put things on a little too vivid a basis. only lomax seemed unaffected. he shoved back now, and stood up. "some tests i have to make, captain. i have an idea that might turn up the killer among us!" i had an idea he was bluffing, but i kept my mouth shut. a bluff was as good as anything else, it seemed. at least, it was better than anything i seemed able to do. i prowled over the ship, sometimes meeting peters doing the same, but i couldn't find a bit of evidence. the crewmen sat watching with hating eyes. and probably the rest aboard hated and feared us just as much. it wasn't hard to imagine the man who was behind it all deciding to wipe one of us out. my neck got a permanent crimp from keeping one eye behind me. but there wasn't a shred of evidence i could find. in two more days, we began to notice the stuffiness more. my breathing went up enough to notice. somehow, i couldn't get a full breath. and the third night, i woke up in the middle of my sleep with the feeling something was sitting on my chest; but since i'd taken to sleeping with the light on, i saw that it was just the stuffiness that was bothering me. maybe most of it had been psychological up until then. but that was the real thing. the nice part of it was that it wouldn't be sudden--we'd have days to get closer and closer to death; and days for each one to realize a little more that every man who wasn't breathing would make it that much easier for the rest of us. i caught myself thinking of it when i saw bullard or grundy. * * * * * then trouble struck again. i was late getting to the scene this time, down by the engine room. muller and bill sanderson were ahead of me, trying to separate hal lomax and grundy, and not doing so well. lomax brought up a haymaker as i arrived, and started to shout something. but grundy was out of muller's grasp, and up, swinging a wrench. it connected with a dull thud, and lomax hit the floor, unconscious. i picked grundy up by the collar of his jacket, heaved him around and against a wall, where i could get my hand against his esophagus and start squeezing. his eyeballs popped, and the wrench dropped from his hands. when i get mad enough to act that way, i usually know i'll regret it later. this time it felt good, all the way. but muller pushed me aside, waiting until grundy could breathe again. "all right," muller said. "i hope you've got a good explanation, before i decide what to do with you." grundy's eyes were slitted, as if he'd been taking some of the venus drugs. but after one long, hungry look at me, he faced the captain. "yes, sir. this guy came down here ahead of me. didn't think nothing of it, sir. but when he started fiddling with the panel there, i got suspicious." he pointed to the external control panel for the engine room, to be used in case of accidents. "with all that's been going on, how'd i know but maybe he was gonna dump the fuel? and then i seen he had keys. i didn't wait, sir. i jumped him. and then you come up." wilcox came from the background and dropped beside the still figure of lomax. he opened the man's left hand and pulled out a bunch of keys, examining them. "engine keys, captain muller. hey--it's my set! he must have lifted them from my pocket. it looks as if grundy's found our killer!" "or lomax found him!" i pointed out. "anybody else see this start, or know that lomax didn't get those keys away from grundy, when _he_ started trouble?" "why, you--" grundy began, but wilcox cut off his run. it was a shame. i still felt like pushing the man's adam's apple through his medulla oblongata. "lock them both up, until dr. lomax comes to," muller ordered. "and send dr. napier to take care of him. i'm not jumping to any conclusions." but the look he was giving lomax indicated that he'd already pretty well made up his mind. and the crew was positive. they drew back sullenly, staring at us like animals studying a human hunter, and they didn't like it when peters took grundy to lock him into his room. muller finally chased them out, and left wilcox and me alone. wilcox shrugged wryly, brushing dirt off his too-clean uniform. "while you're here, tremaine, why not look my section over? you've been neglecting me." i'd borrowed muller's keys and inspected the engine room from, top to bottom the night before, but i didn't mention that. i hesitated now; to a man who grew up to be an engineer and who'd now gotten over his psychosis against space too late to start over, the engines were things better left alone. then i remembered that i hadn't seen wilcox's quarters, since he had the only key to them. i nodded and went inside. the engines were old, and the gravity generator was one of the first models. but wilcox knew his business. the place was slick enough, and there was the good clean smell of metal working right. i could feel the controls in my hands, and my nerves itched as i went about making a perfunctory token examination. i even opened the fuel lockers and glanced in. the two crewmen watched with hard eyes, slitted as tight as grundy's, but they didn't bother me. then i shrugged, and went back with wilcox to his tiny cabin. * * * * * i was hit by the place before i got inside. tiny, yes, but fixed up like the dream of every engineer. clean, neat, filled with books and luxuries. he even had a tape player i'd seen on sale for a trifle over three thousand dollars. he turned it on, letting the opening bars of haydn's oxford symphony come out. it was a binaural, ultra-fidelity job, and i could close my eyes and feel the orchestra in front of me. this time i was thorough, right down the line, from the cabinets that held luxury food and wine to the little drawer where he kept his dress-suit studs; they might have been rutiles, but i had a hunch they were genuine catseyes. he laughed when i finished, and handed me a glass of the first decent wine i'd tasted in months. "even a small ozonator to make the air seem more breathable, and a dehumidifier, tremaine. i like to live decently. i started saving my money once with the idea of getting a ship of my own--" there was a real dream in his eyes for a second. then he shrugged. "but ships got bigger and more expensive. so i decided to live. at forty, i've got maybe twenty years ahead here, and i mean to enjoy it. and--well, there are ways of making a bit extra...." i nodded. so it's officially smuggling to carry a four-ounce martian fur to earth where it's worth a fortune, considering the legal duty. but most officers did it now and then. he put on sibelius' fourth while i finished the wine. "if this mess is ever over, paul, or you get a chance, drop down," he said. "i like a man who knows good things--and i liked your reaction when you spotted that haydn for hohmann's recording. muller pretends to know music, but he likes the flashiness of mã¶hlwehr." hell, i'd cut my eye teeth on that stuff; my father had been first violinist in an orchestra, and had considered me a traitor when i was born without perfect pitch. we talked about sibelius for awhile, before i left to go out into the stinking rest of the ship. grundy was sitting before the engines, staring at them. wilcox had said the big ape liked to watch them move ... but he was supposed to be locked up. * * * * * i stopped by lomax's door; the shutter was open, and i could see the big man writhing about, but he was apparently unconscious. napier came back from somewhere, and nodded quickly. "concussion," he said. "he's still out, but it shouldn't be too serious." "grundy's loose." i'd expected surprise, but there was none. "why?" he shrugged. "muller claimed he needed his mate free to handle the crew, and that there was no place the man could go. i think it was because the men are afraid they'll be outnumbered by your group." his mouth smiled, but it was suddenly bitter. "jenny talked pietro into agreeing with muller." mess was on when i reached the group. i wasn't hungry. the wine had cut the edge from my appetite, and the slow increase of poison in the air was getting me, as it was the others. sure, carbon dioxide isn't a real poison--but no organism can live in its own waste, all the same. i had a rotten headache. i sat there playing a little game i'd invented--trying to figure which ones i'd eliminate if some had to die. jenny laughed up at muller, and i added him to the list. then i changed it, and put her in his place. i was getting sick of the little witch, though i knew it would be different if she'd been laughing up at me. and then, because of the sick-calf look on bill sanderson's face as he stared at eve, i added him, though i'd always liked the guy. eve, surprisingly, had as many guys after her as jenny; but she didn't seem interested. or maybe she did--she'd pulled her hair back and put on a dress that made her figure look good. either flattery was working, or she was entering into the last-days feeling most of us had. napier came in and touched my shoulder. "lomax is conscious, and he's asking for you," he said, too low for the others to hear. i found the chemist conscious, all right, but sick--and scared. his face winced, under all the bandages, as i opened the door. then he saw who it was, and relaxed. "paul--what happened to me? the last i remember is going up to see that second batch of plants poisoned. but--well, this is something i must have got later...." i told him, as best i could. "but don't you remember anything?" "not a thing about that. it's the same as napier told me, and i've been trying to remember. paul, you don't think--?" i put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back gently. "don't be a damned fool, hal. i know you're no killer." "but somebody is, paul. somebody tried to kill me while i was unconscious!" he must have seen my reaction. "they did, paul. i don't know how i know--maybe i almost came to--but somebody tried to poke a stick through the door with a knife on it. they want to kill me." [illustration] i tried to calm him down until napier came and gave him a sedative. the doctor seemed as sick about hal's inability to remember as i was, though he indicated it was normal enough in concussion cases. "so is the hallucination," he added. "he'll be all right tomorrow." in that, napier was wrong. when the doctor looked in on him the next time, the big chemist lay behind a door that had been pried open, with a long galley knife through his heart. on the bloody sheet, his finger had traced something in his own blood. "_it was_...." but the last "s" was blurred, and there was nothing more. iv i don't know how many were shocked at hal's death, or how many looked around and counted one less pair of lungs. he'd never been one of the men i'd envied the air he used, though, and i think most felt the same. for awhile, we didn't even notice that the air was even thicker. phil riggs broke the silence following our inspection of lomax's cabin. "that damned bullard! i'll get him, i'll get him as sure as he got hal!" there was a rustle among the others, and a suddenly crystallized hate on their faces. but muller's hoarse shout cut through the babble that began, and rose over even the anguished shrieking of the cook. "shut up, the lot of you! bullard couldn't have committed the other crimes. any one of you is a better suspect. stop snivelling, bullard, this isn't a lynching mob, and it isn't going to be one!" "what about grundy?" walt harris yelled. wilcox pushed forward. "grundy couldn't have done it. he's the logical suspect, but he was playing rummy with my men." the two engine men nodded agreement, and we began filing back to the mess hall, with the exception of bullard, who shoved back into a niche, trying to avoid us. then, when we were almost out of his sight, he let out a shriek and came blubbering after us. i watched them put hal lomax's body through the 'tween-hulls lock, and turned toward the engine room; i could use some of that wine, just as the ship could have used a trained detective. but the idea of watching helplessly while the engines purred along to remind me i was just a handyman for the rest of my life got mixed up with the difficulty of breathing the stale air, and i started to turn back. my head was throbbing, and for two cents i'd have gone out between the hulls beside lomax and the others and let the foul air spread out there and freeze.... the idea was slow coming. then i was running back toward the engines. i caught up with wilcox just before he went into his own quarters. "wilcox!" he swung around casually, saw it was me, and motioned inside. "how about some bartok, paul? or would you rather soothe your nerves with some first-rate buxtehude organ...." "damn the music," i told him. "i've got a wild idea to get rid of this carbon dioxide, and i want to know if we can get it working with what we've got." he snapped to attention at that. half-way through my account, he fished around and found a bottle of armagnac. "i get it. if we pipe our air through the passages between the hulls on the shadow side, it will lose its heat in a hurry. and we can regulate its final temperature by how fast we pipe it through--just keep it moving enough to reach the level where carbon dioxide freezes out, but the oxygen stays a gas. then pass it around the engines--we'll have to cut out the normal cooling set-up, but that's okay--warm it up.... sure, i've got equipment enough for that. we can set it up in a day. of course, it won't give us any more oxygen, but we'll be able to breathe what we have. to success, paul!" i guess it was good brandy, but i swallowed mine while calling muller down, and never got to taste it. it's surprising how much easier the air got to breathe after we'd double-checked the idea. in about fifteen minutes, we were all milling around in the engine room, while wilcox checked through equipment. but there was no question about it. it was even easier than we'd thought. we could simply bypass the cooling unit, letting the engine housings stay open to the between-hulls section; then it was simply a matter of cutting a small opening into that section at the other end of the ship and installing a sliding section to regulate the amount of air flowing in. the exhaust from the engine heat pumps was reversed, and run out through a hole hastily knocked in the side of the wall. naturally, we let it flow too fast at first. space is a vacuum, which means it's a good insulator. we had to cut the air down to a trickle. then wilcox ran into trouble because his engines wouldn't cool with that amount of air. he went back to supervise a patched-up job of splitting the coolers into sections, which took time. but after that, we had it. i went through the hatch with muller and pietro. with air there there was no need to wear space suits, but it was so cold that we could take it for only a minute or so. that was long enough to see a faint, fine mist of dry ice snow falling. it was also long enough to catch a sight of the three bodies there. i didn't enjoy that, and pietro gasped. muller grimaced. when we came back, he sent grundy in to move the bodies to a hull-section where our breathing air wouldn't pass over them. it wasn't necessary, of course. but somehow, it seemed important. by lunch, the air seemed normal. we shipped only pure oxygen at about three pounds pressure, instead of loading it with a lot of useless nitrogen. with the carbon dioxide cut back to normal levels, it was as good as ever. the only difference was that the fans had to be set to blow in a different pattern. we celebrated, and even bullard seemed to have perked up. he dug out pork chops and almost succeeded in making us cornbread out of some coarse flour i saw him pouring out of the food chopper. he had perked up enough to bewail the fact that all he had was canned spinach instead of turnip greens. but by night, the temper had changed--and the food indicated it again. bullard's cooking was turning into a barometer of the psychic pressure. we'd had time to realize that we weren't getting something for nothing. every molecule of carbon-dioxide that crystallized out took two atoms of oxygen with it, completely out of circulation. * * * * * we were also losing water-vapor, we found; normally, any one of our group knew enough science to know that the water would fall out before the carbon dioxide, but we hadn't thought of it. we took care of that, however, by having wilcox weld in a baffle and keep the section where the water condensed separate from the carbon dioxide snowfall. we could always shovel out the real ice, and meantime the ship's controls restored the moisture to the air easily enough. but there was nothing we could do about the oxygen. when that was gone, it stayed gone. the plants still took care of about two-thirds of our waste--but the other third was locked out there between the hulls. given plants enough, we could have thawed it and let them reconvert it; a nice idea, except that we had to wait three months to take care of it, if we lived that long. bullard's cooking began to get worse. then suddenly, we got one good meal. eve nolan came down the passage to announce that bullard was making cake, with frosting, canned huckleberry pie, and all the works. we headed for the mess hall, fast. it was the cook's masterpiece. muller came down late, though, and regarded it doubtfully. "there's something funny," he said as he settled down beside me. jenny had been surrounded by napier and pietro. "bullard came up babbling a few minutes ago. i don't like it. something about eating hearty, because he'd saved us all, forever and ever. he told me the angels were on our side, because a beautiful angel with two halos came to him in his sleep and told him how to save us. i chased him back to the galley, but i don't like it." most of them had already eaten at least half of the food, but i saw muller wasn't touching his. the rest stopped now, as the words sank in, and napier looked shocked. "no!" he said, but his tone wasn't positive. "he's a weakling, but i don't think he's insane--not enough to poison us." "there was that food poisoning before," pietro said suddenly. "paul, come along. and don't eat anything until we come back." we broke the record getting to the galley. there bullard sat, beaming happily, eating from a huge plate piled with the food he had cooked. i checked on it quickly--and there wasn't anything he'd left out. he looked up, and his grin widened foolishly. "hi, docs," he said. "yes, sir, i knowed you'd be coming. it all came to me in a dream. looked just like my wife twenty years ago, she did, with green and yellow halos. and she told it to me. told me i'd been a good man, and nothing was going to happen to me. not to good old emery bullard. had it all figgered out." he speared a big forkful of food and crammed it into his mouth, munching noisily. "had it all figgered. pop-corn. best damned pop-corn you ever saw, kind they raise not fifty miles from where i was born. you know, i didn't useta like you guys. but now i love everybody. when we get to saturn, i'm gonna make up for all the times i didn't give you pop-corn. we'll pop and we'll pop. and beans, too. i useta hate beans. always beans on a ship. but now we're saved, and i love beans!" he stared after us, half coming out of his seat. "hey, docs, ain't you gonna let me tell you about it?" "later, bullard," pietro called back. "something just came up. we want to hear all about it." * * * * * inside the mess hall, he shrugged. "he's eating the food himself. if he's crazy, he's in a happy stage of it. i'm sure he isn't trying to poison us." he sat down and began eating, without any hesitation. i didn't feel as sure, and suspected he didn't. but it was too late to back out. together, we summarized what he'd told us, while napier puzzled over it. finally the doctor shrugged. "visions. euphoria. disconnection with reality. apparently something of a delusion that he's to save the world. i'm not a psychiatrist, but it sounds like insanity to me. probably not dangerous. at least, while he wants to save us, we won't have to worry about the food. still...." wilcox mulled it over, and resumed the eating he had neglected before. "grundy claimed he'd been down near the engine room, trying to get permission to pop something in the big pile. i thought grundy was just getting his stories mixed up. but--pop-corn!" "i'll have him locked in his cabin," muller decided. he picked up the nearest handset, saw that it was to the galley, and switched quickly. "grundy, lock bullard up. and no rough stuff this time." then he turned to napier. "dr. napier, you'll have to see him and find out what you can." i guess there's a primitive fear of insanity in most of us. we felt sick, beyond the nagging worry about the food. napier got up at once. "i'll give him a sedative. maybe it's just nerves, and he'll snap out of it after a good sleep. anyhow, your mate can stand watching." "who can cook?" muller asked. his eyes swung down the table toward jenny. i wondered how she'd get out of that. apparently she'd never told muller about the scars she still had from spilled grease, and how she'd never forgiven her mother or been able to go near a kitchen since. but i should have guessed. she could remember my stories, too. her eyes swung up toward mine pleadingly. eve nolan stood up suddenly. "i'm not only a good cook, but i enjoy it," she stated flatly, and there was disgust in the look she threw at jenny. she swung toward me. "how about it, paul, can you wrestle the big pots around for me?" "i used to be a short order cook when i was finishing school," i told her. but she'd ruined the line. the grateful look and laugh from jenny weren't needed now. and curiously, i felt grateful to eve for it. i got up and went after napier. i found him in bullard's little cubbyhole of a cabin. he must have chased grundy off, and now he was just drawing a hypo out of the cook's arm. "it'll take the pain away," he was saying softly. "and i'll see that he doesn't hit you again. you'll be all right, now. and in the morning, i'll come and listen to you. just go to sleep. maybe she'll come back and tell you more." he must have heard me, since he signalled me out with his hand, and backed out quietly himself, still talking. he shut the door, and clicked the lock. bullard heard it, though. he jerked to a sitting position, and screamed. "_no!_ no! he'll kill me! i'm a good man...." he hunched up on the bed, forcing the sheet into his mouth. when he looked up a second later, his face was frozen in fear, but it was a desperate, calm kind of fear. he turned to face us, and his voice raised to a full shout, with every word as clear as he could make it. "all right. now i'll never tell you the secret. now you can all die without air. i promise i'll never tell you what i know!" he fell back, beating at the sheet with his hand and sobbing hysterically. napier watched him. "poor devil," the doctor said at last. "well, in another minute the shot will take effect. maybe he's lucky. he won't be worrying for awhile. and maybe he'll be rational tomorrow." "all the same, i'm going to stand guard until muller gets someone else here," i decided. i kept remembering lomax. napier nodded, and half an hour later bill sanderson came to take over the watch. bullard was sleeping soundly. the next day, though, he woke up to start moaning and writhing again. but he was keeping his word. he refused to answer any questions. napier looked worried as he reported he'd given the cook another shot of sedative. there was nothing else he could do. cooking was a relief, in a way. by the time eve and i had scrubbed all the pots into what she considered proper order, located some of the food lockers, and prepared and served a couple of meals, we'd evolved a smooth system that settled into a routine with just enough work to help keep our minds off the dwindling air in the tanks. in anything like a kitchen, she lost most of her mannish pose and turned into a live, efficient woman. and she could cook. "first thing i learned," she told me. "i grew up in a kitchen. i guess i'd never have turned to photography if my kid brother hadn't been using our sink for his darkroom." wilcox brought her a bottle of his wine to celebrate her first dinner. he seemed to want to stick around, but she chased him off after the first drink. we saved half the bottle to make a sauce the next day. it never got made. muller called a council of war, and his face was pinched and old. he was leaning on jenny as eve and i came into the mess hall; oddly, she seemed to be trying to buck him up. he got down to the facts as soon as all of us were together. "our oxygen tanks are empty," he announced. "they shouldn't be--but they are. someone must have sabotaged them before the plants were poisoned--and done it so the dials don't show it. i just found it out when the automatic switch to a new tank failed to work. we now have the air in the ship, and no more. dr. napier and i have figured that this will keep us all alive with the help of the plants for no more than fifteen days. i am open to any suggestions!" * * * * * there was silence after that, while it soaked in. then it was broken by a thin scream from phil riggs. he slumped into a seat and buried his head in his hands. pietro put a hand on the man's thin shoulders, "captain muller--" "kill 'em!" it was grundy's voice, bellowing sharply. "let'em breathe space! they got us into it! we can make out with the plants left! it's our ship!" muller had walked forward. now his fist lashed out, and grundy crumpled. he lay still for a second, then got to his feet unsteadily. jenny screamed, but muller moved steadily back to his former place without looking at the mate. grundy hesitated, fumbled in his pocket for something, and swallowed it. "captain, sir!" his voice was lower this time. "yes, mr. grundy?" "how many of us can live off the plants?" "ten--perhaps eleven." "then--then give us a lottery!" pietro managed to break in over the yells of the rest of the crew. "i was about to suggest calling for volunteers, captain muller. i still have enough faith in humanity to believe...." "you're a fool, dr. pietro," muller said flatly. "do you think grundy would volunteer? or bullard? but thanks for clearing the air, and admitting your group has nothing more to offer. a lottery seems to be the only fair system." he sat down heavily. "we have tradition on this; in an emergency such as this, death lotteries have been held, and have been considered legal afterwards. are there any protests?" i could feel my tongue thicken in my mouth. i could see the others stare about, hoping someone would object, wondering if this could be happening. but nobody answered, and muller nodded reluctantly. "a working force must be left. some men are indispensable. we must have an engineer, a navigator, and a doctor. one man skilled with engine-room practice and one with deck work must remain." "and the cook goes," grundy yelled. his eyes were intent and slitted again. some of both groups nodded, but muller brought his fist down on the table. "this will be a legal lottery, mr. grundy. dr. napier will draw for him." "and for myself," napier said. "it's obvious that ten men aren't going on to saturn--you'll have to turn back, or head for jupiter. jupiter, in fact, is the only sensible answer. and a ship can get along without a doctor that long when it has to. i demand my right to the draw." muller only shrugged and laid down the rules. they were simple enough. he would cut drinking straws to various lengths, and each would draw one. the two deck hands would compare theirs, and the longer would be automatically safe. the same for the pair from the engine-room. wilcox was safe. "mr. peters and i will also have one of us eliminated," he added quietly. "in an emergency, our abilities are sufficiently alike." the remaining group would have their straws measured, and the seven shortest ones would be chosen to remove themselves into a vacant section between hulls without air within three hours, or be forcibly placed there. the remaining ten would head for jupiter if no miracle removed the danger in those three hours. peters got the straws, and muller cut them and shuffled them. there was a sick silence that let us hear the sounds of the scissors with each snip. muller arranged them so the visible ends were even. "ladies first," he said. there was no expression on his face or in his voice. jenny didn't giggle, but neither did she balk. she picked a straw, and then shrieked faintly. it was obviously a long one. eve reached for hers-and wilcox yelled suddenly. "captain muller, protest! protest! you're using all long straws for the women!" he had jumped forward, and now struck down muller's hand, proving his point. "you're quite right, mr. wilcox," muller said woodenly. he dropped his hand toward his lap and came up with a group of the straws that had been cut, placed there somehow without our seeing it. he'd done a smooth job of it, but not smooth enough. "i felt some of you would notice it, but i also felt that gentlemen would prefer to see ladies given the usual courtesies." he reshuffled the assorted straws, and then paused. "mr. tremaine, there was a luxury liner named the _lauri ellu_ with an assistant engineer by your name; and i believe you've shown a surprising familiarity with certain customs of space. a few days ago, jenny mentioned something that jogged my memory. can you still perform the duties of an engineer?" wilcox had started to protest at the delay. now shock ran through him. he stared unbelievingly from muller to me and back, while his face blanched. i could guess what it must have felt like to see certain safety cut to a 50 per cent chance, and i didn't like the way muller was willing to forget until he wanted to take a crack at wilcox for punishment. but.... "i can," i answered. and then, because i was sick inside myself for cutting under wilcox, i managed to add, "but i--i waive my chance at immunity!" "not accepted," muller decided. "jenny, will you draw?" it was pretty horrible. it was worse when the pairs compared straws. the animal feelings were out in the open then. finally, muller, wilcox, and two crewmen dropped out. the rest of us went up to measure our straws. it took no more than a minute. i stood staring down at the ruler, trying to stretch the tiny thing i'd drawn. i could smell the sweat rising from my body. but i knew the answer. i had three hours left! * * * * * "riggs, oliver, nolan, harris, tremaine, napier and grundy," muller announced. a yell came from grundy. he stood up, with the engine man named oliver, and there was a gun in his hand. "no damned big brain's kicking me off my ship," he yelled. "you guys know me. hey, _roooob_!" oliver was with him, and the other three of the crew sprang into the group. i saw muller duck a shot from grundy's gun, and leap out of the room. then i was in it, heading for grundy. beside me, peters was trying to get a chair broken into pieces. i felt something hit my shoulder, and the shock knocked me downward, just as a shot whistled over my head. gravity cut off! someone bounced off me. i got a piece of the chair that floated by, found the end cracked and sharp, and tried to spin towards grundy, but i couldn't see him. i heard eve's voice yell over the other shouts. i spotted the plate coming for me, but i was still in midair. it came on steadily, edge on, and i felt it break against my forehead. then i blacked out. v i had the grandaddy of all headaches when i came to. doc napier's face was over me, and jenny and muller were working on bill sanderson. there was a surprisingly small and painful lump on my head. pietro and napier helped me up, and i found i could stand after a minute. there were four bodies covered with sheets on the floor. "grundy, phil riggs, peters and a deckhand named storm," napier said. "muller gave us a whiff of gas and not quite in time." "is the time up?" i asked. it was the only thing i could think of. pietro shook his head sickly. "lottery is off. muller says we'll have to hold another, since storm and peters were supposed to be safe. but not until tomorrow." eve came in then, lugging coffee. her eyes found me, and she managed a brief smile. "i gave the others coffee," she reported to muller. "they're pretty subdued now." "mutiny!" muller helped jenny's brother to his feet and began helping him toward the door. "mutiny! and i have to swallow that!" pietro watched him go, and handed eve back his cup. "and there's no way of knowing who was on which side. dr. napier, could you do something...." he held out his hands that were shaking, and napier nodded. "i can use a sedative myself. come on back with me." eve and i wandered back to the kitchen. i was just getting my senses back. the damned stupidity of it all. and now it would have to be done over. three of us still had to have our lives snuffed out so the others could live--and we all had to go through hell again to find out which. eve must have been thinking the same. she sank down on a little stool, and her hand came out to find mine. "for what? paul, whoever poisoned the plants knew it would go this far! he had to! what's to be gained? particularly when he'd have to go through all this, too! he must have been crazy!" "bullard couldn't have done it," i said slowly. "why should it be bullard? how do we know he was insane? maybe when he was shouting that he wouldn't tell, he was trying to make a bribe to save his own life. maybe he's as scared as we are. maybe he was making sense all along, if we'd only listened to him. he--" she stood up and started back toward the lockers, but i caught her hand. "eve, he wouldn't have done it--the killer--if he'd had to go through the lottery! he knew he was safe! that's the one thing we've been overlooking. the man to suspect is the only man who could be sure he would get back! my god, we saw him juggle those straws to save jenny! he knew he'd control the lottery." she frowned. "but ... paul, he practically suggested the lottery! grundy brought it up, but he was all ready for it." the frown vanished, then returned. "but i still can't believe it." "he's the one who wanted to go back all the time. he kept insisting on it, but he had to get back without violating his contract." i grabbed her hand and started toward the nose of the ship, justifying it to her as i went. "the only man with a known motive for returning, the only one completely safe--and we didn't even think of it!" she was still frowning, but i wasn't wasting time. we came up the corridor to the control room. ahead the door was slightly open, and i could hear a mutter of jenny's voice. then there was the tired rumble of muller. "i'll find a way, baby. i don't care how close they watch, we'll make it work. pick the straw with the crimp in the end--i can do that, even if i can't push one out further again. i tell you, nothing's going to happen to you." "but bill--" she began. i hit the door, slamming it open. muller sat on a narrow couch with jenny on his lap. i took off for him, not wasting a good chance when he was handicapped. but i hadn't counted on jenny. she was up, and her head banged into my stomach before i knew she was coming. i felt the wind knocked out, but i got her out of my way--to look up into the muzzle of a gun in muller's hands. "you'll explain this, mr. tremaine," he said coldly. "in ten seconds, i'll have an explanation or a corpse." "go ahead," i told him. "shoot, damn you! you'll get away with this, too, i suppose. mutiny, or something. and down in that rotten soul of yours, i suppose you'll be gloating at how you made fools of us. the only man on board who was safe even from a lottery, and we couldn't see it. jenny, i hope you'll be happy with this butcher. very happy!" he never blinked. "say that about the only safe man aboard again," he suggested. i repeated it, with details. but he didn't like my account. he turned to eve, and motioned for her to take it up. she was frowning harder, and her voice was uncertain, but she summed up our reasons quickly enough. and suddenly muller was on his feet. "mr. tremaine, for a damned idiot, you have a good brain. you found the key to the problem, even if you couldn't find the lock. do you know what happens to a captain who permits a death lottery, even what i called a legal one? he doesn't captain a liner--he shoots himself after he delivers his ship, if he's wise! come on, we'll find the one indispensable man. you stay here, jenny--you too, eve!" jenny whimpered, but stayed. eve followed, and he made no comment. and then it hit me. the man who had _thought_ he was indispensable, and hence safe--the man i'd naturally known in the back of my head could be replaced, though no one else had known it until a little while ago. "he must have been sick when you ran me in as a ringer," i said, as we walked down toward the engine hatch. "but why?" "i've just had a wild guess as to part of it," muller said. * * * * * wilcox was listening to the buxtehude when we shoved the door of his room open, and he had his head back and eyes closed. he snapped to attention, and reached out with one hand toward a drawer beside him. then he dropped his arm and stood up, to cut off the tape player. "mr. wilcox," muller said quietly, holding the gun firmly on the engineer. "mr. wilcox, i've detected evidence of some of the venus drugs on your two assistants for some time. it's rather hard to miss the signs in their eyes. i've also known that mr. grundy was an addict. i assumed that they were getting it from him naturally. and as long as they performed their duties, i couldn't be choosy on an old ship like this. but for an officer to furnish such drugs--and to smuggle them from venus for sale to other planets--is something i cannot tolerate. it will make things much simpler if you will surrender those drugs to me. i presume you keep them in those bottles of wine you bring aboard?" wilcox shook his head slowly, settling back against the tape machine. then he shrugged and bowed faintly. "the chianti, sir!" i turned my head toward the bottles, and eve started forward. then i yelled as wilcox shoved his hand down toward the tape machine. the gun came out on a spring as he touched it. muller shot once, and the gun missed wilcox's fingers as the engineer's hand went to his hip, where blood was flowing. he collapsed into the chair behind him, staring at the spot stupidly. "i cut my teeth on _tough_ ships, mr. wilcox," muller said savagely. the man's face was white, but he nodded slowly, and a weak grin came onto his lips. "maybe you didn't exaggerate those stories at that," he conceded slowly. "i take it i drew a short straw." "very short. it wasn't worth it. no profit from the piddling sale of drugs is worth it." "there's a group of strings inside the number one fuel locker," wilcox said between his teeth. the numbness was wearing off, and the shattered bones in his hip were beginning to eat at him. "paul, pull up one of the packages and bring it here, will you?" i found it without much trouble--along with a whole row of others, fine cords cemented to the side of the locker. the package i drew up weighed about ten pounds. wilcox opened it and scooped out a thimbleful of greenish powder. he washed it down with wine. "fatal?" muller asked. the man nodded. "in that dosage, after a couple of hours. but it cuts out the pain--ah, better already. i won't feel it. captain, i was never piddling. your ship has been the sole source of this drug to mars since a year or so after i first shipped on her. there are about seven hundred pounds of pure stuff out there. grundy and the others would commit public murder daily rather than lose the few ounces a year i gave them. imagine what would happen when pietro conscripted the _wahoo_ and no drugs arrived. the addicts find out no more is coming--they look for the peddlers--and _they_ start looking for their suppliers...." he shrugged. "there might have been time and ways, if i could have gotten the ship back to earth or jupiter. it might have been recommissioned into the earth-mars-venus run, even. pietro's injunction caught me before i could transship, but with another chance, i might have gotten the stuff to mars in time.... well, it was a chance i took. satisfied?" * * * * * eve stared at him with horrified eyes. maybe i was looking the same. it was plain enough now. he'd planned to poison the plants and drive us back. murder of hendrix had been a blunder when he'd thought it wasn't working properly. "what about sam?" i asked. "blackmail. he was too smart. he'd been sure grundy was smuggling the stuff, and raking off from him. he didn't care who killed hendrix as much as how much grundy would pay to keep his mouth shut--with murder around, he figured grundy'd get rattled. the fool did, and sam smelled bigger stakes. grundy was bait to get him down near here. i killed him." "and lomax?" "i don't know. maybe he was bluffing. but he kept going from room to room with a pocketful of chemicals, making some kind of tests. i couldn't take a chance on his being able to spot chromazone. so i had grundy give him my keys and tell him to go ahead--then jump him." and after that, when he wasn't quite killed, they'd been forced to finish the job. wilcox shrugged again. "i guess it got out of hand. i'll make a tape of the whole story for you, captain. but i'd appreciate it if you'd get napier down here. this is getting pretty messy." "he's on the way," eve said. we hadn't seen her call, but the doctor arrived almost immediately afterwards. he sniffed the drug, and questioned us about the dose wilcox had taken. then he nodded slowly. "about two hours, i'd say. no chance at all to save him. the stuff is absorbed almost at once and begins changing to something else in the blood. i'll be responsible, if you want." muller shrugged. "i suppose so. i'd rather deliver him in irons to a jury, but.... well, we still have a lottery to hold!" it jerked us back to reality sharply. somehow, i'd been fighting off the facts, figuring that finding the cause would end the results. but even with wilcox out of the picture, there were twelve of us left--and air for only ten! wilcox laughed abruptly. "a favor for a favor. i can give you a better answer than a lottery." "pop-corn! bullard!" eve slapped her head with her palm. "captain, give me the master key." she snatched it out of his hand and was gone at a run. wilcox looked disappointed, and then grinned. "pop-corn and beans. i overlooked them myself. we're a bunch of city hicks. but when bullard forgot his fears in his sleep, he remembered the answer--and got it so messed up with his dream and his new place as a hero that my complaint tipped the balance. grundy put the fear of his god into him then. and you didn't get it. captain, you don't dehydrate beans and pop-corn--they come that way naturally. you don't can them, either, if you're saving weight. they're seeds--put them in tanks and they grow!" he leaned back, trying to laugh at us, as napier finished dressing his wound. "bullard knows where the lockers are. and corn grows pretty fast. it'll carry you through. do i get that favor? it's simple enough--just to have beethoven's ninth on the machine and for the whole damned lot of you to get out of my cabin and let me die in my own way!" muller shrugged, but napier found the tape and put it on. i wanted to see the louse punished for every second of worry, for lomax, for hendrix--even for grundy. but there wasn't much use in vengeance at this point. "you're to get all this, paul," wilcox said as we got ready to leave. "captain muller, everything here goes to tremaine. i'll make a tape on that, too. but i want it to go to a man who can appreciate hohmann's conducting." muller closed the door. "i guess it's yours," he admitted. "now that you're head engineer here, mr. tremaine, the cabin is automatically yours. take over. and get that junk in the fuel locker cleaned out--except enough to keep your helpers going. they'll need it, and we'll need their work." "i'll clean out his stuff at the same time," i said. "i don't want any part of it." he smiled then, just as eve came down with bullard and pietro. the fat cook was sobered, but already beginning to fill with his own importance. i caught snatches as they began to discuss bullard's knowledge of growing things. it was enough to know that we'd all live, though it might be tough for a while. then muller gestured upwards. "you've got a reduced staff, dr. pietro. do you intend going on to saturn?" "we'll go on," pietro decided. and muller nodded. they turned and headed upwards. i stood staring at my engines. one of them was a touch out of phase and i went over and corrected it. they'd be mine for over two years--and after that, i'd be back on the lists. eve came over beside me, and studied them with me. finally she sighed softly. "i guess i can see why you feel that way about them, paul," she said. "and i'll be coming down to look at them. but right now, bullard's too busy to cook, and everyone's going to be hungry when they find we're saved." i chuckled, and felt the relief wash over me finally. i dropped my hand from the control and caught hers--a nice, friendly hand. but at the entrance i stopped and looked back toward the cabin where wilcox lay. i could just make out the second movement of the ninth beginning. i never could stand the cheap blatancy of hohmann's conducting. * * * * * all around the moon from the french of jules verne author of "from the earth to the moon", "to the sun!" and "off on a comet!" by edward roth illustrated philadelphia david mckay, publisher 23 south ninth street contents. preliminary i. from 10 p.m. to 10. 46' 40'' ii. the first half hour iii. they make themselves at home and feel quite comfortable iv. for the cornell girls v. the colds of space vi. instructive conversation vii. a high old time viii. the neutral point ix. a little off the track x. the observers of the moon xi. fact and fancy xii. a bird's eye view of the lunar mountains xiii. lunar landscapes xiv. a night of fifteen days xv. glimpses at the invisible xvi. the southern hemisphere xvii. tycho xviii. puzzling questions xix. in every fight, the impossible wins xx. off the pacific coast xxi. news for marston! xxii. on the wings of the wind xxiii. the club men go a fishing xxiv. farewell to the baltimore gun club list of illustrations. 1. his first care was to turn on the gas 2. diana and satellite 3. he helped ardan to lift barbican 4. more hungry than either 5. they drank to the speedy union of the earth and her satellite 6. don't i though? my head is splitting with it! 7. poor satellite was dropped out 8. the body of the dog thrown out yesterday 9. a demoniacal hullabaloo 10. the oxygen! he cried 11. a group _à la jardin mabille_ 12. an immense battle-field piled with bleaching bones 13. nevertheless the solution escaped him 14. it's cold enough to freeze a white bear 15. they could utter no word, they could breathe no prayer 16. they seemed half asleep in his vitalizing beams 17. these arches evidently once bore the pipes of an aqueduct 18. ardan gazed at the pair for a few minutes 19. old mac discovered taking observations 20. for a second only did they catch its flash 21. how is that for high? 22. everywhere their departure was accompanied with the most touching sympathy preliminary chapter, resuming the first part of the work and serving as an introduction to the second. a few years ago the world was suddenly astounded by hearing of an experiment of a most novel and daring nature, altogether unprecedented in the annals of science. the baltimore gun club, a society of artillerymen started in america during the great civil war, had conceived the idea of nothing less than establishing direct communication with the moon by means of a projectile! president barbican, the originator of the enterprise, was strongly encouraged in its feasibility by the astronomers of cambridge observatory, and took upon himself to provide all the means necessary to secure its success. having realized by means of a public subscription the sum of nearly five and a half millions of dollars, he immediately set himself to work at the necessary gigantic labors. in accordance with the cambridge men's note, the cannon intended to discharge the projectile was to be planted in some country not further than 28° north or south from the equator, so that it might be aimed vertically at the moon in the zenith. the bullet was to be animated with an initial velocity of 12,000 yards to the second. it was to be fired off on the night of december 1st, at thirteen minutes and twenty seconds before eleven o'clock, precisely. four days afterwards it was to hit the moon, at the very moment that she reached her _perigee_, that is to say, her nearest point to the earth, about 228,000 miles distant. the leading members of the club, namely president barbican, secretary marston, major elphinstone and general morgan, forming the executive committee, held several meetings to discuss the shape and material of the bullet, the nature and position of the cannon, and the quantity and quality of the powder. the decision soon arrived at was as follows: 1st--the bullet was to be a hollow aluminium shell, its diameter nine feet, its walls a foot in thickness, and its weight 19,250 pounds; 2nd--the cannon was to be a columbiad 900 feet in length, a well of that depth forming the vertical mould in which it was to be cast, and 3rd--the powder was to be 400 thousand pounds of gun cotton, which, by developing more than 200 thousand millions of cubic feet of gas under the projectile, would easily send it as far as our satellite. these questions settled, barbican, aided by murphy, the chief engineer of the cold spring iron works, selected a spot in florida, near the 27th degree north latitude, called stony hill, where after the performance of many wonderful feats in mining engineering, the columbiad was successfully cast. things had reached this state when an incident occurred which excited the general interest a hundred fold. a frenchman from paris, michel ardan by name, eccentric, but keen and shrewd as well as daring, demanded, by the atlantic telegraph, permission to be enclosed in the bullet so that he might be carried to the moon, where he was curious to make certain investigations. received in america with great enthusiasm, ardan held a great meeting, triumphantly carried his point, reconciled barbican to his mortal foe, a certain captain m'nicholl, and even, by way of clinching the reconciliation, induced both the newly made friends to join him in his contemplated trip to the moon. the bullet, so modified as to become a hollow conical cylinder with plenty of room inside, was further provided with powerful water-springs and readily-ruptured partitions below the floor, intended to deaden the dreadful concussion sure to accompany the start. it was supplied with provisions for a year, water for a few months, and gas for nearly two weeks. a self-acting apparatus, of ingenious construction, kept the confined atmosphere sweet and healthy by manufacturing pure oxygen and absorbing carbonic acid. finally, the gun club had constructed, at enormous expense, a gigantic telescope, which, from the summit of long's peak, could pursue the projectile as it winged its way through the regions of space. everything at last was ready. on december 1st, at the appointed moment, in the midst of an immense concourse of spectators, the departure took place, and, for the first time in the world's history, three human beings quitted our terrestrial globe with some possibility in their favor of finally reaching a point of destination in the inter-planetary spaces. they expected to accomplish their journey in 97 hours, 13 minutes and 20 seconds, consequently reaching the lunar surface precisely at midnight on december 5-6, the exact moment when the moon would be full. unfortunately, the instantaneous explosion of such a vast quantity of gun-cotton, by giving rise to a violent commotion in the atmosphere, generated so much vapor and mist as to render the moon invisible for several nights to the innumerable watchers in the western hemisphere, who vainly tried to catch sight of her. in the meantime, j.t. marston, the secretary of the gun club, and a most devoted friend of barbican's, had started for long's peak, colorado, on the summit of which the immense telescope, already alluded to, had been erected; it was of the reflecting kind, and possessed power sufficient to bring the moon within a distance of five miles. while marston was prosecuting his long journey with all possible speed, professor belfast, who had charge of the telescope, was endeavoring to catch a glimpse of the projectile, but for a long time with no success. the hazy, cloudy weather lasted for more than a week, to the great disgust of the public at large. people even began to fear that further observation would have to be deferred to the 3d of the following month, january, as during the latter half of december the waning moon could not possibly give light enough to render the projectile visible. at last, however, to the unbounded satisfaction of all, a violent tempest suddenly cleared the sky, and on the 13th of december, shortly after midnight, the moon, verging towards her last quarter, revealed herself sharp and bright on the dark background of the starry firmament. that same morning, a few hours before marston's arrival at the summit of long's peak, a very remarkable telegram had been dispatched by professor belfast to the smithsonian institute, washington. it announced: that on december 13th, at 2 o'clock in the morning, the projectile shot from stony hill had been perceived by professor belfast and his assistants; that, deflected a little from its course by some unknown cause, it had not reached its mark, though it had approached near enough to be affected by the lunar attraction; and that, its rectilineal motion having become circular, it should henceforth continue to describe a regular orbit around the moon, of which in fact it had become the satellite. the dispatch went on further to state: that the _elements_ of the new heavenly body had not yet been calculated, as at least three different observations, taken at different times, were necessary to determine them. the distance of the projectile from the lunar surface, however, might be set down roughly at roughly 2833 miles. the dispatch concluded with the following hypotheses, positively pronounced to be the only two possible: either, 1, the lunar attraction would finally prevail, in which case the travellers would reach their destination; or 2, the projectile, kept whirling forever in an immutable orbit, would go on revolving around the moon till time should be no more. in either alternative, what should be the lot of the daring adventurers? they had, it is true, abundant provisions to last them for some time, but even supposing that they did reach the moon and thereby completely establish the practicability of their daring enterprise, how were they ever to get back? _could_ they ever get back? or ever even be heard from? questions of this nature, freely discussed by the ablest pens of the day, kept the public mind in a very restless and excited condition. we must be pardoned here for making a little remark which, however, astronomers and other scientific men of sanguine temperament would do well to ponder over. an observer cannot be too cautious in announcing to the public his discovery when it is of a nature purely speculative. nobody is obliged to discover a planet, or a comet, or even a satellite, but, before announcing to the world that you have made such a discovery, first make sure that such is really the fact. because, you know, should it afterwards come out that you have done nothing of the kind, you make yourself a butt for the stupid jokes of the lowest newspaper scribblers. belfast had never thought of this. impelled by his irrepressible rage for discovery--the _furor inveniendi_ ascribed to all astronomers by aurelius priscus--he had therefore been guilty of an indiscretion highly un-scientific when his famous telegram, launched to the world at large from the summit of the rocky mountains, pronounced so dogmatically on the only possible issues of the great enterprise. the truth was that his telegram contained _two_ very important errors: 1. error of _observation_, as facts afterwards proved; the projectile _was_ not seen on the 13th and _could_ not have been on that day, so that the little black spot which belfast professed to have seen was most certainly not the projectile; 2. error of _theory_ regarding the final fate of the projectile, since to make it become the moon's satellite was flying in the face of one of the great fundamental laws of theoretical mechanics. only one, therefore, the first, of the hypotheses so positively announced, was capable of realization. the travellers--that is to say if they still lived--might so combine and unite their own efforts with those of the lunar attraction as actually to succeed at last in reaching the moon's surface. now the travellers, those daring but cool-headed men who knew very well what they were about, _did_ still live, they _had_ survived the frightful concussion of the start, and it is to the faithful record of their wonderful trip in the bullet-car, with all its singular and dramatic details, that the present volume is devoted. the story may destroy many illusions, prejudices and conjectures; but it will at least give correct ideas of the strange incidents to which such an enterprise is exposed, and it will certainly bring out in strong colors the effects of barbican's scientific conceptions, m'nicholl's mechanical resources, and ardan's daring, eccentric, but brilliant and effective combinations. besides, it will show that j.t. marston, their faithful friend and a man every way worthy of the friendship of such men, was only losing his time while mirroring the moon in the speculum of the gigantic telescope on that lofty peak of the mountains. chapter i. from 10 p.m. to 10 46' 40''. the moment that the great clock belonging to the works at stony hill had struck ten, barbican, ardan and m'nicholl began to take their last farewells of the numerous friends surrounding them. the two dogs intended to accompany them had been already deposited in the projectile. the three travellers approached the mouth of the enormous cannon, seated themselves in the flying car, and once more took leave for the last time of the vast throng standing in silence around them. the windlass creaked, the car started, and the three daring men disappeared in the yawning gulf. the trap-hole giving them ready access to the interior of the projectile, the car soon came back empty; the great windlass was presently rolled away; the tackle and scaffolding were removed, and in a short space of time the great mouth of the columbiad was completely rid of all obstructions. m'nicholl took upon himself to fasten the door of the trap on the inside by means of a powerful combination of screws and bolts of his own invention. he also covered up very carefully the glass lights with strong iron plates of extreme solidity and tightly fitting joints. ardan's first care was to turn on the gas, which he found burning rather low; but he lit no more than one burner, being desirous to economize as much as possible their store of light and heat, which, as he well knew, could not at the very utmost last them longer than a few weeks. under the cheerful blaze, the interior of the projectile looked like a comfortable little chamber, with its circular sofa, nicely padded walls, and dome shaped ceiling. all the articles that it contained, arms, instruments, utensils, etc., were solidly fastened to the projections of the wadding, so as to sustain the least injury possible from the first terrible shock. in fact, all precautions possible, humanly speaking, had been taken to counteract this, the first, and possibly one of the very greatest dangers to which the courageous adventurers would be exposed. ardan expressed himself to be quite pleased with the appearance of things in general. "it's a prison, to be sure," said he "but not one of your ordinary prisons that always keep in the one spot. for my part, as long as i can have the privilege of looking out of the window, i am willing to lease it for a hundred years. ah! barbican, that brings out one of your stony smiles. you think our lease may last longer than that! our tenement may become our coffin, eh? be it so. i prefer it anyway to mahomet's; it may indeed float in the air, but it won't be motionless as a milestone!" [illustration: turn on the gas.] barbican, having made sure by personal inspection that everything was in perfect order, consulted his chronometer, which he had carefully set a short time before with chief engineer murphy's, who had been charged to fire off the projectile. "friends," he said, "it is now twenty minutes past ten. at 10 46' 40'', precisely, murphy will send the electric current into the gun-cotton. we have, therefore, twenty-six minutes more to remain on earth." "twenty-six minutes and twenty seconds," observed captain m'nicholl, who always aimed at mathematical precision. "twenty-six minutes!" cried ardan, gaily. "an age, a cycle, according to the use you make of them. in twenty-six minutes how much can be done! the weightiest questions of warfare, politics, morality, can be discussed, even decided, in twenty-six minutes. twenty-six minutes well spent are infinitely more valuable than twenty-six lifetimes wasted! a few seconds even, employed by a pascal, or a newton, or a barbican, or any other profoundly intellectual being whose thoughts wander through eternity--" "as mad as marston! every bit!" muttered the captain, half audibly. "what do you conclude from this rigmarole of yours?" interrupted barbican. "i conclude that we have twenty-six good minutes still left--" "only twenty-four minutes, ten seconds," interrupted the captain, watch in hand. "well, twenty-four minutes, captain," ardan went on; "now even in twenty-four minutes, i maintain--" "ardan," interrupted barbican, "after a very little while we shall have plenty of time for philosophical disputations. just now let us think of something far more pressing." "more pressing! what do you mean? are we not fully prepared?" "yes, fully prepared, as far at least as we have been able to foresee. but we may still, i think, possibly increase the number of precautions to be taken against the terrible shock that we are so soon to experience." "what? have you any doubts whatever of the effectiveness of your brilliant and extremely original idea? don't you think that the layers of water, regularly disposed in easily-ruptured partitions beneath this floor, will afford us sufficient protection by their elasticity?" "i hope so, indeed, my dear friend, but i am by no means confident." "he hopes! he is by no means confident! listen to that, mac! pretty time to tell us so! let me out of here!" "too late!" observed the captain quietly. "the trap-hole alone would take ten or fifteen minutes to open." "oh then i suppose i must make the best of it," said ardan, laughing. "all aboard, gentlemen! the train starts in twenty minutes!" "in nineteen minutes and eighteen seconds," said the captain, who never took his eye off the chronometer. the three travellers looked at each other for a little while, during which even ardan appeared to become serious. after another careful glance at the several objects lying around them, barbican said, quietly: "everything is in its place, except ourselves. what we have now to do is to decide on the position we must take in order to neutralize the shock as much as possible. we must be particularly careful to guard against a rush of blood to the head." "correct!" said the captain. "suppose we stood on our heads, like the circus tumblers!" cried ardan, ready to suit the action to the word. "better than that," said barbican; "we can lie on our side. keep clearly in mind, dear friends, that at the instant of departure it makes very little difference to us whether we are inside the bullet or in front of it. there is, no doubt, _some_ difference," he added, seeing the great eyes made by his friends, "but it is exceedingly little." "thank heaven for the _some_!" interrupted ardan, fervently. "don't you approve of my suggestion, captain?" asked barbican. "certainly," was the hasty reply. "that is to say, absolutely. seventeen minutes twenty-seven seconds!" "mac isn't a human being at all!" cried ardan, admiringly. "he is a repeating chronometer, horizontal escapement, london-made lever, capped, jewelled,--" his companions let him run on while they busied themselves in making their last arrangements, with the greatest coolness and most systematic method. in fact, i don't think of anything just now to compare them to except a couple of old travellers who, having to pass the night in the train, are trying to make themselves as comfortable as possible for their long journey. in your profound astonishment, you may naturally ask me of what strange material can the hearts of these americans be made, who can view without the slightest semblance of a flutter the approach of the most appalling dangers? in your curiosity i fully participate, but, i'm sorry to say, i can't gratify it. it is one of those things that i could never find out. three mattresses, thick and well wadded, spread on the disc forming the false bottom of the projectile, were arranged in lines whose parallelism was simply perfect. but ardan would never think of occupying his until the very last moment. walking up and down, with the restless nervousness of a wild beast in a cage, he kept up a continuous fire of talk; at one moment with his friends, at another with the dogs, addressing the latter by the euphonious and suggestive names of diana and satellite. [illustration: diana and satellite.] "ho, pets!" he would exclaim as he patted them gently, "you must not forget the noble part you are to play up there. you must be models of canine deportment. the eyes of the whole selenitic world will be upon you. you are the standard bearers of your race. from you they will receive their first impression regarding its merits. let it be a favorable one. compel those selenites to acknowledge, in spite of themselves, that the terrestrial race of canines is far superior to that of the very best moon dog among them!" "dogs in the moon!" sneered m'nicholl, "i like that!" "plenty of dogs!" cried ardan, "and horses too, and cows, and sheep, and no end of chickens!" "a hundred dollars to one there isn't a single chicken within the whole lunar realm, not excluding even the invisible side!" cried the captain, in an authoritative tone, but never taking his eye off the chronometer. "i take that bet, my son," coolly replied ardan, shaking the captain's hand by way of ratifying the wager; "and this reminds me, by the way, mac, that you have lost three bets already, to the pretty little tune of six thousand dollars." "and paid them, too!" cried the captain, monotonously; "ten, thirty-six, six!" "yes, and in a quarter of an hour you will have to pay nine thousand dollars more; four thousand because the columbiad will not burst, and five thousand because the projectile will rise more than six miles from the earth." "i have the money ready," answered the captain, touching his breeches pocket. "when i lose i pay. not sooner. ten, thirty-eight, ten!" "captain, you're a man of method, if there ever was one. i think, however, that you made a mistake in your wagers." "how so?" asked the captain listlessly, his eye still on the dial. "because, by jove, if you win there will be no more of you left to take the money than there will be of barbican to pay it!" "friend ardan," quietly observed barbican, "my stakes are deposited in the _wall street bank_, of new york, with orders to pay them over to the captain's heirs, in case the captain himself should fail to put in an appearance at the proper time." "oh! you rhinoceroses, you pachyderms, you granite men!" cried ardan, gasping with surprise; "you machines with iron heads, and iron hearts! i may admire you, but i'm blessed if i understand you!" "ten, forty-two, ten!" repeated m'nicholl, as mechanically as if it was the chronometer itself that spoke. "four minutes and a half more," said barbican. "oh! four and a half little minutes!" went on ardan. "only think of it! we are shut up in a bullet that lies in the chamber of a cannon nine hundred feet long. underneath this bullet is piled a charge of 400 thousand pounds of gun-cotton, equivalent to 1600 thousand pounds of ordinary gunpowder! and at this very instant our friend murphy, chronometer in hand, eye on dial, finger on discharger, is counting the last seconds and getting ready to launch us into the limitless regions of planetary--" "ardan, dear friend," interrupted barbican, in a grave tone, "a serious moment is now at hand. let us meet it with some interior recollection. give me your hands, my dear friends." "certainly," said ardan, with tears in his voice, and already at the other extreme of his apparent levity. the three brave men united in one last, silent, but warm and impulsively affectionate pressure. "and now, great god, our creator, protect us! in thee we trust!" prayed barbican, the others joining him with folded hands and bowed heads. "ten, forty-six!" whispered the captain, as he and ardan quietly took their places on the mattresses. only forty seconds more! barbican rapidly extinguishes the gas and lies down beside his companions. the deathlike silence now reigning in the projectile is interrupted only by the sharp ticking of the chronometer as it beats the seconds. suddenly, a dreadful shock is felt, and the projectile, shot up by the instantaneous development of 200,000 millions of cubic feet of gas, is flying into space with inconceivable rapidity! chapter ii. the first half hour. what had taken place within the projectile? what effect had been produced by the frightful concussion? had barbican's ingenuity been attended with a fortunate result? had the shock been sufficiently deadened by the springs, the buffers, the water layers, and the partitions so readily ruptured? had their combined effect succeeded in counteracting the tremendous violence of a velocity of 12,000 yards a second, actually sufficient to carry them from london to new york in six minutes? these, and a hundred other questions of a similar nature were asked that night by the millions who had been watching the explosion from the base of stony hill. themselves they forgot altogether for the moment; they forgot everything in their absorbing anxiety regarding the fate of the daring travellers. had one among them, our friend marston, for instance, been favored with a glimpse at the interior of the projectile, what would he have seen? nothing at all at first, on account of the darkness; except that the walls had solidly resisted the frightful shock. not a crack, nor a bend, nor a dent could be perceived; not even the slightest injury had the admirably constructed piece of mechanical workmanship endured. it had not yielded an inch to the enormous pressure, and, far from melting and falling back to earth, as had been so seriously apprehended, in showers of blazing aluminium, it was still as strong in every respect as it had been on the very day that it left the cold spring iron works, glittering like a silver dollar. of real damage there was actually none, and even the disorder into which things had been thrown in the interior by the violent shock was comparatively slight. a few small objects lying around loose had been furiously hurled against the ceiling, but the others appeared not to have suffered the slightest injury. the straps that fastened them up were unfrayed, and the fixtures that held them down were uncracked. the partitions beneath the disc having been ruptured, and the water having escaped, the false floor had been dashed with tremendous violence against the bottom of the projectile, and on this disc at this moment three human bodies could be seen lying perfectly still and motionless. were they three corpses? had the projectile suddenly become a great metallic coffin bearing its ghastly contents through the air with the rapidity of a lightning flash? in a very few minutes after the shock, one of the bodies stirred a little, the arms moved, the eyes opened, the head rose and tried to look around; finally, with some difficulty, the body managed to get on its knees. it was the frenchman! he held his head tightly squeezed between his hands for some time as if to keep it from splitting. then he felt himself rapidly all over, cleared his throat with a vigorous "hem!" listened to the sound critically for an instant, and then said to himself in a relieved tone, but in his native tongue: "one man all right! call the roll for the others!" he tried to rise, but the effort was too great for his strength. he fell back again, his brain swimming, his eyes bursting, his head splitting. his state very much resembled that of a young man waking up in the morning after his first tremendous "spree." "br--rr!" he muttered to himself, still talking french; "this reminds me of one of my wild nights long ago in the _quartier latin_, only decidedly more so!" lying quietly on his back for a while, he could soon feel that the circulation of his blood, so suddenly and violently arrested by the terrific shock, was gradually recovering its regular flow; his heart grew more normal in its action; his head became clearer, and the pain less distracting. "time to call that roll," he at last exclaimed in a voice with some pretensions to firmness; "barbican! macnicholl!" he listens anxiously for a reply. none comes. a snow-wrapt grave at midnight is not more silent. in vain does he try to catch even the faintest sound of breathing, though he listens intently enough to hear the beating of their hearts; but he hears only his own. "call that roll again!" he mutters in a voice far less assured than before; "barbican! macnicholl!" the same fearful unearthly stillness. "the thing is getting decidedly monotonous!" he exclaimed, still speaking french. then rapidly recovering his consciousness as the full horror of the situation began to break on his mind, he went on muttering audibly: "have they really hopped the twig? bah! fudge! what has not been able to knock the life out of one little frenchman can't have killed two americans! they're all right! but first and foremost, let us enlighten the situation!" so saying, he contrived without much difficulty to get on his feet. balancing himself then for a moment, he began groping about for the gas. but he stopped suddenly. "hold on a minute!" he cried; "before lighting this match, let us see if the gas has been escaping. setting fire to a mixture of air and hydrogen would make a pretty how-do-you-do! such an explosion would infallibly burst the projectile, which so far seems all right, though i'm blest if i can tell whether we're moving or not." he began sniffing and smelling to discover if possible the odor of escaped gas. he could not detect the slightest sign of anything of the kind. this gave him great courage. he knew of course that his senses were not yet in good order, still he thought he might trust them so far as to be certain that the gas had not escaped and that consequently all the other receptacles were uninjured. at the touch of the match, the gas burst into light and burned with a steady flame. ardan immediately bent anxiously over the prostrate bodies of his friends. they lay on each other like inert masses, m'nicholl stretched across barbican. ardan first lifted up the captain, laid him on the sofa, opened his clenched hands, rubbed them, and slapped the palms vigorously. then he went all over the body carefully, kneading it, rubbing it, and gently patting it. in such intelligent efforts to restore suspended circulation, he seemed perfectly at home, and after a few minutes his patience was rewarded by seeing the captain's pallid face gradually recover its natural color, and by feeling his heart gradually beat with a firm pulsation. at last m'nicholl opened his eyes, stared at ardan for an instant, pressed his hand, looked around searchingly and anxiously, and at last whispered in a faint voice: "how's barbican?" "barbican is all right, captain," answered ardan quietly, but still speaking french. "i'll attend to him in a jiffy. he had to wait for his turn. i began with you because you were the top man. we'll see in a minute what we can do for dear old barby (_ce cher barbican_)!" in less than thirty seconds more, the captain not only was able to sit up himself, but he even insisted on helping ardan to lift barbican, and deposit him gently on the sofa. [illustration: helped ardan to lift barbican.] the poor president had evidently suffered more from the concussion than either of his companions. as they took off his coat they were at first terribly shocked at the sight of a great patch of blood staining his shirt bosom, but they were inexpressibly relieved at finding that it proceeded from a slight contusion of the shoulder, little more than skin deep. every approved operation that ardan had performed for the captain, both now repeated for barbican, but for a long time with nothing like a favorable result. ardan at first tried to encourage the captain by whispers of a lively and hopeful nature, but not yet understanding why m'nicholl did not deign to make a single reply, he grew reserved by degrees and at last would not speak a single word. he worked at barbican, however, just as before. m'nicholl interrupted himself every moment to lay his ear on the breast of the unconscious man. at first he had shaken his head quite despondingly, but by degrees he found himself more and more encouraged to persist. "he breathes!" he whispered at last. "yes, he has been breathing for some time," replied ardan, quietly, still unconsciously speaking french. "a little more rubbing and pulling and pounding will make him as spry as a young grasshopper." they worked at him, in fact, so vigorously, intelligently and perseveringly, that, after what they considered a long hour's labor, they had the delight of seeing the pale face assume a healthy hue, the inert limbs give signs of returning animation, and the breathing become strong and regular. at last, barbican suddenly opened his eyes, started into an upright position on the sofa, took his friends by the hands, and, in a voice showing complete consciousness, demanded eagerly: "ardan, m'nicholl, are we moving?" his friends looked at each other, a little amused, but more perplexed. in their anxiety regarding their own and their friend's recovery, they had never thought of asking such a question. his words recalled them at once to a full sense of their situation. "moving? blessed if i can tell!" said ardan, still speaking french. "we may be lying fifty feet deep in a florida marsh, for all i know," observed m'nicholl. "or, likely as not, in the bottom of the gulf of mexico," suggested ardan, still in french. "suppose we find out," observed barbican, jumping up to try, his voice as clear and his step as firm as ever. but trying is one thing, and finding out another. having no means of comparing themselves with external objects, they could not possibly tell whether they were moving, or at an absolute stand-still. though our earth is whirling us continually around the sun at the tremendous speed of 500 miles a minute, its inhabitants are totally unconscious of the slightest motion. it was the same with our travellers. through their own personal consciousness they could tell absolutely nothing. were they shooting through space like a meteor? they could not tell. had they fallen back and buried themselves deep in the sandy soil of florida, or, still more likely, hundreds of fathoms deep beneath the waters of the gulf of mexico? they could not form the slightest idea. listening evidently could do no good. the profound silence proved nothing. the padded walls of the projectile were too thick to admit any sound whether of wind, water, or human beings. barbican, however, was soon struck forcibly by one circumstance. he felt himself to be very uncomfortably warm, and his friend's faces looked very hot and flushed. hastily removing the cover that protected the thermometer, he closely inspected it, and in an instant uttered a joyous exclamation. "hurrah!" he cried. "we're moving! there's no mistake about it. the thermometer marks 113 degrees fahrenheit. such a stifling heat could not come from the gas. it comes from the exterior walls of our projectile, which atmospheric friction must have made almost red hot. but this heat must soon diminish, because we are already far beyond the regions of the atmosphere, so that instead of smothering we shall be shortly in danger of freezing." "what?" asked ardan, much bewildered. "we are already far beyond the limits of the terrestrial atmosphere! why do you think so?" m'nicholl was still too much flustered to venture a word. "if you want me to answer your question satisfactorily, my dear ardan," replied barbican, with a quiet smile, "you will have the kindness to put your questions in english." "what do you mean, barbican!" asked ardan, hardly believing his ears. "hurrah!" cried m'nicholl, in the tone of a man who has suddenly made a welcome but most unexpected discovery. "i don't know exactly how it is with the captain," continued barbican, with the utmost tranquillity, "but for my part the study of the languages never was my strong point, and though i always admired the french, and even understood it pretty well, i never could converse in it without giving myself more trouble than i always find it convenient to assume." "you don't mean to say that i have been talking french to you all this time!" cried ardan, horror-stricken. "the most elegant french i ever heard, backed by the purest parisian accent," replied barbican, highly amused; "don't you think so, captain?" he added, turning to m'nicholl, whose countenance still showed the most comical traces of bewilderment. "well, i swan to man!" cried the captain, who always swore a little when his feelings got beyond his control; "ardan, the boss has got the rig on both of us this time, but rough as it is on you it is a darned sight more so on me. be hanged if i did not think you were talking english the whole time, and i put the whole blame for not understanding you on the disordered state of my brain!" ardan only stared, and scratched his head, but barbican actually--no, not _laughed_, that serene nature could not _laugh_. his cast-iron features puckered into a smile of the richest drollery, and his eyes twinkled with the wickedest fun; but no undignified giggle escaped the portal of those majestic lips. "it _sounds_ like french, i'd say to myself," continued the captain, "but i _know_ it's english, and by and by, when this whirring goes out of my head, i shall easily understand it." ardan now looked as if he was beginning to see the joke. "the most puzzling part of the thing to me," went on m'nicholl, giving his experience with the utmost gravity, "was why english sounded so like _french_. if it was simple incomprehensible gibberish, i could readily blame the state of my ears for it. but the idea that my bothered ears could turn a mere confused, muzzled, buzzing reverberation into a sweet, harmonious, articulate, though unintelligible, human language, made me sure that i was fast becoming crazy, if i was not so already." "ha! ha! ha!" roared ardan, laughing till the tears came. "now i understand why the poor captain made me no reply all the time, and looked at me with such a hapless woe-begone expression of countenance. the fact is, barbican, that shock was too much both for m'nicholl and myself. you are the only man among us whose head is fire-proof, blast-proof, and powder-proof. i really believe a burglar would have greater difficulty in blowing your head-piece open than in bursting one of those famous american safes your papers make such a fuss about. a wonderful head, the boss's, isn't it m'nicholl?" "yes," said the captain, as slowly as if every word were a gem of the profoundest thought, "the boss has a fearful and a wonderful head!" "but now to business!" cried the versatile ardan, "why do you think, barbican, that we are at present beyond the limits of the terrestrial atmosphere?" "for a very simple reason," said barbican, pointing to the chronometer; "it is now more than seven minutes after 11. we must, therefore, have been in motion more than twenty minutes. consequently, unless our initial velocity has been very much diminished by the friction, we must have long before this completely cleared the fifty miles of atmosphere enveloping the earth." "correct," said the captain, cool as a cucumber, because once more in complete possession of all his senses; "but how much do you think the initial velocity to have been diminished by the friction?" "by a third, according to my calculations," replied barbican, "which i think are right. supposing our initial velocity, therefore, to have been 12,000 yards per second, by the time we quitted the atmosphere it must have been reduced to 8,000 yards per second. at that rate, we must have gone by this time--" "then, mac, my boy, you've lost your two bets!" interrupted ardan. "the columbiad has not burst, four thousand dollars; the projectile has risen at least six miles, five thousand dollars; come, captain, bleed!" "let me first be sure we're right," said the captain, quietly. "i don't deny, you see, that friend barbican's arguments are quite right, and, therefore, that i have lost my nine thousand dollars. but there is another view of the case possible, which might annul the bet." "what other view?" asked barbican, quickly. "suppose," said the captain, very drily, "that the powder had not caught, and that we were still lying quietly at the bottom of the columbiad!" "by jove!" laughed ardan, "there's an idea truly worthy of my own nondescript brain! we must surely have changed heads during that concussion! no matter, there is some sense left in us yet. come now, captain, consider a little, if you can. weren't we both half-killed by the shock? didn't i rescue you from certain death with these two hands? don't you see barbican's shoulder still bleeding by the violence of the shock?" "correct, friend michael, correct in every particular," replied the captain, "but one little question." "out with it!" "friend michael, you say we're moving?" "yes." "in consequence of the explosion?" "certainly!" "which must have been attended with a tremendous report?" "of course!" "did you hear that report, friend michael?" "n--o," replied ardan, a little disconcerted at the question. "well, no; i can't say that i did hear any report." "did you, friend barbican?" "no," replied barbican, promptly. "i heard no report whatever." his answer was ready, but his look was quite as disconcerted as ardan's. "well, friend barbican and friend michael," said the captain, very drily as he leered wickedly at both, "put that and that together and tell me what you make of it." "it's a fact!" exclaimed barbican, puzzled, but not bewildered. "why did we not hear that report?" "too hard for me," said ardan. "give it up!" the three friends gazed at each other for a while with countenances expressive of much perplexity. barbican appeared to be the least self-possessed of the party. it was a complete turning of the tables from the state of things a few moments ago. the problem was certainly simple enough, but for that very reason the more inexplicable. if they were moving the explosion must have taken place; but if the explosion had taken place, why had they not heard the report? barbican's decision soon put an end to speculation. "conjecture being useless," said he, "let us have recourse to facts. first, let us see where we are. drop the deadlights!" this operation, simple enough in itself and being immediately undertaken by the whole three, was easily accomplished. the screws fastening the bolts by which the external plates of the deadlights were solidly pinned, readily yielded to the pressure of a powerful wrench. the bolts were then driven outwards, and the holes which had contained them were immediately filled with solid plugs of india rubber. the bolts once driven out, the external plates dropped by their own weight, turning on a hinge, like portholes, and the strong plate-glass forming the light immediately showed itself. a second light exactly similar, could be cleared away on the opposite side of the projectile; a third, on the summit of the dome, and a fourth, in the centre of the bottom. the travellers could thus take observations in four different directions, having an opportunity of gazing at the firmament through the side lights, and at the earth and the moon through the lower and the upper lights of the projectile. ardan and the captain had commenced examining the floor, previous to operating on the bottom light. but barbican was the first to get through his work at one of the side lights, and m'nicholl and ardan soon heard him shouting: "no, my friends!" he exclaimed, in tones of decided emotion; "we have _not_ fallen back to earth; nor are we lying in the bottom of the gulf of mexico. no! we are driving through space! look at the stars glittering all around! brighter, but smaller than we have ever seen them before! we have left the earth and the earth's atmosphere far behind us!" "hurrah! hurrah!" cried m'nicholl and ardan, feeling as if electric shocks were coursing through them, though they could see nothing, looking down from the side light, but the blackest and profoundest obscurity. barbican soon convinced them that this pitchy blackness proved that they were not, and could not be, reposing on the surface of the earth, where at that moment, everything was illuminated by the bright moonlight; also that they had passed the different layers of the atmosphere, where the diffused and refracted rays would be also sure to reveal themselves through the lights of the projectile. they were, therefore, certainly moving. no doubt was longer possible. "it's a fact!" observed the captain, now quite convinced. "then i've lost!" "let me congratulate you!" cried ardan, shaking his hand. "here is your nine thousand dollars, friend barbican," said the captain, taking a roll of greenbacks of high denomination out of his porte-monnaie. "you want a receipt, don't you, captain?" asked barbican, counting the money. "yes, i should prefer one, if it is not too much trouble," answered m'nicholl; "it saves dispute." coolly and mechanically, as if seated at his desk, in his office, barbican opened his memorandum book, wrote a receipt on a blank page, dated, signed and sealed it, and then handed it to the captain, who put it away carefully among the other papers of his portfolio. ardan, taking off his hat, made a profound bow to both of his companions, without saying a word. such formality, under such extraordinary circumstances, actually paralysed his tongue for the moment. no wonder that he could not understand those americans. even indians would have surprised him by an exhibition of such stoicism. after indulging in silent wonder for a minute or two, he joined his companions who were now busy looking out at the starry sky. "where is the moon?" he asked. "how is it that we cannot see her?" "the fact of our not seeing her," answered barbican, "gives me very great satisfaction in one respect; it shows that our projectile was shot so rapidly out of the columbiad that it had not time to be impressed with the slightest revolving motion--for us a most fortunate matter. as for the rest--see, there is _cassiopeia_, a little to the left is _andromeda_, further down is the great square of _pegasus_, and to the southwest _fomalhaut_ can be easily seen swallowing the _cascade_. all this shows we are looking west and consequently cannot see the moon, which is approaching the zenith from the east. open the other light--but hold on! look here! what can this be?" the three travellers, looking westwardly in the direction of _alpherat_, saw a brilliant object rapidly approaching them. at a distance, it looked like a dusky moon, but the side turned towards the earth blazed with a bright light, which every moment became more intense. it came towards them with prodigious velocity and, what was worse, its path lay so directly in the course of the projectile that a collision seemed inevitable. as it moved onward, from west to east, they could easily see that it rotated on its axis, like all heavenly bodies; in fact, it somewhat resembled a moon on a small scale, describing its regular orbit around the earth. "_mille tonerres!_" cried ardan, greatly excited; "what is that? can it be another projectile?" m'nicholl, wiping his spectacles, looked again, but made no reply. barbican looked puzzled and uneasy. a collision was quite possible, and the results, even if not frightful in the highest degree, must be extremely deplorable. the projectile, if not absolutely dashed to pieces, would be diverted from its own course and dragged along in a new one in obedience to the irresistible attraction of this furious asteroid. barbican fully realized that either alternative involved the complete failure of their enterprise. he kept perfectly still, but, never losing his presence of mind, he curiously looked on the approaching object with a gladiatorial eye, as if seeking to detect some unguarded point in his terrible adversary. the captain was equally silent; he looked like a man who had fully made up his mind to regard every possible contingency with the most stoical indifference. but ardan's tongue, more fluent than ever, rattled away incessantly. "look! look!" he exclaimed, in tones so perfectly expressive of his rapidly alternating feelings as to render the medium of words totally unnecessary. "how rapidly the cursed thing is nearing us! plague take your ugly phiz, the more i know you, the less i like you! every second she doubles in size! come, madame projectile! stir your stumps a little livelier, old lady! he's making for you as straight as an arrow! we're going right in his way, or he's coming in ours, i can't say which. it's taking a mean advantage of us either way. as for ourselves--what can _we_ do! before such a monster as that we are as helpless as three men in a little skiff shooting down the rapids to the brink of niagara! now for it!" nearer and nearer it came, but without noise, without sparks, without a trail, though its lower part was brighter than ever. its path lying little above them, the nearer it came the more the collision seemed inevitable. imagine yourself caught on a narrow railroad bridge at midnight with an express train approaching at full speed, its reflector already dazzling you with its light, the roar of the cars rattling in your ears, and you may conceive the feelings of the travellers. at last it was so near that the travellers started back in affright, with eyes shut, hair on end, and fully believing their last hour had come. even then ardan had his _mot_. "we can neither switch off, down brakes, nor clap on more steam! hard luck!" in an instant all was over. the velocity of the projectile was fortunately great enough to carry it barely above the dangerous point; and in a flash the terrible bolide disappeared rapidly several hundred yards beneath the affrighted travellers. "good bye! and may you never come back!" cried ardan, hardly able to breathe. "it's perfectly outrageous! not room enough in infinite space to let an unpretending bullet like ours move about a little without incurring the risk of being run over by such a monster as that! what is it anyhow? do you know, barbican?" "i do," was the reply. "of course, you do! what is it that he don't know? eh, captain?" "it is a simple bolide, but one of such enormous dimensions that the earth's attraction has made it a satellite." "what!" cried ardan, "another satellite besides the moon? i hope there are no more of them!" "they are pretty numerous," replied barbican; "but they are so small and they move with such enormous velocity that they are very seldom seen. petit, the director of the observatory of toulouse, who these last years has devoted much time and care to the observation of bolides, has calculated that the very one we have just encountered moves with such astonishing swiftness that it accomplishes its revolution around the earth in about 3 hours and 20 minutes!" "whew!" whistled ardan, "where should we be now if it had struck us!" "you don't mean to say, barbican," observed m'nicholl, "that petit has seen this very one?" "so it appears," replied barbican. "and do all astronomers admit its existence?" asked the captain. "well, some of them have their doubts," replied barbican-"if the unbelievers had been here a minute or two ago," interrupted ardan, "they would never express a doubt again." "if petit's calculation is right," continued barbican, "i can even form a very good idea as to our distance from the earth." "it seems to me barbican can do what he pleases here or elsewhere," observed ardan to the captain. "let us see, barbican," asked m'nicholl; "where has petit's calculation placed us?" "the bolide's distance being known," replied barbican, "at the moment we met it we were a little more than 5 thousand miles from the earth's surface." "five thousand miles already!" cried ardan, "why we have only just started!" "let us see about that," quietly observed the captain, looking at his chronometer, and calculating with his pencil. "it is now 10 minutes past eleven; we have therefore been 23 minutes on the road. supposing our initial velocity of 10,000 yards or nearly seven miles a second, to have been kept up, we should by this time be about 9,000 miles from the earth; but by allowing for friction and gravity, we can hardly be more than 5,500 miles. yes, friend barbican, petit does not seem to be very wrong in his calculations." but barbican hardly heard the observation. he had not yet answered the puzzling question that had already presented itself to them for solution; and until he had done so he could not attend to anything else. "that's all very well and good, captain," he replied in an absorbed manner, "but we have not yet been able to account for a very strange phenomenon. why didn't we hear the report?" no one replying, the conversation came to a stand-still, and barbican, still absorbed in his reflections, began clearing the second light of its external shutter. in a few minutes the plate dropped, and the moon beams, flowing in, filled the interior of the projectile with her brilliant light. the captain immediately put out the gas, from motives of economy as well as because its glare somewhat interfered with the observation of the interplanetary regions. the lunar disc struck the travellers as glittering with a splendor and purity of light that they had never witnessed before. the beams, no longer strained through the misty atmosphere of the earth, streamed copiously in through the glass and coated the interior walls of the projectile with a brilliant silvery plating. the intense blackness of the sky enhanced the dazzling radiance of the moon. even the stars blazed with a new and unequalled splendor, and, in the absence of a refracting atmosphere, they flamed as bright in the close proximity of the moon as in any other part of the sky. you can easily conceive the interest with which these bold travellers gazed on the starry queen, the final object of their daring journey. she was now insensibly approaching the zenith, the mathematical point which she was to reach four days later. they presented their telescopes, but her mountains, plains, craters and general characteristics hardly came out a particle more sharply than if they had been viewed from the earth. still, her light, unobstructed by air or vapor, shimmered with a lustre actually transplendent. her disc shone like a mirror of polished platins. the travellers remained for some time absorbed in the silent contemplation of the glorious scene. "how they're gazing at her this very moment from stony hill!" said the captain at last to break the silence. "by jove!" cried ardan; "it's true! captain you're right. we were near forgetting our dear old mother, the earth. what ungrateful children! let me feast my eyes once more on the blessed old creature!" barbican, to satisfy his companion's desire, immediately commenced to clear away the disc which covered the floor of the projectile and prevented them from getting at the lower light. this disc, though it had been dashed to the bottom of the projectile with great violence, was still as strong as ever, and, being made in compartments fastened by screws, to dismount it was no easy matter. barbican, however, with the help of the others, soon had it all taken apart, and put away the pieces carefully, to serve again in case of need. a round hole about a foot and a half in diameter appeared, bored through the floor of the projectile. it was closed by a circular pane of plate-glass, which was about six inches thick, fastened by a ring of copper. below, on the outside, the glass was protected by an aluminium plate, kept in its place by strong bolts and nuts. the latter being unscrewed, the bolts slipped out by their own weight, the shutter fell, and a new communication was established between the interior and the exterior. ardan knelt down, applied his eye to the light, and tried to look out. at first everything was quite dark and gloomy. "i see no earth!" he exclaimed at last. "don't you see a fine ribbon of light?" asked barbican, "right beneath us? a thin, pale, silvery crescent?" "of course i do. can that be the earth?" "_terra mater_ herself, friend ardan. that fine fillet of light, now hardly visible on her eastern border, will disappear altogether as soon as the moon is full. then, lying as she will be between the sun and the moon, her illuminated face will be turned away from us altogether, and for several days she will be involved in impenetrable darkness." "and that's the earth!" repeated ardan, hardly able to believe his eyes, as he continued to gaze on the slight thread of silvery white light, somewhat resembling the appearance of the "young may moon" a few hours after sunset. barbican's explanation was quite correct. the earth, in reference to the moon or the projectile, was in her last phase, or octant as it is called, and showed a sharp-horned, attenuated, but brilliant crescent strongly relieved by the black background of the sky. its light, rendered a little bluish by the density of the atmospheric envelopes, was not quite as brilliant as the moon's. but the earth's crescent, compared to the lunar, was of dimensions much greater, being fully 4 times larger. you would have called it a vast, beautiful, but very thin bow extending over the sky. a few points, brighter than the rest, particularly in its concave part, revealed the presence of lofty mountains, probably the himalayahs. but they disappeared every now and then under thick vapory spots, which are never seen on the lunar disc. they were the thin concentric cloud rings that surround the terrestrial sphere. however, the travellers' eyes were soon able to trace the rest of the earth's surface not only with facility, but even to follow its outline with absolute delight. this was in consequence of two different phenomena, one of which they could easily account for; but the other they could not explain without barbican's assistance. no wonder. never before had mortal eye beheld such a sight. let us take each in its turn. we all know that the ashy light by means of which we perceive what is called the _old moon in the young moon's arms_ is due to the earth-shine, or the reflection of the solar rays from the earth to the moon. by a phenomenon exactly identical, the travellers could now see that portion of the earth's surface which was unillumined by the sun; only, as, in consequence of the different areas of the respective surfaces, the _earthlight_ is thirteen times more intense than the _moonlight_, the dark portion of the earth's disc appeared considerably more adumbrated than the _old moon_. but the other phenomenon had burst on them so suddenly that they uttered a cry loud enough to wake up barbican from his problem. they had discovered a true starry ring! around the earth's outline, a ring, of internally well defined thickness, but somewhat hazy on the outside, could easily be traced by its surpassing brilliancy. neither the _pleiades_, the _northern crown_, the _magellanic clouds_ nor the great nebulas of _orion_, or of _argo_, no sparkling cluster, no corona, no group of glittering star-dust that the travellers had ever gazed at, presented such attractions as the diamond ring they now saw encompassing the earth, just as the brass meridian encompasses a terrestrial globe. the resplendency of its light enchanted them, its pure softness delighted them, its perfect regularity astonished them. what was it? they asked barbican. in a few words he explained it. the beautiful luminous ring was simply an optical illusion, produced by the refraction of the terrestrial atmosphere. all the stars in the neighborhood of the earth, and many actually behind it, had their rays refracted, diffused, radiated, and finally converged to a focus by the atmosphere, as if by a double convex lens of gigantic power. whilst the travellers were profoundly absorbed in the contemplation of this wondrous sight, a sparkling shower of shooting stars suddenly flashed over the earth's dark surface, making it for a moment as bright as the external ring. hundreds of bolides, catching fire from contact with the atmosphere, streaked the darkness with their luminous trails, overspreading it occasionally with sheets of electric flame. the earth was just then in her perihelion, and we all know that the months of november and december are so highly favorable to the appearance of these meteoric showers that at the famous display of november, 1866, astronomers counted as many as 8,000 between midnight and four o'clock. barbican explained the whole matter in a few words. the earth, when nearest to the sun, occasionally plunges into a group of countless meteors travelling like comets, in eccentric orbits around the grand centre of our solar system. the atmosphere strikes the rapidly moving bodies with such violence as to set them on fire and render them visible to us in beautiful star showers. but to this simple explanation of the famous november meteors ardan would not listen. he preferred believing that mother earth, feeling that her three daring children were still looking at her, though five thousand miles away, shot off her best rocket-signals to show that she still thought of them and would never let them out of her watchful eye. for hours they continued to gaze with indescribable interest on the faintly luminous mass so easily distinguishable among the other heavenly bodies. jupiter blazed on their right, mars flashed his ruddy light on their left, saturn with his rings looked like a round white spot on a black wall; even venus they could see almost directly under them, easily recognizing her by her soft, sweetly scintillant light. but no planet or constellation possessed any attraction for the travellers, as long as their eyes could trace that shadowy, crescent-edged, diamond-girdled, meteor-furrowed spheroid, the theatre of their existence, the home of so many undying desires, the mysterious cradle of their race! meantime the projectile cleaved its way upwards, rapidly, unswervingly, though with a gradually retarding velocity. as the earth sensibly grew darker, and the travellers' eyes grew dimmer, an irresistible somnolency slowly stole over their weary frames. the extraordinary excitement they had gone through during the last four or five hours, was naturally followed by a profound reaction. "captain, you're nodding," said ardan at last, after a longer silence than usual; "the fact is, barbican is the only wake man of the party, because he is puzzling over his problem. _dum vivimus vivamus_! as we are asleep let us be asleep!" so saying he threw himself on the mattress, and his companions immediately followed the example. they had been lying hardly a quarter of an hour, when barbican started up with a cry so loud and sudden as instantly to awaken his companions. the bright moonlight showed them the president sitting up in his bed, his eye blazing, his arms waving, as he shouted in a tone reminding them of the day they had found him in st. helena wood. "_eureka!_ i've got it! i know it!" "what have you got?" cried ardan, bouncing up and seizing him by the right hand. "what do you know?" cried the captain, stretching over and seizing him by the left. "the reason why we did not hear the report!" "well, why did not we hear it!" asked both rapidly in the same breath. "because we were shot up 30 times faster than sound can travel!" chapter iii. they make themselves at home and feel quite comfortable. this curious explanation given, and its soundness immediately recognized, the three friends were soon fast wrapped in the arms of morpheus. where in fact could they have found a spot more favorable for undisturbed repose? on land, where the dwellings, whether in populous city or lonely country, continually experience every shock that thrills the earth's crust? at sea, where between waves or winds or paddles or screws or machinery, everything is tremor, quiver or jar? in the air, where the balloon is incessantly twirling, oscillating, on account of the ever varying strata of different densities, and even occasionally threatening to spill you out? the projectile alone, floating grandly through the absolute void, in the midst of the profoundest silence, could offer to its inmates the possibility of enjoying slumber the most complete, repose the most profound. there is no telling how long our three daring travellers would have continued to enjoy their sleep, if it had not been suddenly terminated by an unexpected noise about seven o'clock in the morning of december 2nd, eight hours after their departure. this noise was most decidedly of barking. "the dogs! it's the dogs!" cried ardan, springing up at a bound. "they must be hungry!" observed the captain. "we have forgotten the poor creatures!" cried barbican. "where can they have gone to?" asked ardan, looking for them in all directions. at last they found one of them hiding under the sofa. thunderstruck and perfectly bewildered by the terrible shock, the poor animal had kept close in its hiding place, never daring to utter a sound, until at last the pangs of hunger had proved too strong even for its fright. they readily recognized the amiable diana, but they could not allure the shivering, whining animal from her retreat without a good deal of coaxing. ardan talked to her in his most honeyed and seductive accents, while trying to pull her out by the neck. "come out to your friends, charming diana," he went on, "come out, my beauty, destined for a lofty niche in the temple of canine glory! come out, worthy scion of a race deemed worthy by the egyptians to be a companion of the great god, anubis, by the christians, to be a friend of the good saint roch! come out and partake of a glory before which the stars of montargis and of st. bernard shall henceforward pale their ineffectual fire! come out, my lady, and let me think o'er the countless multiplication of thy species, so that, while sailing through the interplanetary spaces, we may indulge in endless flights of fancy on the number and variety of thy descendants who will ere long render the selenitic atmosphere vocal with canine ululation!" [illustration: more hungry than either.] diana, whether flattered or not, allowed herself to be dragged out, still uttering short, plaintive whines. a hasty examination satisfying her friends that she was more frightened than hurt and more hungry than either, they continued their search for her companion. "satellite! satellite! step this way, sir!" cried ardan. but no satellite appeared and, what was worse, not the slightest sound indicated his presence. at last he was discovered on a ledge in the upper portion of the projectile, whither he had been shot by the terrible concussion. less fortunate than his female companion, the poor fellow had received a frightful shock and his life was evidently in great danger. "the acclimatization project looks shaky!" cried ardan, handing the animal very carefully and tenderly to the others. poor satellite's head had been crushed against the roof, but, though recovery seemed hopeless, they laid the body on a soft cushion, and soon had the satisfaction of hearing it give vent to a slight sigh. "good!" said ardan, "while there's life there's hope. you must not die yet, old boy. we shall nurse you. we know our duty and shall not shirk the responsibility. i should rather lose the right arm off my body than be the cause of your death, poor satellite! try a little water?" the suffering creature swallowed the cool draught with evident avidity, then sunk into a deep slumber. the friends, sitting around and having nothing more to do, looked out of the window and began once more to watch the earth and the moon with great attention. the glittering crescent of the earth was evidently narrower than it had been the preceding evening, but its volume was still enormous when compared to the lunar crescent, which was now rapidly assuming the proportions of a perfect circle. "by jove," suddenly exclaimed ardan, "why didn't we start at the moment of full earth?--that is when our globe and the sun were in opposition?" "why _should_ we!" growled m'nicholl. "because in that case we should be now looking at the great continents and the great seas in a new light--the former glittering under the solar rays, the latter darker and somewhat shaded, as we see them on certain maps. how i should like to get a glimpse at those poles of the earth, on which the eye of man has never yet lighted!" "true," replied barbican, "but if the earth had been full, the moon would have been new, that is to say, invisible to us on account of solar irradiation. of the two it is much preferable to be able to keep the point of arrival in view rather than the point of departure." "you're right, barbican," observed the captain; "besides, once we're in the moon, the long lunar night will give us plenty of time to gaze our full at yonder great celestial body, our former home, and still swarming with our fellow beings." "our fellow beings no longer, dear boy!" cried ardan. "we inhabit a new world peopled by ourselves alone, the projectile! ardan is barbican's fellow being, and barbican m'nicholl's. beyond us, outside us, humanity ends, and we are now the only inhabitants of this microcosm, and so we shall continue till the moment when we become selenites pure and simple." "which shall be in about eighty-eight hours from now," replied the captain. "which is as much as to say--?" asked ardan. "that it is half past eight," replied m'nicholl. "my regular hour for breakfast," exclaimed ardan, "and i don't see the shadow of a reason for changing it now." the proposition was most acceptable, especially to the captain, who frequently boasted that, whether on land or water, on mountain summits or in the depths of mines, he had never missed a meal in all his life. in escaping from the earth, our travellers felt that they had by no means escaped from the laws of humanity, and their stomachs now called on them lustily to fill the aching void. ardan, as a frenchman, claimed the post of chief cook, an important office, but his companions yielded it with alacrity. the gas furnished the requisite heat, and the provision chest supplied the materials for their first repast. they commenced with three plates of excellent soup, extracted from _liebig's_ precious tablets, prepared from the best beef that ever roamed over the pampas. to this succeeded several tenderloin beefsteaks, which, though reduced to a small bulk by the hydraulic engines of the _american dessicating company_, were pronounced to be fully as tender, juicy and savory as if they had just left the gridiron of a london club house. ardan even swore that they were "bleeding," and the others were too busy to contradict him. preserved vegetables of various kinds, "fresher than nature," according to ardan, gave an agreeable variety to the entertainment, and these were followed by several cups of magnificent tea, unanimously allowed to be the best they had ever tasted. it was an odoriferous young hyson gathered that very year, and presented to the emperor of russia by the famous rebel chief yakub kushbegi, and of which alexander had expressed himself as very happy in being able to send a few boxes to his friend, the distinguished president of the baltimore gun club. to crown the meal, ardan unearthed an exquisite bottle of _chambertin_, and, in glasses sparkling with the richest juice of the _cote d'or,_ the travellers drank to the speedy union of the earth and her satellite. and, as if his work among the generous vineyards of burgundy had not been enough to show his interest in the matter, even the sun wished to join the party. precisely at this moment, the projectile beginning to leave the conical shadow cast by the earth, the rays of the glorious king of day struck its lower surface, not obliquely, but perpendicularly, on account of the slight obliquity of the moon's orbit with that of the earth. [illustration: to the union of the earth and her satellite.] "the sun," cried ardan. "of course," said barbican, looking at his watch, "he's exactly up to time." "how is it that we see him only through the bottom light of our projectile?" asked ardan. "a moment's reflection must tell you," replied barbican, "that when we started last night, the sun was almost directly below us; therefore, as we continue to move in a straight line, he must still be in our rear." "that's clear enough," said the captain, "but another consideration, i'm free to say, rather perplexes me. since our earth lies between us and the sun, why don't we see the sunlight forming a great ring around the globe, in other words, instead of the full sun that we plainly see there below, why do we not witness an annular eclipse?" "your cool, clear head has not yet quite recovered from the shock, my dear captain;" replied barbican, with a smile. "for two reasons we can't see the ring eclipse: on account of the angle the moon's orbit makes with the earth, the three bodies are not at present in a direct line; we, therefore, see the sun a little to the west of the earth; secondly, even if they were exactly in a straight line, we should still be far from the point whence an annular eclipse would be visible." "that's true," said ardan; "the cone of the earth's shadow must extend far beyond the moon." "nearly four times as far," said barbican; "still, as the moon's orbit and the earth's do not lie in exactly the same plane, a lunar eclipse can occur only when the nodes coincide with the period of the full moon, which is generally twice, never more than three times in a year. if we had started about four days before the occurrence of a lunar eclipse, we should travel all the time in the dark. this would have been obnoxious for many reasons." "one, for instance?" "an evident one is that, though at the present moment we are moving through a vacuum, our projectile, steeped in the solar rays, revels in their light and heat. hence great saving in gas, an important point in our household economy." in effect, the solar rays, tempered by no genial medium like our atmosphere, soon began to glare and glow with such intensity, that the projectile under their influence, felt like suddenly passing from winter to summer. between the moon overhead and the sun beneath it was actually inundated with fiery rays. "one feels good here," cried the captain, rubbing his hands. "a little too good," cried ardan. "it's already like a hot-house. with a little garden clay, i could raise you a splendid crop of peas in twenty-four hours. i hope in heaven the walls of our projectile won't melt like wax!" "don't be alarmed, dear friend," observed barbican, quietly. "the projectile has seen the worst as far as heat is concerned; when tearing through the atmosphere, she endured a temperature with which what she is liable to at present stands no comparison. in fact, i should not be astonished if, in the eyes of our friends at stony hill, it had resembled for a moment or two a red-hot meteor." "poor marston must have looked on us as roasted alive!" observed ardan. "what could have saved us i'm sure i can't tell," replied barbican. "i must acknowledge that against such a danger, i had made no provision whatever." "i knew all about it," said the captain, "and on the strength of it, i had laid my fifth wager." "probably," laughed ardan, "there was not time enough to get grilled in: i have heard of men who dipped their fingers into molten iron with impunity." whilst ardan and the captain were arguing the point, barbican began busying himself in making everything as comfortable as if, instead of a four days' journey, one of four years was contemplated. the reader, no doubt, remembers that the floor of the projectile contained about 50 square feet; that the chamber was nine feet high; that space was economized as much as possible, nothing but the most absolute necessities being admitted, of which each was kept strictly in its own place; therefore, the travellers had room enough to move around in with a certain liberty. the thick glass window in the floor was quite as solid as any other part of it; but the sun, streaming in from below, lit up the projectile strangely, producing some very singular and startling effects of light appearing to come in by the wrong way. the first thing now to be done was to see after the water cask and the provision chest. they were not injured in the slightest respect, thanks to the means taken to counteract the shock. the provisions were in good condition, and abundant enough to supply the travellers for a whole year--barbican having taken care to be on the safe side, in case the projectile might land in a deserted region of the moon. as for the water and the other liquors, the travellers had enough only for two months. relying on the latest observations of astronomers, they had convinced themselves that the moon's atmosphere, being heavy, dense and thick in the deep valleys, springs and streams of water could hardly fail to show themselves there. during the journey, therefore, and for the first year of their installation on the lunar continent, the daring travellers would be pretty safe from all danger of hunger or thirst. the air supply proved also to be quite satisfactory. the _reiset_ and _regnault_ apparatus for producing oxygen contained a supply of chlorate of potash sufficient for two months. as the productive material had to be maintained at a temperature of between 7 and 8 hundred degrees fahr., a steady consumption of gas was required; but here too the supply far exceeded the demand. the whole arrangement worked charmingly, requiring only an odd glance now and then. the high temperature changing the chlorate into a chloride, the oxygen was disengaged gradually but abundantly, every eighteen pounds of chlorate of potash, furnishing the seven pounds of oxygen necessary for the daily consumption of the inmates of the projectile. still--as the reader need hardly be reminded--it was not sufficient to renew the exhausted oxygen; the complete purification of the air required the absorption of the carbonic acid, exhaled from the lungs. for nearly 12 hours the atmosphere had been gradually becoming more and more charged with this deleterious gas, produced from the combustion of the blood by the inspired oxygen. the captain soon saw this, by noticing with what difficulty diana was panting. she even appeared to be smothering, for the carbonic acid--as in the famous _grotto del cane_ on the banks of lake agnano, near naples--was collecting like water on the floor of the projectile, on account of its great specific gravity. it already threatened the poor dog's life, though not yet endangering that of her masters. the captain, seeing this state of things, hastily laid on the floor one or two cups containing caustic potash and water, and stirred the mixture gently: this substance, having a powerful affinity for carbonic acid, greedily absorbed it, and after a few moments the air was completely purified. the others had begun by this time to check off the state of the instruments. the thermometer and the barometer were all right, except one self-recorder of which the glass had got broken. an excellent aneroid barometer, taken safe and sound out of its wadded box, was carefully hung on a hook in the wall. it marked not only the pressure of the air in the projectile, but also the quantity of the watery vapor that it contained. the needle, oscillating a little beyond thirty, pointed pretty steadily at "_fair_." the mariner's compasses were also found to be quite free from injury. it is, of course, hardly necessary to say that the needles pointed in no particular direction, the magnetic pole of the earth being unable at such a distance to exercise any appreciable influence on them. but when brought to the moon, it was expected that these compasses, once more subjected to the influence of the current, would attest certain phenomena. in any case, it would be interesting to verify if the earth and her satellite were similarly affected by the magnetic forces. a hypsometer, or instrument for ascertaining the heights of the lunar mountains by the barometric pressure under which water boils, a sextant to measure the altitude of the sun, a theodolite for taking horizontal or vertical angles, telescopes, of indispensable necessity when the travellers should approach the moon,--all these instruments, carefully examined, were found to be still in perfect working order, notwithstanding the violence of the terrible shock at the start. as to the picks, spades, and other tools that had been carefully selected by the captain; also the bags of various kinds of grain and the bundles of various kinds of shrubs, which ardan expected to transplant to the lunar plains--they were all still safe in their places around the upper corners of the projectile. some other articles were also up there which evidently possessed great interest for the frenchman. what they were nobody else seemed to know, and he seemed to be in no hurry to tell. every now and then, he would climb up, by means of iron pins fixed in the wall, to inspect his treasures; whatever they were, he arranged them and rearranged them with evident pleasure, and as he rapidly passed a careful hand through certain mysterious boxes, he joyfully sang in the falsest possible of false voices the lively piece from _nicolo_: _le temps est beau, la route est belle, la promenade est un plaisir_. {the day is bright, our hearts are light.} {how sweet to rove through wood and dell.} or the well known air in _mignon_: _legères hirondelles, oiseaux bénis de dieu, ouvrez-ouvrez vos ailes, envolez-vous! adieu!_ {farewell, happy swallows, farewell!} {with summer for ever to dwell} {ye leave our northern strand} {for the genial southern land} {balmy with breezes bland.} {return? ah, who can tell?} {farewell, happy swallows, farewell!} barbican was much gratified to find that his rockets and other fireworks had not received the least injury. he relied upon them for the performance of a very important service as soon as the projectile, having passed the point of neutral attraction between the earth and the moon, would begin to fall with accelerated velocity towards the lunar surface. this descent, though--thanks to the respective volumes of the attracting bodies--six times less rapid than it would have been on the surface of the earth, would still be violent enough to dash the projectile into a thousand pieces. but barbican confidently expected by means of his powerful rockets to offer very considerable obstruction to the violence of this fall, if not to counteract its terrible effects altogether. the inspection having thus given general satisfaction, the travellers once more set themselves to watching external space through the lights in the sides and the floor of the projectile. everything still appeared to be in the same state as before. nothing was changed. the vast arch of the celestial dome glittered with stars, and constellations blazed with a light clear and pure enough to throw an astronomer into an ecstasy of admiration. below them shone the sun, like the mouth of a white-hot furnace, his dazzling disc defined sharply on the pitch-black back-ground of the sky. above them the moon, reflecting back his rays from her glowing surface, appeared to stand motionless in the midst of the starry host. a little to the east of the sun, they could see a pretty large dark spot, like a hole in the sky, the broad silver fringe on one edge fading off into a faint glimmering mist on the other--it was the earth. here and there in all directions, nebulous masses gleamed like large flakes of star dust, in which, from nadir to zenith, the eye could trace without a break that vast ring of impalpable star powder, the famous _milky way_, through the midst of which the beams of our glorious sun struggle with the dusky pallor of a star of only the fourth magnitude. our observers were never weary of gazing on this magnificent and novel spectacle, of the grandeur of which, it is hardly necessary to say, no description can give an adequate idea. what profound reflections it suggested to their understandings! what vivid emotions it enkindled in their imaginations! barbican, desirous of commenting the story of the journey while still influenced by these inspiring impressions, noted carefully hour by hour every fact that signalized the beginning of his enterprise. he wrote out his notes very carefully and systematically, his round full hand, as business-like as ever, never betraying the slightest emotion. the captain was quite as busy, but in a different way. pulling out his tablets, he reviewed his calculations regarding the motion of projectiles, their velocities, ranges and paths, their retardations and their accelerations, jotting down the figures with a rapidity wonderful to behold. ardan neither wrote nor calculated, but kept up an incessant fire of small talk, now with barbican, who hardly ever answered him, now with m'nicholl, who never heard him, occasionally with diana, who never understood him, but oftenest with himself, because, as he said, he liked not only to talk to a sensible man but also to hear what a sensible man had to say. he never stood still for a moment, but kept "bobbing around" with the effervescent briskness of a bee, at one time roosting at the top of the ladder, at another peering through the floor light, now to the right, then to the left, always humming scraps from the _opera bouffe_, but never changing the air. in the small space which was then a whole world to the travellers, he represented to the life the animation and loquacity of the french, and i need hardly say he played his part to perfection. the eventful day, or, to speak more correctly, the space of twelve hours which with us forms a day, ended for our travellers with an abundant supper, exquisitely cooked. it was highly enjoyed. no incident had yet occurred of a nature calculated to shake their confidence. apprehending none therefore, full of hope rather and already certain of success, they were soon lost in a peaceful slumber, whilst the projectile, moving rapidly, though with a velocity uniformly retarding, still cleaved its way through the pathless regions of the empyrean. chapter iv. a chapter for the cornell girls. no incident worth recording occurred during the night, if night indeed it could be called. in reality there was now no night or even day in the projectile, or rather, strictly speaking, it was always _night_ on the upper end of the bullet, and always _day_ on the lower. whenever, therefore, the words _night_ and _day_ occur in our story, the reader will readily understand them as referring to those spaces of time that are so called in our earthly almanacs, and were so measured by the travellers' chronometers. the repose of our friends must indeed have been undisturbed, if absolute freedom from sound or jar of any kind could secure tranquillity. in spite of its immense velocity, the projectile still seemed to be perfectly motionless. not the slightest sign of movement could be detected. change of locality, though ever so rapid, can never reveal itself to our senses when it takes place in a vacuum, or when the enveloping atmosphere travels at the same rate as the moving body. though we are incessantly whirled around the sun at the rate of about seventy thousand miles an hour, which of us is conscious of the slightest motion? in such a case, as far as sensation is concerned, motion and repose are absolutely identical. neither has any effect one way or another on a material body. is such a body in motion? it remains in motion until some obstacle stops it. is it at rest? it remains at rest until some superior force compels it to change its position. this indifference of bodies to motion or rest is what physicists call _inertia_. barbican and his companions, therefore, shut up in the projectile, could readily imagine themselves to be completely motionless. had they been outside, the effect would have been precisely the same. no rush of air, no jarring sensation would betray the slightest movement. but for the sight of the moon gradually growing larger above them, and of the earth gradually growing smaller beneath them, they could safely swear that they were fast anchored in an ocean of deathlike immobility. towards the morning of next day (december 3), they were awakened by a joyful, but quite unexpected sound. "cock-a-doodle! doo!" accompanied by a decided flapping of wings. the frenchman, on his feet in one instant and on the top of the ladder in another, attempted to shut the lid of a half open box, speaking in an angry but suppressed voice: "stop this hullabaloo, won't you? do you want me to fail in my great combination!" "hello?" cried barbican and m'nicholl, starting up and rubbing their eyes. "what noise was that?" asked barbican. "seems to me i heard the crowing of a cock," observed the captain. "i never thought your ears could be so easily deceived, captain," cried ardan, quickly, "let us try it again," and, flapping his ribs with his arms, he gave vent to a crow so loud and natural that the lustiest chanticleer that ever saluted the orb of day might be proud of it. the captain roared right out, and even barbican snickered, but as they saw that their companion evidently wanted to conceal something, they immediately assumed straight faces and pretended to think no more about the matter. "barbican," said ardan, coming down the ladder and evidently anxious to change the conversation, "have you any idea of what i was thinking about all night?" "not the slightest." "i was thinking of the promptness of the reply you received last year from the authorities of cambridge university, when you asked them about the feasibility of sending a bullet to the moon. you know very well by this time what a perfect ignoramus i am in mathematics. i own i have been often puzzled when thinking on what grounds they could form such a positive opinion, in a case where i am certain that the calculation must be an exceedingly delicate matter." "the feasibility, you mean to say," replied barbican, "not exactly of sending a bullet to the moon, but of sending it to the neutral point between the earth and the moon, which lies at about nine-tenths of the journey, where the two attractions counteract each other. because that point once passed, the projectile would reach the moon's surface by virtue of its own weight." "well, reaching that neutral point be it;" replied ardan, "but, once more, i should like to know how they have been able to come at the necessary initial velocity of 12,000 yards a second?" "nothing simpler," answered barbican. "could you have done it yourself?" asked the frenchman. "without the slightest difficulty. the captain and myself could have readily solved the problem, only the reply from the university saved us the trouble." "well, barbican, dear boy," observed ardan, "all i've got to say is, you might chop the head off my body, beginning with my feet, before you could make me go through such a calculation." "simply because you don't understand algebra," replied barbican, quietly. "oh! that's all very well!" cried ardan, with an ironical smile. "you great _x+y_ men think you settle everything by uttering the word _algebra_!" "ardan," asked barbican, "do you think people could beat iron without a hammer, or turn up furrows without a plough?" "hardly." "well, algebra is an instrument or utensil just as much as a hammer or a plough, and a very good instrument too if you know how to make use of it." "you're in earnest?" "quite so." "and you can handle the instrument right before my eyes?" "certainly, if it interests you so much." "you can show me how they got at the initial velocity of our projectile?" "with the greatest pleasure. by taking into proper consideration all the elements of the problem, viz.: (1) the distance between the centres of the earth and the moon, (2) the earth's radius, (3) its volume, and (4) the moon's volume, i can easily calculate what must be the initial velocity, and that too by a very simple formula." "let us have the formula." "in one moment; only i can't give you the curve really described by the projectile as it moves between the earth and the moon; this is to be obtained by allowing for their combined movement around the sun. i will consider the earth and the sun to be motionless, that being sufficient for our present purpose." "why so?" "because to give you that exact curve would be to solve a point in the 'problem of the three bodies,' which integral calculus has not yet reached." "what!" cried ardan, in a mocking tone, "is there really anything that mathematics can't do?" "yes," said barbican, "there is still a great deal that mathematics can't even attempt." "so far, so good;" resumed ardan. "now then what is this integral calculus of yours?" "it is a branch of mathematics that has for its object the summation of a certain infinite series of indefinitely small terms: but for the solution of which, we must generally know the function of which a given function is the differential coefficient. in other words," continued barbican, "in it we return from the differential coefficient, to the function from which it was deduced." "clear as mud!" cried ardan, with a hearty laugh. "now then, let me have a bit of paper and a pencil," added barbican, "and in half an hour you shall have your formula; meantime you can easily find something interesting to do." in a few seconds barbican was profoundly absorbed in his problem, while m'nicholl was watching out of the window, and ardan was busily employed in preparing breakfast. the morning meal was not quite ready, when barbican, raising his head, showed ardan a page covered with algebraic signs at the end of which stood the following formula:- 1 2 2 r m' r r --(v' v ) = gr {--1 + --(---------) } 2 x m d x d r "which means?" asked ardan. "it means," said the captain, now taking part in the discussion, "that the half of _v_ prime squared minus _v_ squared equals _gr_ multiplied by _r_ over _x_ minus one plus _m_ prime over _m_ multiplied by _r_ over _d_ minus _x_ minus _r_ over _d_ minus _r_ ... that is--" "that is," interrupted ardan, in a roar of laughter, "_x_ stradlegs on _y_, making for _z_ and jumping over _p_! do _you_ mean to say you understand the terrible jargon, captain?" "nothing is clearer, ardan." "you too, captain! then of course i must give in gracefully, and declare that the sun at noon-day is not more palpably evident than the sense of barbican's formula." "you asked for algebra, you know," observed barbican. "rock crystal is nothing to it!" "the fact is, barbican," said the captain, who had been looking over the paper, "you have worked the thing out very well. you have the integral equation of the living forces, and i have no doubt it will give us the result sought for." "yes, but i should like to understand it, you know," cried ardan: "i would give ten years of the captain's life to understand it!" "listen then," said barbican. "half of _v_ prime squared less _v_ squared, is the formula giving us the half variation of the living force." "mac pretends he understands all that!" "you need not be a _solomon_ to do it," said the captain. "all these signs that you appear to consider so cabalistic form a language the clearest, the shortest, and the most logical, for all those who can read it." "you pretend, captain, that, by means of these hieroglyphics, far more incomprehensible than the sacred ibis of the egyptians, you can discover the velocity at which the projectile should start?" "most undoubtedly," replied the captain, "and, by the same formula i can even tell you the rate of our velocity at any particular point of our journey." "you can?" "i can." "then you're just as deep a one as our president." "no, ardan; not at all. the really difficult part of the question barbican has done. that is, to make out such an equation as takes into account all the conditions of the problem. after that, it's a simple affair of arithmetic, requiring only a knowledge of the four rules to work it out." "very simple," observed ardan, who always got muddled at any kind of a difficult sum in addition. "captain," said barbican, "_you_ could have found the formulas too, if you tried." "i don't know about that," was the captain's reply, "but i do know that this formula is wonderfully come at." "now, ardan, listen a moment," said barbican, "and you will see what sense there is in all these letters." "i listen," sighed ardan with the resignation of a martyr. "_d_ is the distance from the centre of the earth to the centre of the moon, for it is from the centres that we must calculate the attractions." "that i comprehend." "_r_ is the radius of the earth." "that i comprehend." "_m_ is the mass or volume of the earth; _m_ prime that of the moon. we must take the mass of the two attracting bodies into consideration, since attraction is in direct proportion to their masses." "that i comprehend." "_g_ is the gravity or the velocity acquired at the end of a second by a body falling towards the centre of the earth. clear?" "that i comprehend." "now i represent by _x_ the varying distance that separates the projectile from the centre of the earth, and by _v_ prime its velocity at that distance." "that i comprehend." "finally, _v_ is its velocity when quitting our atmosphere." "yes," chimed in the captain, "it is for this point, you see, that the velocity had to be calculated, because we know already that the initial velocity is exactly the three halves of the velocity when the projectile quits the atmosphere." "that i don't comprehend," cried the frenchman, energetically. "it's simple enough, however," said barbican. "not so simple as a simpleton," replied the frenchman. "the captain merely means," said barbican, "that at the instant the projectile quitted the terrestrial atmosphere it had already lost a third of its initial velocity." "so much as a third?" "yes, by friction against the atmospheric layers: the quicker its motion, the greater resistance it encountered." "that of course i admit, but your _v_ squared and your _v_ prime squared rattle in my head like nails in a box!" "the usual effect of algebra on one who is a stranger to it; to finish you, our next step is to express numerically the value of these several symbols. now some of them are already known, and some are to be calculated." "hand the latter over to me," said the captain. "first," continued barbican: "_r_, the earth's radius is, in the latitude of florida, about 3,921 miles. _d_, the distance from the centre of the earth to the centre of the moon is 56 terrestrial radii, which the captain calculates to be...?" "to be," cried m'nicholl working rapidly with his pencil, "219,572 miles, the moment the moon is in her _perigee_, or nearest point to the earth." "very well," continued barbican. "now _m_ prime over _m_, that is the ratio of the moon's mass to that of the earth is about the 1/81. _g_ gravity being at florida about 32-1/4 feet, of course _g_ x _r_ must be--how much, captain?" "38,465 miles," replied m'nicholl. "now then?" asked ardan. [illustration: my head is splitting with it.] "now then," replied barbican, "the expression having numerical values, i am trying to find _v_, that is to say, the initial velocity which the projectile must possess in order to reach the point where the two attractions neutralize each other. here the velocity being null, _v_ prime becomes zero, and _x_ the required distance of this neutral point must be represented by the nine-tenths of _d_, the distance between the two centres." "i have a vague kind of idea that it must be so," said ardan. "i shall, therefore, have the following result;" continued barbican, figuring up; "_x_ being nine-tenths of _d_, and _v_ prime being zero, my formula becomes:- 2 10 r 1 10 r r v = gr {1 -------(---------) } d 81 d d r " the captain read it off rapidly. "right! that's correct!" he cried. "you think so?" asked barbican. "as true as euclid!" exclaimed m'nicholl. "wonderful fellows," murmured the frenchman, smiling with admiration. "you understand now, ardan, don't you?" asked barbican. "don't i though?" exclaimed ardan, "why my head is splitting with it!" "therefore," continued barbican, " 2 10 r 1 10 r r 2v = 2gr {1 -------(---------) } d 81 d d r " "and now," exclaimed m'nicholl, sharpening his pencil; "in order to obtain the velocity of the projectile when leaving the atmosphere, we have only to make a slight calculation." the captain, who before clerking on a mississippi steamboat had been professor of mathematics in an indiana university, felt quite at home at the work. he rained figures from his pencil with a velocity that would have made marston stare. page after page was filled with his multiplications and divisions, while barbican looked quietly on, and ardan impatiently stroked his head and ears to keep down a rising head-ache. "well?" at last asked barbican, seeing the captain stop and throw a somewhat hasty glance over his work. "well," answered m'nicholl slowly but confidently, "the calculation is made, i think correctly; and _v_, that is, the velocity of the projectile when quitting the atmosphere, sufficient to carry it to the neutral point, should be at least ..." "how much?" asked barbican, eagerly. "should be at least 11,972 yards the first second." "what!" cried barbican, jumping off his seat. "how much did you say?" "11,972 yards the first second it quits the atmosphere." "oh, malediction!" cried barbican, with a gesture of terrible despair. "what's the matter?" asked ardan, very much surprised. "enough is the matter!" answered barbican excitedly. "this velocity having been diminished by a third, our initial velocity should have been at least ..." "17,958 yards the first second!" cried m'nicholl, rapidly flourishing his pencil. "but the cambridge observatory having declared that 12,000 yards the first second were sufficient, our projectile started with no greater velocity!" "well?" asked m'nicholl. "well, such a velocity will never do!" "how??" } "how!!" } cried the captain and ardan in one voice. "we can never reach the neutral point!" "thunder and lightning" "fire and fury!" "we can't get even halfway!" "heaven and earth!" "_mille noms d'un boulet!_" cried ardan, wildly gesticulating. "and we shall fall back to the earth!" "oh!" "ah!" they could say no more. this fearful revelation took them like a stroke of apoplexy. chapter v. the colds of space. how could they imagine that the observatory men had committed such a blunder? barbican would not believe it possible. he made the captain go over his calculation again and again; but no flaw was to be found in it. he himself carefully examined it, figure after figure, but he could find nothing wrong. they both took up the formula and subjected it to the strongest tests; but it was invulnerable. there was no denying the fact. the cambridge professors had undoubtedly blundered in saying that an initial velocity of 12,000 yards a second would be enough to carry them to the neutral point. a velocity of nearly 18,000 yards would be the very lowest required for such a purpose. they had simply forgotten to allow a third for friction. the three friends kept profound silence for some time. breakfast now was the last thing thought of. barbican, with teeth grating, fingers clutching, and eye-brows closely contracting, gazed grimly through the window. the captain, as a last resource, once more examined his calculations, earnestly hoping to find a figure wrong. ardan could neither sit, stand nor lie still for a second, though he tried all three. his silence, of course, did not last long. "ha! ha! ha!" he laughed bitterly. "precious scientific men! villainous old hombogues! the whole set not worth a straw! i hope to gracious, since we must fall, that we shall drop down plumb on cambridge observatory, and not leave a single one of the miserable old women, called professors, alive in the premises!" a certain expression in ardan's angry exclamation had struck the captain like a shot, and set his temples throbbing violently. "_must_ fall!" he exclaimed, starting up suddenly. "let us see about that! it is now seven o'clock in the morning. we must have, therefore, been at least thirty-two hours on the road, and more than half of our passage is already made. if we are going to fall at all, we must be falling now! i'm certain we're not, but, barbican, you have to find it out!" barbican caught the idea like lightning, and, seizing a compass, he began through the floor window to measure the visual angle of the distant earth. the apparent immobility of the projectile allowed him to do this with great exactness. then laying aside the instrument, and wiping off the thick drops of sweat that bedewed his forehead, he began jotting down some figures on a piece of paper. the captain looked on with keen interest; he knew very well that barbican was calculating their distance from the earth by the apparent measure of the terrestrial diameter, and he eyed him anxiously. pretty soon his friends saw a color stealing into barbican's pale face, and a triumphant light glittering in his eye. "no, my brave boys!" he exclaimed at last throwing down his pencil, "we're not falling! far from it, we are at present more than 150 thousand miles from the earth!" "hurrah!" } "bravo!" } cried m'nicholl and ardan, in a breath. "we have passed the point where we should have stopped if we had had no more initial velocity than the cambridge men allowed us!" "hurrah! hurrah!" "bravo, bravissimo!" "and we're still going up!" "glory, glory, hallelujah!" sang m'nicholl, in the highest excitement. "_vive ce cher barbican!_" cried ardan, bursting into french as usual whenever his feelings had the better of him. "of course we're marching on!" continued m'nicholl, "and i know the reason why, too. those 400,000 pounds of gun-cotton gave us greater initial velocity than we had expected!" "you're right, captain!" added barbican; "besides, you must not forget that, by getting rid of the water, the projectile was relieved of considerable weight!" "correct again!" cried the captain. "i had not thought of that!" "therefore, my brave boys," continued barbican, with some excitement; "away with melancholy! we're all right!" "yes; everything is lovely and the goose hangs high!" cried the captain, who on grand occasions was not above a little slang. "talking of goose reminds me of breakfast," cried ardan; "i assure you, my fright has not taken away my appetite!" "yes," continued barbican. "captain, you're quite right. our initial velocity very fortunately was much greater than what our cambridge friends had calculated for us!" "hang our cambridge friends and their calculations!" cried ardan, with some asperity; "as usual with your scientific men they've more brass than brains! if we're not now bed-fellows with the oysters in the gulf of mexico, no thanks to our kind cambridge friends. but talking of oysters, let me remind you again that breakfast is ready." the meal was a most joyous one. they ate much, they talked more, but they laughed most. the little incident of algebra had certainly very much enlivened the situation. "now, my boys," ardan went on, "all things thus turning out quite comfortable, i would just ask you why we should not succeed? we are fairly started. no breakers ahead that i can see. no rock on our road. it is freer than the ships on the raging ocean, aye, freer than the balloons in the blustering air. but the ship arrives at her destination; the balloon, borne on the wings of the wind, rises to as high an altitude as can be endured; why then should not our projectile reach the moon?" "it _will_ reach the moon!" nodded barbican. "we shall reach the moon or know for what!" cried m'nicholl, enthusiastically. "the great american nation must not be disappointed!" continued ardan. "they are the only people on earth capable of originating such an enterprise! they are the only people capable of producing a barbican!" "hurrah!" cried m'nicholl. "that point settled," continued the frenchman, "another question comes up to which i have not yet called your attention. when we get to the moon, what shall we do there? how are we going to amuse ourselves? i'm afraid our life there will be awfully slow!" his companions emphatically disclaimed the possibility of such a thing. "you may deny it, but i know better, and knowing better, i have laid in my stores accordingly. you have but to choose. i possess a varied assortment. chess, draughts, cards, dominoes--everything in fact, but a billiard table?" "what!" exclaimed barbican; "cumbered yourself with such gimcracks?" "such gimcracks are not only good to amuse ourselves with, but are eminently calculated also to win us the friendship of the selenites." "friend michael," said barbican, "if the moon is inhabited at all, her inhabitants must have appeared several thousand years before the advent of man on our earth, for there seems to be very little doubt that luna is considerably older than terra in her present state. therefore, selenites, if their brain is organized like our own, must have by this time invented all that we are possessed of, and even much which we are still to invent in the course of ages. the probability is that, instead of their learning from us, we shall have much to learn from them." "what!" asked ardan, "you think they have artists like phidias, michael angelo and raphael?" "certainly." "and poets like homer, virgil, dante, shakspeare, göthe and hugo?" "not a doubt of it." "and philosophers like plato, aristotle, descartes, bacon, kant?" "why not?" "and scientists like euclid, archimedes, copernicus, newton, pascal?" "i should think so." "and famous actors, and singers, and composers, and--and photographers?" "i could almost swear to it." "then, dear boy, since they have gone ahead as far as we and even farther, why have not those great selenites tried to start a communication with the earth? why have they not fired a projectile from the regions lunar to the regions terrestrial?" "who says they have not done so?" asked barbican, coolly. "attempting such a communication," observed the captain, "would certainly be much easier for them than for us, principally for two reasons. first, attraction on the moon's surface being six times less than on the earth's, a projectile could be sent off more rapidly; second, because, as this projectile need be sent only 24 instead of 240 thousand miles, they could do it with a quantity of powder ten times less than what we should require for the same purpose." "then i ask again," said the frenchman; "why haven't they made such an attempt?" "and i reply again," answered barbican. "how do you know that they have not made such an attempt?" "made it? when?" "thousands of years ago, before the invention of writing, before even the appearance of man on the earth." "but the bullet?" asked ardan, triumphantly; "where's the bullet? produce the bullet!" "friend michael," answered barbican, with a quiet smile, "you appear to forget that the 5/6 of the surface of our earth is water. 5 to 1, therefore, that the bullet is more likely to be lying this moment at the bottom of the atlantic or the pacific than anywhere else on the surface of our globe. besides, it may have sunk into some weak point of the surface, at the early epoch when the crust of the earth had not acquired sufficient solidity." "captain," said ardan, turning with a smile to m'nicholl; "no use in trying to catch barby; slippery as an eel, he has an answer for everything. still i have a theory on the subject myself, which i think it no harm to ventilate. it is this: the selenites have never sent us any projectile at all, simply because they had no gunpowder: being older and wiser than we, they were never such fools as to invent any.--but, what's that? diana howling for her breakfast! good! like genuine scientific men, while squabbling over nonsense, we let the poor animals die of hunger. excuse us, diana; it is not the first time the little suffer from the senseless disputes of the great." so saying he laid before the animal a very toothsome pie, and contemplated with evident pleasure her very successful efforts towards its hasty and complete disappearance. "looking at diana," he went on, "makes me almost wish we had made a noah's ark of our projectile by introducing into it a pair of all the domestic animals!" "not room enough," observed barbican. "no doubt," remarked the captain, "the ox, the cow, the horse, the goat, all the ruminating animals would be very useful in the lunar continent. but we couldn't turn our projectile into a stable, you know." "still, we might have made room for a pair of poor little donkeys!" observed ardan; "how i love the poor beasts. fellow feeling, you will say. no doubt, but there really is no animal i pity more. they are the most ill-treated brutes in all creation. they are not only banged during life; they are banged worse after death!" "hey! how do you make that out?" asked his companions, surprised. "because we make their skins into drum heads!" replied ardan, with an air, as if answering a conundrum. barbican and m'nicholl could hardly help laughing at the absurd reply of their lively companion, but their hilarity was soon stopped by the expression his face assumed as he bent over satellite's body, where it lay stretched on the sofa. "what's the matter now?" asked barbican. "satellite's attack is over," replied ardan. "good!" said m'nicholl, misunderstanding him. "yes, i suppose it is good for the poor fellow," observed ardan, in melancholy accents. "life with one's skull broken is hardly an enviable possession. our grand acclimatization project is knocked sky high, in more senses than one!" there was no doubt of the poor dog's death. the expression of ardan's countenance, as he looked at his friends, was of a very rueful order. "well," said the practical barbican, "there's no help for that now; the next thing to be done is to get rid of the body. we can't keep it here with us forty-eight hours longer." "of course not," replied the captain, "nor need we; our lights, being provided with hinges, can be lifted back. what is to prevent us from opening one of them, and flinging the body out through it!" the president of the gun club reflected a few minutes; then he spoke: "yes, it can be done; but we must take the most careful precautions." "why so?" asked ardan. "for two simple reasons;" replied barbican; "the first refers to the air enclosed in the projectile, and of which we must be very careful to lose only the least possible quantity." "but as we manufacture air ourselves!" objected ardan. "we manufacture air only partly, friend michael," replied barbican. "we manufacture only oxygen; we can't supply nitrogen--by the bye, ardan, won't you watch the apparatus carefully every now and then to see that the oxygen is not generated too freely. very serious consequences would attend an immoderate supply of oxygen--no, we can't manufacture nitrogen, which is so absolutely necessary for our air and which might escape readily through the open windows." "what! the few seconds we should require for flinging out poor satellite?" "a very few seconds indeed they should be," said barbican, very gravely. "your second reason?" asked ardan. "the second reason is, that we must not allow the external cold, which must be exceedingly great, to penetrate into our projectile and freeze us alive." "but the sun, you know--" "yes, the sun heats our projectile, but it does not heat the vacuum through which we are now floating. where there is no air there can neither be heat nor light; just as wherever the rays of the sun do not arrive directly, it must be both cold and dark. the temperature around us, if there be anything that can be called temperature, is produced solely by stellar radiation. i need not say how low that is in the scale, or that it would be the temperature to which our earth should fall, if the sun were suddenly extinguished." "little fear of that for a few more million years," said m'nicholl. "who can tell?" asked ardan. "besides, even admitting that the sun will not soon be extinguished, what is to prevent the earth from shooting away from him?" "let friend michael speak," said barbican, with a smile, to the captain; "we may learn something." "certainly you may," continued the frenchman, "if you have room for anything new. were we not struck by a comet's tail in 1861?" "so it was said, anyhow," observed the captain. "i well remember what nonsense there was in the papers about the 'phosphorescent auroral glare.'" "well," continued the frenchman, "suppose the comet of 1861 influenced the earth by an attraction superior to the sun's. what would be the consequence? would not the earth follow the attracting body, become its satellite, and thus at last be dragged off to such a distance that the sun's rays could no longer excite heat on her surface?" "well, that might possibly occur," said barbican slowly, "but even then i question if the consequences would be so terrible as you seem to apprehend." "why not?" "because the cold and the heat might still manage to be nearly equalized on our globe. it has been calculated that, had the earth been carried off by the comet of '61, when arrived at her greatest distance, she would have experienced a temperature hardly sixteen times greater than the heat we receive from the moon, which, as everybody knows, produces no appreciable effect, even when concentrated to a focus by the most powerful lenses." "well then," exclaimed ardan, "at such a temperature--" "wait a moment," replied barbican. "have you never heard of the principle of compensation? listen to another calculation. had the earth been dragged along with the comet, it has been calculated that at her perihelion, or nearest point to the sun, she would have to endure a heat 28,000 times greater than our mean summer temperature. but this heat, fully capable of turning the rocks into glass and the oceans into vapor, before proceeding to such extremity, must have first formed a thick interposing ring of clouds, and thus considerably modified the excessive temperature. therefore, between the extreme cold of the aphelion and the excessive heat of the perihelion, by the great law of compensation, it is probable that the mean temperature would be tolerably endurable." "at how many degrees is the temperature of the interplanetary space estimated?" asked m'nicholl. "some time ago," replied barbican, "this temperature was considered to be very low indeed--millions and millions of degrees below zero. but fourrier of auxerre, a distinguished member of the _académie des sciences_, whose _mémoires_ on the temperature of the planetary spaces appeared about 1827, reduced these figures to considerably diminished proportions. according to his careful estimation, the temperature of space is not much lower than 70 or 80 degrees fahr. below zero." "no more?" asked ardan. "no more," answered barbican, "though i must acknowledge we have only his word for it, as the _mémoire_ in which he had recorded all the elements of that important determination, has been lost somewhere, and is no longer to be found." "i don't attach the slightest importance to his, or to any man's words, unless they are sustained by reliable evidence," exclaimed m'nicholl. "besides, if i'm not very much mistaken, pouillet--another countryman of yours, ardan, and an academician as well as fourrier--esteems the temperature of interplanetary spaces to be at least 256° fahr. below zero. this we can easily verify for ourselves this moment by actual experiment." "not just now exactly," observed barbican, "for the solar rays, striking our projectile directly, would give us a very elevated instead of a very low temperature. but once arrived at the moon, during those nights fifteen days long, which each of her faces experiences alternately, we shall have plenty of time to make an experiment with every condition in our favor. to be sure, our satellite is at present moving in a vacuum." "a vacuum?" asked ardan; "a perfect vacuum?" "well, a perfect vacuum as far as air is concerned." "but is the air replaced by nothing?" "oh yes," replied barbican. "by ether." "ah, ether! and what, pray, is ether?" "ether, friend michael, is an elastic gas consisting of imponderable atoms, which, as we are told by works on molecular physics, are, in proportion to their size, as far apart as the celestial bodies are from each other in space. this distance is less than the 1/3000000 x 1/1000', or the one trillionth of a foot. the vibrations of the molecules of this ether produce the sensations of light and heat, by making 430 trillions of undulations per second, each undulation being hardly more than the one ten-millionth of an inch in width." "trillions per second! ten-millionths of an inch in width!" cried ardan. "these oscillations have been very neatly counted and ticketed, and checked off! ah, friend barbican," continued the frenchman, shaking his head, "these numbers are just tremendous guesses, frightening the ear but revealing nothing to the intelligence." "to get ideas, however, we must calculate--" "no, no!" interrupted ardan: "not calculate, but compare. a trillion tells you nothing--comparison, everything. for instance, you say, the volume of _uranus_ is 76 times greater than the earth's; _saturn's_ 900 times greater; _jupiter's_ 1300 times greater; the sun's 1300 thousand times greater--you may tell me all that till i'm tired hearing it, and i shall still be almost as ignorant as ever. for my part i prefer to be told one of those simple comparisons that i find in the old almanacs: the sun is a globe two feet in diameter; _jupiter_, a good sized orange; _saturn_, a smaller orange; _neptune_, a plum; _uranus_, a good sized cherry; the earth, a pea; _venus_, also a pea but somewhat smaller; _mars_, a large pin's head; _mercury_, a mustard seed; _juno_, _ceres_, _vesta_, _pallas_, and the other asteroids so many grains of sand. be told something like that, and you have got at least the tail of an idea!" this learned burst of ardan's had the natural effect of making his hearers forget what they had been arguing about, and they therefore proceeded at once to dispose of satellite's body. it was a simple matter enough--no more than to fling it out of the projectile into space, just as the sailors get rid of a dead body by throwing it into the sea. only in this operation they had to act, as barbican recommended, with the utmost care and dispatch, so as to lose as little as possible of the internal air, which, by its great elasticity, would violently strive to escape. the bolts of the floor-light, which was more than a foot in diameter, were carefully unscrewed, while ardan, a good deal affected, prepared to launch his dog's body into space. the glass, worked by a powerful lever which enabled it to overcome the pressure of the enclosed air, turned quickly on its hinges, and poor satellite was dropped out. the whole operation was so well managed that very little air escaped, and ever afterwards barbican employed the same means to rid the projectile of all the litter and other useless matter by which it was occasionally encumbered. the evening of this third of december wore away without further incident. as soon as barbican had announced that the projectile was still winging its way, though with retarded velocity, towards the lunar disc, the travellers quietly retired to rest. [illustration: poor satellite was dropped out.] chapter vi. instructive conversation. on the fourth of december, the projectile chronometers marked five o'clock in the morning, just as the travellers woke up from a pleasant slumber. they had now been 54 hours on their journey. as to lapse of _time_, they had passed not much more than half of the number of hours during which their trip was to last; but, as to lapse of _space_, they had already accomplished very nearly the seven-tenths of their passage. this difference between time and distance was due to the regular retardation of their velocity. they looked at the earth through the floor-light, but it was little more than visible--a black spot drowned in the solar rays. no longer any sign of a crescent, no longer any sign of ashy light. next day, towards midnight, the earth was to be _new_, at the precise moment when the moon was to be _full_. overhead, they could see the queen of night coming nearer and nearer to the line followed by the projectile, and evidently approaching the point where both should meet at the appointed moment. all around, the black vault of heaven was dotted with luminous points which seemed to move somewhat, though, of course, in their extreme distance their relative size underwent no change. the sun and the stars looked exactly as they had appeared when observed from the earth. the moon indeed had become considerably enlarged in size, but the travellers' telescopes were still too weak to enable them to make any important observation regarding the nature of her surface, or that might determine her topographical or geological features. naturally, therefore, the time slipped away in endless conversation. the moon, of course, was the chief topic. each one contributed his share of peculiar information, or peculiar ignorance, as the case might be. barbican and m'nicholl always treated the subject gravely, as became learned scientists, but ardan preferred to look on things with the eye of fancy. the projectile, its situation, its direction, the incidents possible to occur, the precautions necessary to take in order to break the fall on the moon's surface--these and many other subjects furnished endless food for constant debate and inexhaustible conjectures. for instance, at breakfast that morning, a question of ardan's regarding the projectile drew from barbican an answer curious enough to be reported. "suppose, on the night that we were shot up from stony hill," said ardan, "suppose the projectile had encountered some obstacle powerful enough to stop it--what would be the consequence of the sudden halt?" "but," replied barbican, "i don't understand what obstacle it could have met powerful enough to stop it." "suppose some obstacle, for the sake of argument," said ardan. "suppose what can't be supposed," replied the matter-of-fact barbican, "what cannot possibly be supposed, unless indeed the original impulse proved too weak. in that case, the velocity would have decreased by degrees, but the projectile itself would not have suddenly stopped." "suppose it had struck against some body in space." "what body, for instance?" "well, that enormous bolide which we met." "oh!" hastily observed the captain, "the projectile would have been dashed into a thousand pieces and we along with it." "better than that," observed barbican; "we should have been burned alive." "burned alive!" laughed ardan. "what a pity we missed so interesting an experiment! how i should have liked to find out how it felt!" "you would not have much time to record your observations, friend michael, i assure you," observed barbican. "the case is plain enough. heat and motion are convertible terms. what do we mean by heating water? simply giving increased, in fact, violent motion to its molecules." "well!" exclaimed the frenchman, "that's an ingenious theory any how!" "not only ingenious but correct, my dear friend, for it completely explains all the phenomena of caloric. heat is nothing but molecular movement, the violent oscillation of the particles of a body. when you apply the brakes to the train, the train stops. but what has become of its motion? it turns into heat and makes the brakes hot. why do people grease the axles? to hinder them from getting too hot, which they assuredly would become if friction was allowed to obstruct the motion. you understand, don't you?" "don't i though?" replied ardan, apparently in earnest. "let me show you how thoroughly. when i have been running hard and long, i feel myself perspiring like a bull and hot as a furnace. why am i then forced to stop? simply because my motion has been transformed into heat! of course, i understand all about it!" barbican smiled a moment at this comical illustration of his theory and then went on: "accordingly, in case of a collision it would have been all over instantly with our projectile. you have seen what becomes of the bullet that strikes the iron target. it is flattened out of all shape; sometimes it is even melted into a thin film. its motion has been turned into heat. therefore, i maintain that if our projectile had struck that bolide, its velocity, suddenly checked, would have given rise to a heat capable of completely volatilizing it in less than a second." "not a doubt of it!" said the captain. "president," he added after a moment, "haven't they calculated what would be the result, if the earth were suddenly brought to a stand-still in her journey, through her orbit?" "it has been calculated," answered barbican, "that in such a case so much heat would be developed as would instantly reduce her to vapor." "hm!" exclaimed ardan; "a remarkably simple way for putting an end to the world!" "and supposing the earth to fall into the sun?" asked the captain. "such a fall," answered barbican, "according to the calculations of tyndall and thomson, would develop an amount of heat equal to that produced by sixteen hundred globes of burning coal, each globe equal in size to the earth itself. furthermore such a fall would supply the sun with at least as much heat as he expends in a hundred years!" "a hundred years! good! nothing like accuracy!" cried ardan. "such infallible calculators as messrs. tyndall and thomson i can easily excuse for any airs they may give themselves. they must be of an order much higher than that of ordinary mortals like us!" "i would not answer myself for the accuracy of such intricate problems," quietly observed barbican; "but there is no doubt whatever regarding one fact: motion suddenly interrupted always develops heat. and this has given rise to another theory regarding the maintenance of the sun's temperature at a constant point. an incessant rain of bolides falling on his surface compensates sufficiently for the heat that he is continually giving forth. it has been calculated--" "good lord deliver us!" cried ardan, putting his hands to his ears: "here comes tyndall and thomson again!" --"it has been calculated," continued barbican, not heeding the interruption, "that the shock of every bolide drawn to the sun's surface by gravity, must produce there an amount of heat equal to that of the combustion of four thousand blocks of coal, each the same size as the falling bolide." "i'll wager another cent that our bold savants calculated the heat of the sun himself," cried ardan, with an incredulous laugh. "that is precisely what they have done," answered barbican referring to his memorandum book; "the heat emitted by the sun," he continued, "is exactly that which would be produced by the combustion of a layer of coal enveloping the sun's surface, like an atmosphere, 17 miles in thickness." "well done! and such heat would be capable of--?" "of melting in an hour a stratum of ice 2400 feet thick, or, according to another calculation, of raising a globe of ice-cold water, 3 times the size of our earth, to the boiling point in an hour." "why not calculate the exact fraction of a second it would take to cook a couple of eggs?" laughed ardan. "i should as soon believe in one calculation as in the other.--but--by the by--why does not such extreme heat cook us all up like so many beefsteaks?" "for two very good and sufficient reasons," answered barbican. "in the first place, the terrestrial atmosphere absorbs the 4/10 of the solar heat. in the second, the quantity of solar heat intercepted by the earth is only about the two billionth part of all that is radiated." "how fortunate to have such a handy thing as an atmosphere around us," cried the frenchman; "it not only enables us to breathe, but it actually keeps us from sizzling up like griskins." "yes," said the captain, "but unfortunately we can't say so much for the moon." "oh pshaw!" cried ardan, always full of confidence. "it's all right there too! the moon is either inhabited or she is not. if she is, the inhabitants must breathe. if she is not, there must be oxygen enough left for we, us and co., even if we should have to go after it to the bottom of the ravines, where, by its gravity, it must have accumulated! so much the better! we shall not have to climb those thundering mountains!" so saying, he jumped up and began to gaze with considerable interest on the lunar disc, which just then was glittering with dazzling brightness. "by jove!" he exclaimed at length; "it must be pretty hot up there!" "i should think so," observed the captain; "especially when you remember that the day up there lasts 360 hours!" "yes," observed barbican, "but remember on the other hand that the nights are just as long, and, as the heat escapes by radiation, the mean temperature cannot be much greater than that of interplanetary space." "a high old place for living in!" cried ardan. "no matter! i wish we were there now! wouldn't it be jolly, dear boys, to have old mother earth for our moon, to see her always on our sky, never rising, never setting, never undergoing any change except from new earth to last quarter! would not it be fun to trace the shape of our great oceans and continents, and to say: 'there is the mediterranean! there is china! there is the gulf of mexico! there is the white line of the rocky mountains where old marston is watching for us with his big telescope!' then we should see every line, and brightness, and shadow fade away by degrees, as she came nearer and nearer to the sun, until at last she sat completely lost in his dazzling rays! but--by the way--barbican, are there any eclipses in the moon?" "o yes; solar eclipses" replied barbican, "must always occur whenever the centres of the three heavenly bodies are in the same line, the earth occupying the middle place. however, such eclipses must always be annular, as the earth, projected like a screen on the solar disc, allows more than half of the sun to be still visible." "how is that?" asked m'nicholl, "no total eclipses in the moon? surely the cone of the earth's shadow must extend far enough to envelop her surface?" "it does reach her, in one sense," replied barbican, "but it does not in another. remember the great refraction of the solar rays that must be produced by the earth's atmosphere. it is easy to show that this refraction prevents the sun from ever being totally invisible. see here!" he continued, pulling out his tablets, "let _a_ represent the horizontal parallax, and _b_ the half of the sun's apparent diameter--" "ouch!" cried the frenchman, making a wry face, "here comes mr. _x_ square riding to the mischief on a pair of double zeros again! talk english, or yankee, or dutch, or greek, and i'm your man! even a little arabic i can digest! but hang me, if i can endure your algebra!" "well then, talking yankee," replied barbican with a smile, "the mean distance of the moon from the earth being sixty terrestrial radii, the length of the conic shadow, in consequence of atmospheric refraction, is reduced to less than forty-two radii. consequently, at the moment of an eclipse, the moon is far beyond the reach of the real shadow, so that she can see not only the border rays of the sun, but even those proceeding from his very centre." "oh then," cried ardan with a loud laugh, "we have an eclipse of the sun at the moment when the sun is quite visible! isn't that very like a bull, mr. philosopher barbican?" "yet it is perfectly true notwithstanding," answered barbican. "at such a moment the sun is not eclipsed, because we can see him: and then again he is eclipsed because we see him only by means of a few of his rays, and even these have lost nearly all their brightness in their passage through the terrestrial atmosphere!" "barbican is right, friend michael," observed the captain slowly: "the same phenomenon occurs on earth every morning at sunrise, when refraction shows us '_the sun new ris'n looking through the horizontal misty air, shorn of his beams._'" "he must be right," said ardan, who, to do him justice, though quick at seeing a reason, was quicker to acknowledge its justice: "yes, he must be right, because i begin to understand at last very clearly what he really meant. however, we can judge for ourselves when we get there.--but, apropos of nothing, tell me, barbican, what do you think of the moon being an ancient comet, which had come so far within the sphere of the earth's attraction as to be kept there and turned into a satellite?" "well, that _is_ an original idea!" said barbican with a smile. "my ideas generally are of that category," observed ardan with an affectation of dry pomposity. "not this time, however, friend michael," observed m'nicholl. "oh! i'm a plagiarist, am i?" asked the frenchman, pretending to be irritated. "well, something very like it," observed m'nicholl quietly. "apollonius rhodius, as i read one evening in the philadelphia library, speaks of the arcadians of greece having a tradition that their ancestors were so ancient that they inhabited the earth long before the moon had ever become our satellite. they therefore called them [greek: _proselênoi_] or _ante-lunarians_. now starting with some such wild notion as this, certain scientists have looked on the moon as an ancient comet brought close enough to the earth to be retained in its orbit by terrestrial attraction." "why may not there be something plausible in such a hypothesis?" asked ardan with some curiosity. "there is nothing whatever in it," replied barbican decidedly: "a simple proof is the fact that the moon does not retain the slightest trace of the vaporous envelope by which comets are always surrounded." "lost her tail you mean," said ardan. "pooh! easy to account for that! it might have got cut off by coming too close to the sun!" "it might, friend michael, but an amputation by such means is not very likely." "no? why not?" "because--because--by jove, i can't say, because i don't know," cried barbican with a quiet smile on his countenance. "oh what a lot of volumes," cried ardan, "could be made out of what we don't know!" "at present, for instance," observed m'nicholl, "i don't know what o'clock it is." "three o'clock!" said barbican, glancing at his chronometer. "no!" cried ardan in surprise. "bless us! how rapidly the time passes when we are engaged in scientific conversation! ouf! i'm getting decidedly too learned! i feel as if i had swallowed a library!" "i feel," observed m'nicholl, "as if i had been listening to a lecture on astronomy in the _star_ course." "better stir around a little more," said the frenchman; "fatigue of body is the best antidote to such severe mental labor as ours. i'll run up the ladder a bit." so saying, he paid another visit to the upper portion of the projectile and remained there awhile whistling _malbrouk_, whilst his companions amused themselves in looking through the floor window. ardan was coming down the ladder, when his whistling was cut short by a sudden exclamation of surprise. "what's the matter?" asked barbican quickly, as he looked up and saw the frenchman pointing to something outside the projectile. approaching the window, barbican saw with much surprise a sort of flattened bag floating in space and only a few yards off. it seemed perfectly motionless, and, consequently, the travellers knew that it must be animated by the same ascensional movement as themselves. "what on earth can such a consarn be, barbican?" asked ardan, who every now and then liked to ventilate his stock of american slang. "is it one of those particles of meteoric matter you were speaking of just now, caught within the sphere of our projectile's attraction and accompanying us to the moon?" "what i am surprised at," observed the captain, "is that though the specific gravity of that body is far inferior to that of our projectile, it moves with exactly the same velocity." "captain," said barbican, after a moment's reflection, "i know no more what that object is than you do, but i can understand very well why it keeps abreast with the projectile." "very well then, why?" "because, my dear captain, we are moving through a vacuum, and because all bodies fall or move--the same thing--with equal velocity through a vacuum, no matter what may be their shape or their specific gravity. it is the air alone that makes a difference of weight. produce an artificial vacuum in a glass tube and you will see that all objects whatever falling through, whether bits of feather or grains of shot, move with precisely the same rapidity. up here, in space, like cause and like effect." "correct," assented m'nicholl. "everything therefore that we shall throw out of the projectile is bound to accompany us to the moon." "well, we _were_ smart!" cried ardan suddenly. "how so, friend michael?" asked barbican. "why not have packed the projectile with ever so many useful objects, books, instruments, tools, et cetera, and fling them out into space once we were fairly started! they would have all followed us safely! nothing would have been lost! and--now i think on it--why not fling ourselves out through the window? shouldn't we be as safe out there as that bolide? what fun it would be to feel ourselves sustained and upborne in the ether, more highly favored even than the birds, who must keep on flapping their wings continually to prevent themselves from falling!" "very true, my dear boy," observed barbican; "but how could we breathe?" "it's a fact," exclaimed the frenchman. "hang the air for spoiling our fun! so we must remain shut up in our projectile?" "not a doubt of it!" --"oh thunder!" roared ardan, suddenly striking his forehead. "what ails you?" asked the captain, somewhat surprised. "now i know what that bolide of ours is! why didn't we think of it before? it is no asteroid! it is no particle of meteoric matter! nor is it a piece of a shattered planet!" "what is it then?" asked both of his companions in one voice. [illustration: satellite's body flying through space.] "it is nothing more or less than the body of the dog that we threw out yesterday!" so in fact it was. that shapeless, unrecognizable mass, melted, expunged, flat as a bladder under an unexhausted receiver, drained of its air, was poor satellite's body, flying like a rocket through space, and rising higher and higher in close company with the rapidly ascending projectile! chapter vii. a high old time. a new phenomenon, therefore, strange but logical, startling but admitting of easy explanation, was now presented to their view, affording a fresh subject for lively discussion. not that they disputed much about it. they soon agreed on a principle from which they readily deducted the following general law: _every object thrown out of the projectile should partake of the projectile's motion: it should therefore follow the same path, and never cease to move until the projectile itself came to a stand-still._ but, in sober truth, they were at anything but a loss of subjects of warm discussion. as the end of their journey began to approach, their senses became keener and their sensations vivider. steeled against surprise, they looked for the unexpected, the strange, the startling; and the only thing at which they would have wondered would be to be five minutes without having something new to wonder at. their excited imaginations flew far ahead of the projectile, whose velocity, by the way, began to be retarded very decidedly by this time, though, of course, the travellers had as yet no means to become aware of it. the moon's size on the sky was meantime getting larger and larger; her apparent distance was growing shorter and shorter, until at last they could almost imagine that by putting their hands out they could nearly touch her. next morning, december 5th, all were up and dressed at a very early hour. this was to be the last day of their journey, if all calculations were correct. that very night, at 12 o'clock, within nineteen hours at furthest, at the very moment of full moon, they were to reach her resplendent surface. at that hour was to be completed the most extraordinary journey ever undertaken by man in ancient or modern times. naturally enough, therefore, they found themselves unable to sleep after four o'clock in the morning; peering upwards through the windows now visibly glittering under the rays of the moon, they spent some very exciting hours in gazing at her slowly enlarging disc, and shouting at her with confident and joyful hurrahs. the majestic queen of the stars had now risen so high in the spangled heavens that she could hardly rise higher. in a few degrees more she would reach the exact point of space where her junction with the projectile was to be effected. according to his own observations, barbican calculated that they should strike her in the northern hemisphere, where her plains, or _seas_ as they are called, are immense, and her mountains are comparatively rare. this, of course, would be so much the more favorable, if, as was to be apprehended, the lunar atmosphere was confined exclusively to the low lands. "besides," as ardan observed, "a plain is a more suitable landing place than a mountain. a selenite deposited on the top of mount everest or even on mont blanc, could hardly be considered, in strict language, to have arrived on earth." "not to talk," added m'nicholl, "of the comfort of the thing! when you land on a plain, there you are. when you land on a peak or on a steep mountain side, where are you? tumbling over an embankment with the train going forty miles an hour, would be nothing to it." "therefore, captain barbican," cried the frenchman, "as we should like to appear before the selenites in full skins, please land us in the snug though unromantic north. we shall have time enough to break our necks in the south." barbican made no reply to his companions, because a new reflection had begun to trouble him, to talk about which would have done no good. there was certainly something wrong. the projectile was evidently heading towards the northern hemisphere of the moon. what did this prove? clearly, a deviation resulting from some cause. the bullet, lodged, aimed, and fired with the most careful mathematical precision, had been calculated to reach the very centre of the moon's disc. clearly it was not going to the centre now. what could have produced the deviation? this barbican could not tell; nor could he even determine its extent, having no points of sight by which to make his observations. for the present he tried to console himself with the hope that the deviation of the projectile would be followed by no worse consequence than carrying them towards the northern border of the moon, where for several reasons it would be comparatively easier to alight. carefully avoiding, therefore, the use of any expression which might needlessly alarm his companions, he continued to observe the moon as carefully as he could, hoping every moment to find some grounds for believing that the deviation from the centre was only a slight one. he almost shuddered at the thought of what would be their situation, if the bullet, missing its aim, should pass the moon, and plunge into the interplanetary space beyond it. as he continued to gaze, the moon, instead of presenting the usual flatness of her disc, began decidedly to show a surface somewhat convex. had the sun been shining on her obliquely, the shadows would have certainly thrown the great mountains into strong relief. the eye could then bury itself deep in the yawning chasms of the craters, and easily follow the cracks, streaks, and ridges which stripe, flecker, and bar the immensity of her plains. but for the present all relief was lost in the dazzling glare. the captain could hardly distinguish even those dark spots that impart to the full moon some resemblance to the human face. "face!" cried ardan: "well, a very fanciful eye may detect a face, though, for the sake of apollo's beauteous sister, i regret to say, a terribly pockmarked one!" the travellers, now evidently approaching the end of their journey, observed the rapidly increasing world above them with newer and greater curiosity every moment. their fancies enkindled at the sight of the new and strange scenes dimly presented to their view. in imagination they climbed to the summit of this lofty peak. they let themselves down to the abyss of that yawning crater. here they imagined they saw vast seas hardly kept in their basins by a rarefied atmosphere; there they thought they could trace mighty rivers bearing to vast oceans the tribute of the snowy mountains. in the first promptings of their eager curiosity, they peered greedily into her cavernous depths, and almost expected, amidst the deathlike hush of inaudible nature, to surprise some sound from the mystic orb floating up there in eternal silence through a boundless ocean of never ending vacuum. this last day of their journey left their memories stored with thrilling recollections. they took careful note of the slightest details. as they neared their destination, they felt themselves invaded by a vague, undefined restlessness. but this restlessness would have given way to decided uneasiness, if they had known at what a slow rate they were travelling. they would have surely concluded that their present velocity would never be able to take them as far as the neutral point, not to talk of passing it. the reason of such considerable retardation was, that by this time the projectile had reached such a great distance from the earth that it had hardly any weight. but even this weight, such as it was, was to be diminished still further, and finally, to vanish altogether as soon as the bullet reached the neutral point, where the two attractions, terrestrial and lunar, should counteract each other with new and surprising effects. notwithstanding the absorbing nature of his observations, ardan never forgot to prepare breakfast with his usual punctuality. it was eaten readily and relished heartily. nothing could be more exquisite than his calf's foot jelly liquefied and prepared by gas heat, except perhaps his meat biscuits of preserved texas beef and southdown mutton. a bottle of château yquem and another of clos de vougeot, both of superlative excellence in quality and flavor, crowned the repast. their vicinity to the moon and their incessant glancing at her surface did not prevent the travellers from touching each other's glasses merrily and often. ardan took occasion to remark that the lunar vineyards--if any existed--must be magnificent, considering the intense solar heat they continually experienced. not that he counted on them too confidently, for he told his friends that to provide for the worst he had supplied himself with a few cases of the best vintages of médoc and the côte d'or, of which the bottles, then under discussion, might be taken as very favorable specimens. the reiset and regnault apparatus for purifying the air worked splendidly, and maintained the atmosphere in a perfectly sanitary condition. not an atom of carbonic acid could resist the caustic potash; and as for the oxygen, according to m'nicholl's expression, "it was a prime number one!" the small quantity of watery vapor enclosed in the projectile did no more harm than serving to temper the dryness of the air: many a splendid _salon_ in new york, london, or paris, and many an auditorium, even of theatre, opera house or academy of music, could be considered its inferior in what concerned its hygienic condition. to keep it in perfect working order, the apparatus should be carefully attended to. this, ardan looked on as his own peculiar occupation. he was never tired regulating the tubes, trying the taps, and testing the heat of the gas by the pyrometer. so far everything had worked satisfactorily, and the travellers, following the example of their friend marston on a previous occasion, began to get so stout that their own mothers would not know them in another month, should their imprisonment last so long. ardan said they all looked so sleek and thriving that he was reminded forcibly of a nice lot of pigs fattening in a pen for a country fair. but how long was this good fortune of theirs going to last? whenever they took their eyes off the moon, they could not help noticing that they were still attended outside by the spectre of satellite's corpse and by the other refuse of the projectile. an occasional melancholy howl also attested diana's recognition of her companion's unhappy fate. the travellers saw with surprise that these waifs still seemed perfectly motionless in space, and kept their respective distances apart as mathematically as if they had been fastened with nails to a stone wall. "i tell you what, dear boys;" observed ardan, commenting on this curious phenomenon; "if the concussion had been a little too violent for one of us that night, his survivors would have been seriously embarrassed in trying to get rid of his remains. with no earth to cover him up, no sea to plunge him into, his corpse would never disappear from view, but would pursue us day and night, grim and ghastly like an avenging ghost!" "ugh!" said the captain, shuddering at the idea. "but, by the bye, barbican!" cried the frenchman, dropping the subject with his usual abruptness; "you have forgotten something else! why didn't you bring a scaphander and an air pump? i could then venture out of the projectile as readily and as safely as the diver leaves his boat and walks about on the bottom of the river! what fun to float in the midst of that mysterious ether! to steep myself, aye, actually to revel in the pure rays of the glorious sun! i should have ventured out on the very point of the projectile, and there i should have danced and postured and kicked and bobbed and capered in a style that taglioni never dreamed of!" "shouldn't i like to see you!" cried the captain grimly, smiling at the idea. "you would not see him long!" observed barbican quietly. "the air confined in his body, freed from external pressure, would burst him like a shell, or like a balloon that suddenly rises to too great a height in the air! a scaphander would have been a fatal gift. don't regret its absence, friend michael; never forget this axiom: _as long as we are floating in empty space, the only spot where safety is possible is inside the projectile!_" the words "possible" and "impossible" always grated on ardan's ears. if he had been a lexicographer, he would have rigidly excluded them from his dictionary, both as meaningless and useless. he was preparing an answer for barbican, when he was cut out by a sudden observation from m'nicholl. "see here, friends!" cried the captain; "this going to the moon is all very well, but how shall we get back?" his listeners looked at each other with a surprised and perplexed air. the question, though a very natural one, now appeared to have presented itself to their consideration absolutely for the first time. "what do you mean by such a question, captain?" asked barbican in a grave judicial tone. "mac, my boy," said ardan seriously, "don't it strike you as a little out of order to ask how you are to return when you have not got there yet?" "i don't ask the question with any idea of backing out," observed the captain quietly; "as a matter of purely scientific inquiry, i repeat my question: how are we to return?" "i don't know," replied barbican promptly. "for my part," said ardan; "if i had known how to get back, i should have never come at all!" "well! of all the answers!" said the captain, lifting his hands and shaking his head. "the best under the circumstances;" observed barbican; "and i shall further observe that such a question as yours at present is both useless and uncalled for. on some future occasion, when we shall consider it advisable to return, the question will be in order, and we shall discuss it with all the attention it deserves. though the columbiad is at stony hill, the projectile will still be in the moon." "much we shall gain by that! a bullet without a gun!" "the gun we can make and the powder too!" replied barbican confidently. "metal and sulphur and charcoal and saltpetre are likely enough to be present in sufficient quantities beneath the moon's surface. besides, to return is a problem of comparatively easy solution: we should have to overcome the lunar attraction only--a slight matter--the rest of the business would be readily done by gravity." "enough said on the subject!" exclaimed ardan curtly; "how to get back is indefinitely postponed! how to communicate with our friends on the earth, is another matter, and, as it seems to me, an extremely easy one." "let us hear the very easy means by which you propose to communicate with our friends on earth," asked the captain, with a sneer, for he was by this time a little out of humor. "by means of bolides ejected from the lunar volcanoes," replied the frenchman without an instant's hesitation. "well said, friend ardan," exclaimed barbican. "i am quite disposed to acknowledge the feasibility of your plan. laplace has calculated that a force five times greater than that of an ordinary cannon would be sufficient to send a bolide from the moon to the earth. now there is no cannon that can vie in force with even the smallest volcano." "hurrah!" cried ardan, delighted at his success; "just imagine the pleasure of sending our letters postage free! but--oh! what a splendid idea!--dolts that we were for not thinking of it sooner!" "let us have the splendid idea!" cried the captain, with some of his old acrimony. "why didn't we fasten a wire to the projectile?" asked ardan, triumphantly, "it would have enabled us to exchange telegrams with the earth!" "ho! ho! ho!" roared the captain, rapidly recovering his good humor; "decidedly the best joke of the season! ha! ha! ha! of course you have calculated the weight of a wire 240 thousand miles long?" "no matter about its weight!" cried the frenchman impetuously; "we should have laughed at its weight! we could have tripled the charge of the columbiad; we could have quadrupled it!--aye, quintupled it, if necessary!" he added in tones evidently increasing in loudness and violence. "yes, friend michael," observed barbican; "but there is a slight and unfortunately a fatal defect in your project. the earth, by its rotation, would have wrapped our wire around herself, like thread around a spool, and dragged us back almost with the speed of lightning!" "by the nine gods of porsena!" cried ardan, "something is wrong with my head to-day! my brain is out of joint, and i am making as nice a mess of things as my friend marston was ever capable of! by the bye--talking of marston--if we never return to the earth, what is to prevent him from following us to the moon?" "nothing!" replied barbican; "he is a faithful friend and a reliable comrade. besides, what is easier? is not the columbiad still at stony hill? cannot gun-cotton be readily manufactured on any occasion? will not the moon again pass through the zenith of florida? eighteen years from now, will she not occupy exactly the same spot that she does to-day?" "certainly!" cried ardan, with increasing enthusiasm, "marston will come! and elphinstone of the torpedo! and the gallant bloomsbury, and billsby the brave, and all our friends of the baltimore gun club! and we shall receive them with all the honors! and then we shall establish projectile trains between the earth and the moon! hurrah for j.t. marston!" "hurrah for secretary marston!" cried the captain, with an enthusiasm almost equal to ardan's. "hurrah for my dear friend marston!" cried barbican, hardly less excited than his comrades. our old acquaintance, marston, of course could not have heard the joyous acclamations that welcomed his name, but at that moment he certainly must have felt his ears most unaccountably tingling. what was he doing at the time? he was rattling along the banks of the kansas river, as fast as an express train could take him, on the road to long's peak, where, by means of the great telescope, he expected to find some traces of the projectile that contained his friends. he never forgot them for a moment, but of course he little dreamed that his name at that very time was exciting their vividest recollections and their warmest applause. in fact, their recollections were rather too vivid, and their applause decidedly too warm. was not the animation that prevailed among the guests of the projectile of a very unusual character, and was it not becoming more and more violent every moment? could the wine have caused it? no; though not teetotallers, they never drank to excess. could the moon's proximity, shedding her subtle, mysterious influence over their nervous systems, have stimulated them to a degree that was threatening to border on frenzy? their faces were as red as if they were standing before a hot fire; their breathing was loud, and their lungs heaved like a smith's bellows; their eyes blazed like burning coals; their voices sounded as loud and harsh as that of a stump speaker trying to make himself heard by an inattentive or hostile crowd; their words popped from their lips like corks from champagne bottles; their gesticulating became wilder and in fact more alarming--considering the little room left in the projectile for muscular displays of any kind. but the most extraordinary part of the whole phenomenon was that neither of them, not even barbican, had the slightest consciousness of any strange or unusual ebullition of spirits either on his own part or on that of the others. "see here, gentlemen!" said the captain in a quick imperious manner--the roughness of his old life on the mississippi would still break out--"see here, gentlemen! it seems i'm not to know if we are to return from the moon. well!--pass that for the present! but there is one thing i _must_ know!" "hear! hear the captain!" cried barbican, stamping with his foot, like an excited fencing master. "there is one thing he _must_ know!" "i want to know what we're going to do when we get there!" "he wants to know what we're going to do when we get there! a sensible question! answer it, ardan!" "answer it yourself, barbican! you know more about the moon than i do! you know more about it than all the nasmyths that ever lived!" "i'm blessed if i know anything at all about it!" cried barbican, with a joyous laugh. "ha, ha, ha! the first eastern shore marylander or any other simpleton you meet in baltimore, knows as much about the moon as i do! why we're going there, i can't tell! what we're going to do when we get there, can't tell either! ardan knows all about it! he can tell! he's taking us there!" "certainly i can tell! should i have offered to take you there without a good object in view?" cried ardan, husky with continual roaring. "answer me that!" "no conundrums!" cried the captain, in a voice sourer and rougher than ever; "tell us if you can in plain english, what the demon we have come here for!" "i'll tell you if i feel like it," cried ardan, folding his arms with an aspect of great dignity; "and i'll not tell you if i don't feel like it!" "what's that?" cried barbican. "you'll not give us an answer when we ask you a reasonable question?" "never!" cried ardan, with great determination. "i'll never answer a question reasonable or unreasonable, unless it is asked in a proper manner!" "none of your french airs here!" exclaimed m'nicholl, by this time almost completely out of himself between anger and excitement. "i don't know where i am; i don't know where i'm going; i don't know why i'm going; _you_ know all about it, ardan, or at least you think you do! well then, give me a plain answer to a plain question, or by the thirty-eight states of our glorious union, i shall know what for!" "listen, ardan!" cried barbican, grappling with the frenchman, and with some difficulty restraining him from flying at m'nicholl's throat; "you ought to tell him! it is only your duty! one day you found us both in st. helena woods, where we had no more idea of going to the moon than of sailing to the south pole! there you twisted us both around your finger, and induced us to follow you blindly on the most formidable journey ever undertaken by man! and now you refuse to tell us what it was all for!" "i don't refuse, dear old barbican! to you, at least, i can't refuse anything!" cried ardan, seizing his friend's hands and wringing them violently. then letting them go and suddenly starting back, "you wish to know," he continued in resounding tones, "why we have followed out the grandest idea that ever set a human brain on fire! why we have undertaken a journey that for length, danger, and novelty, for fascinating, soul-stirring and delirious sensations, for all that can attract man's burning heart, and satisfy the intensest cravings of his intellect, far surpasses the vividest realities of dante's passionate dream! well, i will tell you! it is to annex another world to the new one! it is to take possession of the moon in the name of the united states of america! it is to add a thirty-ninth state to the glorious union! it is to colonize the lunar regions, to cultivate them, to people them, to transport to them some of our wonders of art, science, and industry! it is to civilize the selenites, unless they are more civilized already than we are ourselves! it is to make them all good republicans, if they are not so already!" "provided, of course, that there are selenites in existence!" sneered the captain, now sourer than ever, and in his unaccountable excitement doubly irritating. "who says there are no selenites?" cried ardan fiercely, with fists clenched and brows contracted. "i do!" cried m'nicholl stoutly; "i deny the existence of anything of the kind, and i denounce every one that maintains any such whim as a visionary, if not a fool!" ardan's reply to this taunt was a desperate facer, which, however, barbican managed to stop while on its way towards the captain's nose. m'nicholl, seeing himself struck at, immediately assumed such a posture of defence as showed him to be no novice at the business. a battle seemed unavoidable; but even at this trying moment barbican showed himself equal to the emergency. "stop, you crazy fellows! you ninnyhammers! you overgrown babies!" he exclaimed, seizing his companions by the collar, and violently swinging them around with his vast strength until they stood back to back; "what are you going to fight about? suppose there are lunarians in the moon! is that a reason why there should be lunatics in the projectile! but, ardan, why do you insist on lunarians? are we so shiftless that we can't do without them when we get to the moon?" "i don't insist on them!" cried ardan, who submitted to barbican like a child. "hang the lunarians! certainly, we can do without them! what do i care for them? down with them!" "yes, down with the lunarians!" cried m'nicholl as spitefully as if he had even the slightest belief in their existence. "we shall take possession of the moon ourselves!" cried ardan. "lunarians or no lunarians!" "we three shall constitute a republic!" cried m'nicholl. "i shall be the house!" cried ardan. "and i the senate!" answered the captain. "and barbican our first president!" shrieked the frenchman. "our first and last!" roared m'nicholl. "no objections to a third term!" yelled ardan. "he's welcome to any number of terms he pleases!" vociferated m'nicholl. "hurrah for president barbican of the lunatic--i mean of the lunar republic!" screamed ardan. "long may he wave, and may his shadow never grow less!" shouted captain m'nicholl, his eyes almost out of their sockets. then with voices reminding you of sand fiercely blown against the window panes, the _president_ and the _senate_ chanted the immortal _yankee doodle_, whilst the _house_ delivered itself of the _marseillaise_, in a style which even the wildest jacobins in robespierre's day could hardly have surpassed. but long before either song was ended, all three broke out into a dance, wild, insensate, furious, delirious, paroxysmatical. no orphic festivals on mount cithaeron ever raged more wildly. no bacchic revels on mount parnassus were ever more corybantic. diana, demented by the maddening example, joined in the orgie, howling and barking frantically in her turn, and wildly jumping as high as the ceiling of the projectile. then came new accessions to the infernal din. wings suddenly began to flutter, cocks to crow, hens to cluck; and five or six chickens, managing to escape out of their coop, flew backwards and forwards blindly, with frightened screams, dashing against each other and against the walls of the projectile, and altogether getting up as demoniacal a hullabaloo as could be made by ten thousand bats that you suddenly disturbed in a cavern where they had slept through the winter. then the three companions, no longer able to withstand the overpowering influence of the mysterious force that mastered them, intoxicated, more than drunk, burned by the air that scorched their organs of respiration, dropped at last, and lay flat, motionless, senseless as dabs of clay, on the floor of the projectile. [illustration: a demoniacal hullabaloo.] chapter viii. the neutral point. what had taken place? whence proceeded this strange intoxication whose consequences might have proved so disastrous? a little forgetfulness on ardan's part had done the whole mischief, but fortunately m'nicholl was able to remedy it in time. after a regular fainting spell several minutes long, the captain was the first man to return to consciousness and the full recovery of his intellectual faculties. his first feelings were far from pleasant. his stomach gnawed him as if he had not eaten for a week, though he had taken breakfast only a few hours before; his eyes were dim, his brain throbbing, and his limbs shaking. in short, he presented every symptom usually seen in a man dying of starvation. picking himself up with much care and difficulty, he roared out to ardan for something to eat. seeing that the frenchman was unable or unwilling to respond, he concluded to help himself, by beginning first of all to prepare a little tea. to do this, fire was necessary; so, to light his lamp, he struck a match. but what was his surprise at seeing the sulphur tip of the match blazing with a light so bright and dazzling that his eyes could hardly bear it! touching it to the gas burner, a stream of light flashed forth equal in its intensity to the flame of an electric lamp. then he understood it all in an instant. the dazzling glare, his maddened brain, his gnawing stomach--all were now clear as the noon-day sun. "the oxygen!" he cried, and, suddenly stooping down and examining the tap of the air apparatus, he saw that it had been only half turned off. consequently the air was gradually getting more and more impregnated with this powerful gas, colorless, odorless, tasteless, infinitely precious, but, unless when strongly diluted with nitrogen, capable of producing fatal disorders in the human system. ardan, startled by m'nicholl's question about the means of returning from the moon, had turned the cock only half off. the captain instantly stopped the escape of the oxygen, but not one moment too soon. it had completely saturated the atmosphere. a few minutes more and it would have killed the travellers, not like carbonic acid, by smothering them, but by burning them up, as a strong draught burns up the coals in a stove. [illustration: "the oxygen!" he cried.] it took nearly an hour for the air to become pure enough to allow the lungs their natural play. slowly and by degrees, the travellers recovered from their intoxication; they had actually to sleep off the fumes of the oxygen as a drunkard has to sleep off the effects of his brandy. when ardan learned that he was responsible for the whole trouble, do you think the information disconcerted him? not a bit of it. on the contrary, he was rather proud of having done something startling, to break the monotony of the journey; and to put a little life, as he said, into old barbican and the grim captain, so as to get a little fun out of such grave philosophers. after laughing heartily at the comical figure cut by his two friends capering like crazy students at the _closerie des lilas_, he went on moralizing on the incident: "for my part, i'm not a bit sorry for having partaken of this fuddling gas. it gives me an idea, dear boys. would it not be worth some enterprising fellow's while to establish a sanatorium provided with oxygen chambers, where people of a debilitated state of health could enjoy a few hours of intensely active existence! there's money in it, as you americans say. just suppose balls or parties given in halls where the air would be provided with an extra supply of this enrapturing gas! or, theatres where the atmosphere would be maintained in a highly oxygenated condition. what passion, what fire in the actors! what enthusiasm in the spectators! and, carrying the idea a little further, if, instead of an assembly or an audience, we should oxygenize towns, cities, a whole country--what activity would be infused into the whole people! what new life would electrify a stagnant community! out of an old used-up nation we could perhaps make a bran-new one, and, for my part, i know more than one state in old europe where this oxygen experiment might be attended with a decided advantage, or where, at all events, it could do no harm!" the frenchman spoke so glibly and gesticulated so earnestly that m'nicholl once more gravely examined the stop-cock; but barbican damped his enthusiasm by a single observation. "friend michael," said he, "your new and interesting idea we shall discuss at a more favorable opportunity. at present we want to know where all these cocks and hens have come from." "these cocks and hens?" "yes." ardan threw a glance of comical bewilderment on half a dozen or so of splendid barn-yard fowls that were now beginning to recover from the effects of the oxygen. for an instant he could not utter a word; then, shrugging his shoulders, he muttered in a low voice: "catastrophe prematurely exploded!" "what are you going to do with these chickens?" persisted barbican. "acclimatize them in the moon, by jove! what else?" was the ready reply. "why conceal them then?" "a hoax, a poor hoax, dear president, which proves a miserable failure! i intended to let them loose on the lunar continent at the first favorable opportunity. i often had a good laugh to myself, thinking of your astonishment and the captain's at seeing a lot of american poultry scratching for worms on a lunar dunghill!" "ah! wag, jester, incorrigible _farceur_!" cried barbican with a smile; "you want no nitrous oxide to put a bee in your bonnet! he is always as bad as you and i were for a short time, m'nicholl, under the laughing gas! he's never had a sensible moment in his life!" "i can't say the same of you," replied ardan; "you had at least one sensible moment in all your lives, and that was about an hour ago!" their incessant chattering did not prevent the friends from at once repairing the disorder of the interior of the projectile. cocks and hens were put back in their cages. but while doing so, the friends were astonished to find that the birds, though good sized creatures, and now pretty fat and plump, hardly felt heavier in their hands than if they had been so many sparrows. this drew their interested attention to a new phenomenon. from the moment they had left the earth, their own weight, and that of the projectile and the objects therein contained, had been undergoing a progressive diminution. they might never be able to ascertain this fact with regard to the projectile, but the moment was now rapidly approaching when the loss of weight would become perfectly sensible, both regarding themselves and the tools and instruments surrounding them. of course, it is quite clear, that this decrease could not be indicated by an ordinary scales, as the weight to balance the object would have lost precisely as much as the object itself. but a spring balance, for instance, in which the tension of the coil is independent of attraction, would have readily given the exact equivalent of the loss. attraction or weight, according to newton's well known law, acting in direct proportion to the mass of the attracting body and in inverse proportion to the square of the distance, this consequence clearly follows: had the earth been alone in space, or had the other heavenly bodies been suddenly annihilated, the further from the earth the projectile would be, the less weight it would have. however, it would never _entirely_ lose its weight, as the terrestrial attraction would have always made itself felt at no matter what distance. but as the earth is not the only celestial body possessing attraction, it is evident that there may be a point in space where the respective attractions may be entirely annihilated by mutual counteraction. of this phenomenon the present instance was a case in point. in a short time, the projectile and its contents would for a few moments be absolutely and completely deprived of all weight whatsoever. the path described by the projectile was evidently a line from the earth to the moon averaging somewhat less than 240,000 miles in length. according as the distance between the projectile and the earth was increasing, the terrestrial attraction was diminishing in the ratio of the square of the distance, and the lunar attraction was augmenting in the same proportion. as before observed, the point was not now far off where, the two attractions counteracting each other, the bullet would actually weigh nothing at all. if the masses of the earth and the moon had been equal, this should evidently be found half way between the two bodies. but by making allowance for the difference of the respective masses, it was easy to calculate that this point would be situated at the 9/10 of the total distance, or, in round numbers, at something less than 216,000 miles from the earth. at this point, a body that possessed no energy or principle of movement within itself, would remain forever, relatively motionless, suspended like mahomet's coffin, being equally attracted by the two orbs and nothing impelling it in one direction rather than in the other. now the projectile at this moment was nearing this point; if it reached it, what would be the consequence? to this question three answers presented themselves, all possible under the circumstances, but very different in their results. 1. suppose the projectile to possess velocity enough to pass the neutral point. in such case, it would undoubtedly proceed onward to the moon, being drawn thither by lunar attraction. 2. suppose it lacked the requisite velocity for reaching the neutral point. in such a case it would just as certainly fall back to the earth, in obedience to the law of terrestrial attraction. 3. suppose it to be animated by just sufficient velocity to reach the neutral point, but not to pass it. in that case, the projectile would remain forever in the same spot, perfectly motionless as far as regards the earth and the moon, though of course following them both in their annual orbits round the sun. such was now the state of things, which barbican tried to explain to his friends, who, it need hardly be said, listened to his remarks with the most intense interest. how were they to know, they asked him, the precise instant at which the projectile would reach the neutral point? that would be an easy matter, he assured them. it would be at the very moment when both themselves and all the other objects contained in the projectile would be completely free from every operation of the law of gravity; in other words, when everything would cease to have weight. this gradual diminution of the action of gravity, the travellers had been for some time noticing, but they had not yet witnessed its total cessation. but that very morning, about an hour before noon, as the captain was making some little experiment in chemistry, he happened by accident to overturn a glass full of water. what was his surprise at seeing that neither the glass nor the water fell to the floor! both remained suspended in the air almost completely motionless. "the prettiest experiment i ever saw!" cried ardan; "let us have more of it!" and seizing the bottles, the arms, and the other objects in the projectile, he arranged them around each other in the air with some regard to symmetry and proportion. the different articles, keeping strictly each in its own place, formed a very attractive group wonderful to behold. diana, placed in the apex of the pyramid, would remind you of those marvellous suspensions in the air performed by houdin, herman, and a few other first class wizards. only being kept in her place without being hampered by invisible strings, the animal rather seemed to enjoy the exhibition, though in all probability she was hardly conscious of any thing unusual in her appearance. our travellers had been fully prepared for such a phenomenon, yet it struck them with as much surprise as if they had never uttered a scientific reason to account for it. they saw that, no longer subject to the ordinary laws of nature, they were now entering the realms of the marvellous. they felt that their bodies were absolutely without weight. their arms, fully extended, no longer sought their sides. their heads oscillated unsteadily on their shoulders. their feet no longer rested on the floor. in their efforts to hold themselves straight, they looked like drunken men trying to maintain the perpendicular. we have all read stories of some men deprived of the power of reflecting light and of others who could not cast a shadow. but here reality, no fantastic story, showed you men who, through the counteraction of attractive forces, could tell no difference between light substances and heavy substances, and who absolutely had no weight whatever themselves! "let us take graceful attitudes!" cried ardan, "and imagine we are playing _tableaux_! let us, for instance, form a grand historical group of the three great goddesses of the nineteenth century. barbican will represent minerva or _science_; the captain, bellona or _war_; while i, as madre natura, the newly born goddess of _progress_, floating gracefully over you both, extend my hands so, fondly patronizing the one, but grandly ordering off the other, to the regions of eternal night! more on your toe, captain! your right foot a little higher! look at barbican's admirable pose! now then, prepare to receive orders for a new tableau! form group _à la jardin mabille!_ presto! change!" in an instant, our travellers, changing attitudes, formed the new group with tolerable success. even barbican, who had been to paris in his youth, yielding for a moment to the humor of the thing, acted the _naif anglais_ to the life. the captain was frisky enough to remind you of a middle-aged frenchman from the provinces, on a hasty visit to the capital for a few days' fun. ardan was in raptures. "oh! if raphael could only see us!" he exclaimed in a kind of ecstasy. "he would paint such a picture as would throw all his other masterpieces in the shade!" "knock spots out of the best of them by fifty per cent!" cried the captain, gesticulating well enough _à l'étudiant_, but rather mixing his metaphors. [illustration: a group _a la jardin mabille_.] "he should be pretty quick in getting through the job," observed barbican, the first as usual to recover tranquillity. "as soon as the projectile will have passed the neutral point--in half an hour at longest--lunar attraction will draw us to the moon." "we shall have to crawl on the ceiling then like flies," said ardan. "not at all," said the captain; "the projectile, having its centre of gravity very low, will turn upside down by degrees." "upside down!" cried ardan. "that will be a nice mess! everything higgledy-piggledy!" "no danger, friend michael," said m'nicholl; "there shall be no disorder whatever; nothing will quit its place; the movement of the projectile will be effected by such slow degrees as to be imperceptible." "yes," added barbican, "as soon as we shall have passed the neutral point, the base of the projectile, its heaviest part, will swing around gradually until it faces the moon. before this phenomenon, however, can take place, we must of course cross the line." "cross the line!" cried the frenchman; "then let us imitate the sailors when they do the same thing in the atlantic ocean! splice the main brace!" a slight effort carried him sailing over to the side of the projectile. opening a cupboard and taking out a bottle and a few glasses, he placed them on a tray. then setting the tray itself in the air as on a table in front of his companions, he filled the glasses, passed them around, and, in a lively speech interrupted with many a joyous hurrah, congratulated his companions on their glorious achievement in being the first that ever crossed the lunar line. this counteracting influence of the attractions lasted nearly an hour. by that time the travellers could keep themselves on the floor without much effort. barbican also made his companions remark that the conical point of the projectile diverged a little from the direct line to the moon, while by an inverse movement, as they could notice through the window of the floor, the base was gradually turning away from the earth. the lunar attraction was evidently getting the better of the terrestrial. the fall towards the moon, though still almost insensible, was certainly beginning. it could not be more than the eightieth part of an inch in the first second. but by degrees, as the attractive force would increase, the fall would be more decided, and the projectile, overbalanced by its base, and presenting its cone to the earth, would descend with accelerated velocity to the lunar surface. the object of their daring attempt would then be successfully attained. no further obstacle, therefore, being likely to stand in the way of the complete success of the enterprise, the captain and the frenchman cordially shook hands with barbican, all kept congratulating each other on their good fortune as long as the bottle lasted. they could not talk enough about the wonderful phenomenon lately witnessed; the chief point, the neutralization of the law of gravity, particularly, supplied them with an inexhaustible subject. the frenchman, as usual, as enthusiastic in his fancy, as he was fanciful in his enthusiasm, got off some characteristic remarks. "what a fine thing it would be, my boys," he exclaimed, "if on earth we could be so fortunate as we have been here, and get rid of that weight that keeps us down like lead, that rivets us to it like an adamantine chain! then should we prisoners become free! adieu forever to all weariness of arms or feet! at present, in order to fly over the surface of the earth by the simple exertion of our muscles or even to sustain ourselves in the air, we require a muscular force fifty times greater than we possess; but if attraction did not exist, the simplest act of the will, our slightest whim even, would be sufficient to transport us to whatever part of space we wished to visit." "ardan, you had better invent something to kill attraction," observed m'nicholl drily; "you can do it if you try. jackson and morton have killed pain by sulphuric ether. suppose you try your hand on attraction!" "it would be worth a trial!" cried ardan, so full of his subject as not to notice the captain's jeering tone; "attraction once destroyed, there is an end forever to all loads, packs and burdens! how the poor omnibus horses would rejoice! adieu forever to all cranes, derricks, capstans, jack-screws, and even hotel-elevators! we could dispense with all ladders, door steps, and even stair-cases!" "and with all houses too," interrupted barbican; "or, at least, we _should_ dispense with them because we could not have them. if there was no weight, you could neither make a wall of bricks nor cover your house with a roof. even your hat would not stay on your head. the cars would not stay on the railway nor the boats on the water. what do i say? we could not have any water. even the ocean would leave its bed and float away into space. nay, the atmosphere itself would leave us, being detained in its place by terrestrial attraction and by nothing else." "too true, mr. president," replied ardan after a pause. "it's a fact. i acknowledge the corn, as marston says. but how you positive fellows do knock holes into our pretty little creations of fancy!" "don't feel so bad about it, ardan;" observed m'nicholl; "though there may be no orb from which gravity is excluded altogether, we shall soon land in one, where it is much less powerful than on the earth." "you mean the moon!" "yes, the moon. her mass being 1/89 of the earth's, her attractive power should be in the same proportion; that is, a boy 10 years old, whose weight on earth is about 90 lbs., would weigh on the moon only about 1 pound, if nothing else were to be taken into consideration. but when standing on the surface of the moon, he is relatively 4 times nearer to the centre than when he is standing on the surface of the earth. his weight, therefore, having to be increased by the square of the distance, must be sixteen times greater. now 16 times 1/89 being less than 1/5, it is clear that my weight of 150 pounds will be cut down to nearly 30 as soon as we reach the moon's surface." "and mine?" asked ardan. "yours will hardly reach 25 pounds, i should think," was the reply. "shall my muscular strength diminish in the same proportion?" was the next question. "on the contrary, it will be relatively so much the more increased that you can take a stride 15 feet in width as easily as you can now take one of ordinary length." "we shall be all samsons, then, in the moon!" cried ardan. "especially," replied m'nicholl, "if the stature of the selenites is in proportion to the mass of their globe." "if so, what should be their height?" "a tall man would hardly be twelve inches in his boots!" "they must be veritable lilliputians then!" cried ardan; "and we are all to be gullivers! the old myth of the giants realized! perhaps the titans that played such famous parts in the prehistoric period of our earth, were adventurers like ourselves, casually arrived from some great planet!" "not from such planets as _mercury_, _venus_ or _mars_ anyhow, friend michael," observed barbican. "but the inhabitants of _jupiter_, _saturn_, _uranus,_ or _neptune_, if they bear the same proportion to their planet that we do ours, must certainly be regular brobdignagians." "let us keep severely away from all planets of the latter class then," said ardan. "i never liked to play the part of lilliputian myself. but how about the sun, barbican? i always had a hankering after the sun!" "the sun's volume is about 1-1/3 million times greater than that of the earth, but his density being only about 1/4, the attraction on his surface is hardly 30 times greater than that of our globe. still, every proportion observed, the inhabitants of the sun can't be much less than 150 or 160 feet in height." "_mille tonnerres!_" cried ardan, "i should be there like ulysses among the cyclops! i'll tell you what it is, barbican; if we ever decide on going to the sun, we must provide ourselves before hand with a few of your rodman's columbiads to frighten off the solarians!" "your columbiads would not do great execution there," observed m'nicholl; "your bullet would be hardly out of the barrel when it would drop to the surface like a heavy stone pushed off the wall of a house." "oh! i like that!" laughed the incredulous ardan. "a little calculation, however, shows the captain's remark to be perfectly just," said barbican. "rodman's ordinary 15 inch columbiad requires a charge of 100 pounds of mammoth powder to throw a ball of 500 pounds weight. what could such a charge do with a ball weighing 30 times as much or 15,000 pounds? reflect on the enormous weight everything must have on the surface of the sun! your hat, for instance, would weigh 20 or 30 pounds. your cigar nearly a pound. in short, your own weight on the sun's surface would be so great, more than two tons, that if you ever fell you should never be able to pick yourself up again!" "yes," added the captain, "and whenever you wanted to eat or drink you should rig up a set of powerful machinery to hoist the eatables and drinkables into your mouth." "enough of the sun to-day, boys!" cried ardan, shrugging his shoulders; "i don't contemplate going there at present. let us be satisfied with the moon! there, at least, we shall be of some account!" chapter ix. a little off the track. barbican's mind was now completely at rest at least on one subject. the original force of the discharge had been great enough to send the projectile beyond the neutral line. therefore, there was no longer any danger of its falling back to the earth. therefore, there was no longer any danger of its resting eternally motionless on the point of the counteracting attractions. the next subject to engage his attention was the question: would the projectile, under the influence of lunar attraction, succeed in reaching its destination? the only way in which it _could_ succeed was by falling through a space of nearly 24,000 miles and then striking the moon's surface. a most terrific fall! even taking the lunar attraction to be only the one-sixth of the earth's, such a fall was simply bewildering to think of. the greatest height to which a balloon ever ascended was seven miles (glaisher, 1862). imagine a fall from even that distance! then imagine a fall from a height of four thousand miles! yet it was for a fall of this appalling kind on the surface of the moon that the travellers had now to prepare themselves. instead of avoiding it, however, they eagerly desired it and would be very much disappointed if they missed it. they had taken the best precautions they could devise to guard against the terrific shock. these were mainly of two kinds: one was intended to counteract as much as possible the fearful results to be expected the instant the projectile touched the lunar surface; the other, to retard the velocity of the fall itself, and thereby to render it less violent. the best arrangement of the first kind was certainly barbican's water-contrivance for counteracting the shock at starting, which has been so fully described in our former volume. (see _baltimore gun club_, page 353.) but unfortunately it could be no longer employed. even if the partitions were in working order, the water--two thousand pounds in weight had been required--was no longer to be had. the little still left in the tanks was of no account for such a purpose. besides, they had not a single drop of the precious liquid to spare, for they were as yet anything but sanguine regarding the facility of finding water on the moon's surface. fortunately, however, as the gentle reader may remember, barbican, besides using water to break the concussion, had provided the movable disc with stout pillars containing a strong buffing apparatus, intended to protect it from striking the bottom too violently after the destruction of the different partitions. these buffers were still good, and, gravity being as yet almost imperceptible, to put them once more in order and adjust them to the disc was not a difficult task. the travellers set to work at once and soon accomplished it. the different pieces were put together readily--a mere matter of bolts and screws, with plenty of tools to manage them. in a short time the repaired disc rested on its steel buffers, like a table on its legs, or rather like a sofa seat on its springs. the new arrangement was attended with at least one disadvantage. the bottom light being covered up, a convenient view of the moon's surface could not be had as soon as they should begin to fall in a perpendicular descent. this, however, was only a slight matter, as the side lights would permit the adventurers to enjoy quite as favorable a view of the vast regions of the moon as is afforded to balloon travellers when looking down on the earth over the sides of their car. the disc arrangement was completed in about an hour, but it was not till past twelve o'clock before things were restored to their usual order. barbican then tried to make fresh observations regarding the inclination of the projectile; but to his very decided chagrin he found that it had not yet turned over sufficiently to commence the perpendicular fall: on the contrary, it even seemed to be following a curve rather parallel with that of the lunar disc. the queen of the stars now glittered with a light more dazzling than ever, whilst from an opposite part of the sky the glorious king of day flooded her with his fires. the situation began to look a little serious. "shall we ever get there!" asked the captain. "let us be prepared for getting there, any how," was barbican's dubious reply. "you're a pretty pair of suspenders," said ardan cheerily (he meant of course doubting hesitators, but his fluent command of english sometimes led him into such solecisms). "certainly we shall get there--and perhaps a little sooner than will be good for us." this reply sharply recalled barbican to the task he had undertaken, and he now went to work seriously, trying to combine arrangements to break the fall. the reader may perhaps remember ardan's reply to the captain on the day of the famous meeting in tampa. "your fall would be violent enough," the captain had urged, "to splinter you like glass into a thousand fragments." "and what shall prevent me," had been ardan's ready reply, "from breaking my fall by means of counteracting rockets suitably disposed, and let off at the proper time?" the practical utility of this idea had at once impressed barbican. it could hardly be doubted that powerful rockets, fastened on the outside to the bottom of the projectile, could, when discharged, considerably retard the velocity of the fall by their sturdy recoil. they could burn in a vacuum by means of oxygen furnished by themselves, as powder burns in the chamber of a gun, or as the volcanoes of the moon continue their action regardless of the absence of a lunar atmosphere. barbican had therefore provided himself with rockets enclosed in strong steel gun barrels, grooved on the outside so that they could be screwed into corresponding holes already made with much care in the bottom of the projectile. they were just long enough, when flush with the floor inside, to project outside by about six inches. they were twenty in number, and formed two concentric circles around the dead light. small holes in the disc gave admission to the wires by which each of the rockets was to be discharged externally by electricity. the whole effect was therefore to be confined to the outside. the mixtures having been already carefully deposited in each barrel, nothing further need be done than to take away the metallic plugs which had been screwed into the bottom of the projectile, and replace them by the rockets, every one of which was found to fit its grooved chamber with rigid exactness. this evidently should have been all done before the disc had been finally laid on its springs. but as this had to be lifted up again in order to reach the bottom of the projectile, more work was to be done than was strictly necessary. though the labor was not very hard, considering that gravity had as yet scarcely made itself felt, m'nicholl and ardan were not sorry to have their little joke at barbican's expense. the frenchman began humming "_aliquandoque bonus dormitat homerus,_" to a tune from _orphée aux enfers_, and the captain said something about the philadelphia highway commissioners who pave a street one day, and tear it up the next to lay the gas pipes. but his friends' humor was all lost on barbican, who was so wrapped up in his work that he probably never heard a word they said. towards three o'clock every preparation was made, every possible precaution taken, and now our bold adventurers had nothing more to do than watch and wait. the projectile was certainly approaching the moon. it had by this time turned over considerably under the influence of attraction, but its own original motion still followed a decidedly oblique direction. the consequence of these two forces might possibly be a tangent, line approaching the edge of the moon's disc. one thing was certain: the projectile had not yet commenced to fall directly towards her surface; its base, in which its centre of gravity lay, was still turned away considerably from the perpendicular. barbican's countenance soon showed perplexity and even alarm. his projectile was proving intractable to the laws of gravitation. the _unknown_ was opening out dimly before him, the great boundless unknown of the starry plains. in his pride and confidence as a scientist, he had flattered himself with having sounded the consequence of every possible hypothesis regarding the projectile's ultimate fate: the return to the earth; the arrival at the moon; and the motionless dead stop at the neutral point. but here, a new and incomprehensible fourth hypothesis, big with the terrors of the mystic infinite, rose up before his disturbed mind, like a grim and hollow ghost. after a few seconds, however, he looked at it straight in the face without wincing. his companions showed themselves just as firm. whether it was science that emboldened barbican, his phlegmatic stoicism that propped up the captain, or his enthusiastic vivacity that cheered the irrepressible ardan, i cannot exactly say. but certainly they were all soon talking over the matter as calmly as you or i would discuss the advisability of taking a sail on the lake some beautiful evening in july. their first remarks were decidedly peculiar and quite characteristic. other men would have asked themselves where the projectile was taking them to. do you think such a question ever occurred to them? not a bit of it. they simply began asking each other what could have been the cause of this new and strange state of things. "off the track, it appears," observed ardan. "how's that?" "my opinion is," answered the captain, "that the projectile was not aimed true. every possible precaution had been taken, i am well aware, but we all know that an inch, a line, even the tenth part of a hair's breadth wrong at the start would have sent us thousands of miles off our course by this time." "what have you to say to that, barbican?" asked ardan. "i don't think there was any error at the start," was the confident reply; "not even so much as a line! we took too many tests proving the absolute perpendicularity of the columbiad, to entertain the slightest doubt on that subject. its direction towards the zenith being incontestable, i don't see why we should not reach the moon when she comes to the zenith." "perhaps we're behind time," suggested ardan. "what have you to say to that, barbican?" asked the captain. "you know the cambridge men said the journey had to be done in 97 hours 13 minutes and 20 seconds. that's as much as to say that if we're not up to time we shall miss the moon." "correct," said barbican. "but we _can't_ be behind time. we started, you know, on december 1st, at 13 minutes and 20 seconds before 11 o'clock, and we were to arrive four days later at midnight precisely. to-day is december 5th gentlemen, please examine your watches. it is now half past three in the afternoon. eight hours and a half are sufficient to take us to our journey's end. why should we not arrive there?" "how about being ahead of time?" asked the captain. "just so!" said ardan. "you know we have discovered the initial velocity to have been greater than was expected." "not at all! not at all!" cried barbican "a slight excess of velocity would have done no harm whatever had the direction of the projectile been perfectly true. no. there must have been a digression. we must have been switched off!" "switched off? by what?" asked both his listeners in one breath. "i can't tell," said barbican curtly. "well!" said ardan; "if barbican can't tell, there is an end to all further talk on the subject. we're switched off--that's enough for me. what has done it? i don't care. where are we going to? i don't care. what is the use of pestering our brains about it? we shall soon find out. we are floating around in space, and we shall end by hauling up somewhere or other." but in this indifference barbican was far from participating. not that he was not prepared to meet the future with a bold and manly heart. it was his inability to answer his own question that rendered him uneasy. what _had_ switched them off? he would have given worlds for an answer, but his brain sorely puzzled sought one in vain. in the mean time, the projectile continued to turn its side rather than its base towards the moon; that is, to assume a lateral rather than a direct movement, and this movement was fully participated in by the multitude of the objects that had been thrown outside. barbican could even convince himself by sighting several points on the lunar surface, by this time hardly more than fifteen or eighteen thousand miles distant, that the velocity of the projectile instead of accelerating was becoming more and more uniform. this was another proof that there was no perpendicular fall. however, though the original impulsive force was still superior to the moon's attraction, the travellers were evidently approaching the lunar disc, and there was every reason to hope that they would at last reach a point where, the lunar attraction at last having the best of it, a decided fall should be the result. the three friends, it need hardly be said, continued to make their observations with redoubled interest, if redoubled interest were possible. but with all their care they could as yet determine nothing regarding the topographical details of our radiant satellite. her surface still reflected the solar rays too dazzlingly to show the relief necessary for satisfactory observation. our travellers kept steadily on the watch looking out of the side lights, till eight o'clock in the evening, by which time the moon had grown so large in their eyes that she covered up fully half the sky. at this time the projectile itself must have looked like a streak of light, reflecting, as it did, the sun's brilliancy on the one side and the moon's splendor on the other. barbican now took a careful observation and calculated that they could not be much more than 2,000 miles from the object of their journey. the velocity of the projectile he calculated to be about 650 feet per second or 450 miles an hour. they had therefore still plenty of time to reach the moon in about four hours. but though the bottom of the projectile continued to turn towards the lunar surface in obedience to the law of centripetal force, the centrifugal force was still evidently strong enough to change the path which it followed into some kind of curve, the exact nature of which would be exceedingly difficult to calculate. the careful observations that barbican continued to take did not however prevent him from endeavoring to solve his difficult problem. what _had_ switched them off? the hours passed on, but brought no result. that the adventurers were approaching the moon was evident, but it was just as evident that they should never reach her. the nearest point the projectile could ever possibly attain would only be the result of two opposite forces, the attractive and the repulsive, which, as was now clear, influenced its motion. therefore, to land in the moon was an utter impossibility, and any such idea was to be given up at once and for ever. "_quand même_! what of it!" cried ardan; after some moments' silence. "we're not to land in the moon! well! let us do the next best thing--pass close enough to discover her secrets!" but m'nicholl could not accept the situation so coolly. on the contrary, he decidedly lost his temper, as is occasionally the case with even phlegmatic men. he muttered an oath or two, but in a voice hardly loud enough to reach barbican's ear. at last, impatient of further restraint, he burst out: "who the deuce cares for her secrets? to the hangman with her secrets! we started to land in the moon! that's what's got to be done! that i want or nothing! confound the darned thing, i say, whatever it was, whether on the earth or off it, that shoved us off the track!" "on the earth or off it!" cried barbican, striking his head suddenly; "now i see it! you're right, captain! confound the bolide that we met the first night of our journey!" "hey?" cried ardan. "what do you mean?" asked m'nicholl. "i mean," replied barbican, with a voice now perfectly calm, and in a tone of quiet conviction, "that our deviation is due altogether to that wandering meteor." "why, it did not even graze us!" cried ardan. "no matter for that," replied barbican. "its mass, compared to ours, was enormous, and its attraction was undoubtedly sufficiently great to influence our deviation." "hardly enough to be appreciable," urged m'nicholl. "right again, captain," observed barbican. "but just remember an observation of your own made this very afternoon: an inch, a line, even the tenth part of a hair's breadth wrong at the beginning, in a journey of 240 thousand miles, would be sufficient to make us miss the moon!" chapter x. the observers of the moon. barbican's happy conjecture had probably hit the nail on the head. the divergency even of a second may amount to millions of miles if you only have your lines long enough. the projectile had certainly gone off its direct course; whatever the cause, the fact was undoubted. it was a great pity. the daring attempt must end in a failure due altogether to a fortuitous accident, against which no human foresight could have possibly taken precaution. unless in case of the occurrence of some other most improbable accident, reaching the moon was evidently now impossible. to failure, therefore, our travellers had to make up their minds. but was nothing to be gained by the trip? though missing actual contact with the moon, might they not pass near enough to solve several problems in physics and geology over which scientists had been for a long time puzzling their brains in vain? even this would be some compensation for all their trouble, courage, and intelligence. as to what was to be their own fate, to what doom were themselves to be reserved--they never appeared to think of such a thing. they knew very well that in the midst of those infinite solitudes they should soon find themselves without air. the slight supply that kept them from smothering could not possibly last more than five or six days longer. five or six days! what of that? _quand même_! as ardan often exclaimed. five or six days were centuries to our bold adventurers! at present every second was a year in events, and infinitely too precious to be squandered away in mere preparations for possible contingencies. the moon could never be reached, but was it not possible that her surface could be carefully observed? this they set themselves at once to find out. the distance now separating them from our satellite they estimated at about 400 miles. therefore relatively to their power of discovering the details of her disc, they were still farther off from the moon than some of our modern astronomers are to-day, when provided with their powerful telescopes. we know, for example, that lord rosse's great telescope at parsonstown, possessing a power of magnifying 6000 times, brings the moon to within 40 miles of us; not to speak of barbican's great telescope on the summit of long's peak, by which the moon, magnified 48,000 times, was brought within 5 miles of the earth, where it therefore could reveal with sufficient distinctness every object above 40 feet in diameter. therefore our adventurers, though at such a comparatively small distance, could not make out the topographical details of the moon with any satisfaction by their unaided vision. the eye indeed could easily enough catch the rugged outline of these vast depressions improperly called "seas," but it could do very little more. its powers of adjustability seemed to fail before the strange and bewildering scene. the prominence of the mountains vanished, not only through the foreshortening, but also in the dazzling radiation produced by the direct reflection of the solar rays. after a short time therefore, completely foiled by the blinding glare, the eye turned itself unwillingly away, as if from a furnace of molten silver. the spherical surface, however, had long since begun to reveal its convexity. the moon was gradually assuming the appearance of a gigantic egg with the smaller end turned towards the earth. in the earlier days of her formation, while still in a state of mobility, she had been probably a perfect sphere in shape, but, under the influence of terrestrial gravity operating for uncounted ages, she was drawn at last so much towards the centre of attraction as to resemble somewhat a prolate spheriod. by becoming a satellite, she had lost the native perfect regularity of her outline; her centre of gravity had shifted from her real centre; and as a result of this arrangement, some scientists have drawn the conclusion that the moon's air and water have been attracted to that portion of her surface which is always invisible to the inhabitants of the earth. the convexity of her outline, this bulging prominence of her surface, however, did not last long. the travellers were getting too near to notice it. they were beginning to survey the moon as balloonists survey the earth. the projectile was now moving with great rapidity--with nothing like its initial velocity, but still eight or nine times faster than an express train. its line of movement, however, being oblique instead of direct, was so deceptive as to induce ardan to flatter himself that they might still reach the lunar surface. he could never persuade himself to believe that they should get so near their aim and still miss it. no; nothing might, could, would or should induce him to believe it, he repeated again and again. but barbican's pitiless logic left him no reply. "no, dear friend, no. we can reach the moon only by a fall, and we don't fall. centripetal force keeps us at least for a while under the lunar influence, but centrifugal force drives us away irresistibly." these words were uttered in a tone that killed ardan's last and fondest hope. * * * * * the portion of the moon they were now approaching was her northern hemisphere, found usually in the lower part of lunar maps. the lens of a telescope, as is well known, gives only the inverted image of the object; therefore, when an upright image is required, an additional glass must be used. but as every additional glass is an additional obstruction to the light, the object glass of a lunar telescope is employed without a corrector; light is thereby saved, and in viewing the moon, as in viewing a map, it evidently makes very little difference whether we see her inverted or not. maps of the moon therefore, being drawn from the image formed by the telescope, show the north in the lower part, and _vice versa_. of this kind was the _mappa selenographica_, by beer and maedler, so often previously alluded to and now carefully consulted by barbican. the northern hemisphere, towards which they were now rapidly approaching, presented a strong contrast with the southern, by its vast plains and great depressions, checkered here and there by very remarkable isolated mountains.[a] at midnight the moon was full. this was the precise moment at which the travellers would have landed had not that unlucky bolide drawn them off the track. the moon was therefore strictly up to time, arriving at the instant rigidly determined by the cambridge observatory. she occupied the exact point, to a mathematical nicety, where our 28th parallel crossed the perigee. an observer posted in the bottom of the columbiad at stony hill, would have found himself at this moment precisely under the moon. the axis of the enormous gun, continued upwards vertically, would have struck the orb of night exactly in her centre. it is hardly necessary to tell our readers that, during this memorable night of the 5th and 6th of december, the travellers had no desire to close their eyes. could they do so, even if they had desired? no! all their faculties, thoughts, and desires, were concentrated in one single word: "look!" representatives of the earth, and of all humanity past and present, they felt that it was with their eyes that the race of man contemplated the lunar regions and penetrated the secrets of our satellite! a certain indescribable emotion therefore, combined with an undefined sense of responsibility, held possession of their hearts, as they moved silently from window to window. their observations, recorded by barbican, were vigorously remade, revised, and re-determined, by the others. to make them, they had telescopes which they now began to employ with great advantage. to regulate and investigate them, they had the best maps of the day. whilst occupied in this silent work, they could not help throwing a short retrospective glance on the former observers of the moon. the first of these was galileo. his slight telescope magnified only thirty times, still, in the spots flecking the lunar surface, like the eyes checkering a peacock's tail, he was the first to discover mountains and even to measure their heights. these, considering the difficulties under which he labored, were wonderfully accurate, but unfortunately he made no map embodying his observations. a few years afterwards, hevel of dantzic, (1611-1688) a polish astronomer--more generally known as hevelius, his works being all written in latin--undertook to correct galileo's measurements. but as his method could be strictly accurate only twice a month--the periods of the first and second quadratures--his rectifications could be hardly called successful. still it is to the labors of this eminent astronomer, carried on uninterruptedly for fifty years in his own observatory, that we owe the first map of the moon. it was published in 1647 under the name of _selenographia_. he represented the circular mountains by open spots somewhat round in shape, and by shaded figures he indicated the vast plains, or, as he called them, the _seas_, that occupied so much of her surface. these he designated by names taken from our earth. his map shows you a _mount sinai_ the midst of an _arabia_, an _ætna_ in the centre of a _sicily_, _alps_, _apennines_, _carpathians_, a _mediterranean_, a _palus mæolis_, a _pontus euxinus_, and a _caspian sea_. but these names seem to have been given capriciously and at random, for they never recall any resemblance existing between themselves and their namesakes on our globe. in the wide open spot, for instance, connected on the south with vast continents and terminating in a point, it would be no easy matter to recognize the reversed image of the _indian peninsula_, the _bay of bengal_, and _cochin china_. naturally, therefore, these names were nearly all soon dropped; but another system of nomenclature, proposed by an astronomer better acquainted with the human heart, met with a success that has lasted to the present day. this was father riccioli, a jesuit, and (1598-1671) a contemporary of hevelius. in his _astronomia reformata_, (1665), he published a rough and incorrect map of the moon, compiled from observations made by grimaldi of ferrara; but in designating the mountains, he named them after eminent astronomers, and this idea of his has been carefully carried out by map makers of later times. a third map of the moon was published at rome in 1666 by dominico cassini of nice (1625-1712), the famous discoverer of saturn's satellites. though somewhat incorrect regarding measurements, it was superior to riccioli's in execution, and for a long time it was considered a standard work. copies of this map are still to be found, but cassini's original copper-plate, preserved for a long time at the _imprimerie royale_ in paris, was at last sold to a brazier, by no less a personage than the director of the establishment himself, who, according to arago, wanted to get rid of what he considered useless lumber! la hire (1640-1718), professor of astronomy in the _collège de france_, and an accomplished draughtsman, drew a map of the moon which was thirteen feet in diameter. this map could be seen long afterwards in the library of st. genevieve, paris, but it was never engraved. about 1760, mayer, a famous german astronomer and the director of the observatory of göttingen, began the publication of a magnificent map of the moon, drawn after lunar measurements all rigorously verified by himself. unfortunately his death in 1762 interrupted a work which would have surpassed in accuracy every previous effort of the kind. next appears schroeter of erfurt (1745-1816), a fine observer (he first discovered the lunar _rills_), but a poor draughtsman: his maps are therefore of little value. lohrman of dresden published in 1838 an excellent map of the moon, 15 inches in diameter, accompanied by descriptive text and several charts of particular portions on a larger scale. but this and all other maps were thrown completely into the shade by beer and maedler's famous _mappa selenographica_, so often alluded to in the course of this work. this map, projected orthographically--that is, one in which all the rays proceeding from the surface to the eye are supposed to be parallel to each other--gives a reproduction of the lunar disc exactly as it appears. the representation of the mountains and plains is therefore correct only in the central portion; elsewhere, north, south, east, or west, the features, being foreshortened, are crowded together, and cannot be compared in measurement with those in the centre. it is more than three feet square; for convenient reference it is divided into four parts, each having a very full index; in short, this map is in all respects a master piece of lunar cartography.[b] after beer and maedler, we should allude to julius schmitt's (of athens) excellent selenographic reliefs: to doctor draper's, and to father secchi's successful application of photography to lunar representation; to de la rue's (of london) magnificent stereographs of the moon, to be had at every optician's; to the clear and correct map prepared by lecouturier and chapuis in 1860; to the many beautiful pictures of the moon in various phases of illumination obtained by the messrs. bond of harvard university; to rutherford's (of new york) unparalleled lunar photographs; and finally to nasmyth and carpenter's wonderful work on the moon, illustrated by photographs of her surface in detail, prepared from models at which they had been laboring for more than a quarter of the century. of all these maps, pictures, and projections, barbican had provided himself with only two--beer and maedler's in german, and lecouturier and chapuis' in french. these he considered quite sufficient for all purposes, and certainly they considerably simplified his labors as an observer. his best optical instruments were several excellent marine telescopes, manufactured especially under his direction. magnifying the object a hundred times, on the surface of the earth they would have brought the moon to within a distance of somewhat less than 2400 miles. but at the point to which our travellers had arrived towards three o'clock in the morning, and which could hardly be more than 12 or 1300 miles from the moon, these telescopes, ranging through a medium disturbed by no atmosphere, easily brought the lunar surface to within less than 13 miles' distance from the eyes of our adventurers. therefore they should now see objects in the moon as clearly as people can see the opposite bank of a river that is about 12 miles wide. [footnote a: in our map of the moon, prepared expressly for this work, we have so far improved on beer and maedler as to give her surface as it appears to the naked eye: that is, the north is in the north; only we must always remember that the west is and must be on the _right hand_.] [footnote b: in our map the _mappa selenographica_ is copied as closely and as fully as is necessary for understanding the details of the story. for further information the reader is referred to nasmyth's late magnificent work: the moon.] chapter xi. fact and fancy. "have you ever seen the moon?" said a teacher ironically one day in class to one of his pupils. "no, sir;" was the pert reply; "but i think i can safely say i've heard it spoken about." though saying what he considered a smart thing, the pupil was probably perfectly right. like the immense majority of his fellow beings, he had looked at the moon, heard her talked of, written poetry about her, but, in the strict sense of the term, he had probably never seen her--that is--scanned her, examined her, surveyed her, inspected her, reconnoitred her--even with an opera glass! not one in a thousand, not one in ten thousand, has ever examined even the map of our only satellite. to guard our beloved and intelligent reader against this reproach, we have prepared an excellent reduction of beer and maedler's _mappa_, on which, for the better understanding of what is to follow, we hope he will occasionally cast a gracious eye. when you look at any map of the moon, you are struck first of all with one peculiarity. contrary to the arrangement prevailing in mars and on our earth, the continents occupy principally the southern hemisphere of the lunar orb. then these continents are far from presenting such sharp and regular outlines as distinguish the indian peninsula, africa, and south america. on the contrary, their coasts, angular, jagged, and deeply indented, abound in bays and peninsulas. they remind you of the coast of norway, or of the islands in the sound, where the land seems to be cut up into endless divisions. if navigation ever existed on the moon's surface, it must have been of a singularly difficult and dangerous nature, and we can scarcely say which of the two should be more pitied--the sailors who had to steer through these dangerous and complicated passes, or the map-makers who had to designate them on their charts. you will also remark that the southern pole of the moon is much more _continental_ than the northern. around the latter, there exists only a slight fringe of lands separated from the other continents by vast "seas." this word "seas"--a term employed by the first lunar map constructors--is still retained to designate those vast depressions on the moon's surface, once perhaps covered with water, though they are now only enormous plains. in the south, the continents cover nearly the whole hemisphere. it is therefore possible that the selenites have planted their flag on at least one of their poles, whereas the parrys and franklins of england, the kanes and the wilkeses of america, the dumont d'urvilles and the lamberts of france, have so far met with obstacles completely insurmountable, while in search of those unknown points of our terrestrial globe. the islands--the next feature on the moon's surface--are exceedingly numerous. generally oblong or circular in shape and almost as regular in outline as if drawn with a compass, they form vast archipelagoes like the famous group lying between greece and asia minor, which mythology has made the scene of her earliest and most charming legends. as we gaze at them, the names of naxos, tenedos, milo, and carpathos rise up before our mind's eye, and we begin looking around for the trojan fleet and jason's argo. this, at least, was ardan's idea, and at first his eyes would see nothing on the map but a grecian archipelago. but his companions, sound practical men, and therefore totally devoid of sentiment, were reminded by these rugged coasts of the beetling cliffs of new brunswick and nova scotia; so that, where the frenchman saw the tracks of ancient heroes, the americans saw only commodious shipping points and favorable sites for trading posts--all, of course, in the purest interest of lunar commerce and industry. to end our hasty sketch of the continental portion of the moon, we must say a few words regarding her orthography or mountain systems. with a fair telescope you can distinguish very readily her mountain chains, her isolated mountains, her circuses or ring formations, and her rills, cracks and radiating streaks. the character of the whole lunar relief is comprised in these divisions. it is a surface prodigiously reticulated, upheaved and depressed, apparently without the slightest order or system. it is a vast switzerland, an enormous norway, where everything is the result of direct plutonic action. this surface, so rugged, craggy and wrinkled, seems to be the result of successive contractions of the crust, at an early period of the planet's existence. the examination of the lunar disc is therefore highly favorable for the study of the great geological phenomena of our own globe. as certain astronomers have remarked, the moon's surface, though older than the earth's, has remained younger. that is, it has undergone less change. no water has broken through its rugged elevations, filled up its scowling cavities, and by incessant action tended continuously to the production of a general level. no atmosphere, by its disintegrating, decomposing influence has softened off the rugged features of the plutonic mountains. volcanic action alone, unaffected by either aqueous or atmospheric forces, can here be seen in all its glory. in other words the moon looks now as our earth did endless ages ago, when "she was void and empty and when darkness sat upon the face of the deep;" eons of ages ago, long before the tides of the ocean and the winds of the atmosphere had begun to strew her rough surface with sand and clay, rock and coal, forest and meadow, gradually preparing it, according to the laws of our beneficent creator, to be at last the pleasant though the temporary abode of man! having wandered over vast continents, your eye is attracted by the "seas" of dimensions still vaster. not only their shape, situation, and look, remind us of our own oceans, but, again like them, they occupy the greater part of the moon's surface. the "seas," or, more correctly, plains, excited our travellers' curiosity to a very high degree, and they set themselves at once to examine their nature. the astronomer who first gave names to those "seas" in all probability was a frenchman. hevelius, however, respected them, even riccioli did not disturb them, and so they have come down to us. ardan laughed heartily at the fancies which they called up, and said the whole thing reminded him of one of those "maps of matrimony" that he had once seen or read of in the works of scudéry or cyrano de bergerac. "however," he added, "i must say that this map has much more reality in it than could be found in the sentimental maps of the 17th century. in fact, i have no difficulty whatever in calling it the _map of life!_ very neatly divided into two parts, the east and the west, the masculine and the feminine. the women on the right, and the men on the left!" at such observations, ardan's companions only shrugged their shoulders. a map of the moon in their eyes was a map of the moon, no more, no less; their romantic friend might view it as he pleased. nevertheless, their romantic friend was not altogether wrong. judge a little for yourselves. what is the first "sea" you find in the hemisphere on the left? the _mare imbrium_ or the rainy sea, a fit emblem of our human life, beaten by many a pitiless storm. in a corresponding part of the southern hemisphere you see _mare nubium_, the cloudy sea, in which our poor human reason so often gets befogged. close to this lies _mare humorum_, the sea of humors, where we sail about, the sport of each fitful breeze, "everything by starts and nothing long." around all, embracing all, lies _oceanus procellarum_, the ocean of tempests, where, engaged in one continuous struggle with the gusty whirlwinds, excited by our own passions or those of others, so few of us escape shipwreck. and, when disgusted by the difficulties of life, its deceptions, its treacheries and all the other miseries "that flesh is heir to," where do we too often fly to avoid them? to the _sinus iridium_ or the _sinus roris_, that is rainbow gulf and dewy gulf whose glittering lights, alas! give forth no real illumination to guide our stumbling feet, whose sun-tipped pinnacles have less substance than a dream, whose enchanting waters all evaporate before we can lift a cup-full to our parched lips! showers, storms, fogs, rainbows--is not the whole mortal life of man comprised in these four words? now turn to the hemisphere on the right, the women's side, and you also discover "seas," more numerous indeed, but of smaller dimensions and with gentler names, as more befitting the feminine temperament. first comes _mare serenitatis_, the sea of serenity, so expressive of the calm, tranquil soul of an innocent maiden. near it is _lacus somniorum_, the lake of dreams, in which she loves to gaze at her gilded and rosy future. in the southern division is seen _mare nectaris_, the sea of nectar, over whose soft heaving billows she is gently wafted by love's caressing winds, "youth on the prow and pleasure at the helm." not far off is _mare fecunditatis_, the sea of fertility, in which she becomes the happy mother of rejoicing children. a little north is _mare crisium_, the sea of crises where her life and happiness are sometimes exposed to sudden, and unexpected dangers which fortunately, however, seldom end fatally. far to the left, near the men's side, is _mare vaporum_, the sea of vapors, into which, though it is rather small, and full of sunken rocks, she sometimes allows herself to wander, moody, and pouting, and not exactly knowing where she wants to go or what she wants to do. between the two last expands the great _mare tranquillitatis_, the sea of tranquillity, into whose quiet depths are at last absorbed all her simulated passions, all her futile aspirations, all her unglutted desires, and whose unruffled waters are gliding on forever in noiseless current towards _lacus mortis_, the lake of death, whose misty shores "in ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods are girt." so at least ardan mused as he stooped over beer and maedler's map. did not these strange successive names somewhat justify his flights of fancy? surely they had a wonderful variety of meaning. was it by accident or by forethought deep that the two hemispheres of the moon had been thus so strangely divided, yet, as man to woman, though divided still united, and thus forming even in the cold regions of space a perfect image of our terrestrial existence? who can say that our romantic french friend was altogether wrong in thus explaining the astute fancies of the old astronomers? his companions, however, it need hardly be said, never saw the "seas" in that light. they looked on them not with sentimental but with geographical eyes. they studied this new world and tried to get it by heart, working at it like a school boy at his lessons. they began by measuring its angles and diameters. to their practical, common sense vision _mare nubium_, the cloudy sea, was an immense depression of the surface, sprinkled here and there with a few circular mountains. covering a great portion of that part of the southern hemisphere which lies east of the centre, it occupied a space of about 270 thousand square miles, its central point lying in 15° south latitude and 20° east longitude. northeast from this lay _oceanus procellarum_, the ocean of tempests, the most extensive of all the plains on the lunar disc, embracing a surface of about half a million of square miles, its centre being in 10° north and 45° east. from its bosom those wonderful mountains _kepler_ and _aristarchus_ lifted their vast ramparts glittering with innumerable streaks radiating in all directions. to the north, in the direction of _mare frigoris_, extends _mare imbrium_, the sea of rains, its central point in 35° north and 20° east. it is somewhat circular in shape, and it covers a space of about 300 thousand square miles. south of _oceanus procellarum_ and separated from _mare nubium_ by a goodly number of ring mountains, lies the little basin of _mare humorum_, the sea of humors, containing only about 66 thousand square miles, its central point having a latitude of 25° south and a longitude of 40° east. on the shores of these great seas three "gulfs" are easily found: _sinus aestuum_, the gulf of the tides, northeast of the centre; _sinus iridium_, the gulf of the rainbows, northeast of the _mare imbrium_; and _sinus roris_, the dewy gulf, a little further northeast. all seem to be small plains enclosed between chains of lofty mountains. the western hemisphere, dedicated to the ladies, according to ardan, and therefore naturally more capricious, was remarkable for "seas" of smaller dimensions, but much more numerous. these were principally: _mare serenitatis_, the sea of serenity, 25° north and 20° west, comprising a surface of about 130 thousand square miles; _mare crisium_, the sea of crises, a round, well defined, dark depression towards the northwestern edge, 17° north 55° west, embracing a surface of 60 thousand square miles, a regular caspian sea in fact, only that the plateau in which it lies buried is surrounded by a girdle of much higher mountains. then towards the equator, with a latitude of 5° north and a longitude of 25° west, appears _mare tranquillitatis_, the sea of tranquillity, occupying about 180 thousand square miles. this communicates on the south with _mare nectaris_, the sea of nectar, embracing an extent of about 42 thousand square miles, with a mean latitude of 15° south and a longitude of 35° west. southwest from _mare tranquillitatis_, lies _mare fecunditatis_, the sea of fertility, the greatest in this hemisphere, as it occupies an extent of more than 300 thousand square miles, its latitude being 3° south and its longitude 50° west. for away to the north, on the borders of the _mare frigoris_, or icy sea, is seen the small _mare humboldtianum_, or humboldt sea, with a surface of about 10 thousand square miles. corresponding to this in the southern hemisphere lies the _mare australe_, or south sea, whose surface, as it extends along the western rim, is rather difficult to calculate. finally, right in the centre of the lunar disc, where the equator intersects the first meridian, can be seen _sinus medii_, the central gulf, the common property therefore of all the hemispheres, the northern and southern, as well as of the eastern and western. into these great divisions the surface of our satellite resolved itself before the eyes of barbican and m'nicholl. adding up the various measurements, they found that the surface of her visible hemisphere was about 7-1/2 millions of square miles, of which about the two thirds comprised the volcanoes, the mountain chains, the rings, the islands--in short, the land portion of the lunar surface; the other third comprised the "seas," the "lakes," the "marshes," the "bays" or "gulfs," and the other divisions usually assigned to water. to all this deeply interesting information, though the fruit of observation the closest, aided and confirmed by calculation the profoundest, ardan listened with the utmost indifference. in fact, even his french politeness could not suppress two or three decided yawns, which of course the mathematicians were too absorbed to notice. in their enthusiasm they tried to make him understand that though the moon is 13-1/2 times smaller than our earth, she can show more than 50 thousand craters, which astronomers have already counted and designated by specific names. "to conclude this portion of our investigation therefore," cried barbican, clearing his throat, and occupying aldan's right ear,--"the moon's surface is a honey combed, perforated, punctured--" "a fistulous, a rugose, salebrous,--" cut in the captain, close on the left. --"and highly cribriform superficies--" cried barbican. --"a sieve, a riddle, a colander--" shouted the captain. --"a skimming dish, a buckwheat cake, a lump of green cheese--" went on barbican--. --in fact, there is no knowing how far they would have proceeded with their designations, comparisons, and scientific expressions, had not ardan, driven to extremities by barbican's last profanity, suddenly jumped up, broken away from his companions, and clapped a forcible extinguisher on their eloquence by putting his hands on their lips and keeping them there awhile. then striking a grand attitude, he looked towards the moon and burst out in accents of thrilling indignation: "pardon, o beautiful diana of the ephesians! pardon, o phoebe, thou pearl-faced goddess of night beloved of greece! o isis, thou sympathetic queen of nile-washed cities! o astarte, thou favorite deity of the syrian hills! o artemis, thou symbolical daughter of jupiter and latona, that is of light and darkness! o brilliant sister of the radiant apollo! enshrined in the enchanting strains of virgil and homer, which i only half learned at college, and therefore unfortunately forget just now! otherwise what pleasure i should have had in hurling them at the heads of barbican, m'nicholl, and every other barbarous iconoclast of the nineteenth century!--" here he stopped short, for two reasons: first he was out of breath; secondly, he saw that the irrepressible scientists had been too busy making observations of their own to hear a single word of what he had uttered, and were probably totally unconscious that he had spoken at all. in a few seconds his breath came back in full blast, but the idea of talking when only deaf men were listening was so disconcerting as to leave him actually unable to get off another syllable. chapter xii. a bird's eye view of the lunar mountains. i am rather inclined to believe myself that not one word of ardan's rhapsody had been ever heard by barbican or m'nicholl. long before he had spoken his last words, they had once more become mute as statues, and now were both eagerly watching, pencil in hand, spyglass to eye, the northern lunar hemisphere towards which they were rapidly but indirectly approaching. they had fully made up their minds by this time that they were leaving far behind them the central point which they would have probably reached half an hour ago if they had not been shunted off their course by that inopportune bolide. about half past twelve o'clock, barbican broke the dead silence by saying that after a careful calculation they were now only about 875 miles from the moon's surface, a distance two hundred miles less in length than the lunar radius, and which was still to be diminished as they advanced further north. they were at that moment ten degrees north of the equator, almost directly over the ridge lying between the _mare serenitatis_ and the _mare tranquillitatis_. from this latitude all the way up to the north pole the travellers enjoyed a most satisfactory view of the moon in all directions and under the most favorable conditions. by means of their spyglasses, magnifying a hundred times, they cut down this distance of 875 miles to about 9. the great telescope of the rocky mountains, by its enormous magnifying power of 48,000, brought the moon, it is true, within a distance of 5 miles, or nearly twice as near; but this advantage of nearness was considerably more than counterbalanced by a want of clearness, resulting from the haziness and refractiveness of the terrestrial atmosphere, not to mention those fatal defects in the reflector that the art of man has not yet succeeded in remedying. accordingly, our travellers, armed with excellent telescopes--of just power enough to be no injury to clearness,--and posted on unequalled vantage ground, began already to distinguish certain details that had probably never been noticed before by terrestrial observers. even ardan, by this time quite recovered from his fit of sentiment and probably infected a little by the scientific enthusiasm of his companions, began to observe and note and observe and note, alternately, with all the _sangfroid_ of a veteran astronomer. "friends," said barbican, again interrupting a silence that had lasted perhaps ten minutes, "whither we are going i can't say; if we shall ever revisit the earth, i can't tell. still, it is our duty so to act in all respects as if these labors of ours were one day to be of service to our fellow-creatures. let us keep our souls free from every distraction. we are now astronomers. we see now what no mortal eye has ever gazed on before. this projectile is simply a work room of the great cambridge observatory lifted into space. let us take observations!" with these words, he set to work with a renewed ardor, in which his companions fully participated. the consequence was that they soon had several of the outline maps covered with the best sketches they could make of the moon's various aspects thus presented under such favorable circumstances. they could now remark not only that they were passing the tenth degree of north latitude, but that the projectile followed almost directly the twentieth degree of east longitude. "one thing always puzzled me when examining maps of the moon," observed ardan, "and i can't say that i see it yet as clearly as if i had thought over the matter. it is this. i could understand, when looking through a lens at an object, why we get only its reversed image--a simple law of optics explains _that_. therefore, in a map of the moon, as the bottom means the north and the top the south, why does not the right mean the west and the left the east? i suppose i could have made this out by a little thought, but thinking, that is reflection, not being my forte, it is the last thing i ever care to do. barbican, throw me a word or two on the subject." "i can see what troubles you," answered barbican, "but i can also see that one moment's reflection would have put an end to your perplexity. on ordinary maps of the earth's surface when the north is the top, the right hand must be the east, the left hand the west, and so on. that is simply because we look _down_ from _above_. and such a map seen through a lens will appear reversed in all respects. but in looking at the moon, that is _up_ from _down_, we change our position so far that our right hand points west and our left east. consequently, in our reversed map, though the north becomes south, the right remains east, and--" "enough said! i see it at a glance! thank you, barbican. why did not they make you a professor of astronomy? your hint will save me a world of trouble."[c] aided by the _mappa selenographica_, the travellers could easily recognize the different portions of the moon over which they were now moving. an occasional glance at our reduction of this map, given as a frontispiece, will enable the gentle reader to follow the travellers on the line in which they moved and to understand the remarks and observations in which they occasionally indulged. "where are we now?" asked ardan. "over the northern shores of the _mare nubium_," replied barbican. "but we are still too far off to see with any certainty what they are like. what is the _mare_ itself? a sea, according to the early astronomers? a plain of solid sand, according to later authority? or an immense forest, according to de la rue of london, so far the moon's most successful photographer? this gentleman's authority, ardan, would have given you decided support in your famous dispute with the captain at the meeting near tampa, for he says very decidedly that the moon has an atmosphere, very low to be sure but very dense. this, however, we must find out for ourselves; and in the meantime let us affirm nothing until we have good grounds for positive assertion." _mare nubium_, though not very clearly outlined on the maps, is easily recognized by lying directly east of the regions about the centre. it would appear as if this vast plain were sprinkled with immense lava blocks shot forth from the great volcanoes on the right, _ptolemaeus_, _alphonse_, _alpetragius_ and _arzachel_. but the projectile advanced so rapidly that these mountains soon disappeared, and the travellers were not long before they could distinguish the great peaks that closed the "sea" on its northern boundary. here a radiating mountain showed a summit so dazzling with the reflection of the solar rays that ardan could not help crying out: "it looks like one of the carbon points of an electric light projected on a screen! what do you call it, barbican?" "_copernicus_," replied the president. "let us examine old _copernicus_!" this grand crater is deservedly considered one of the greatest of the lunar wonders. it lifts its giant ramparts to upwards of 12,000 feet above the level of the lunar surface. being quite visible from the earth and well situated for observation, it is a favorite object for astronomical study; this is particularly the case during the phase existing between last quarter and the new moon, when its vast shadows, projected boldly from the east towards the west, allow its prodigious dimensions to be measured. after _tycho_, which is situated in the southern hemisphere, _copernicus_ forms the most important radiating mountain in the lunar disc. it looms up, single and isolated, like a gigantic light-house, on the peninsula separating _mare nubium_ from _oceanus procellarum_ on one side and from _mare imbrium_ on the other; thus illuminating with its splendid radiation three "seas" at a time. the wonderful complexity of its bright streaks diverging on all sides from its centre presented a scene alike splendid and unique. these streaks, the travellers thought, could be traced further north than in any other direction: they fancied they could detect them even in the _mare imbrium_, but this of course might be owing to the point from which they made their observations. at one o'clock in the morning, the projectile, flying through space, was exactly over this magnificent mountain. in spite of the brilliant sunlight that was blazing around them, the travellers could easily recognize the peculiar features of _copernicus_. it belongs to those ring mountains of the first class called circuses. like _kepler_ and _aristarchus_, who rule over _oceanus procellarum_, _copernicus_, when viewed through our telescopes, sometimes glistens so brightly through the ashy light of the moon that it has been frequently taken for a volcano in full activity. whatever it may have been once, however, it is certainly nothing more now than, like all the other mountains on the visible side of the moon, an extinct volcano, only with a crater of such exceeding grandeur and sublimity as to throw utterly into the shade everything like it on our earth. the crater of etna is at most little more than a mile across. the crater of _copernicus_ has a diameter of at least 50 miles. within it, the travellers could easily discover by their glasses an immense number of terraced ridges, probably landslips, alternating with stratifications resulting from successive eruptions. here and there, but particularly in the southern side, they caught glimpses of shadows of such intense blackness, projected across the plateau and lying there like pitch spots, that they could not tell them from yawning chasms of incalculable depth. outside the crater the shadows were almost as deep, whilst on the plains all around, particularly in the west, so many small craters could be detected that the eye in vain attempted to count them. "many circular mountains of this kind," observed barbican, "can be seen on the lunar surface, but _copernicus_, though not one of the greatest, is one of the most remarkable on account of those diverging streaks of bright light that you see radiating from its summit. by looking steadily into its crater, you can see more cones than mortal eye ever lit on before. they are so numerous as to render the interior plateau quite rugged, and were formerly so many openings giving vent to fire and volcanic matter. a curious and very common arrangement of this internal plateau of lunar craters is its lying at a lower level than the external plains, quite the contrary to a terrestrial crater, which generally has its bottom much higher than the level of the surrounding country. it follows therefore that the deep lying curve of the bottom of these ring mountains would give a sphere with a diameter somewhat smaller than the moon's." "what can be the cause of this peculiarity?" asked m'nicholl. "i can't tell;" answered barbican, "but, as a conjecture, i should say that it is probably to the comparatively smaller area of the moon and the more violent character of her volcanic action that the extremely rugged character of her surface is mainly due." "why, it's the _campi phlegraei_ or the fire fields of naples over again!" cried ardan suddenly. "there's _monte barbaro_, there's the _solfatara_, there is the crater of _astroni_, and there is the _monte nuovo_, as plain as the hand on my body!" "the great resemblance between the region you speak of and the general surface of the moon has been often remarked;" observed barbican, "but it is even still more striking in the neighborhood of _theophilus_ on the borders of _mare nectaris_." "that's _mare nectaris_, the gray spot over there on the southwest, isn't it?" asked m'nicholl; "is there any likelihood of our getting a better view of it?" "not the slightest," answered barbican, "unless we go round the moon and return this way, like a satellite describing its orbit." by this time they had arrived at a point vertical to the mountain centre. _copernicus's_ vast ramparts formed a perfect circle or rather a pair of concentric circles. all around the mountain extended a dark grayish plain of savage aspect, on which the peak shadows projected themselves in sharp relief. in the gloomy bottom of the crater, whose dimensions are vast enough to swallow mont blanc body and bones, could be distinguished a magnificent group of cones, at least half a mile in height and glittering like piles of crystal. towards the north several breaches could be seen in the ramparts, due probably to a caving in of immense masses accumulated on the summit of the precipitous walls. as already observed, the surrounding plains were dotted with numberless craters mostly of small dimensions, except _gay lussac_ on the north, whose crater was about 12 miles in diameter. towards the southwest and the immediate east, the plain appeared to be very flat, no protuberance, no prominence of any kind lifting itself above the general dead level. towards the north, on the contrary, as far as where the peninsula jutted on _oceanus procellarum_, the plain looked like a sea of lava wildly lashed for a while by a furious hurricane and then, when its waves and breakers and driving ridges were at their wildest, suddenly frozen into solidity. over this rugged, rumpled, wrinkled surface and in all directions, ran the wonderful streaks whose radiating point appeared to be the summit of _copernicus_. many of them appeared to be ten miles wide and hundreds of miles in length. the travellers disputed for some time on the origin of these strange radii, but could hardly be said to have arrived at any conclusion more satisfactory than that already reached by some terrestrial observers. to m'nicholl's question: "why can't these streaks be simply prolonged mountain crests reflecting the sun's rays more vividly by their superior altitude and comparative smoothness?" barbican readily replied: "these streaks _can't_ be mountain crests, because, if they were, under certain conditions of solar illumination they should project _shadows_--a thing which they have never been known to do under any circumstances whatever. in fact, it is only during the period of the full moon that these streaks are seen at all; as soon as the sun's rays become oblique, they disappear altogether--a proof that their appearance is due altogether to peculiar advantages in their surface for the reflection of light." "dear boys, will you allow me to give my little guess on the subject?" asked ardan. his companions were profuse in expressing their desire to hear it. "well then," he resumed, "seeing that these bright streaks invariably start from a certain point to radiate in all directions, why not suppose them to be streams of lava issuing from the crater and flowing down the mountain side until they cooled?" "such a supposition or something like it has been put forth by herschel," replied barbican; "but your own sense will convince you that it is quite untenable when you consider that lava, however hot and liquid it may be at the commencement of its journey, cannot flow on for hundreds of miles, up hills, across ravines, and over plains, all the time in streams of almost exactly equal width." "that theory of yours holds no more water than mine, ardan," observed m'nicholl. "correct, captain," replied the frenchman; "barbican has a trick of knocking the bottom out of every weaker vessel. but let us hear what he has to say on the subject himself. what is your theory. barbican?" "my theory," said barbican, "is pretty much the same as that lately presented by an english astronomer, nasmyth, who has devoted much study and reflection to lunar matters. of course, i only formulate my theory, i don't affirm it. these streaks are cracks, made in the moon's surface by cooling or by shrinkage, through which volcanic matter has been forced up by internal pressure. the sinking ice of a frozen lake, when meeting with some sharp pointed rock, cracks in a radiating manner: every one of its fissures then admits the water, which immediately spreads laterally over the ice pretty much as the lava spreads itself over the lunar surface. this theory accounts for the radiating nature of the streaks, their great and nearly equal thickness, their immense length, their inability to cast a shadow, and their invisibility at any time except at or near the full moon. still it is nothing but a theory, and i don't deny that serious objections may be brought against it." "do you know, dear boys," cried ardan, led off as usual by the slightest fancy, "do you know what i am thinking of when i look down on the great rugged plains spread out beneath us?" "i can't say, i'm sure," replied barbican, somewhat piqued at the little attention he had secured for his theory. "well, what are you thinking of?" asked m'nicholl. "spillikins!" answered ardan triumphantly. "spillikins?" cried his companions, somewhat surprised. "yes, spillikins! these rocks, these blocks, these peaks, these streaks, these cones, these cracks, these ramparts, these escarpments,--what are they but a set of spillikins, though i acknowledge on a grand scale? i wish i had a little hook to pull them one by one!" [illustration: an immense battlefield.] "oh, do be serious, ardan!" cried barbican, a little impatiently. "certainly," replied ardan. "let us be serious, captain, since seriousness best befits the subject in hand. what do you think of another comparison? does not this plain look like an immense battle field piled with the bleaching bones of myriads who had slaughtered each other to a man at the bidding of some mighty caesar? what do you think of that lofty comparison, hey?" "it is quite on a par with the other," muttered barbican. "he's hard to please, captain," continued ardan, "but let us try him again! does not this plain look like--?" "my worthy friend," interrupted barbican, quietly, but in a tone to discourage further discussion, "what you think the plain _looks like_ is of very slight import, as long as you know no more than a child what it really _is_!" "bravo, barbican! well put!" cried the irrepressible frenchman. "shall i ever realize the absurdity of my entering into an argument with a scientist!" but this time the projectile, though advancing northward with a pretty uniform velocity, had neither gained nor lost in its nearness to the lunar disc. each moment altering the character of the fleeting landscape beneath them, the travellers, as may well be imagined, never thought of taking an instant's repose. at about half past one, looking to their right on the west, they saw the summits of another mountain; barbican, consulting his map, recognized _eratosthenes_. this was a ring mountain, about 33 miles in diameter, having, like _copernicus_, a crater of immense profundity containing central cones. whilst they were directing their glasses towards its gloomy depths, barbican mentioned to his friends kepler's strange idea regarding the formation of these ring mountains. "they must have been constructed," he said, "by mortal hands." "with what object?" asked the captain. "a very natural one," answered barbican. "the selenites must have undertaken the immense labor of digging these enormous pits at places of refuge in which they could protect themselves against the fierce solar rays that beat against them for 15 days in succession!" "not a bad idea, that of the selenites!" exclaimed ardan. "an absurd idea!" cried m'nicholl. "but probably kepler never knew the real dimensions of these craters. barbican knows the trouble and time required to dig a well in stony hill only nine hundred feet deep. to dig out a single lunar crater would take hundreds and hundreds of years, and even then they should be giants who would attempt it!" "why so?" asked ardan. "in the moon, where gravity is six times less than on the earth, the labor of the selenites can't be compared with that of men like us." "but suppose a selenite to be six times smaller than a man like us!" urged m'nicholl. "and suppose a selenite never had an existence at all!" interposed barbican with his usual success in putting an end to the argument. "but never mind the selenites now. observe _eratosthenes_ as long as you have the opportunity." "which will not be very long," said m'nicholl. "he is already sinking out of view too far to the right to be carefully observed." "what are those peaks beyond him?" asked ardan. "the _apennines_," answered barbican; "and those on the left are the _carpathians_." "i have seen very few mountain chains or ranges in the moon," remarked ardan, after some minutes' observation. "mountains chains are not numerous in the moon," replied barbican, "and in that respect her oreographic system presents a decided contrast with that of the earth. with us the ranges are many, the craters few; in the moon the ranges are few and the craters innumerable." barbican might have spoken of another curious feature regarding the mountain ranges: namely, that they are chiefly confined to the northern hemisphere, where the craters are fewest and the "seas" the most extensive. for the benefit of those interested, and to be done at once with this part of the subject, we give in the following little table a list of the chief lunar mountain chains, with their latitude, and respective heights in english feet. _name._ _degrees of latitude._ _height._ { _altai mountains_ 17° to 28 13,000ft. southern { _cordilleras_ 10 to 20 12,000 hemisphere. { _pyrenees_ 8 to 18 12,000 { _riphean_ 5 to 10 2,600 { _haemus_ 10 to 20 6,300 { _carpathian_ 15 to 19 6,000 { _apennines_ 14 to 27 18,000 northern { _taurus_ 25 to 34 8,500 hemisphere. { _hercynian_ 17 to 29 3,400 { _caucasus_ 33 to 40 17,000 { _alps_ 42 to 30 10,000 of these different chains, the most important is that of the _apennines_, about 450 miles long, a length, however, far inferior to that of many of the great mountain ranges of our globe. they skirt the western shores of the _mare imbrium_, over which they rise in immense cliffs, 18 or 20 thousand feet in height, steep as a wall and casting over the plain intensely black shadows at least 90 miles long. of mt. _huyghens_, the highest in the group, the travellers were just barely able to distinguish the sharp angular summit in the far west. to the east, however, the _carpathians_, extending from the 18th to 30th degrees of east longitude, lay directly under their eyes and could be examined in all the peculiarities of their distribution. barbican proposed a hypothesis regarding the formation of those mountains, which his companions thought at least as good as any other. looking carefully over the _carpathians_ and catching occasional glimpses of semi-circular formations and half domes, he concluded that the chain must have formerly been a succession of vast craters. then had come some mighty internal discharge, or rather the subsidence to which _mare imbrium_ is due, for it immediately broke off or swallowed up one half of those mountains, leaving the other half steep as a wall on one side and sloping gently on the other to the level of the surrounding plains. the _carpathians_ were therefore pretty nearly in the same condition as the crater mountains _ptolemy_, _alpetragius_ and _arzachel_ would find themselves in, if some terrible cataclysm, by tearing away their eastern ramparts, had turned them into a chain of mountains whose towering cliffs would nod threateningly over the western shores of _mare nubium_. the mean height of the _carpathians_ is about 6,000 feet, the altitude of certain points in the pyrenees such as the _port of pineda_, or _roland's breach_, in the shadow of _mont perdu_. the northern slopes of the _carpathians_ sink rapidly towards the shores of the vast _mare imbrium_. towards two o'clock in the morning, barbican calculated the projectile to be on the 20th northern parallel, and therefore almost immediately over the little ring mountain called _pytheas_, about 4600 feet in height. the distance of the travellers from the moon at this point could not be more than about 750 miles, reduced to about 7 by means of their excellent telescopes. _mare imbrium_, the sea of rains here revealed itself in all its vastness to the eyes of the travellers, though it must be acknowledged that the immense depression so called, did not afford them a very clear idea regarding its exact boundaries. right ahead of them rose _lambert_ about a mile in height; and further on, more to the left, in the direction of _oceanus procellarum_, _euler_ revealed itself by its glittering radiations. this mountain, of about the same height as _lambert_, had been the object of very interesting calculations on the part of schroeter of erfurt. this keen observer, desirous of inquiring into the probable origin of the lunar mountains, had proposed to himself the following question: does the volume of the crater appear to be equal to that of the surrounding ramparts? his calculations showing him that this was generally the case, he naturally concluded that these ramparts must therefore have been the product of a single eruption, for successive eruptions of volcanic matter would have disturbed this correlation. _euler_ alone, he found, to be an exception to this general law, as the volume of its crater appeared to be twice as great as that of the mass surrounding it. it must therefore have been formed by several eruptions in succession, but in that case what had become of the ejected matter? theories of this nature and all manner of scientific questions were, of course, perfectly permissible to terrestrial astronomers laboring under the disadvantage of imperfect instruments. but barbican could not think of wasting his time in any speculation of the kind, and now, seeing that his projectile perceptibly approached the lunar disc, though he despaired of ever reaching it, he was more sanguine than ever of being soon able to discover positively and unquestionably some of the secrets of its formation. [footnote c: we must again remind our readers that, in our map, though every thing is set down as it appears to the eye not as it is reversed by the telescope, still, for the reason made so clear by barbican, the right hand side must be the west and the left the east.] chapter xiii. lunar landscapes at half past two in the morning of december 6th, the travellers crossed the 30th northern parallel, at a distance from the lunar surface of 625 miles, reduced to about 6 by their spy-glasses. barbican could not yet see the least probability of their landing at any point of the disc. the velocity of the projectile was decidedly slow, but for that reason extremely puzzling. barbican could not account for it. at such a proximity to the moon, the velocity, one would think, should be very great indeed to be able to counteract the lunar attraction. why did it not fall? barbican could not tell; his companions were equally in the dark. ardan said he gave it up. besides they had no time to spend in investigating it. the lunar panorama was unrolling all its splendors beneath them, and they could not bear to lose one of its slightest details. the lunar disc being brought within a distance of about six miles by the spy-glasses, it is a fair question to ask, what _could_ an aeronaut at such an elevation from our earth discover on its surface? at present that question can hardly be answered, the most remarkable balloon ascensions never having passed an altitude of five miles under circumstances favorable for observers. here, however, is an account, carefully transcribed from notes taken on the spot, of what barbican and his companions _did_ see from their peculiar post of observation. varieties of color, in the first place, appeared here and there upon the disc. selenographers are not quite agreed as to the nature of these colors. not that such colors are without variety or too faint to be easily distinguished. schmidt of athens even says that if our oceans on earth were all evaporated, an observer in the moon would hardly find the seas and continents of our globe even so well outlined as those of the moon are to the eye of a terrestrial observer. according to him, the shade of color distinguishing those vast plains known as "seas" is a dark gray dashed with green and brown,--a color presented also by a few of the great craters. this opinion of schmidt's, shared by beer and maedler, barbican's observations now convinced him to be far better founded than that of certain astronomers who admit of no color at all being visible on the moon's surface but gray. in certain spots the greenish tint was quite decided, particularly in _mare serenitatis_ and _mare humorum,_ the very localities where schmidt had most noticed it. barbican also remarked that several large craters, of the class that had no interior cones, reflected a kind of bluish tinge, somewhat like that given forth by a freshly polished steel plate. these tints, he now saw enough to convince him, proceeded really from the lunar surface, and were not due, as certain astronomers asserted, either to the imperfections of the spy-glasses, or to the interference of the terrestrial atmosphere. his singular opportunity for correct observation allowed him to entertain no doubt whatever on the subject. hampered by no atmosphere, he was free from all liability to optical illusion. satisfied therefore as to the reality of these tints, he considered such knowledge a positive gain to science. but that greenish tint--to what was it due? to a dense tropical vegetation maintained by a low atmosphere, a mile or so in thickness? possibly. but this was another question that could not be answered at present. further on he could detect here and there traces of a decidedly ruddy tint. such a shade he knew had been already detected in the _palus somnii_, near _mare crisium_, and in the circular area of _lichtenberg_, near the _hercynian mountains_, on the eastern edge of the moon. to what cause was this tint to be attributed? to the actual color of the surface itself? or to that of the lava covering it here and there? or to the color resulting from the mixture of other colors seen at a distance too great to allow of their being distinguished separately? impossible to tell. barbican and his companions succeeded no better at a new problem that soon engaged their undivided attention. it deserves some detail. having passed _lambert_, being just over _timocharis_, all were attentively gazing at the magnificent crater of _archimedes_ with a diameter of 52 miles across and ramparts more than 5000 feet in height, when ardan startled his companions by suddenly exclaiming: "hello! cultivated fields as i am a living man!" "what do you mean by your cultivated fields?" asked m'nicholl sourly, wiping his glasses and shrugging his shoulders. "certainly cultivated fields!" replied ardan. "don't you see the furrows? they're certainly plain enough. they are white too from glistening in the sun, but they are quite different from the radiating streaks of _copernicus_. why, their sides are perfectly parallel!" "where are those furrows?" asked m'nicholl, putting his glasses to his eye and adjusting the focus. "you can see them in all directions," answered ardan; "but two are particularly visible: one running north from _archimedes_, the other south towards the _apennines_." m'nicholl's face, as he gazed, gradually assumed a grin which soon developed into a snicker, if not a positive laugh, as he observed to ardan: "your selenites must be brobdignagians, their oxen leviathans, and their ploughs bigger than marston's famous cannon, if these are furrows!" "how's that, barbican?" asked ardan doubtfully, but unwilling to submit to m'nicholl. "they're not furrows, dear friend," said barbican, "and can't be, either, simply on account of their immense size. they are what the german astronomers called _rillen_; the french, _rainures_, and the english, _grooves_, _canals_, _clefts_, _cracks_, _chasms_, or _fissures_." "you have a good stock of names for them anyhow," observed ardan, "if that does any good." "the number of names given them," answered barbican, "shows how little is really known about them. they have been observed in all the level portion of the moon's surface. small as they appear to us, a little calculation must convince you that they are in some places hundreds of miles in length, a mile in width and probably in many points several miles in depth. their width and depth, however, vary, though their sides, so far as observed, are always rigorously parallel. let us take a good look at them." putting the glass to his eye, barbican examined the clefts for some time with close attention. he saw that their banks were sharp edged and extremely steep. in many places they were of such geometrical regularity that he readily excused gruithuysen's idea of deeming them to be gigantic earthworks thrown up by the selenite engineers. some of them were as straight as if laid out with a line, others were curved a little here and there, though still maintaining the strict parallelism of their sides. these crossed each other; those entered craters and came out at the other side. here, they furrowed annular plateaus, such as _posidonius_ or _petavius_. there, they wrinkled whole seas, for instance, _mare serenitatis_. these curious peculiarities of the lunar surface had interested the astronomic mind to a very high degree at their first discovery, and have proved to be very perplexing problems ever since. the first observers do not seem to have noticed them. neither hevelius, nor cassini, nor la hire, nor herschel, makes a single remark regarding their nature. it was schroeter, in 1789, who called the attention of scientists to them for the first time. he had only 11 to show, but lohrmann soon recorded 75 more. pastorff, gruithuysen, and particularly beer and maedler were still more successful, but julius schmidt, the famous astronomer of athens, has raised their number up to 425, and has even published their names in a catalogue. but counting them is one thing, determining their nature is another. they are not fortifications, certainly: and cannot be ancient beds of dried up rivers, for two very good and sufficient reasons: first, water, even under the most favorable circumstances on the moon's surface, could have never ploughed up such vast channels; secondly, these chasms often traverse lofty craters through and through, like an immense railroad cutting. at these details, ardan's imagination became unusually excited and of course it was not without some result. it even happened that he hit on an idea that had already suggested itself to schmidt of athens. "why not consider them," he asked, "to be the simple phenomena of vegetation?" "what do you mean?" asked barbican. "rows of sugar cane?" suggested m'nicholl with a snicker. "not exactly, my worthy captain," answered ardan quietly, "though you were perhaps nearer to the mark than you expected. i don't mean exactly rows of sugar cane, but i do mean vast avenues of trees--poplars, for instance--planted regularly on each side of a great high road." "still harping on vegetation!" said the captain. "ardan, what a splendid historian was spoiled in you! the less you know about your facts, the readier you are to account for them." "_ma foi_," said ardan simply, "i do only what the greatest of your scientific men do--that is, guess. there is this difference however between us--i call my guesses, guesses, mere conjecture;--they dignify theirs as profound theories or as astounding discoveries!" "often the case, friend ardan, too often the case," said barbican. "in the question under consideration, however," continued the frenchman, "my conjecture has this advantage over some others: it explains why these rills appear and seem to disappear at regular intervals." "let us hear the explanation," said the captain. "they become invisible when the trees lose their leaves, and they reappear when they resume them." "his explanation is not without ingenuity," observed barbican to m'nicholl, "but, my dear friend," turning to ardan, "it is hardly admissible." "probably not," said ardan, "but why not?" "because as the sun is nearly always vertical to the lunar equator, the moon can have no change of seasons worth mentioning; therefore her vegetation can present none of the phenomena that you speak of." this was perfectly true. the slight obliquity of the moon's axis, only 1-1/2°, keeps the sun in the same altitude the whole year around. in the equatorial regions he is always vertical, and in the polar he is never higher than the horizon. therefore, there can be no change of seasons; according to the latitude, it is a perpetual winter, spring, summer, or autumn the whole year round. this state of things is almost precisely similar to that which prevails in jupiter, who also stands nearly upright in his orbit, the inclination of his axis being only about 3°. but how to account for the _grooves_? a very hard nut to crack. they must certainly be a later formation than the craters and the rings, for they are often found breaking right through the circular ramparts. probably the latest of all lunar features, the results of the last geological epochs, they are due altogether to expansion or shrinkage acting on a large scale and brought about by the great forces of nature, operating after a manner altogether unknown on our earth. such at least was barbican's idea. "my friends," he quietly observed, "without meaning to put forward any pretentious claims to originality, but by simply turning to account some advantages that have never before befallen contemplative mortal eye, why not construct a little hypothesis of our own regarding the nature of these grooves and the causes that gave them birth? look at that great chasm just below us, somewhat to the right. it is at least fifty or sixty miles long and runs along the base of the _apennines_ in a line almost perfectly straight. does not its parallelism with the mountain chain suggest a causative relation? see that other mighty _rill_, at least a hundred and fifty miles long, starting directly north of it and pursuing so true a course that it cleaves _archimedes_ almost cleanly into two. the nearer it lies to the mountain, as you perceive, the greater its width; as it recedes in either direction it grows narrower. does not everything point out to one great cause of their origin? they are simple crevasses, like those so often noticed on alpine glaciers, only that these tremendous cracks in the surface are produced by the shrinkage of the crust consequent on cooling. can we point out some analogies to this on the earth? certainly. the defile of the jordan, terminating in the awful depression of the dead sea, no doubt occurs to you on the moment. but the _yosemite valley_, as i saw it ten years ago, is an apter comparison. there i stood on the brink of a tremendous chasm with perpendicular walls, a mile in width, a mile in depth and eight miles in length. judge if i was astounded! but how should we feel it, when travelling on the lunar surface, we should suddenly find ourselves on the brink of a yawning chasm two miles wide, fifty miles long, and so fathomless in sheer vertical depth as to leave its black profundities absolutely invisible in spite of the dazzling sunlight!" "i feel my flesh already crawling even in the anticipation!" cried ardan. "i shan't regret it much if we never get to the moon," growled m'nicholl; "i never hankered after it anyhow!" by this time the projectile had reached the fortieth degree of lunar latitude, and could hardly be further than five hundred miles from the surface, a distance reduced to about 5 miles by the travellers' glasses. away to their left appeared _helicon_, a ring mountain about 1600 feet high; and still further to the left the eye could catch a glimpse of the cliffs enclosing a semi-elliptical portion of _mare imbrium_, called the _sinus iridium_, or bay of the rainbows. in order to allow astronomers to make complete observations on the lunar surface, the terrestrial atmosphere should possess a transparency seventy times greater than its present power of transmission. but in the void through which the projectile was now floating, no fluid whatever interposed between the eye of the observer and the object observed. besides, the travellers now found themselves at a distance that had never before been reached by the most powerful telescopes, including even lord rosse's and the great instrument on the rocky mountains. barbican was therefore in a condition singularly favorable to resolve the great question concerning the moon's inhabitableness. nevertheless, the solution still escaped him. he could discover nothing around him but a dreary waste of immense plains, and towards the north, beneath him, bare mountains of the aridest character. not the slightest vestige of man's work could be detected over the vast expanse. not the slightest sign of a ruin spoke of his ever having been there. nothing betrayed the slightest trace of the development of animal life, even in an inferior degree. no movement. not the least glimpse of vegetation. of the three great kingdoms that hold dominion on the surface of the globe, the mineral, the vegetable and the animal, one alone was represented on the lunar sphere: the mineral, the whole mineral, and nothing but the mineral. "why!" exclaimed ardan, with a disconcerted look, after a long and searching examination, "i can't find anybody. everything is as motionless as a street in pompeii at 4 o'clock in the morning!" [illustration: the solution still escaped him.] "good comparison, friend ardan;" observed m'nicholl. "lava, slag, volcanic eminences, vitreous matter glistening like ice, piles of scoria, pitch black shadows, dazzling streaks, like rivers of light breaking over jagged rocks--these are now beneath my eye--these alone i can detect--not a man--not an animal--not a tree. the great american desert is a land of milk and honey in comparison with the joyless orb over which we are now moving. however, even yet we can predicate nothing positive. the atmosphere may have taken refuge in the depths of the chasms, in the interior of the craters, or even on the opposite side of the moon, for all we know!" "still we must remember," observed barbican, "that even the sharpest eye cannot detect a man at a distance greater than four miles and a-half, and our glasses have not yet brought us nearer than five." "which means to say," observed ardan, "that though we can't see the selenites, they can see our projectile!" but matters had not improved much when, towards four o'clock in the morning, the travellers found themselves on the 50th parallel, and at a distance of only about 375 miles from the lunar surface. still no trace of the least movement, or even of the lowest form of life. "what peaked mountain is that which we have just passed on our right?" asked ardan. "it is quite remarkable, standing as it does in almost solitary grandeur in the barren plain." "that is _pico_," answered barbican. "it is at least 8000 feet high and is well known to terrestrial astronomers as well by its peculiar shadow as on account of its comparative isolation. see the collection of perfectly formed little craters nestling around its base." "barbican," asked m'nicholl suddenly, "what peak is that which lies almost directly south of _pico_? i see it plainly, but i can't find it on my map." "i have remarked that pyramidal peak myself," replied barbican; "but i can assure you that so far it has received no name as yet, although it is likely enough to have been distinguished by the terrestrial astronomers. it can't be less than 4000 feet in height." "i propose we called it _barbican_!" cried ardan enthusiastically. "agreed!" answered m'nicholl, "unless we can find a higher one." "we must be before-hand with schmidt of athens!" exclaimed ardan. "he will leave nothing unnamed that his telescope can catch a glimpse of." "passed unanimously!" cried m'nicholl. "and officially recorded!" added the frenchman, making the proper entry on his map. "_salve, mt. barbican!_" then cried both gentlemen, rising and taking off their hats respectfully to the distant peak. "look to the west!" interrupted barbican, watching, as usual, while his companions were talking, and probably perfectly unconscious of what they were saying; "directly to the west! now tell me what you see!" "i see a vast valley!" answered m'nicholl. "straight as an arrow!" added ardan. "running through lofty mountains!" cried m'nicholl. "cut through with a pair of saws and scooped out with a chisel!" cried ardan. "see the shadows of those peaks!" cried m'nicholl catching fire at the sight. "black, long, and sharp as if cast by cathedral spires!" "oh! ye crags and peaks!" burst forth ardan; "how i should like to catch even a faint echo of the chorus you could chant, if a wild storm roared over your beetling summits! the pine forests of norwegian mountains howling in midwinter would not be an accordeon in comparison!" "wonderful instance of subsidence on a grand scale!" exclaimed the captain, hastily relapsing into science. "not at all!" cried the frenchman, still true to his colors; "no subsidence there! a comet simply came too close and left its mark as it flew past." "fanciful exclamations, dear friends," observed barbican; "but i'm not surprised at your excitement. yonder is the famous _valley of the alps_, a standing enigma to all selenographers. how it could have been formed, no one can tell. even wilder guesses than yours, ardan, have been hazarded on the subject. all we can state positively at present regarding this wonderful formation, is what i have just recorded in my note-book: the _valley of the alps_ is about 5 mile wide and 70 or 80 long: it is remarkably flat and free from _debris_, though the mountains on each side rise like walls to the height of at least 10,000 feet.--over the whole surface of our earth i know of no natural phenomenon that can be at all compared with it." "another wonder almost in front of us!" cried ardan. "i see a vast lake black as pitch and round as a crater; it is surrounded by such lofty mountains that their shadows reach clear across, rendering the interior quite invisible!" "that's _plato_;" said m'nicholl; "i know it well; it's the darkest spot on the moon: many a night i gazed at it from my little observatory in broad street, philadelphia." "right, captain," said barbican; "the crater _plato_, is, indeed, generally considered the blackest spot on the moon, but i am inclined to consider the spots _grimaldi_ and _riccioli_ on the extreme eastern edge to be somewhat darker. if you take my glass, ardan, which is of somewhat greater power than yours, you will distinctly see the bottom of the crater. the reflective power of its plateau probably proceeds from the exceedingly great number of small craters that you can detect there." "i think i see something like them now," said ardan. "but i am sorry the projectile's course will not give us a vertical view." "can't be helped!" said barbican; "we must go where it takes us. the day may come when man can steer the projectile or the balloon in which he is shut up, in any way he pleases, but that day has not come yet!" towards five in the morning, the northern limit of _mare imbrium_ was finally passed, and _mare frigoris_ spread its frost-colored plains far to the right and left. on the east the travellers could easily see the ring-mountain _condamine_, about 4000 feet high, while a little ahead on the right they could plainly distinguish _fontenelle_ with an altitude nearly twice as great. _mare frigoris_ was soon passed, and the whole lunar surface beneath the travellers, as far as they could see in all directions, now bristled with mountains, crags, and peaks. indeed, at the 70th parallel the "seas" or plains seem to have come to an end. the spy-glasses now brought the surface to within about three miles, a distance less than that between the hotel at chamouni and the summit of mont blanc. to the left, they had no difficulty in distinguishing the ramparts of _philolaus_, about 12,000 feet high, but though the crater had a diameter of nearly thirty miles, the black shadows prevented the slightest sign of its interior from being seen. the sun was now sinking very low, and the illuminated surface of the moon was reduced to a narrow rim. by this time, too, the bird's eye view to which the observations had so far principally confined, decidedly altered its character. they could now look back at the lunar mountains that they had been just sailing over--a view somewhat like that enjoyed by a tourist standing on the summit of mt. st. gothard as he sees the sun setting behind the peaks of the bernese oberland. the lunar landscapes however, though seen under these new and ever varying conditions, "hardly gained much by the change," according to ardan's expression. on the contrary, they looked, if possible, more dreary and inhospitable than before. the moon having no atmosphere, the benefit of this gaseous envelope in softening off and nicely shading the approaches of light and darkness, heat and cold, is never felt on her surface. there, no twilight ever softly ushers in the brilliant sun, or sweetly heralds the near approach of night's dark shadow. night follows day, and day night, with the startling suddenness of a match struck or a lamp extinguished in a cavern. nor can it present any gradual transition from either extreme of temperature. hot jumps to cold, and cold jumps to hot. a moment after a glacial midnight, it is a roasting noon. without an instant's warning the temperature falls from 212° fahrenheit to the icy winter of interstellar space. the surface is all dazzling glare, or pitchy gloom. wherever the direct rays of the sun do not fall, darkness reigns supreme. what we call diffused light on earth, the grateful result of refraction, the luminous matter held in suspension by the air, the mother of our dawns and our dusks, of our blushing mornings and our dewy eyes, of our shades, our penumbras, our tints and all the other magical effects of _chiaro-oscuro_--this diffused light has absolutely no existence on the surface of the moon. nothing is there to break the inexorable contrast between intense white and intense black. at mid-day, let a selenite shade his eyes and look at the sky: it will appear to him as black as pitch, while the stars still sparkle before him as vividly as they do to us on the coldest and darkest night in winter. from this you can judge of the impression made on our travellers by those strange lunar landscapes. even their decided novelty and very strange character produced any thing but a pleasing effect on the organs of sight. with all their enthusiasm, the travellers felt their eyes "get out of gear," as ardan said, like those of a man blind from his birth and suddenly restored to sight. they could not adjust them so as to be able to realize the different plains of vision. all things seemed in a heap. foreground and background were indistinguishably commingled. no painter could ever transfer a lunar landscape to his canvas. "landscape," ardan said; "what do you mean by a landscape? can you call a bottle of ink intensely black, spilled over a sheet of paper intensely white, a landscape?" at the eightieth degree, when the projectile was hardly 100 miles distant from the moon, the aspect of things underwent no improvement. on the contrary, the nearer the travellers approached the lunar surface, the drearier, the more inhospitable, and the more _unearthly_, everything seem to look. still when five o'clock in the morning brought our travellers to within 50 miles of _mount gioja_--which their spy-glasses rendered as visible as if it was only about half a mile off, ardan could not control himself. "why, we're there" he exclaimed; "we can touch her with our hands! open the windows and let me out! don't mind letting me go by myself. it is not very inviting quarters i admit. but as we are come to the jumping off place, i want to see the whole thing through. open the lower window and let me out. i can take care of myself!" "that's what's more than any other man can do," said m'nicholl drily, "who wants to take a jump of 50 miles!" "better not try it, friend ardan," said barbican grimly: "think of satellite! the moon is no more attainable by your body than by our projectile. you are far more comfortable in here than when floating about in empty space like a bolide." ardan, unwilling to quarrel with his companions, appeared to give in; but he secretly consoled himself by a hope which he had been entertaining for some time, and which now looked like assuming the appearance of a certainty. the projectile had been lately approaching the moon's surface so rapidly that it at last seemed actually impossible not to finally touch it somewhere in the neighborhood of the north pole, whose dazzling ridges now presented themselves in sharp and strong relief against the black sky. therefore he kept silent, but quietly bided his time. the projectile moved on, evidently getting nearer and nearer to the lunar surface. the moon now appeared to the travellers as she does to us towards the beginning of her second quarter, that is as a bright crescent instead of a hemisphere. on one side, glaring dazzling light; on the other, cavernous pitchy darkness. the line separating both was broken into a thousand bits of protuberances and concavities, dented, notched, and jagged. at six o'clock the travellers found themselves exactly over the north pole. they were quietly gazing at the rapidly shifting features of the wondrous view unrolling itself beneath them, and were silently wondering what was to come next, when, suddenly, the projectile passed the dividing line. the sun and moon instantly vanished from view. the next moment, without the slightest warning the travellers found themselves plunged in an ocean of the most appalling darkness! chapter xiv. a night of fifteen days. the projectile being not quite 30 miles from the moon's north pole when the startling phenomenon, recorded in our last chapter, took place, a few seconds were quite sufficient to launch it at once from the brightest day into the unknown realms of night. the transition was so abrupt, so unexpected, without the slightest shading off, from dazzling effulgence to cimmerian gloom, that the moon seemed to have been suddenly extinguished like a lamp when the gas is turned off. "where's the moon?" cried ardan in amazement. "it appears as if she had been wiped out of creation!" cried m'nicholl. barbican said nothing, but observed carefully. not a particle, however, could he see of the disc that had glittered so resplendently before his eyes a few moments ago. not a shadow, not a gleam, not the slightest vestige could he trace of its existence. the darkness being profound, the dazzling splendor of the stars only gave a deeper blackness to the pitchy sky. no wonder. the travellers found themselves now in a night that had plenty of time not only to become black itself, but to steep everything connected with it in palpable blackness. this was the night 354-1/4 hours long, during which the invisible face of the moon is turned away from the sun. in this black darkness the projectile now fully participated. having plunged into the moon's shadow, it was as effectually cut off from the action of the solar rays as was every point on the invisible lunar surface itself. the travellers being no longer able to see each other, it was proposed to light the gas, though such an unexpected demand on a commodity at once so scarce and so valuable was certainly disquieting. the gas, it will be remembered, had been intended for heating alone, not illumination, of which both sun and moon had promised a never ending supply. but here both sun and moon, in a single instant vanished from before their eyes and left them in stygian darkness. "it's all the sun's fault!" cried ardan, angrily trying to throw the blame on something, and, like every angry man in such circumstances, bound to be rather nonsensical. "put the saddle on the right horse, ardan," said m'nicholl patronizingly, always delighted at an opportunity of counting a point off the frenchman. "you mean it's all the moon's fault, don't you, in setting herself like a screen between us and the sun?" "no, i don't!" cried ardan, not at all soothed by his friend's patronizing tone, and sticking like a man to his first assertion right or wrong. "i know what i say! it will be all the sun's fault if we use up our gas!" "nonsense!" said m'nicholl. "it's the moon, who by her interposition has cut off the sun's light." "the sun had no business to allow it to be cut off," said ardan, still angry and therefore decidedly loose in his assertions. before m'nicholl could reply, barbican interposed, and his even voice was soon heard pouring balm on the troubled waters. "dear friends," he observed, "a little reflection on either side would convince you that our present situation is neither the moon's fault nor the sun's fault. if anything is to be blamed for it, it is our projectile which, instead of rigidly following its allotted course, has awkwardly contrived to deviate from it. however, strict justice must acquit even the projectile. it only obeyed a great law of nature in shifting its course as soon as it came within the sphere of that inopportune bolide's influence." "all right!" said ardan, as usual in the best of humor after barbican had laid down the law. "i have no doubt it is exactly as you say; and, now that all is settled, suppose we take breakfast. after such a hard night spent in work, a little refreshment would not be out of place!" such a proposition being too reasonable even for m'nicholl to oppose, ardan turned on the gas, and had everything ready for the meal in a few minutes. but, this time, breakfast was consumed in absolute silence. no toasts were offered, no hurrahs were uttered. a painful uneasiness had seized the hearts of the daring travellers. the darkness into which they were so suddenly plunged, told decidedly on their spirits. they felt almost as if they had been suddenly deprived of their sight. that thick, dismal savage blackness, which victor hugo's pen is so fond of occasionally revelling in, surrounded them on all sides and crushed them like an iron shroud. it was felt worse than ever when, breakfast being over, ardan carefully turned off the gas, and everything within the projectile was as dark as without. however, though they could not see each other's faces, they could hear each other's voices, and therefore they soon began to talk. the most natural subject of conversation was this terrible night 354 hours long, which the laws of nature have imposed on the lunar inhabitants. barbican undertook to give his friends some explanation regarding the cause of the startling phenomenon, and the consequences resulting from it. "yes, startling is the word for it," observed barbican, replying to a remark of ardan's; "and still more so when we reflect that not only are both lunar hemispheres deprived, by turns, of sun light for nearly 15 days, but that also the particular hemisphere over which we are at this moment floating is all that long night completely deprived of earth-light. in other words, it is only one side of the moon's disc that ever receives any light from the earth. from nearly every portion of one side of the moon, the earth is always as completely absent as the sun is from us at midnight. suppose an analogous case existed on the earth; suppose, for instance, that neither in europe, asia or north america was the moon ever visible--that, in fact, it was to be seen only at our antipodes. with what astonishment should we contemplate her for the first time on our arrival in australia or new zealand!" "every man of us would pack off to australia to see her!" cried ardan. "yes," said m'nicholl sententiously; "for a visit to the south sea a turk would willingly forego mecca; and a bostonian would prefer sidney even to paris." "well," resumed barbican, "this interesting marvel is reserved for the selenite that inhabits the side of the moon which is always turned away from our globe." "and which," added the captain, "we should have had the unspeakable satisfaction of contemplating if we had only arrived at the period when the sun and the earth are not at the same side of the moon--that is, 15 days sooner or later than now." "for my part, however," continued barbican, not heeding these interruptions, "i must confess that, notwithstanding the magnificent splendor of the spectacle when viewed for the first time by the selenite who inhabits the dark side of the moon, i should prefer to be a resident on the illuminated side. the former, when his long, blazing, roasting, dazzling day is over, has a night 354 hours long, whose darkness, like that, just now surrounding us, is ever unrelieved save by the cold cheerless rays of the stars. but the latter has hardly seen his fiery sun sinking on one horizon when he beholds rising on the opposite one an orb, milder, paler, and colder indeed than the sun, but fully as large as thirteen of our full moons, and therefore shedding thirteen times as much light. this would be our earth. it would pass through all its phases too, exactly like our satellite. the selenites would have their new earth, full earth, and last quarter. at midnight, grandly illuminated, it would shine with the greatest glory. but that is almost as much as can be said for it. its futile heat would but poorly compensate for its superior radiance. all the calorie accumulated in the lunar soil during the 354 hours day would have by this time radiated completely into space. an intensity of cold would prevail, in comparison to which a greenland winter is tropical. the temperature of interstellar space, 250° below zero, would be reached. our selenite, heartily tired of the cold pale earth, would gladly see her sink towards the horizon, waning as she sank, till at last she appeared no more than half full. then suddenly a faint rim of the solar orb reveals itself on the edge of the opposite sky. slowly, more than 14 times more slowly than with us, does the sun lift himself above the lunar horizon. in half an hour, only half his disc is revealed, but that is more than enough to flood the lunar landscape with a dazzling intensity of light, of which we have no counterpart on earth. no atmosphere refracts it, no hazy screen softens it, no enveloping vapor absorbs it, no obstructing medium colors it. it breaks on the eye, harsh, white, dazzling, blinding, like the electric light seen a few yards off. as the hours wear away, the more blasting becomes the glare; and the higher he rises in the black sky, but slowly, slowly. it takes him seven of our days to reach the meridian. by that time the heat has increased from an arctic temperature to double the boiling water point, from 250° below zero to 500° above it, or the point at which tin melts. subjected to these extremes, the glassy rocks crack, shiver and crumble away; enormous land slides occur; peaks topple over; and tons of debris, crashing down the mountains, are swallowed up forever in the yawing chasms of the bottomless craters." "bravo!" cried ardan, clapping his hands softly: "our president is sublime! he reminds me of the overture of _guillaume tell_!" "souvenir de marston!" growled m'nicholl. "these phenomena," continued barbican, heedless of interruption and his voice betraying a slight glow of excitement, "these phenomena going on without interruption from month to month, from year to year, from age to age, from _eon_ to _eon_, have finally convinced me that--what?" he asked his hearers, interrupting himself suddenly. --"that the existence at the present time--" answered m'nicholl. --"of either animal or vegetable life--" interrupted ardan. --"in the moon is hardly possible!" cried both in one voice. "besides?" asked barbican: "even if there _is_ any life--?" --"that to live on the dark side would be much more inconvenient than on the light side!" cried m'nicholl promptly. --"that there is no choice between them!" cried ardan just as ready. "for my part, i should think a residence on mt. erebus or in grinnell land a terrestrial paradise in comparison to either. the _earth shine_ might illuminate the light side of the moon a little during the long night, but for any practical advantage towards heat or life, it would be perfectly useless!" "but there is another serious difference between the two sides," said barbican, "in addition to those enumerated. the dark side is actually more troubled with excessive variations of temperature than the light one." "that assertion of our worthy president," interrupted ardan, "with all possible respect for his superior knowledge, i am disposed to question." "it's as clear as day!" said barbican. "as clear as mud, you mean, mr. president;" interrupted ardan, "the temperature of the light side is excited by two objects at the same time, the earth and the sun, whereas--" --"i beg your pardon, ardan--" said barbican. --"granted, dear boy--granted with the utmost pleasure!" interrupted the frenchman. "i shall probably have to direct my observations altogether to you, captain," continued barbican; "friend michael interrupts me so often that i'm afraid he can hardly understand my remarks." "i always admired your candor, barbican," said ardan; "it's a noble quality, a grand quality!" "don't mention it," replied barbican, turning towards m'nicholl, still in the dark, and addressing him exclusively; "you see, my dear captain, the period at which the moon's invisible side receives at once its light and heat is exactly the period of her _conjunction_, that is to say, when she is lying between the earth and the sun. in comparison therefore with the place which she had occupied at her _opposition_, or when her visible side was fully illuminated, she is nearer to the sun by double her distance from the earth, or nearly 480 thousand miles. therefore, my dear captain, you can see how when the invisible side of the moon is turned towards the sun, she is nearly half a million of miles nearer to him than she had been before. therefore, her heat should be so much the greater." "i see it at a glance," said the captain. "whereas--" continued barbican. "one moment!" cried ardan. "another interruption!" exclaimed barbican; "what is the meaning of it, sir?" "i ask my honorable friend the privilege of the floor for one moment," cried ardan. "what for?" "to continue the explanation." "why so?" "to show that i can understand as well as interrupt!" "you have the floor!" exclaimed barbican, in a voice no longer showing any traces of ill humor. "i expected no less from the honorable gentleman's well known courtesy," replied ardan. then changing his manner and imitating to the life barbican's voice, articulation, and gestures, he continued: "whereas, you see, my dear captain, the period at which the moon's visible side receives at once its light and heat, is exactly the period of her _opposition_, that is to say, when she is lying on one side of the earth and the sun at the other. in comparison therefore with the point which she had occupied in _conjunction_, or when her invisible side was fully illuminated, she is farther from the sun by double her distance from the earth, or nearly 480,000 miles. therefore, my dear captain, you can readily see how when the moon's invisible side is turned _from_ the sun, she is nearly half a million miles further from him than she had been before. therefore her heat should be so much the less." "well done, friend ardan!" cried barbican, clapping his hands with pleasure. "yes, captain, he understood it as well as either of us the whole time. intelligence, not indifference, caused him to interrupt. wonderful fellow!" "that's the kind of a man i am!" replied ardan, not without some degree of complacency. then he added simply: "barbican, my friend, if i understand your explanations so readily, attribute it all to their astonishing lucidity. if i have any faculity, it is that of being able to scent common sense at the first glimmer. your sentences are so steeped in it that i catch their full meaning long before you end them--hence my apparent inattention. but we're not yet done with the visible face of the moon: it seems to me you have not yet enumerated all the advantages in which it surpasses the other side." "another of these advantages," continued barbican, "is that it is from the visible side alone that eclipses of the sun can be seen. this is self-evident, the interposition of the earth being possible only between this visible face and the sun. furthermore, such eclipses of the sun would be of a far more imposing character than anything of the kind to be witnessed from our earth. this is chiefly for two reasons: first, when we, terrestrians, see the sun eclipsed, we notice that, the discs of the two orbs being of about the same apparent size, one cannot hide the other except for a short time; second, as the two bodies are moving in opposite directions, the total duration of the eclipse, even under the most favorable circumstances, can't last longer than 7 minutes. whereas to a selenite who sees the earth eclipse the sun, not only does the earth's disc appear four times larger than the sun's, but also, as his day is 14 times longer than ours, the two heavenly bodies must remain several hours in contact. besides, notwithstanding the apparent superiority of the earth's disc, the refracting power of the atmosphere will never allow the sun to be eclipsed altogether. even when completely screened by the earth, he would form a beautiful circle around her of yellow, red, and crimson light, in which she would appear to float like a vast sphere of jet in a glowing sea of gold, rubies, sparkling carbuncles and garnets." "it seems to me," said m'nicholl, "that, taking everything into consideration, the invisible side has been rather shabbily treated." "i know i should not stay there very long," said ardan; "the desire of seeing such a splendid sight as that eclipse would be enough to bring me to the visible side as soon as possible." "yes, i have no doubt of that, friend michael," pursued barbican; "but to see the eclipse it would not be necessary to quit the dark hemisphere altogether. you are, of course, aware that in consequence of her librations, or noddings, or wobblings, the moon presents to the eyes of the earth a little more than the exact half of her disc. she has two motions, one on her path around the earth, and the other a shifting around on her own axis by which she endeavors to keep the same side always turned towards our sphere. this she cannot always do, as while one motion, the latter, is strictly uniform, the other being eccentric, sometimes accelerating her and sometimes retarding, she has not time to shift herself around completely and with perfect correspondence of movement. at her perigee, for instance, she moves forward quicker than she can shift, so that we detect a portion of her western border before she has time to conceal it. similarly, at her apogee, when her rate of motion is comparatively slow, she shifts a little too quickly for her velocity, and therefore cannot help revealing a certain portion of her eastern border. she shows altogether about 8 degrees of the dark side, about 4 at the east and 4 at the west, so that, out of her 360 degrees, about 188, in other words, a little more than 57 per cent., about 4/7 of the entire surface, becomes visible to human eyes. consequently a selenite could catch an occasional glimpse of our earth, without altogether quitting the dark side." "no matter for that!" cried ardan; "if we ever become selenites we must inhabit the visible side. my weak point is light, and that i must have when it can be got." "unless, as perhaps in this case, you might be paying too dear for it," observed m'nicholl. "how would you like to pay for your light by the loss of the atmosphere, which, according to some philosophers, is piled away on the dark side?" "ah! in that case i should consider a little before committing myself," replied ardan, "i should like to hear your opinion regarding such a notion, barbican. hey! do your hear? have astronomers any valid reasons for supposing the atmosphere to have fled to the dark side of the moon?" "defer that question till some other time, ardan," whispered m'nicholl; "barbican is just now thinking out something that interests him far more deeply than any empty speculation of astronomers. if you are near the window, look out through it towards the moon. can you see anything?" "i can feel the window with my hand; but for all i can see, i might as well be over head and ears in a hogshead of ink." the two friends kept up a desultory conversation, but barbican did not hear them. one fact, in particular, troubled him, and he sought in vain to account for it. having come so near the moon--about 30 miles--why had not the projectile gone all the way? had its velocity been very great, the tendency to fall could certainly be counteracted. but the velocity being undeniably very moderate, how explain such a decided resistance to lunar attraction? had the projectile come within the sphere of some strange unknown influence? did the neighborhood of some mysterious body retain it firmly imbedded in ether? that it would never reach the moon, was now beyond all doubt; but where was it going? nearer to her or further off? or was it rushing resistlessly into infinity on the wings of that pitchy night? who could tell, know, calculate--who could even guess, amid the horror of this gloomy blackness? questions, like these, left barbican no rest; in vain he tried to grapple with them; he felt like a child before them, baffled and almost despairing. in fact, what could be more tantalizing? just outside their windows, only a few leagues off, perhaps only a few miles, lay the radiant planet of the night, but in every respect as far off from the eyes of himself and his companions as if she was hiding at the other side of jupiter! and to their ears she was no nearer. earthquakes of the old titanic type might at that very moment be upheaving her surface with resistless force, crashing mountain against mountain as fiercely as wave meets wave around the storm-lashed cliffs of cape horn. but not the faintest far off murmur even of such a mighty tumult could break the dead brooding silence that surrounded the travellers. nay, the moon, realizing the weird fancy of the arabian poet, who calls her a "giant stiffening into granite, but struggling madly against his doom," might shriek, in a spasm of agony, loudly enough to be heard in sirius. but our travellers could not hear it. their ears no sound could now reach. they could no more detect the rending of a continent than the falling of a feather. air, the propagator and transmitter of sound, was absent from her surface. her cries, her struggles, her groans, were all smothered beneath the impenetrable tomb of eternal silence! these were some of the fanciful ideas by which ardan tried to amuse his companions in the present unsatisfactory state of affairs. his efforts, however well meant, were not successful. m'nicholl's growls were more savage than usual, and even barbican's patience was decidedly giving way. the loss of the other face they could have easily borne--with most of its details they had been already familiar. but, no, it must be the dark face that now escaped their observation! the very one that for numberless reasons they were actually dying to see! they looked out of the windows once more at the black moon beneath them. there it lay below them, a round black spot, hiding the sweet faces of the stars, but otherwise no more distinguishable by the travellers than if they were lying in the depths of the mammoth cave of kentucky. and just think. only fifteen days before, that dark face had been splendidly illuminated by the solar beams, every crater lustrous, every peak sparkling, every streak glistening under the vertical ray. in fifteen days later, a day light the most brilliant would have replaced a midnight the most cimmerian. but in fifteen days later, where would the projectile be? in what direction would it have been drawn by the forces innumerable of attractions incalculable? to such a question as this, even ardan would reply only by an ominous shake of the head. we know already that our travellers, as well as astronomers generally, judging from that portion of the dark side occasionally revealed by the moon's librations, were _pretty certain_ that there is no great difference between her two sides, as far as regards their physical constitutions. this portion, about the seventh part, shows plains and mountains, circles and craters, all of precisely the same nature as those already laid down on the chart. judging therefore from analogy, the other three-sevenths are, in all probability a world in every respect exactly like the visible face--that is, arid, desert, dead. but our travellers also knew that _pretty certain_ is far from _quite certain_, and that arguing merely from analogy may enable you to give a good guess, but can never lead you to an undoubted conclusion. what if the atmosphere had really withdrawn to this dark face? and if air, why not water? would not this be enough to infuse life into the whole continent? why should not vegetation flourish on its plains, fish in its seas, animals in its forests, and man in every one of its zones that were capable of sustaining life? to these interesting questions, what a satisfaction it would be to be able to answer positively one way or another! for thousands of difficult problems a mere glimpse at this hemisphere would be enough to furnish a satisfactory reply. how glorious it would be to contemplate a realm on which the eye of man has never yet rested! great, therefore, as you may readily conceive, was the depression of our travellers' spirits, as they pursued their way, enveloped in a veil of darkness the most profound. still even then ardan, as usual, formed somewhat of an exception. finding it impossible to see a particle of the lunar surface, he gave it up for good, and tried to console himself by gazing at the stars, which now fairly blazed in the spangled heavens. and certainly never before had astronomer enjoyed an opportunity for gazing at the heavenly bodies under such peculiar advantages. how fraye of paris, chacornac of lyons, and father secchi of rome would have envied him! for, candidly and truly speaking, never before had mortal eye revelled on such a scene of starry splendor. the black sky sparkled with lustrous fires, like the ceiling of a vast hall of ebony encrusted with flashing diamonds. ardan's eye could take in the whole extent in an easy sweep from the _southern cross_ to the _little bear_, thus embracing within one glance not only the two polar stars of the present day, but also _campus_ and _vega_, which, by reason of the _precession of the equinoxes_, are to be our polar stars 12,000 years hence. his imagination, as if intoxicated, reeled wildly through these sublime infinitudes and got lost in them. he forgot all about himself and all about his companions. he forgot even the strangeness of the fate that had sent them wandering through these forbidden regions, like a bewildered comet that had lost its way. with what a soft sweet light every star glowed! no matter what its magnitude, the stream that flowed from it looked calm and holy. no twinkling, no scintillation, no nictitation, disturbed their pure and lambent gleam. no atmosphere here interposed its layers of humidity or of unequal density to interrupt the stately majesty of their effulgence. the longer he gazed upon them, the more absorbing became their attraction. he felt that they were great kindly eyes looking down even yet with benevolence and protection on himself and his companions now driving wildly through space, and lost in the pathless depths of the black ocean of infinity! he soon became aware that his friends, following his example, had interested themselves in gazing at the stars, and were now just as absorbed as himself in the contemplation of the transcendent spectacle. for a long time all three continued to feast their eyes on all the glories of the starry firmament; but, strange to say, the part that seemed to possess the strangest and weirdest fascination for their wandering glances was the spot where the vast disc of the moon showed like an enormous round hole, black and soundless, and apparently deep enough to permit a glance into the darkest mysteries of the infinite. a disagreeable sensation, however, against which they had been for some time struggling, at last put an end to their contemplations, and compelled them to think of themselves. this was nothing less than a pretty sharp cold, at first somewhat endurable, but which soon covered the inside surface of the window panes with a thick coating of ice. the fact was that, the sun's direct rays having no longer an opportunity of warming up the projectile, the latter began to lose rapidly by radiation whatever heat it had stored away within its walls. the consequence was a very decided falling of the thermometer, and so thick a condensation of the internal moisture on the window glasses as to soon render all external observations extremely difficult, if not actually impossible. the captain, as the oldest man in the party, claimed the privilege of saying he could stand it no longer. striking a light, he consulted the thermometer and cried out: "seventeen degrees below zero, centigrade! that is certainly low enough to make an old fellow like me feel rather chilly!" "just one degree and a half above zero, fahrenheit!" observed barbican; "i really had no idea that it was so cold." his teeth actually chattered so much that he could hardly articulate; still he, as well as the others, disliked to entrench on their short supply of gas. "one feature of our journey that i particularly admire," said ardan, trying to laugh with freezing lips, "is that we can't complain of monotony. at one time we are frying with the heat and blinded with the light, like indians caught on a burning prairie; at another, we are freezing in the pitchy darkness of a hyperborean winter, like sir john franklin's merry men in the bay of boothia. _madame la nature_, you don't forget your devotees; on the contrary, you overwhelm us with your attentions!" "our external temperature may be reckoned at how much?" asked the captain, making a desperate effort to keep up the conversation. "the temperature outside our projectile must be precisely the same as that of interstellar space in general," answered barbican. "is not this precisely the moment then," interposed ardan, quickly, "for making an experiment which we could never have made as long as we were in the sunshine?" "that's so!" exclaimed barbican; "now or never! i'm glad you thought of it, ardan. we are just now in the position to find out the temperature of space by actual experiment, and so see whose calculations are right, fourier's or pouillet's." "let's see," asked ardan, "who was fourier, and who was pouillet?" "baron fourier, of the french academy, wrote a famous treatise on _heat_, which i remember reading twenty years ago in penington's book store," promptly responded the captain; "pouillet was an eminent professor of physics at the sorbonne, where he died, last year, i think." "thank you, captain," said ardan; "the cold does not injure your memory, though it is decidedly on the advance. see how thick the ice is already on the window panes! let it only keep on and we shall soon have our breaths falling around us in flakes of snow." "let us prepare a thermometer," said barbican, who had already set himself to work in a business-like manner. a thermometer of the usual kind, as may be readily supposed, would be of no use whatever in the experiment that was now about to be made. in an ordinary thermometer mercury freezes hard when exposed to a temperature of 40° below zero. but barbican had provided himself with a _minimum_, _self-recording_ thermometer, of a peculiar nature, invented by wolferdin, a friend of arago's, which could correctly register exceedingly low degrees of temperature. before beginning the experiment, this instrument was tested by comparison with one of the usual kind, and then barbican hesitated a few moments regarding the best means of employing it. "how shall we start this experiment?" asked the captain. "nothing simpler," answered ardan, always ready to reply; "you just open your windows, and fling out your thermometer. it follows your projectile, as a calf follows her mother. in a quarter of an hour you put out your hand--" "put out your hand!" interrupted barbican. "put out your hand--" continued ardan, quietly. "you do nothing of the kind," again interrupted barbican; "that is, unless you prefer, instead of a hand, to pull back a frozen stump, shapeless, colorless and lifeless!" "i prefer a hand," said ardan, surprised and interested. "yes," continued barbican, "the instant your hand left the projectile, it would experience the same terrible sensations as is produced by cauterizing it with an iron bar white hot. for heat, whether rushing rapidly out of our bodies or rapidly entering them, is identically the same force and does the same amount of damage. besides i am by no means certain that we are still followed by the objects that we flung out of the projectile." "why not?" asked m'nicholl; "we saw them all outside not long ago." "but we can't see them outside now," answered barbican; "that may be accounted for, i know, by the darkness, but it may be also by the fact of their not being there at all. in a case like this, we can't rely on uncertainties. therefore, to make sure of not losing our thermometer, we shall fasten it with a string and easily pull it in whenever we like." this advice being adopted, the window was opened quickly, and the instrument was thrown out at once by m'nicholl, who held it fastened by a short stout cord so that it could be pulled in immediately. the window had hardly been open for longer than a second, yet that second had been enough to admit a terrible icy chill into the interior of the projectile. "ten thousand ice-bergs!" cried ardan, shivering all over; "it's cold enough to freeze a white bear!" barbican waited quietly for half an hour; that time he considered quite long enough to enable the instrument to acquire the temperature of the interstellar space. then he gave the signal, and it was instantly pulled in. it took him a few moments to calculate the quantity of mercury that had escaped into the little diaphragm attached to the lower part of the instrument; then he said: "a hundred and forty degrees, centigrade, below zero!" [illustration: it's cold enough to freeze a white bear.] "two hundred and twenty degrees, fahrenheit, below zero!" cried m'nicholl; "no wonder that we should feel a little chilly!" "pouillet is right, then," said barbican, "and fourier wrong." "another victory for sorbonne over the academy!" cried ardan. "_vive la sorbonne!_ not that i'm a bit proud of finding myself in the midst of a temperature so very _distingué_--though it is more than three times colder than hayes ever felt it at humboldt glacier or nevenoff at yakoutsk. if madame the moon becomes as cold as this every time that her surface is withdrawn from the sunlight for fourteen days, i don't think, boys, that her hospitality is much to hanker after!" chapter xv. glimpses at the invisible. in spite of the dreadful condition in which the three friends now found themselves, and the still more dreadful future that awaited them, it must be acknowledged that ardan bravely kept up his spirits. and his companions were just as cheerful. their philosophy was quite simple and perfectly intelligible. what they could bear, they bore without murmuring. when it became unbearable, they only complained, if complaining would do any good. imprisoned in an iron shroud, flying through profound darkness into the infinite abysses of space, nearly a quarter million of miles distant from all human aid, freezing with the icy cold, their little stock not only of gas but of _air_ rapidly running lower and lower, a near future of the most impenetrable obscurity looming up before them, they never once thought of wasting time in asking such useless questions as where they were going, or what fate was about to befall them. knowing that no good could possibly result from inaction or despair, they carefully kept their wits about them, making their experiments and recording their observations as calmly and as deliberately as if they were working at home in the quiet retirement of their own cabinets. any other course of action, however, would have been perfectly absurd on their part, and this no one knew better than themselves. even if desirous to act otherwise, what could they have done? as powerless over the projectile as a baby over a locomotive, they could neither clap brakes to its movement nor switch off its direction. a sailor can turn his ship's head at pleasure; an aeronaut has little trouble, by means of his ballast and his throttle-valve, in giving a vertical movement to his balloon. but nothing of this kind could our travellers attempt. no helm, or ballast, or throttle-valve could avail them now. nothing in the world could be done to prevent things from following their own course to the bitter end. if these three men would permit themselves to hazard an expression at all on the subject, which they didn't, each could have done it by his own favorite motto, so admirably expressive of his individual nature. "_donnez tête baissée!_" (go it baldheaded!) showed ardan's uncalculating impetuosity and his celtic blood. "_fata quocunque vocant!_" (to its logical consequence!) revealed barbican's imperturbable stoicism, culture hardening rather than loosening the original british phlegm. whilst m'nicholl's "screw down the valve and let her rip!" betrayed at once his unconquerable yankee coolness and his old experiences as a western steamboat captain. where were they now, at eight o'clock in the morning of the day called in america the sixth of december? near the moon, very certainly; near enough, in fact, for them to perceive easily in the dark the great round screen which she formed between themselves and the projectile on one side, and the earth, sun, and stars on the other. but as to the exact distance at which she lay from them--they had no possible means of calculating it. the projectile, impelled and maintained by forces inexplicable and even incomprehensible, had come within less than thirty miles from the moon's north pole. but during those two hours of immersion in the dark shadow, had this distance been increased or diminished? there was evidently no stand-point whereby to estimate either the projectile's direction or its velocity. perhaps, moving rapidly away from the moon, it would be soon out of her shadow altogether. perhaps, on the contrary, gradually approaching her surface, it might come into contact at any moment with some sharp invisible peak of the lunar mountains--a catastrophe sure to put a sudden end to the trip, and the travellers too. an excited discussion on this subject soon sprang up, in which all naturally took part. ardan's imagination as usual getting the better of his reason, he maintained very warmly that the projectile, caught and retained by the moon's attraction, could not help falling on her surface, just as an aerolite cannot help falling on our earth. "softly, dear boy, softly," replied barbican; "aerolites _can_ help falling on the earth, and the proof is, that few of them _do_ fall--most of them don't. therefore, even granting that we had already assumed the nature of an aerolite, it does not necessarily follow that we should fall on the moon." "but," objected ardan, "if we approach only near enough, i don't see how we can help--" "you don't see, it may be," said barbican, "but you can see, if you only reflect a moment. have you not often seen the november meteors, for instance, streaking the skies, thousands at a time?" "yes; on several occasions i was so fortunate." "well, did you ever see any of them strike the earth's surface?" asked barbican. "i can't say i ever did," was the candid reply, "but--" "well, these shooting stars," continued barbican, "or rather these wandering particles of matter, shine only from being inflamed by the friction of the atmosphere. therefore they can never be at a greater distance from the earth than 30 or 40 miles at furthest, and yet they seldom fall on it. so with our projectile. it may go very close to the moon without falling into it." "but our roving projectile must pull up somewhere in the long run," replied ardan, "and i should like to know where that somewhere can be, if not in the moon." "softly again, dear boy," said barbican; "how do you know that our projectile must pull up somewhere?" "it's self-evident," replied ardan; "it can't keep moving for ever." "whether it can or it can't depends altogether on which one of two mathematical curves it has followed in describing its course. according to the velocity with which it was endowed at a certain moment, it must follow either the one or the other; but this velocity i do not consider myself just now able to calculate." "exactly so," chimed in m'nicholl; "it must describe and keep on describing either a parabola or a hyperbola." "precisely," said barbican; "at a certain velocity it would take a parabolic curve; with a velocity considerably greater it should describe a hyperbolic curve." "i always did like nice corpulent words," said ardan, trying to laugh; "bloated and unwieldy, they express in a neat handy way exactly what you mean. of course, i know all about the high--high--those high curves, and those low curves. no matter. explain them to me all the same. consider me most deplorably ignorant on the nature of these curves." "well," said the captain, a little bumptiously, "a parabola is a curve of the second order, formed by the intersection of a cone by a plane parallel to one of its sides." "you don't say so!" cried ardan, with mouth agape. "do tell!" "it is pretty nearly the path taken by a shell shot from a mortar." "well now!" observed ardan, apparently much surprised; "who'd have thought it? now for the high--high--bully old curve!" "the hyperbola," continued the captain, not minding ardan's antics, "the hyperbola is a curve of the second order, formed from the intersection of a cone by a plane parallel to its axis, or rather parallel to its two _generatrices_, constituting two separate branches, extending indefinitely in both directions." "oh, what an accomplished scientist i'm going to turn out, if only left long enough at your feet, illustrious _maestro_!" cried ardan, with effusion. "only figure it to yourselves, boys; before the captain's lucid explanations, i fully expected to hear something about the high curves and the low curves in the back of an ancient thomas! oh, michael, michael, why didn't you know the captain earlier?" but the captain was now too deeply interested in a hot discussion with barbican to notice that the frenchman was only funning him. which of the two curves had been the one most probably taken by the projectile? barbican maintained it was the parabolic; m'nicholl insisted that it was the hyperbolic. their tempers were not improved by the severe cold, and both became rather excited in the dispute. they drew so many lines on the table, and crossed them so often with others, that nothing was left at last but a great blot. they covered bits of paper with _x_'s and _y_'s, which they read out like so many classic passages, shouting them, declaiming them, drawing attention to the strong points by gesticulation so forcible and voice so loud that neither of the disputants could hear a word that the other said. possibly the very great difference in temperature between the external air in contact with their skin and the blood coursing through their veins, had given rise to magnetic currents as potential in their effects as a superabundant supply of oxygen. at all events, the language they soon began to employ in the enforcement of their arguments fairly made the frenchman's hair stand on end. "you probably forget the important difference between a _directrix_ and an _axis_," hotly observed barbican. "i know what an _abscissa_ is, any how!" cried the captain. "can you say as much?" "did you ever understand what is meant by a _double ordinate_?" asked barbican, trying to keep cool. "more than you ever did about a _transverse_ and a _conjugate!_" replied the captain, with much asperity. "any one not convinced at a glance that this _eccentricity_ is equal to _unity_, must be blind as a bat!" exclaimed barbican, fast losing his ordinary urbanity. "_less_ than _unity_, you mean! if you want spectacles, here are mine!" shouted the captain, angrily tearing them off and offering them to his adversary. "dear boys!" interposed ardan---"the _eccentricity_ is _equal_ to _unity_!" cried barbican. --"the _eccentricity_ is _less_ than _unity_!" screamed m'nicholl. "talking of eccentricity--" put in ardan. --"therefore it's a _parabola_, and must be!" cried barbican, triumphantly. --"therefore it's _hyperbola_ and nothing shorter!" was the captain's quite as confident reply. "for gracious sake!--" resumed ardan. "then produce your _asymptote_!" exclaimed barbican, with an angry sneer. "let us see the _symmetrical point_!" roared the captain, quite savagely. "dear boys! old fellows!--" cried ardan, as loud as his lungs would let him. "it's useless to argue with a mississippi steamboat captain," ejaculated barbican; "he never gives in till he blows up!" "never try to convince a yankee schoolmaster," replied m'nicholl; "he has one book by heart and don't believe in any other!" "here, friend michael, get me a cord, won't you? it's the only way to convince him!" cried barbican, hastily turning to the frenchman. "hand me over that ruler, ardan!" yelled the captain. "the heavy one! it's the only way now left to bring him to reason!" "look here, barbican and m'nicholl!" cried ardan, at last making himself heard, and keeping a tight hold both on the cord and the ruler. "this thing has gone far enough! come. stop your talk, and answer me a few questions. what do you want of this cord, barbican?" "to describe a parabolic curve!" "and what are you going to do with the ruler, m'nicholl!" "to help draw a true hyperbola!" "promise me, barbican, that you're not going to lasso the captain!" "lasso the captain! ha! ha! ha!" "you promise, m'nicholl, that you're not going to brain the president!" "i brain the president! ho! ho! ho!" "i want merely to convince him that it is a parabola!" "i only want to make it clear as day that it is hyperbola!" "does it make any real difference whether it is one or the other?" yelled ardan. "the greatest possible difference--in the eye of science." "a radical and incontrovertible difference--in the eye of science!" "oh! hang the eye of science--will either curve take us to the moon?" "no!" "will either take us back to the earth?" "no!" "will either take us anywhere that you know of?" "no!" "why not?" "because they are both _open_ curves, and therefore can never end!" "is it of the slightest possible importance which of the two curves controls the projectile?" "not the slightest--except in the eye of science!" "then let the eye of science and her parabolas and hyperbolas, and conjugates, and asymptotes, and the rest of the confounded nonsensical farrago, all go to pot! what's the use of bothering your heads about them here! have you not enough to trouble you otherwise? a nice pair of scientists you are? 'stanislow' scientists, probably. do _real_ scientists lose their tempers for a trifle? am i ever to see my ideal of a true scientific man in the flesh? barbican came very near realizing my idea perfectly; but i see that science just has as little effect as culture in driving the old adam out of us! the idea of the only simpleton in the lot having to lecture the others on propriety of deportment! i thought they were going to tear each other's eyes out! ha! ha! ha! it's _impayable_! give me that cord, michael! hand me the heavy ruler, ardan! it's the only way to bring him to reason! ho! ho! ho! it's too good! i shall never get over it!" and he laughed till his sides ached and his cheeks streamed. his laughter was so contagious, and his merriment so genuine, that there was really no resisting it, and the next few minutes witnessed nothing but laughing, and handshaking and rib-punching in the projectile--though heaven knows there was very little for the poor fellows to be merry about. as they could neither reach the moon nor return to the earth, what _was_ to befall them? the immediate outlook was the very reverse of exhilarating. if they did not die of hunger, if they did not die of thirst, the reason would simply be that, in a few days, as soon as their gas was exhausted, they would die for want of air, unless indeed the icy cold had killed them beforehand! by this time, in fact, the temperature had become so exceedingly cold that a further encroachment on their little stock of gas could be put off no longer. the light, of course, they could manage to do without; but a little heat was absolutely necessary to prevent them from freezing to death. fortunately, however, the caloric developed by the reiset and regnault process for purifying the air, raised the internal temperature of the projectile a little, so that, with an expenditure of gas much less than they had expected, our travellers were able to maintain it at a degree capable of sustaining human life. by this time, also, all observations through the windows had become exceedingly difficult. the internal moisture condensed so thick and congealed so hard on the glass that nothing short of continued friction could keep up its transparency. but this friction, however laborious they might regard it at other times, they thought very little of just now, when observation had become far more interesting and important than ever. if the moon had any atmosphere, our travellers were near enough now to strike any meteor that might be rushing through it. if the projectile itself were floating in it, as was possible, would not such a good conductor of sound convey to their ears the reflexion of some lunar echo, the roar of some storm raging among the mountains, the rattling of some plunging avalanche, or the detonations of some eructating volcano? and suppose some lunar etna or vesuvius was flashing out its fires, was it not even possible that their eye could catch a glimpse of the lurid gleam? one or two facts of this kind, well attested, would singularly elucidate the vexatious question of a lunar atmosphere, which is still so far from being decided. full of such thoughts and intensely interested in them, barbican, m'nicholl and ardan, patient as astronomers at a transit of venus, watched steadily at their windows, and allowed nothing worth noticing to escape their searching gaze. ardan's patience first gave out. he showed it by an observation natural enough, for that matter, to a mind unaccustomed to long stretches of careful thought: "this darkness is absolutely killing! if we ever take this trip again, it must be about the time of the new moon!" "there i agree with you, ardan," observed the captain. "that would be just the time to start. the moon herself, i grant, would be lost in the solar rays and therefore invisible all the time of our trip, but in compensation, we should have the full earth in full view. besides--and this is your chief point, no doubt, ardan--if we should happen to be drawn round the moon, just as we are at the present moment, we should enjoy the inestimable advantage of beholding her invisible side magnificently illuminated!" "my idea exactly, captain," said ardan. "what is your opinion on this point, barbican?" "my opinion is as follows:" answered barbican, gravely. "if we ever repeat this journey, we shall start precisely at the same time and under precisely the same circumstances. you forget that our only object is to reach the moon. now suppose we had really landed there, as we expected to do yesterday, would it not have been much more agreeable to behold the lunar continents enjoying the full light of day than to find them plunged in the dismal obscurity of night? would not our first installation of discovery have been under circumstances decidedly extremely favorable? your silence shows that you agree with me. as to the invisible side, once landed, we should have the power to visit it when we pleased, and therefore we could always choose whatever time would best suit our purpose. therefore, if we wanted to land in the moon, the period of the full moon was the best period to select. the period was well chosen, the time was well calculated, the force was well applied, the projectile was well aimed, but missing our way spoiled everything." "that's sound logic, no doubt," said ardan; "still i can't help thinking that all for want of a little light we are losing, probably forever, a splendid opportunity of seeing the moon's invisible side. how about the other planets, barbican? do you think that their inhabitants are as ignorant regarding their satellites as we are regarding ours?" "on that subject," observed m'nicholl, "i could venture an answer myself, though, of course, without pretending to speak dogmatically on any such open question. the satellites of the other planets, by their comparative proximity, must be much easier to study than our moon. the saturnians, the uranians, the jovians, cannot have had very serious difficulty in effecting some communication with their satellites. jupiter's four moons, for instance, though on an average actually 2-1/2 times farther from their planet's centre than the moon is from us, are comparatively four times nearer to him on account of his radius being eleven times greater than the earth's. with saturn's eight moons, the case is almost precisely similar. their average distance is nearly three times greater than that of our moon; but as saturn's diameter is about 9 times greater than the earth's, his bodyguards are really between 3 and 4 times nearer to their principal than ours is to us. as to uranus, his first satellite, _ariel_, half as far from him as our moon is from the earth, is comparatively, though not actually, eight times nearer." "therefore," said barbican, now taking up the subject, "an experiment analogous to ours, starting from either of these three planets, would have encountered fewer difficulties. but the whole question resolves itself into this. _if_ the jovians and the rest have been able to quit their planets, they have probably succeeded in discovering the invisible sides of their satellites. but if they have _not_ been able to do so, why, they're not a bit wiser than ourselves--but what's the matter with the projectile? it's certainly shifting!" shifting it certainly was. while the path it described as it swung blindly through the darkness, could not be laid down by any chart for want of a starting point, barbican and his companions soon became aware of a decided modification of its relative position with regard to the moon's surface. instead of its side, as heretofore, it now presented its base to the moon's disc, and its axis had become rigidly vertical to the lunar horizon. of this new feature in their journey, barbican had assured himself by the most undoubted proof towards four o'clock in the morning. what was the cause? gravity, of course. the heavier portion of the projectile gravitated towards the moon's centre exactly as if they were falling towards her surface. but _were_ they falling? were they at last, contrary to all expectations, about to reach the goal that they had been so ardently wishing for? no! a sight-point, just discovered by m'nicholl, very soon convinced barbican that the projectile was as far as ever from approaching the moon, but was moving around it in a curve pretty near concentric. m'nicholl's discovery, a luminous gleam flickering on the distant verge of the black disc, at once engrossed the complete attention of our travellers and set them to divining its course. it could not possibly be confounded with a star. its glare was reddish, like that of a distant furnace on a dark night; it kept steadily increasing in size and brightness, thus showing beyond a doubt how the projectile was moving--in the direction of the luminous point, and _not_ vertically falling towards the moon's surface. "it's a volcano!" cried the captain, in great excitement; "a volcano in full blast! an outlet of the moon's internal fires! therefore she can't be a burnt out cinder!" "it certainly looks like a volcano," replied barbican, carefully investigating this new and puzzling phenomenon with his night-glass. "if it is not one, in fact, what can it be?" "to maintain combustion," commenced ardan syllogistically and sententiously, "air is necessary. an undoubted case of combustion lies before us. therefore, this part of the moon _must_ have an atmosphere!" "perhaps so," observed barbican, "but not necessarily so. the volcano, by decomposing certain substances, gunpowder for instance, may be able to furnish its own oxygen, and thus explode in a vacuum. that blaze, in fact, seems to me to possess the intensity and the blinding glare of objects burning in pure oxygen. let us therefore be not over hasty in jumping at the conclusion of the existence of a lunar atmosphere." this fire mountain was situated, according to the most plausible conjecture, somewhere in the neighborhood of the 45th degree, south latitude, of the moon's invisible side. for a little while the travellers indulged the fond hope that they were directly approaching it, but, to their great disappointment, the path described by the projectile lay in a different direction. its nature therefore they had no opportunity of ascertaining. it began to disappear behind the dark horizon within less than half an hour after the time that m'nicholl had signalled it. still, the fact of the uncontested existence of such a phenomenon was a grand one, and of considerable importance in selenographic investigations. it proved that heat had not altogether disappeared from the lunar world; and the existence of heat once settled, who can say positively that the vegetable kingdom and even the animal kingdom have not likewise resisted so far every influence tending to destroy them? if terrestrial astronomers could only be convinced, by undoubted evidence, of the existence of this active volcano on the moon's surface, they would certainly admit of very considerable modifications in the present doubts regarding her inhabitability. thoughts of this kind continued to occupy the minds of our travellers even for some time after the little spark of light had been extinguished in the black gloom. but they said very little; even ardan was silent, and continued to look out of the window. barbican surrendered himself up to a reverie regarding the mysterious destinies of the lunar world. was its present condition a foreshadowing of what our earth is to become? m'nicholl, too, was lost in speculation. was the moon older or younger than the earth in the order of creation? had she ever been a beautiful world of life, and color, and magnificent variety? if so, had her inhabitants-great mercy, what a cry from ardan! it sounded human, so seldom do we hear a shriek so expressive at once of surprise and horror and even terror! it brought back his startled companions to their senses in a second. nor did they ask him for the cause of his alarm. it was only too clear. right in their very path, a blazing ball of fire had suddenly risen up before their eyes, the pitchy darkness all round it rendering its glare still more blinding. its phosphoric coruscation filled the projectile with white streams of lurid light, tinging the contents with a pallor indescribably ghastly. the travellers' faces in particular, gleamed with that peculiar livid and cadaverous tinge, blue and yellow, which magicians so readily produce by burning table salt in alcohol. "_sacré!_" cried ardan who always spoke his own language when much excited. "what a pair of beauties you are! say, barbican! what thundering thing is coming at us now?" "another bolide," answered barbican, his eye as calm as ever, though a faint tremor was quite perceptible in his voice. "a bolide? burning _in vacuo_? you are joking!" "i was never more in earnest," was the president's quiet reply, as he looked through his closed fingers. he knew exactly what he was saying. the dazzling glitter did not deceive _him_. such a meteor seen from the earth could not appear much brighter than the full moon, but here in the midst of the black ether and unsoftened by the veil of the atmosphere, it was absolutely blinding. these wandering bodies carry in themselves the principle of their incandescence. oxygen is by no means necessary for their combustion. some of them indeed often take fire as they rush through the layers of our atmosphere, and generally burn out before they strike the earth. but others, on the contrary, and the greater number too, follow a track through space far more distant from the earth than the fifty miles supposed to limit our atmosphere. in october, 1844, one of these meteors had appeared in the sky at an altitude calculated to be at least 320 miles; and in august, 1841, another had vanished when it had reached the height of 450 miles. a few even of those seen from the earth must have been several miles in diameter. the velocity with which some of them have been calculated to move, from east to west, in a direction contrary to that of the earth, is astounding enough to exceed belief--about fifty miles in a second. our earth does not move quite 20 miles in a second, though it goes a thousand times quicker than the fastest locomotive. [illustration: they could utter no word.] barbican calculated like lightning that the present object of their alarm was only about 250 miles distant from them, and could not be less than a mile and a quarter in diameter. it was coming on at the rate of more than a mile a second or about 75 miles a minute. it lay right in the path of the projectile, and in a very few seconds indeed a terrible collision was inevitable. the enormous rate at which it grew in size, showed the terrible velocity at which it was approaching. you can hardly imagine the situation of our poor travellers at the sight of this frightful apparition. i shall certainly not attempt to describe it. in spite of their singular courage, wonderful coolness, extraordinary fortitude, they were now breathless, motionless, almost helpless; their muscles were tightened to their utmost tension; their eyes stared out of their sockets; their faces were petrified with horror. no wonder. their projectile, whose course they were powerless as children to guide, was making straight for this fiery mass, whose glare in a few seconds had become more blinding than the open vent of a reverberating furnace. their own projectile was carrying them headlong into a bottomless abyss of fire! still, even in this moment of horror, their presence of mind, or at least their consciousness, never abandoned them. barbican had grasped each of his friends by the hand, and all three tried as well as they could to watch through half-closed eyelids the white-hot asteroid's rapid approach. they could utter no word, they could breathe no prayer. they gave themselves up for lost--in the agony of terror that partially interrupted the ordinary functions of their brains, this was absolutely all they could do! hardly three minutes had elapsed since ardan had caught the first glimpse of it--three ages of agony! now it was on them! in a second--in less than a second, the terrible fireball had burst like a shell! thousands of glittering fragments were flying around them in all directions--but with no more noise than is made by so many light flakes of thistle-down floating about some warm afternoon in summer. the blinding, blasting steely white glare of the explosion almost bereft the travellers of the use of their eyesight forever, but no more report reached their ears than if it had taken place at the bottom of the gulf of mexico. in an atmosphere like ours, such a crash would have burst the ear-membranes of ten thousand elephants! in the middle of the commotion another loud cry was suddenly heard. it was the captain who called this time. his companions rushed to his window and all looked out together in the same direction. what a sight met their eyes! what pen can describe it? what pencil can reproduce the magnificence of its coloring? it was a vesuvius at his best and wildest, at the moment just after the old cone has fallen in. millions of luminous fragments streaked the sky with their blazing fires. all sizes and shapes of light, all colors and shades of colors, were inextricably mingled together. irradiations in gold, scintillations in crimson, splendors in emerald, lucidities in ultramarine--a dazzling girandola of every tint and of every hue. of the enormous fireball, an instant ago such an object of dread, nothing now remained but these glittering pieces, shooting about in all directions, each one an asteroid in its turn. some flew out straight and gleaming like a steel sword; others rushed here and there irregularly like chips struck off a red-hot rock; and others left long trails of glittering cosmical dust behind them like the nebulous tail of donati's comet. these incandescent blocks crossed each other, struck each other, crushed each other into still smaller fragments, one of which, grazing the projectile, jarred it so violently that the very window at which the travellers were standing, was cracked by the shock. our friends felt, in fact, as if they were the objective point at which endless volleys of blazing shells were aimed, any of them powerful enough, if it only hit them fair, to make as short work of the projectile as you could of an egg-shell. they had many hairbreadth escapes, but fortunately the cracking of the glass proved to be the only serious damage of which they could complain. this extraordinary illumination lasted altogether only a few seconds; every one of its details was of a most singular and exciting nature--but one of its greatest wonders was yet to come. the ether, saturated with luminous matter, developed an intensity of blazing brightness unequalled by the lime light, the magnesium light, the electric light, or any other dazzling source of illumination with which we are acquainted on earth. it flashed out of these asteroids in all directions, and downwards, of course, as well as elsewhere. at one particular instant, it was so very vivid that ardan, who happened to be looking downwards, cried out, as if in transport: "oh!! the moon! visible at last!" and the three companions, thrilling with indescribable emotion, shot a hasty glance through the openings of the coruscating field beneath them. did they really catch a glimpse of the mysterious invisible disc that the eye of man had never before lit upon? for a second or so they gazed with enraptured fascination at all they could see. what did they see, what could they see at a distance so uncertain that barbican has never been able even to guess at it? not much. ardan was reminded of the night he had stood on the battlements of dover castle, a few years before, when the fitful flashes of a thunder storm gave him occasional and very uncertain glimpses of the french coast at the opposite side of the strait. misty strips long and narrow, extending over one portion of the disc--probably cloud-scuds sustained by a highly rarefied atmosphere--permitted only a very dreamy idea of lofty mountains stretching beneath them in shapeless proportions, of smaller reliefs, circuses, yawning craters, and the other capricious, sponge-like formations so common on the visible side. elsewhere the watchers became aware for an instant of immense spaces, certainly not arid plains, but seas, real oceans, vast and calm, reflecting from their placid depths the dazzling fireworks of the weird and wildly flashing meteors. farther on, but very darkly as if behind a screen, shadowy continents revealed themselves, their surfaces flecked with black cloudy masses, probably great forests, with here and there a-nothing more! in less than a second the illumination had come to an end, involving everything in the moon's direction once more in pitchy darkness. but had the impression made on the travellers' eyes been a mere vision or the result of a reality? an optical delusion or the shadow of a solid fact? could an observation so rapid, so fleeting, so superficial, be really regarded as a genuine scientific affirmation? could such a feeble glimmer of the invisible disc justify them in pronouncing a decided opinion on the inhabitability of the moon? to such questions as these, rising spontaneously and simultaneously in the minds of our travellers, they could not reply at the moment; they could not reply to them long afterwards; even to this day they can give them no satisfactory answer. all they could do at the moment, they did. to every sight and sound they kept their eyes and ears open, and, by observing the most perfect silence, they sought to render their impressions too vivid to admit of deception. there was now, however, nothing to be heard, and very little more to be seen. the few coruscations that flashed over the sky, gradually became fewer and dimmer; the asteroids sought paths further and further apart, and finally disappeared altogether. the ether resumed its original blackness. the stars, eclipsed for a moment, blazed out again on the firmament, and the invisible disc, that had flashed into view for an instant, once more relapsed forever into the impenetrable depths of night. chapter xvi. the southern hemisphere. exceedingly narrow and exceedingly fortunate had been the escape of the projectile. and from a danger too the most unlikely and the most unexpected. who would have ever dreamed of even the possibility of such an encounter? and was all danger over? the sight of one of these erratic bolides certainly justified the gravest apprehensions of our travellers regarding the existence of others. worse than the sunken reefs of the southern seas or the snags of the mississippi, how could the projectile be expected to avoid them? drifting along blindly through the boundless ethereal ocean, _her_ inmates, even if they saw the danger, were totally powerless to turn her aside. like a ship without a rudder, like a runaway horse, like a collapsed balloon, like an iceberg in an atlantic storm, like a boat in the niagara rapids, she moved on sullenly, recklessly, mechanically, mayhap into the very jaws of the most frightful danger, the bright intelligences within no more able to modify her motions even by a finger's breadth than they were able to affect mercury's movements around the sun. but did our friends complain of the new perils now looming up before them? they never thought of such a thing. on the contrary, they only considered themselves (after the lapse of a few minutes to calm their nerves) extremely lucky in having witnessed this fresh glory of exuberant nature, this transcendent display of fireworks which not only cast into absolute insignificance anything of the kind they had ever seen on earth, but had actually enabled them by its dazzling illumination to gaze for a second or two at the moon's mysterious invisible disc. this glorious momentary glance, worth a whole lifetime of ordinary existence, had revealed to mortal ken her continents, her oceans, her forests. but did it also convince them of the existence of an atmosphere on her surface whose vivifying molecules would render _life_ possible? this question they had again to leave unanswered--it will hardly ever be answered in a way quite satisfactory to human curiosity. still, infinite was their satisfaction at having hovered even for an instant on the very verge of such a great problem's solution. it was now half-past three in the afternoon. the projectile still pursued its curving but otherwise unknown path over the moon's invisible face. had this path been disturbed by that dangerous meteor? there was every reason to fear so--though, disturbance or no disturbance, the curve it described should still be one strictly in accordance with the laws of mechanical philosophy. whether it was a parabola or a hyperbola, however, or whether it was disturbed or not, made very little difference as, in any case, the projectile was bound to quit pretty soon the cone of the shadow, at a point directly opposite to where it had entered it. this cone could not possibly be of very great extent, considering the very slight ratio borne by the moon's diameter when compared with the sun's. still, to all appearances, the projectile seemed to be quite as deeply immersed in the shadow as ever, and there was apparently not the slightest sign of such a state of things coming soon to an end. at what rate was the projectile now moving? hard to say, but certainly not slowly, certainly rapidly enough to be out of the shadow by this time, if describing a curve rigidly parabolic. was the curve therefore _not_ parabolic? another puzzling problem and sadly bewildering to poor barbican, who had now almost lost his reason by attempting to clear up questions that were proving altogether too profound for his overworked brains. not that he ever thought of taking rest. not that his companions thought of taking rest. far from it. with senses as high-strung as ever, they still watched carefully for every new fact, every unexpected incident that might throw some light on the sidereal investigations. even their dinner, or what was called so, consisted of only a few bits of bread and meat, distributed by ardan at five o'clock, and swallowed mechanically. they did not even turn on the gas full head to see what they were eating; each man stood solidly at his window, the glass of which they had enough to do in keeping free from the rapidly condensing moisture. at about half-past five, however, m'nicholl, who had been gazing for some time with his telescope in a particular direction, called the attention of his companions to some bright specks of light barely discernible in that part of the horizon towards which the projectile was evidently moving. his words were hardly uttered when his companions announced the same discovery. they could soon all see the glittering specks not only becoming more and more numerous, but also gradually assuming the shape of an extremely slender, but extremely brilliant crescent. rapidly more brilliant and more decided in shape the profile gradually grew, till it soon resembled the first faint sketch of the new moon that we catch of evenings in the western sky, or rather the first glimpse we get of her limb as it slowly moves out of eclipse. but it was inconceivably brighter than either, and was furthermore strangely relieved by the pitchy blackness both of sky and moon. in fact, it soon became so brilliant as to dispel in a moment all doubt as to its particular nature. no meteor could present such a perfect shape; no volcano, such dazzling splendor. "the sun!" cried barbican. "the sun?" asked m'nicholl and ardan in some astonishment. "yes, dear friends; it is the sun himself that you now see; these summits that you behold him gilding are the mountains that lie on the moon's southern rim. we are rapidly nearing her south pole." "after doubling her north pole!" cried ardan; "why, we must be circumnavigating her!" "exactly; sailing all around her." "hurrah! then we're all right at last! there's nothing more to fear from your hyperbolas or parabolas or any other of your open curves!" "nothing more, certainly, from an open curve, but every thing from a closed one." "a closed curve! what is it called? and what is the trouble?" "an eclipse it is called; and the trouble is that, instead of flying off into the boundless regions of space, our projectile will probably describe an elliptical orbit around the moon--" --"what!" cried m'nicholl, in amazement, "and be her satellite for ever!" "all right and proper," said ardan; "why shouldn't she have one of her own?" "only, my dear friend," said barbican to ardan, "this change of curve involves no change in the doom of the projectile. we are as infallibly lost by an ellipse as by a parabola." "well, there was one thing i never could reconcile myself to in the whole arrangement," replied ardan cheerfully; "and that was destruction by an open curve. safe from that, i could say, 'fate, do your worst!' besides, i don't believe in the infallibility of your ellipsic. it may prove just as unreliable as the hyperbola. and it is no harm to hope that it may!" from present appearances there was very little to justify ardan's hope. barbican's theory of the elliptic orbit was unfortunately too well grounded to allow a single reasonable doubt to be expressed regarding the projectile's fate. it was to gravitate for ever around the moon--a sub-satellite. it was a new born individual in the astral universe, a microcosm, a little world in itself, containing, however, only three inhabitants and even these destined to perish pretty soon for want of air. our travellers, therefore, had no particular reason for rejoicing over the new destiny reserved for the projectile in obedience to the inexorable laws of the centripetal and centrifugal forces. they were soon, it is true, to have the opportunity of beholding once more the illuminated face of the moon. they might even live long enough to catch a last glimpse of the distant earth bathed in the glory of the solar rays. they might even have strength enough left to be able to chant one solemn final eternal adieu to their dear old mother world, upon whose features their mortal eyes should never again rest in love and longing! then, what was their projectile to become? an inert, lifeless, extinct mass, not a particle better than the most defunct asteroid that wanders blindly through the fields of ether. a gloomy fate to look forward to. yet, instead of grieving over the inevitable, our bold travellers actually felt thrilled with delight at the prospect of even a momentary deliverance from those gloomy depths of darkness and of once more finding themselves, even if only for a few hours, in the cheerful precincts illuminated by the genial light of the blessed sun! the ring of light, in the meantime, becoming brighter and brighter, barbican was not long in discovering and pointing out to his companions the different mountains that lay around the moon's south pole. "there is _leibnitz_ on your right," said he, "and on your left you can easily see the peaks of _doerfel_. belonging rather to the moon's dark side than to her earth side, they are visible to terrestrial astronomers only when she is in her highest northern latitudes. those faint peaks beyond them that you can catch with such difficulty must be those of _newton_ and _curtius_." "how in the world can you tell?" asked ardan. "they are the highest mountains in the circumpolar regions," replied barbican. "they have been measured with the greatest care; _newton_ is 23,000 feet high." "more or less!" laughed ardan. "what delphic oracle says so?" "dear friend," replied barbican quietly, "the visible mountains of the moon have been measured so carefully and so accurately that i should hardly hesitate in affirming their altitude to be as well known as that of mont blanc, or, at least, as those of the chief peaks in the himalayahs or the rocky mountain range." "i should like to know how people set about it," observed ardan incredulously. "there are several well known methods of approaching this problem," replied barbican; "and as these methods, though founded on different principles, bring us constantly to the same result, we may pretty safely conclude that our calculations are right. we have no time, just now to draw diagrams, but, if i express myself clearly, you will no doubt easily catch the general principle." "go ahead!" answered ardan. "anything but algebra." "we want no algebra now," said barbican, "it can't enable us to find principles, though it certainly enables us to apply them. well. the sun at a certain altitude shines on one side of a mountain and flings a shadow on the other. the length of this shadow is easily found by means of a telescope, whose object glass is provided with a micrometer. this consists simply of two parallel spider threads, one of which is stationary and the other movable. the moon's real diameter being known and occupying a certain space on the object glass, the exact space occupied by the shadow can be easily ascertained by means of the movable thread. this space, compared with the moon's space, will give us the length of the shadow. now, as under the same circumstances a certain height can cast only a certain shadow, of course a knowledge of the one must give you that of the other, and _vice versa_. this method, stated roughly, was that followed by galileo, and, in our own day, by beer and maedler, with extraordinary success." "i certainly see some sense in this method," said ardan, "if they took extraordinary pains to observe correctly. the least carelessness would set them wrong, not only by feet but by miles. we have time enough, however, to listen to another method before we get into the full blaze of the glorious old sol." "the other method," interrupted m'nicholl laying down his telescope to rest his eyes, and now joining in the conversation to give himself something to do, "is called that of the _tangent rays_. a solar ray, barely passing the edge of the moon's surface, is caught on the peak of a mountain the rest of which lies in shadow. the distance between this starry peak and the line separating the light from the darkness, we measure carefully by means of our telescope. then--" "i see it at a glance!" interrupted ardan with lighting eye; "the ray, being a tangent, of course makes right angles with the radius, which is known: consequently we have two sides and one angle--quite enough to find the other parts of the triangle. very ingenious--but now, that i think of it--is not this method absolutely impracticable for every mountain except those in the immediate neighborhood of the light and shadow line?" "that's a defect easily remedied by patience," explained barbican--the captain, who did not like being interrupted, having withdrawn to his telescope--"as this line is continually changing, in course of time all the mountains must come near it. a third method--to measure the mountain profile directly by means of the micrometer--is evidently applicable only to altitudes lying exactly on the lunar rim." "that is clear enough," said ardan, "and another point is also very clear. in full moon no measurement is possible. when no shadows are made, none can be measured. measurements, right or wrong, are possible only when the solar rays strike the moon's surface obliquely with regard to the observer. am i right, signor barbicani, maestro illustrissimo?" "perfectly right," replied barbican. "you are an apt pupil." "say that again," said ardan. "i want mac to hear it." barbican humored him by repeating the observation, but m'nicholl would only notice it by a grunt of doubtful meaning. "was galileo tolerably successful in his calculations?" asked ardan, resuming the conversation. before answering this question, barbican unrolled the map of the moon, which a faint light like that of day-break now enabled him to examine. he then went on: "galileo was wonderfully successful--considering that the telescope which he employed was a poor instrument of his own construction, magnifying only thirty times. he gave the lunar mountains a height of about 26,000 feet--an altitude cut down by hevelius, but almost doubled by riccioli. herschel was the first to come pretty close to the truth, but beer and maedler, whose _mappa selenographica_ now lies before us, have left really nothing more to be done for lunar astronomy--except, of course, to pay a personal visit to the moon--which we have tried to do, but i fear with a very poor prospect of success." "cheer up! cheer up!" cried ardan. "it's not all over yet by long odds. who can say what is still in store for us? another bolide may shunt us off our ellipse and even send us to the moon's surface." then seeing barbican shake his head ominously and his countenance become more and more depressed, this true friend tried to brighten him up a bit by feigning to take deep interest in a subject that to him was absolutely the driest in the world. "meer and baedler--i mean beer and maedler," he went on, "must have measured at least forty or fifty mountains to their satisfaction." "forty or fifty!" exclaimed barbican. "they measured no fewer than a thousand and ninety-five lunar mountains and crater summits with a perfect success. six of these reach an altitude of upwards of 18,000 feet, and twenty-two are more than 15,000 feet high." "which is the highest in the lot?" asked ardan, keenly relishing barbican's earnestness. "_doerfel_ in the southern hemisphere, the peak of which i have just pointed out, is the highest of the lunar mountains so far measured," replied barbican. "it is nearly 25,000 feet high." "indeed! five thousand feet lower than mount everest--still for a lunar mountain, it is quite a respectable altitude." "respectable! why it's an enormous altitude, my dear friend, if you compare it with the moon's diameter. the earth's diameter being more than 3-1/2 times greater than the moon's, if the earth's mountains bore the same ratio to those of the moon, everest should be more than sixteen miles high, whereas it is not quite six." "how do the general heights of the himalayahs compare with those of the highest lunar mountains?" asked ardan, wondering what would be his next question. "fifteen peaks in the eastern or higher division of the himalayahs, are higher than the loftiest lunar peaks," replied barbican. "even in the western, or lower section of the himalayahs, some of the peaks exceed _doerfel_." "which are the chief lunar mountains that exceed mont blanc in altitude?" asked ardan, bravely suppressing a yawn. "the following dozen, ranged, if my memory does not fail me, in the exact order of their respective heights;" replied barbican, never wearied in answering such questions: "_newton_, _curtius_, _casatus_, _rheita_, _short_, _huyghens_, _biancanus_, _tycho_, _kircher_, _clavius_, _endymion_, and _catharina_." "now those not quite up to mont blanc?" asked ardan, hardly knowing what to say. "here they are, about half a dozen of them: _moretus_, _theophilus_, _harpalus_, _eratosthenes_, _werner_, and _piccolomini_," answered barbican as ready as a schoolboy reciting his lesson, and pointing them out on the map as quickly as a compositor distributing his type. "the next in rank?" asked ardan, astounded at his friend's wonderful memory. "the next in rank," replied barbican promptly, "are those about the size of the matterhorn, that is to say about 2-3/4 miles in height. they are _macrobius_, _delambre_, and _conon_. come," he added, seeing ardan hesitating and at a loss what other question to ask, "don't you want to know what lunar mountains are about the same height as the peak of teneriffe? or as ætna? or as mount washington? you need not be afraid of puzzling me. i studied up the subject thoroughly, and therefore know all about it." "oh! i could listen to you with delight all day long!" cried ardan, enthusiastically, though with some embarrassment, for he felt a twinge of conscience in acting so falsely towards his beloved friend. "the fact is," he went on, "such a rational conversation as the present, on such an absorbing subject, with such a perfect master--" "the sun!" cried m'nicholl starting up and cheering. "he's cleared the disc completely, and he's now himself again! long life to him! hurrah!" "hurrah!" cried the others quite as enthusiastically (ardan did not seem a bit desirous to finish his sentence). they tossed their maps aside and hastened to the window. chapter xvii. tycho. it was now exactly six o'clock in the evening. the sun, completely clear of all contact with the lunar disc, steeped the whole projectile in his golden rays. the travellers, vertically over the moon's south pole, were, as barbican soon ascertained, about 30 miles distant from it, the exact distance they had been from the north pole--a proof that the elliptic curve still maintained itself with mathematical rigor. for some time, the travellers' whole attention was concentrated on the glorious sun. his light was inexpressibly cheering; and his heat, soon penetrating the walls of the projectile, infused a new and sweet life into their chilled and exhausted frames. the ice rapidly disappeared, and the windows soon resumed their former perfect transparency. "oh! how good the pleasant sunlight is!" cried the captain, sinking on a seat in a quiet ecstasy of enjoyment. "how i pity ardan's poor friends the selenites during that night so long and so icy! how impatient they must be to see the sun back again!" "yes," said ardan, also sitting down the better to bask in the vivifying rays, "his light no doubt brings them to life and keeps them alive. without light or heat during all that dreary winter, they must freeze stiff like the frogs or become torpid like the bears. i can't imagine how they could get through it otherwise." "i'm glad _we're_ through it anyhow," observed m'nicholl. "i may at once acknowledge that i felt perfectly miserable as long as it lasted. i can now easily understand how the combined cold and darkness killed doctor kane's esquimaux dogs. it was near killing me. i was so miserable that at last i could neither talk myself nor bear to hear others talk." "my own case exactly," said barbican--"that is," he added hastily, correcting himself, "i tried to talk because i found ardan so interested, but in spite of all we said, and saw, and had to think of, byron's terrible dream would continually rise up before me: "the bright sun was extinguished, and the stars wandered all darkling in the eternal space, rayless and pathless, and the icy earth swung blind and blackening in the moonless air. morn came and went, and came and brought no day! and men forgot their passions in the dread of this their desolation, and all hearts were chilled into a selfish prayer for _light_!" as he pronounced these words in accents at once monotonous and melancholy, ardan, fully appreciative, quietly gesticulated in perfect cadence with the rhythm. then the three men remained completely silent for several minutes. buried in recollection, or lost in thought, or magnetized by the bright sun, they seemed to be half asleep while steeping their limbs in his vitalizing beams. barbican was the first to dissolve the reverie by jumping up. his sharp eye had noticed that the base of the projectile, instead of keeping rigidly perpendicular to the lunar surface, turned away a little, so as to render the elliptical orbit somewhat elongated. this he made his companions immediately observe, and also called their attention to the fact that from this point they could easily have seen the earth had it been full, but that now, drowned in the sun's beams, it was quite invisible. a more attractive spectacle, however, soon engaged their undivided attention--that of the moon's southern regions, now brought within about the third of a mile by their telescopes. immediately resuming their posts by the windows, they carefully noted every feature presented by the fantastic panorama that stretched itself out in endless lengths beneath their wondering eyes. [illustration: they seemed half asleep.] mount _leibnitz_ and mount _doerfel_ form two separate groups developed in the regions of the extreme south. the first extends westwardly from the pole to the 84th parallel; the second, on the southeastern border, starting from the pole, reaches the neighborhood of the 65th. in the entangled valleys of their clustered peaks, appeared the dazzling sheets of white, noted by father secchi, but their peculiar nature barbican could now examine with a greater prospect of certainty than the illustrious roman astronomer had ever enjoyed. "they're beds of snow," he said at last in a decided tone. "snow!" exclaimed m'nicholl. "yes, snow, or rather glaciers heavily coated with glittering ice. see how vividly they reflect the sun's rays. consolidated beds of lava could never shine with such dazzling uniformity. therefore there must be both water and air on the moon's surface. not much--perhaps very little if you insist on it--but the fact that there is some can now no longer be questioned." this assertion of barbican's, made so positively by a man who never decided unless when thoroughly convinced, was a great triumph for ardan, who, as the gracious reader doubtless remembers, had had a famous dispute with m'nicholl on that very subject at tampa.[d] his eyes brightened and a smile of pleasure played around his lips, but, with a great effort at self-restraint, he kept perfectly silent and would not permit himself even to look in the direction of the captain. as for m'nicholl, he was apparently too much absorbed in _doerfel_ and _leibnitz_ to mind anything else. these mountains rose from plains of moderate extent, bounded by an indefinite succession of walled hollows and ring ramparts. they are the only chains met in this region of ridge-brimmed craters and circles; distinguished by no particular feature, they project a few pointed peaks here and there, some of which exceed four miles and a half in height. this altitude, however, foreshortened as it was by the vertical position of the projectile, could not be noticed just then, even if correct observation had been permitted by the dazzling surface. once more again before the travellers' eyes the moon's disc revealed itself in all the old familiar features so characteristic of lunar landscapes--no blending of tones, no softening of colors, no graduation of shadows, every line glaring in white or black by reason of the total absence of refracted light. and yet the wonderfully peculiar character of this desolate world imparted to it a weird attraction as strangely fascinating as ever. over this chaotic region the travellers were now sweeping, as if borne on the wings of a storm; the peaks defiled beneath them; the yawning chasms revealed their ruin-strewn floors; the fissured cracks untwisted themselves; the ramparts showed all their sides; the mysterious holes presented their impenetrable depths; the clustered mountain summits and rings rapidly decomposed themselves: but in a moment again all had become more inextricably entangled than ever. everything appeared to be the finished handiwork of volcanic agency, in the utmost purity and highest perfection. none of the mollifying effects of air or water could here be noticed. no smooth-capped mountains, no gently winding river channels, no vast prairie-lands of deposited sediment, no traces of vegetation, no signs of agriculture, no vestiges of a great city. nothing but vast beds of glistering lava, now rough like immense piles of scoriae and clinker, now smooth like crystal mirrors, and reflecting the sun's rays with the same intolerable glare. not the faintest speck of life. a world absolutely and completely dead, fixed, still, motionless--save when a gigantic land-slide, breaking off the vertical wall of a crater, plunged down into the soundless depths, with all the fury too of a crashing avalanche, with all the speed of a niagara, but, in the total absence of atmosphere, noiseless as a feather, as a snow flake, as a grain of impalpable dust. careful observations, taken by barbican and repeated by his companions, soon satisfied them that the ridgy outline of the mountains on the moon's border, though perhaps due to different forces from those acting in the centre, still presented a character generally uniform. the same bulwark-surrounded hollows, the same abrupt projections of surface. yet a different arrangement, as barbican pointed out to his companions, might be naturally expected. in the central portion of the disc, the moon's crust, before solidification, must have been subjected to two attractions--that of the moon herself and that of the earth--acting, however, in contrary directions and therefore, in a certain sense, serving to neutralize each other. towards the border of her disc, on the contrary, the terrestrial attraction, having acted in a direction perpendicular to that of the lunar, should have exerted greater power, and therefore given a different shape to the general contour. but no remarkable difference had so far been perceived by terrestrial observers; and none could now be detected by our travellers. therefore the moon must have found in herself alone the principle of her shape and of her superficial development--that is, she owed nothing to external influences. "arago was perfectly right, therefore," concluded barbican, "in the remarkable opinion to which he gave expression thirty years ago: 'no external action whatever has contributed to the formation of the moon's diversified surface.'" "but don't you think, barbican," asked the captain, "that every force, internal or external, that might modify the moon's shape, has ceased long ago?" "i am rather inclined to that opinion," said barbican; "it is not, however, a new one. descartes maintained that as the earth is an extinct sun, so is the moon an extinct earth. my own opinion at present is that the moon is now the image of death, but i can't say if she has ever been the abode of life." "the abode of life!" cried ardan, who had great repugnance in accepting the idea that the moon was no better than a heap of cinders and ashes; "why, look there! if those are not as neat a set of the ruins of an abandoned city as ever i saw, i should like to know what they are!" [illustration: once more the pipes of an aqueduct.] he pointed to some very remarkable rocky formations in the neighborhood of _short_, a ring mountain rising to an altitude considerably higher than that of mont blanc. even barbican and m'nicholl could detect some regularity and semblance of order in the arrangement of these rocks, but this, of course, they looked on as a mere freak of nature, like the lurlei rock, the giant's causeway, or the old man of the franconia mountains. ardan, however, would not accept such an easy mode of getting rid of a difficulty. "see the ruins on that bluff," he exclaimed; "those steep sides must have been washed by a great river in the prehistoric times. that was the fortress. farther down lay the city. there are the dismantled ramparts; why, there's the very coping of a portico still intact! don't you see three broken pillars lying beside their pedestals? there! a little to the left of those arches that evidently once bore the pipes of an aqueduct! you don't see them? well, look a little to the right, and there is something that you can see! as i'm a living man i have no difficulty in discerning the gigantic butments of a great bridge that formerly spanned that immense river!" did he really see all this? to this day he affirms stoutly that he did, and even greater wonders besides. his companions, however, without denying that he had good grounds for his assertion on this subject or questioning the general accuracy of his observations, content themselves with saying that the reason why they had failed to discover the wonderful city, was that ardan's telescope was of a strange and peculiar construction. being somewhat short-sighted, he had had it manufactured expressly for his own use, but it was of such singular power that his companions could not use it without hurting their eyes. but, whether the ruins were real or not, the moments were evidently too precious to be lost in idle discussion. the great city of the selenites soon disappeared on the remote horizon, and, what was of far greater importance, the distance of the projectile from the moon's disc began to increase so sensibly that the smaller details of the surface were soon lost in a confused mass, and it was only the lofty heights, the wide craters, the great ring mountains, and the vast plains that still continued to give sharp, distinctive outlines. a little to their left, the travellers could now plainly distinguish one of the most remarkable of the moon's craters, _newton_, so well known to all lunar astronomers. its ramparts, forming a perfect circle, rise to such a height, at least 22,000 feet, as to seem insurmountable. "you can, no doubt, notice for yourselves," said barbican, "that the external height of this mountain is far from being equal to the depth of its crater. the enormous pit, in fact, seems to be a soundless sea of pitchy black, the bottom of which the sun's rays have never reached. there, as humboldt says, reigns eternal darkness, so absolute that earth-shine or even sunlight is never able to dispel it. had michael's friends the old mythologists ever known anything about it, they would doubtless have made it the entrance to the infernal regions. on the whole surface of our earth, there is no mountain even remotely resembling it. it is a perfect type of the lunar crater. like most of them, it shows that the peculiar formation of the moon's surface is due, first, to the cooling of the lunar crust; secondly, to the cracking from internal pressure; and, thirdly, to the violent volcanic action in consequence. this must have been of a far fiercer nature than it has ever been with us. the matter was ejected to a vast height till great mountains were formed; and still the action went on, until at last the floor of the crater sank to a depth far lower than the level of the external plain." "you may be right," said ardan by way of reply; "as for me, i'm looking out for another city. but i'm sorry to say that our projectile is increasing its distance so fast that, even if one lay at my feet at this moment, i doubt very much if i could see it a bit better than either you or the captain." _newton_ was soon passed, and the projectile followed a course that took it directly over the ring mountain _moretus_. a little to the west the travellers could easily distinguish the summits of _blancanus_, 7,000 feet high, and, towards seven o'clock in the evening, they were approaching the neighborhood of _clavius_. this walled-plain, one of the most remarkable on the moon, lies 55° s. by 15° e. its height is estimated at 16,000 feet, but it is considered to be about a hundred and fifty miles in diameter. of this vast crater, the travellers now at a distance of 250 miles, reduced to 2-1/2 by their telescopes, had a magnificent bird's-eye view. "our terrestrial volcanoes," said barbican, "as you can now readily judge for yourselves, are no more than molehills when compared with those of the moon. measure the old craters formed by the early eruptions of vesuvius and ætna, and you will find them little more than three miles in diameter. the crater of cantal in central france is only about six miles in width; the famous valley in ceylon, called the _crater_, though not at all due to volcanic action, is 44 miles across and is considered to be the greatest in the world. but even this is very little in comparison to the diameter of _clavius_ lying beneath us at the present moment." "how much is its diameter?" asked the captain. "at least one hundred and forty-two miles," replied barbican; "it is probably the greatest in the moon, but many others measure more than a hundred miles across." "dear boys," said ardan, half to himself, half to the others, "only imagine the delicious state of things on the surface of the gentle moon when these craters, brimming over with hissing lava, were vomiting forth, all at the same time, showers of melted stones, clouds of blinding smoke, and sheets of blasting flame! what an intensely overpowering spectacle was here presented once, but now, how are the mighty fallen! our moon, as at present beheld, seems to be nothing more than the skinny spectre left after a brilliant display of fireworks, when the spluttering crackers, the glittering wheels, the hissing serpents, the revolving suns, and the dazzling stars, are all 'played out', and nothing remains to tell of the gorgeous spectacle but a few blackened sticks and half a dozen half burned bits of pasteboard. i should like to hear one of you trying to explain the cause, the reason, the principle, the philosophy of such tremendous cataclysms!" barbican's only reply was a series of nods, for in truth he had not heard a single word of ardan's philosophic explosion. his ears were with his eyes, and these were obstinately bent on the gigantic ramparts of _clavius_, formed of concentric mountain ridges, which were actually leagues in depth. on the floor of the vast cavity, could be seen hundreds of smaller craters, mottling it like a skimming dish, and pierced here and there by sharp peaks, one of which could hardly be less than 15,000 feet high. all around, the plain was desolate in the extreme. you could not conceive how anything could be barrener than these serrated outlines, or gloomier than these shattered mountains--until you looked at the plain that encircled them. ardan hardly exaggerated when he called it the scene of a battle fought thousands of years ago but still white with the hideous bones of overthrown peaks, slaughtered mountains and mutilated precipices! "hills amid the air encountered hills, hurled to and fro in jaculation dire," murmured m'nicholl, who could quote you milton quite as readily as the bible. "this must have been the spot," muttered barbican to himself, "where the brittle shell of the cooling sphere, being thicker than usual, offered greater resistance to an eruption of the red-hot nucleus. hence these piled up buttresses, and these orderless heaps of consolidated lava and ejected scoriæ." the projectile advanced, but the scene of desolation seemed to remain unchanged. craters, ring mountains, pitted plateaus dotted with shapeless wrecks, succeeded each other without interruption. for level plain, for dark "sea," for smooth plateau, the eye here sought in vain. it was a swiss greenland, an icelandic norway, a sahara of shattered crust studded with countless hills of glassy lava. at last, in the very centre of this blistered region, right too at its very culmination, the travellers came on the brightest and most remarkable mountain of the moon. in the dazzling _tycho_ they found it an easy matter to recognize the famous lunar point, which the world will for ever designate by the name of the distinguished astronomer of denmark. this brilliant luminosity of the southern hemisphere, no one that ever gazes at the full moon in a cloudless sky, can help noticing. ardan, who had always particularly admired it, now hailed it as an old friend, and almost exhausted breath, imagination and vocabulary in the epithets with which he greeted this cynosure of the lunar mountains. "hail!" he cried, "thou blazing focus of glittering streaks, thou coruscating nucleus of irradiation, thou starting point of rays divergent, thou egress of meteoric flashes! hub of the silver wheel that ever rolls in silent majesty over the starry plains of night! paragon of jewels enchased in a carcanet of dazzling brilliants! eye of the universe, beaming with heavenly resplendescence! "who shall say what thou art? diana's nimbus? the golden clasp of her floating robes? the blazing head of the great bolt that rivets the lunar hemispheres in union inseverable? or cans't thou have been some errant bolide, which missing its way, butted blindly against the lunar face, and there stuck fast, like a minie ball mashed against a cast-iron target? alas! nobody knows. not even barbican is able to penetrate thy mystery. but one thing _i_ know. thy dazzling glare so sore my eyes hath made that longer on thy light to gaze i do not dare. captain, have you any smoked glass?" in spite of this anti-climax, ardan's companions could hardly consider his utterings either as ridiculous or over enthusiastic. they could easily excuse his excitement on the subject. and so could we, if we only remember that _tycho_, though nearly a quarter of a million miles distant, is such a luminous point on the lunar disc, that almost any moonlit night it can be easily perceived by the unaided terrestrial eye. what then must have been its splendor in the eyes of our travellers whose telescopes brought it actually four thousand times nearer! no wonder that with smoked glasses, they endeavored to soften off its effulgent glare! then in hushed silence, or at most uttering at intervals a few interjections expressive of their intense admiration, they remained for some time completely engrossed in the overwhelming spectacle. for the time being, every sentiment, impression, thought, feeling on their part, was concentrated in the eye, just as at other times under violent excitement every throb of our life is concentrated in the heart. _tycho_ belongs to the system of lunar craters that is called _radiating_, like _aristarchus_ or _copernicus_, which had been already seen and highly admired by our travellers at their first approach to the moon. but it is decidedly the most remarkable and conspicuous of them all. it occupies the great focus of disruption, whence it sends out great streaks thousands of miles in length; and it gives the most unmistakable evidence of the terribly eruptive nature of those forces that once shattered the moon's solidified shell in this portion of the lunar surface. situated in the southern latitude of 43° by an eastern longitude of 12°, _tycho's_ crater, somewhat elliptical in shape, is 54 miles in diameter and upwards of 16,000 feet in depth. its lofty ramparts are buttressed by other mountains, mont blancs in size, all grouped around it, and all streaked with the great divergent fissures that radiate from it as a centre. of what this incomparable mountain really is, with all these lines of projections converging towards it and with all these prominent points of relief protruding within its crater, photography has, so far, been able to give us only a very unsatisfactory idea. the reason too is very simple: it is only at full moon that _tycho_ reveals himself in all his splendor. the shadows therefore vanishing, the perspective foreshortenings disappear and the views become little better than a dead blank. this is the more to be regretted as this wonderful region is well worthy of being represented with the greatest possible photographic accuracy. it is a vast agglomeration of holes, craters, ring formations, a complicated intersection of crests--in short, a distracting volcanic network flung over the blistered soil. the ebullitions of the central eruption still evidently preserve their original form. as they first appeared, so they lie. crystallizing as they cooled, they have stereotyped in imperishable characters the aspect formerly presented by the whole moon's surface under the influences of recent plutonic upheaval. our travellers were far more fortunate than the photographers. the distance separating them from the peaks of _tycho's_ concentric terraces was not so considerable as to conceal the principal details from a very satisfactory view. they could easily distinguish the annular ramparts of the external circumvallation, the mountains buttressing the gigantic walls internally as well as externally, the vast esplanades descending irregularly and abruptly to the sunken plains all around. they could even detect a difference of a few hundred feet in altitude in favor of the western or right hand side over the eastern. they could also see that these dividing ridges were actually inaccessible and completely unsurmountable, at least by ordinary terrestrian efforts. no system of castrametation ever devised by polybius or vauban could bear the slightest comparison with such vast fortifications, a city built on the floor of the circular cavity could be no more reached by the outside lunarians than if it had been built in the planet mars. this idea set ardan off again. "yes," said he, "such a city would be at once completely inaccessible, and still not inconveniently situated in a plateau full of aspects decidedly picturesque. even in the depths of this immense crater, nature, as you can see, has left no flat and empty void. you can easily trace its special oreography, its various mountain systems which turn it into a regular world on a small scale. notice its cones, its central hills, its valleys, its substructures already cut and dry and therefore quietly prepared to receive the masterpieces of selenite architecture. down there to the left is a lovely spot for a saint peter's; to the right, a magnificent site for a forum; here a louvre could be built capable of entrancing michael angelo himself; there a citadel could be raised to which even gibraltar would be a molehill! in the middle rises a sharp peak which can hardly be less than a mile in height--a grand pedestal for the statue of some selenite vincent de paul or george washington. and around them all is a mighty mountain-ring at least 3 miles high, but which, to an eye looking from the centre of our vast city, could not appear to be more than five or six hundred feet. enormous circus, where mighty rome herself in her palmiest days, though increased tenfold, would have no reason to complain for want of room!" he stopped for a few seconds, perhaps to take breath, and then resumed: "oh what an abode of serene happiness could be constructed within this shadow-fringed ring of the mighty mountains! o blessed refuge, unassailable by aught of human ills! what a calm unruffled life could be enjoyed within thy hallowed precincts, even by those cynics, those haters of humanity, those disgusted reconstructors of society, those misanthropes and misogynists old and young, who are continually writing whining verses in odd corners of the newspapers!" "right at last, ardan, my boy!" cried m'nicholl, quietly rubbing the glass of his spectacles; "i should like to see the whole lot of them carted in there without a moment's delay!" "it couldn't hold the half of them!" observed barbican drily. [footnote d: baltimore gun club, pp. 295 _et seq._] chapter xviii. puzzling questions. it was not until the projectile had passed a little beyond _tycho's_ immense concavity that barbican and his friends had a good opportunity for observing the brilliant streaks sent so wonderfully flying in all directions from this celebrated mountain as a common centre. they examined them for some time with the closest attention. what could be the nature of this radiating aureola? by what geological phenomena could this blazing coma have been possibly produced? such questions were the most natural things in the world for barbican and his companions to propound to themselves, as indeed they have been to every astronomer from the beginning of time, and probably will be to the end. what _did_ they see? what you can see, what anybody can see on a clear night when the moon is full--only our friends had all the advantages of a closer view. from _tycho_, as a focus, radiated in all directions, as from the head of a peeled orange, more than a hundred luminous streaks or channels, edges raised, middle depressed--or perhaps _vice versa_, owing to an optical illusion--some at least twelve miles wide, some fully thirty. in certain directions they ran for a distance of at least six hundred miles, and seemed--especially towards the west, northwest, and north--to cover half the southern hemisphere. one of these flashes extended as far as _neander_ on the 40th meridian; another, curving around so as to furrow the _mare nectaris_, came to an end on the chain of the _pyrenees_, after a course of perhaps a little more than seven hundred miles. on the east, some of them barred with luminous network the _mare nubium_ and even the _mare humorum_. the most puzzling feature of these glittering streaks was that they ran their course directly onward, apparently neither obstructed by valley, crater, or mountain ridge however high. they all started, as said before, from one common focus, _tycho's_ crater. from this they certainly all seemed to emanate. could they be rivers of lava once vomited from that centre by resistless volcanic agency and afterwards crystallized into glassy rock? this idea of herschel's, barbican had no hesitation in qualifying as exceedingly absurd. rivers running in perfectly straight lines, across plains, and _up_ as well as _down_ mountains! "other astronomers," he continued, "have looked on these streaks as a peculiar kind of _moraines_, that is, long lines of erratic blocks belched forth with mighty power at the period of _tycho's_ own upheaval." "how do you like that theory, barbican," asked the captain. "it's not a particle better than herschel's," was the reply; "no volcanic action could project rocks to a distance of six or seven hundred miles, not to talk of laying them down so regularly that we can't detect a break in them." "happy thought!" cried ardan suddenly; "it seems to me that i can tell the cause of these radiating streaks!" "let us hear it," said barbican. "certainly," was ardan's reply; "these streaks are all only the parts of what we call a 'star,' as made by a stone striking ice; or by a ball, a pane of glass." "not bad," smiled barbican approvingly; "only where is the hand that flung the stone or threw the ball?" "the hand is hardly necessary," replied ardan, by no means disconcerted; "but as for the ball, what do you say to a comet?" here m'nicholl laughed so loud that ardan was seriously irritated. however, before he could say anything cutting enough to make the captain mind his manners, barbican had quickly resumed: "dear friend, let the comets alone, i beg of you; the old astronomers fled to them on all occasions and made them explain every difficulty--" --"the comets were all used up long ago--" interrupted m'nicholl. --"yes," went on barbican, as serenely as a judge, "comets, they said, had fallen on the surface in meteoric showers and crushed in the crater cavities; comets had dried up the water; comets had whisked off the atmosphere; comets had done everything. all pure assumption! in your case, however, friend michael, no comet whatever is necessary. the shock that gave rise to your great 'star' may have come from the interior rather than the exterior. a violent contraction of the lunar crust in the process of cooling may have given birth to your gigantic 'star' formation." "i accept the amendment," said ardan, now in the best of humor and looking triumphantly at m'nicholl. "an english scientist," continued barbican, "nasmyth by name, is decidedly of your opinion, especially ever since a little experiment of his own has confirmed him in it. he filled a glass globe with water, hermetically sealed it, and then plunged it into a hot bath. the enclosed water, expanding at a greater rate than the glass, burst the latter, but, in doing so, it made a vast number of cracks all diverging in every direction from the focus of disruption. something like this he conceives to have taken place around _tycho_. as the crust cooled, it cracked. the lava from the interior, oozing out, spread itself on both sides of the cracks. this certainly explains pretty satisfactorily why those flat glistening streaks are of much greater width than the fissures through which the lava had at first made its way to the surface." "well done for an englishman!" cried ardan in great spirits. "he's no englishman," said m'nicholl, glad to have an opportunity of coming off with some credit. "he is the famous scotch engineer who invented the steam hammer, the steam ram, and discovered the 'willow leaves' in the sun's disc." "better and better," said ardan--"but, powers of vulcan! what makes it so hot? i'm actually roasting!" this observation was hardly necessary to make his companions conscious that by this time they felt extremely uncomfortable. the heat had become quite oppressive. between the natural caloric of the sun and the reflected caloric of the moon, the projectile was fast turning into a regular bake oven. this transition from intense cold to intense heat was already about quite as much as they could bear. "what shall we do, barbican?" asked ardan, seeing that for some time no one else appeared inclined to say a word. "nothing, at least yet awhile, friend ardan," replied barbican, "i have been watching the thermometer carefully for the last few minutes, and, though we are at present at 38° centigrade, or 100° fahrenheit, i have noticed that the mercury is slowly falling. you can also easily remark for yourself that the floor of the projectile is turning away more and more from the lunar surface. from this i conclude quite confidently, and i see that the captain agrees with me, that all danger of death from intense heat, though decidedly alarming ten minutes ago, is over for the present and, for some time at least, it may be dismissed from further consideration." "i'm not very sorry for it," said ardan cheerfully; "neither to be baked like a pie in an oven nor roasted like a fat goose before a fire is the kind of death i should like to die of." "yet from such a death you would suffer no more than your friends the selenites are exposed to every day of their lives," said the captain, evidently determined on getting up an argument. "i understand the full bearing of your allusion, my dear captain," replied ardan quickly, but not at all in a tone showing that he was disposed to second m'nicholl's expectations. he was, in fact, fast losing all his old habits of positivism. latterly he had seen much, but he had reflected more. the deeper he had reflected, the more inclined he had become to accept the conclusion that the less he knew. hence he had decided that if m'nicholl wanted an argument it should not be with him. all speculative disputes he should henceforth avoid; he would listen with pleasure to all that could be urged on each side; he might even skirmish a little here and there as the spirit moved him; but a regular pitched battle on a subject purely speculative he was fully determined never again to enter into. "yes, dear captain," he continued, "that pointed arrow of yours has by no means missed its mark, but i can't deny that my faith is beginning to be what you call a little 'shaky' in the existence of my friends the selenites. however, i should like to have your square opinion on the matter. barbican's also. we have witnessed many strange lunar phenomena lately, closer and clearer than mortal eye ever rested on them before. has what we have seen confirmed any theory of yours or confounded any hypothesis? have you seen enough to induce you to adopt decided conclusions? i will put the question formally. do you, or do you not, think that the moon resembles the earth in being the abode of animals and intelligent beings? come, answer, _messieurs_. yes, or no?" "i think we can answer your question categorically," replied barbican, "if you modify its form a little." "put the question any way you please," said ardan; "only you answer it! i'm not particular about the form." "good," said barbican; "the question, being a double one, demands a double answer. first: _is the moon inhabitable?_ second: _has the moon ever been inhabited?_" "that's the way to go about it," said the captain. "now then, ardan, what do _you_ say to the first question? yes, or no?" "i really can't say anything," replied ardan. "in the presence of such distinguished scientists, i'm only a listener, a 'mere looker on in vienna' as the divine williams has it. however, for the sake of argument, suppose i reply in the affirmative, and say that _the moon is inhabitable_." "if you do, i shall most unhesitatingly contradict you," said barbican, feeling just then in splendid humor for carrying on an argument, not, of course, for the sake of contradicting or conquering or crushing or showing off or for any other vulgar weakness of lower minds, but for the noble and indeed the only motive that should impel a philosopher--that of _enlightening_ and _convincing_, "in taking the negative side, however, or saying that the moon is not inhabitable, i shall not be satisfied with merely negative arguments. many words, however, are not required. look at her present condition: her atmosphere dwindled away to the lowest ebb; her 'seas' dried up or very nearly so; her waters reduced to next to nothing; her vegetation, if existing at all, existing only on the scantiest scale; her transitions from intense heat to intense cold, as we ourselves can testify, sudden in the extreme; her nights and her days each nearly 360 hours long. with all this positively against her and nothing at all that we know of positively for her, i have very little hesitation in saying that the moon appears to me to be absolutely uninhabitable. she seems to me not only unpropitious to the development of the animal kingdom but actually incapable of sustaining life at all--that is, in the sense that we usually attach to such a term." "that saving clause is well introduced, friend barbican," said m'nicholl, who, seeing no chance of demolishing ardan, had not yet made up his mind as to having another little bout with the president. "for surely you would not venture to assert that the moon is uninhabitable by a race of beings having an organization different from ours?" "that question too, captain," replied barbican, "though a much more difficult one, i shall try to answer. first, however, let us see, captain, if we agree on some fundamental points. how do we detect the existence of life? is it not by _movement_? is not _motion_ its result, no matter what may be its organization?" "well," said the captain in a drawling way, "i guess we may grant that." "then, dear friends," resumed barbican, "i must remind you that, though we have had the privilege of observing the lunar continents at a distance of not more than one-third of a mile, we have never yet caught sight of the first thing moving on her surface. the presence of humanity, even of the lowest type, would have revealed itself in some form or other, by boundaries, by buildings, even by ruins. now what _have_ we seen? everywhere and always, the geological works of _nature_; nowhere and never, the orderly labors of _man_. therefore, if any representatives of animal life exist in the moon, they must have taken refuge in those bottomless abysses where our eyes were unable to track them. and even this i can't admit. they could not always remain in these cavities. if there is any atmosphere at all in the moon, it must be found in her immense low-lying plains. over those plains her inhabitants must have often passed, and on those plains they must in some way or other have left some mark, some trace, some vestige of their existence, were it even only a road. but you both know well that nowhere are any such traces visible: therefore, they don't exist; therefore, no lunar inhabitants exist--except, of course, such a race of beings, if we can imagine any such, as could exist without revealing their existence by _movement_." "that is to say," broke in ardan, to give what he conceived a sharper point to barbican's cogent arguments, "such a race of beings as could exist without existing!" "precisely," said barbican: "life without movement, and no life at all, are equivalent expressions." "captain," said ardan, with all the gravity he could assume, "have you anything more to say before the moderator of our little debating society gives his opinion on the arguments regarding the question before the house?" "no more at present," said the captain, biding his time. "then," resumed ardan, rising with much dignity, "the committee on lunar explorations, appointed by the honorable baltimore gun club, solemnly assembled in the projectile belonging to the aforesaid learned and respectable society, having carefully weighed all the arguments advanced on each side of the question, and having also carefully considered all the new facts bearing on the case that have lately come under the personal notice of said committee, unanimously decides negatively on the question now before the chair for investigation--namely, 'is the moon inhabitable?' barbican, as chairman of the committee, i empower you to duly record our solemn decision--_no, the moon is not inhabitable_." barbican, opening his note-book, made the proper entry among the minutes of the meeting of december 6th. "now then, gentlemen," continued ardan, "if you are ready for the second question, the necessary complement of the first, we may as well approach it at once. i propound it for discussion in the following form: _has the moon ever been inhabited?_ captain, the committee would be delighted to hear your remarks on the subject." "gentlemen," began the captain in reply, "i had formed my opinion regarding the ancient inhabitability of our satellite long before i ever dreamed of testing my theory by anything like our present journey. i will now add that all our observations, so far made, have only served to confirm me in my opinion. i now venture to assert, not only with every kind of probability in my favor but also on what i consider most excellent arguments, that the moon was once inhabited by a race of beings possessing an organization similar to our own, that she once produced animals anatomically resembling our terrestrial animals, and that all these living organizations, human and animal, have had their day, that that day vanished ages and ages ago, and that, consequently, _life_, extinguished forever, can never again reveal its existence there under any form." "is the chair," asked ardan, "to infer from the honorable gentleman's observations that he considers the moon to be a world much older than the earth?" "not exactly that," replied the captain without hesitation; "i rather mean to say that the moon is a world that grew old more rapidly than the earth; that it came to maturity earlier; that it ripened quicker, and was stricken with old age sooner. owing to the difference of the volumes of the two worlds, the organizing forces of matter must have been comparatively much more violent in the interior of the moon than in the interior of the earth. the present condition of its surface, as we see it lying there beneath us at this moment, places this assertion beyond all possibility of doubt. wrinkled, pitted, knotted, furrowed, scarred, nothing that we can show on earth resembles it. moon and earth were called into existence by the creator probably at the same period of time. in the first stages of their existence, they do not seem to have been anything better than masses of gas. acted upon by various forces and various influences, all of course directed by an omnipotent intelligence, these gases by degrees became liquid, and the liquids grew condensed into solids until solidity could retain its shape. but the two heavenly bodies, though starting at the same time, developed at a very different ratio. most undoubtedly, our globe was still gaseous or at most only liquid, at the period when the moon, already hardened by cooling, began to become inhabitable." "_most undoubtedly_ is good!" observed ardan admiringly. "at this period," continued the learned captain, "an atmosphere surrounded her. the waters, shut in by this gaseous envelope, could no longer evaporate. under the combined influences of air, water, light, and solar heat as well as internal heat, vegetation began to overspread the continents by this time ready to receive it, and most undoubtedly--i mean--a--incontestably--it was at this epoch that _life_ manifested itself on the lunar surface. i say _incontestably_ advisedly, for nature never exhausts herself in producing useless things, and therefore a world, so wonderfully inhabitable, _must_ of necessity have had inhabitants." "i like _of necessity_ too," said ardan, who could never keep still; "i always did, when i felt my arguments to be what you call a little shaky." "but, my dear captain," here observed barbican, "have you taken into consideration some of the peculiarities of our satellite which are decidedly opposed to the development of vegetable and animal existence? those nights and days, for instance, 354 hours long?" "i have considered them all," answered the brave captain. "days and nights of such an enormous length would at the present time, i grant, give rise to variations in temperature altogether intolerable to any ordinary organization. but things were quite different in the era alluded to. at that time, the atmosphere enveloped the moon in a gaseous mantle, and the vapors took the shape of clouds. by the screen thus formed by the hand of nature, the heat of the solar rays was tempered and the nocturnal radiation retarded. light too, as well as heat, could be modified, tempered, and _genialized_ if i may use the expression, by the air. this produced a healthy counterpoise of forces, which, now that the atmosphere has completely disappeared, of course exists no longer. besides--friend ardan, you will excuse me for telling you something new, something that will surprise you--" --"surprise me, my dear boy, fire away surprising me!" cried ardan. "i like dearly to be surprised. all i regret is that you scientists have surprised me so much already that i shall never have a good, hearty, genuine surprise again!" --"i am most firmly convinced," continued the captain, hardly waiting for ardan to finish, "that, at the period of the moon's occupancy by living creatures, her days and nights were by no means 354 hours long." "well! if anything could surprise me," said ardan quickly, "such an assertion as that most certainly would. on what does the honorable gentleman base his _most firm conviction_?" "we know," replied the captain, "that the reason of the moon's present long day and night is the exact equality of the periods of her rotation on her axis and of her revolution around the earth. when she has turned once around the earth, she has turned once around herself. consequently, her back is turned to the sun during one-half of the month; and her face during the other half. now, i don't believe that this state of things existed at the period referred to." "the gentleman does not believe!" exclaimed ardan. "the chair must be excused for reminding the honorable gentleman that it can not accept his incredulity as a sound and valid argument. these two movements have certainly equal periods now; why not always?" "for the simple reason that this equality of periods is due altogether to the influence of terrestrial attraction," replied the ready captain. "this attraction at present, i grant, is so great that it actually disables the moon from revolving on herself; consequently she must always keep the same face turned towards the earth. but who can assert that this attraction was powerful enough to exert the same influence at the epoch when the earth herself was only a fluid substance? in fact, who can even assert that the moon has always been the earth's satellite?" "ah, who indeed?" exclaimed ardan. "and who can assert that the moon did not exist long before the earth was called into being at all? in fact, who can assert that the earth itself is not a great piece broken off the moon? nothing like asking absurd questions! i've often found them passing for the best kind of arguments!" "friend ardan," interposed barbican, who noticed that the captain was a little too disconcerted to give a ready reply; "friend ardan, i must say you are not quite wrong in showing how certain methods of reasoning, legitimate enough in themselves, may be easily abused by being carried too far. i think, however, that the captain might maintain his position without having recourse to speculations altogether too gigantic for ordinary intellect. by simply admitting the insufficiency of the primordeal attraction to preserve a perfect balance between the movements of the lunar rotation and revolution, we can easily see how the nights and days could once succeed each other on the moon exactly as they do at present on the earth." "nothing can be clearer!" resumed the brave captain, once more rushing to the charge. "besides, even without this alternation of days and nights, life on the lunar surface was quite possible." "of course it was possible," said ardan; "everything is possible except what contradicts itself. it is possible too that every possibility is a fact; therefore, it _is_ a fact. however," he added, not wishing to press the captain's weak points too closely, "let all these logical niceties pass for the present. now that you have established the existence of your humanity in the moon, the chair would respectfully ask how it has all so completely disappeared?" "it disappeared completely thousands, perhaps millions, of years ago," replied the unabashed captain. "it perished from the physical impossibility of living any longer in a world where the atmosphere had become by degrees too rare to be able to perform its functions as the great resuscitating medium of dependent existences. what took place on the moon is only what is to take place some day or other on the earth, when it is sufficiently cooled off." "cooled off?" "yes," replied the captain as confidently and with as little hesitation as if he was explaining some of the details of his great machine-shop in philadelphia; "you see, according as the internal fire near the surface was extinguished or was withdrawn towards the centre, the lunar shell naturally cooled off. the logical consequences, of course, then gradually took place: extinction of organized beings; and then extinction of vegetation. the atmosphere, in the meantime, became thinner and thinner--partly drawn off with the water evaporated by the terrestrial attraction, and partly sinking with the solid water into the crust-cracks caused by cooling. with the disappearance of air capable of respiration, and of water capable of motion, the moon, of course, became uninhabitable. from that day it became the abode of death, as completely as it is at the present moment." "that is the fate in store for our earth?" "in all probability." "and when is it to befall us?" "just as soon as the crust becomes cold enough to be uninhabitable." "perhaps your philosophership has taken the trouble to calculate how many years it will take our unfortunate _terra mater_ to cool off?" "well; i have." "and you can rely on your figures?" "implicitly." "why not tell it at once then to a fellow that's dying of impatience to know all about it? captain, the chair considers you one of the most tantalizing creatures in existence!" "if you only listen, you will hear," replied m'nicholl quietly. "by careful observations, extended through a series of many years, men have been able to discover the average loss of temperature endured by the earth in a century. taking this as the ground work of their calculations, they have ascertained that our earth shall become an uninhabitable planet in about--" "don't cut her life too short! be merciful!" cried ardan in a pleading tone half in earnest. "come, a good long day, your honor! a good long day!" "the planet that we call the earth," continued the captain, as grave as a judge, "will become uninhabitable to human beings, after a lapse of 400 thousand years from the present time." "hurrah!" cried ardan, much relieved. "_vive la science!_ henceforward, what miscreant will persist in saying that the savants are good for nothing? proudly pointing to this calculation, can't they exclaim to all defamers: 'silence, croakers! our services are invaluable! haven't we insured the earth for 400 thousand years?' again i say _vive la science!_" "ardan," began the captain with some asperity, "the foundations on which science has raised--" "i'm half converted already," interrupted ardan in a cheery tone; "i do really believe that science is not altogether unmitigated homebogue! _vive_--" --"but what has all this to do with the question under discussion?" interrupted barbican, desirous to keep his friends from losing their tempers in idle disputation. "true!" said ardan. "the chair, thankful for being called to order, would respectfully remind the house that the question before it is: _has the moon been inhabited?_ affirmative has been heard. negative is called on to reply. mr. barbican has the _parole_." but mr. barbican was unwilling just then to enter too deeply into such an exceedingly difficult subject. "the probabilities," he contented himself with saying, "would appear to be in favor of the captain's speculations. but we must never forget that they _are_ speculations--nothing more. not the slightest evidence has yet been produced that the moon is anything else than 'a dead and useless waste of extinct volcanoes.' no signs of cities, no signs of buildings, not even of ruins, none of anything that could be reasonably ascribed to the labors of intelligent creatures. no sign of change of any kind has been established. as for the agreement between the moon's rotation and her revolution, which compels her to keep the same face constantly turned towards the earth, we don't know that it has not existed from the beginning. as for what is called the effect of volcanic agency upon her surface, we don't know that her peculiar blistered appearance may not have been brought about altogether by the bubbling and spitting that blisters molten iron when cooling and contracting. some close observers have even ventured to account for her craters by saying they were due to pelting showers of meteoric rain. then again as to her atmosphere--why should she have lost her atmosphere? why should it sink into craters? atmosphere is gas, great in volume, small in matter; where would there be room for it? solidified by the intense cold? possibly in the night time. but would not the heat of the long day be great enough to thaw it back again? the same trouble attends the alleged disappearance of the water. swallowed up in the cavernous cracks, it is said. but why are there cracks? cooling is not always attended by cracking. water cools without cracking; cannon balls cool without cracking. too much stress has been laid on the great difference between the _nucleus_ and the _crust_: it is really impossible to say where one ends and the other begins. in fact, no theory explains satisfactorily anything regarding the present state of the moon's surface. in fact, from the day that galileo compared her clustering craters to 'eyes on a peacock's tail' to the present time, we must acknowledge that we know nothing more than we can actually see, not one particle more of the moon's history than our telescopes reveal to our corporal eyes!" "in the lucid opinion of the honorable and learned gentleman who spoke last," said ardan, "the chair is compelled to concur. therefore, as to the second question before the house for deliberation, _has the moon been ever inhabited?_ the chair gets out of its difficulty, as a scotch jury does when it has not evidence enough either way, by returning a solemn verdict of _not proven!_" "and with this conclusion," said barbican, hastily rising, "of a subject on which, to tell the truth, we are unable as yet to throw any light worth speaking of, let us be satisfied for the present. another question of greater moment to us just now is: where are we? it seems to me that we are increasing our distance from the moon very decidedly and very rapidly." it was easy to see that he was quite right in this observation. the projectile, still following a northerly course and therefore approaching the lunar equator, was certainly getting farther and farther from the moon. even at 30° s., only ten degrees farther north than the latitude of _tycho_, the travellers had considerable difficulty, comparatively, in observing the details of _pitatus_, a walled mountain on the south shores of the _mare nubium_. in the "sea" itself, over which they now floated, they could see very little, but far to the left, on the 20th parallel, they could discern the vast crater of _bullialdus_, 9,000 feet deep. on the right, they had just caught a glimpse of _purbach_, a depressed valley almost square in shape with a round crater in the centre, when ardan suddenly cried out: "a railroad!" and, sure enough, right under them, a little northeast of _purbach_, the travellers easily distinguished a long line straight and black, really not unlike a railroad cutting through a low hilly country. this, barbican explained, was of course no railway, but a steep cliff, at least 1,000 feet high, casting a very deep shadow, and probably the result of the caving in of the surface on the eastern edge. then they saw the immense crater of _arzachel_ and in its midst a cone mountain shining with dazzling splendor. a little north of this, they could detect the outlines of another crater, _alphonse_, at least 70 miles in diameter. close to it they could easily distinguish the immense crater or, as some observers call it, ramparted plain, _ptolemy_, so well known to lunar astronomers, occupying, as it does, such a favorable position near the centre of the moon, and having a diameter fully, in one direction at least, 120 miles long. the travellers were now in about the same latitude as that at which they had at first approached the moon, and it was here that they began most unquestionably to leave her. they looked and looked, readjusting their glasses, but the details were becoming more and more difficult to catch. the reliefs grew more and more blurred and the outlines dimmer and dimmer. even the great mountain profiles began to fade away, the dazzling colors to grow duller, the jet black shadows greyer, and the general effect mistier. at last, the distance had become so great that, of this lunar world so wonderful, so fantastic, so weird, so mysterious, our travellers by degrees lost even the consciousness, and their sensations, lately so vivid, grew fainter and fainter, until finally they resembled those of a man who is suddenly awakened from a peculiarly strange and impressive dream. chapter xix. in every fight, the impossible wins. no matter what we have been accustomed to, it is sad to bid it farewell forever. the glimpse of the moon's wondrous world imparted to barbican and his companions had been, like that of the promised land to moses on mount pisgah, only a distant and a dark one, yet it was with inexpressibly mournful eyes that, silent and thoughtful, they now watched her fading away slowly from their view, the conviction impressing itself deeper and deeper in their souls that, slight as their acquaintance had been, it was never to be renewed again. all doubt on the subject was removed by the position gradually, but decidedly, assumed by the projectile. its base was turning away slowly and steadily from the moon, and pointing surely and unmistakably towards the earth. barbican had been long carefully noticing this modification, but without being able to explain it. that the projectile should withdraw a long distance from the moon and still be her satellite, he could understand; but, being her satellite, why not present towards her its heaviest segment, as the moon does towards the earth? that was the point which he could not readily clear up. by carefully noting its path, he thought he could see that the projectile, though now decidedly leaving the moon, still followed a curve exactly analogous to that by which it had approached her. it must therefore be describing a very elongated ellipse, which might possibly extend even to the neutral point where the lunar and terrestrial attractions were mutually overcome. with this surmise of barbican's, his companions appeared rather disposed to agree, though, of course, it gave rise to new questions. "suppose we reach this dead point," asked ardan; "what then is to become of us?" "can't tell!" was barbican's unsatisfactory reply. "but you can form a few hypotheses?" "yes, two!" "let us have them." "the velocity will be either sufficient to carry us past the dead point, or it will not: sufficient, we shall keep on, just as we are now, gravitating forever around the moon--" --"hypothesis number two will have at least one point in its favor," interrupted as usual the incorrigible ardan; "it can't be worse than hypothesis number one!" --"insufficient," continued barbican, laying down the law, "we shall rest forever motionless on the dead point of the mutually neutralizing attractions." "a pleasant prospect!" observed ardan: "from the worst possible to no better! isn't it, barbican?" "nothing to say," was barbican's only reply. "have you nothing to say either, captain?" asked ardan, beginning to be a little vexed at the apparent apathy of his companions. "nothing whatever," replied m'nicholl, giving point to his words by a despairing shake of his head. "you don't mean surely that we're going to sit here, like bumps on a log, doing nothing until it will be too late to attempt anything?" "nothing whatever can be done," said barbican gloomily. "it is vain to struggle against the impossible." "impossible! where did you get that word? i thought the american schoolboys had cut it out of their dictionaries!" "that must have been since my time," said barbican smiling grimly. "it still sticks in a few old copies anyhow," drawled m'nicholl drily, as he carefully wiped his glasses. "well! it has no business _here_!" said ardan. "what! a pair of live yankees and a frenchman, of the nineteenth century too, recoil before an old fashioned word that hardly scared our grandfathers!" "what can we do?" "correct the movement that's now running away with us!" "correct it?" "certainly, correct it! or modify it! or clap brakes on it! or take some advantage of it that will be in our favor! what matters the exact term so you comprehend me?" "easy talking!" "as easy doing!" "doing what? doing how?" "the what, and the how, is your business, not mine! what kind of an artillery man is he who can't master his bullets? the gunner who cannot command his own gun should be rammed into it head foremost himself and blown from its mouth! a nice pair of savants _you_ are! there you sit as helpless as a couple of babies, after having inveigled me--" "inveigled!!" cried barbican and m'nicholl starting to their feet in an instant; "what!!!" "come, come!" went on ardan, not giving his indignant friends time to utter a syllable; "i don't want any recrimination! i'm not the one to complain! i'll even let up a little if you consider the expression too strong! i'll even withdraw it altogether, and assert that the trip delights me! that the projectile is a thing after my own heart! that i was never in better spirits than at the present moment! i don't complain, i only appeal to your own good sense, and call upon you with all my voice to do everything possible, so that we may go _somewhere_, since it appears we can't get to the moon!" "but that's exactly what we want to do ourselves, friend ardan," said barbican, endeavoring to give an example of calmness to the impatient m'nicholl; "the only trouble is that we have not the means to do it." "can't we modify the projectile's movement?" "no." "nor diminish its velocity?" "no." "not even by lightening it, as a heavily laden ship is lightened, by throwing cargo overboard?" "what can we throw overboard? we have no ballast like balloon-men." "i should like to know," interrupted m'nicholl, "what would be the good of throwing anything at all overboard. any one with a particle of common sense in his head, can see that the lightened projectile should only move the quicker!" "slower, you mean," said ardan. "quicker, i mean," replied the captain. "neither quicker nor slower, dear friends," interposed barbican, desirous to stop a quarrel; "we are floating, you know, in an absolute void, where specific gravity never counts." "well then, my friends," said ardan in a resigned tone that he evidently endeavored to render calm, "since the worst is come to the worst, there is but one thing left for us to do!" "what's that?" said the captain, getting ready to combat some new piece of nonsense. "to take our breakfast!" said the frenchman curtly. it was a resource he had often fallen back on in difficult conjunctures. nor did it fail him now. though it was not a project that claimed to affect either the velocity or the direction of the projectile, still, as it was eminently practicable and not only unattended by no inconvenience on the one hand but evidently fraught with many advantages on the other, it met with decided and instantaneous success. it was rather an early hour for breakfast, two o'clock in the morning, yet the meal was keenly relished. ardan served it up in charming style and crowned the dessert with a few bottles of a wine especially selected for the occasion from his own private stock. it was a _tokay imperial_ of 1863, the genuine _essenz_, from prince esterhazy's own wine cellar, and the best brain stimulant and brain clearer in the world, as every connoisseur knows. it was near four o'clock in the morning when our travellers, now well fortified physically and morally, once more resumed their observations with renewed courage and determination, and with a system of recording really perfect in its arrangements. around the projectile, they could still see floating most of the objects that had been dropped out of the window. this convinced them that, during their revolution around the moon, they had not passed through any atmosphere; had anything of the kind been encountered, it would have revealed its presence by its retarding effect on the different objects that now followed close in the wake of the projectile. one or two that were missing had been probably struck and carried off by a fragment of the exploded bolide. of the earth nothing as yet could be seen. she was only one day old, having been new the previous evening, and two days were still to elapse before her crescent would be sufficiently cleared of the solar rays to be capable of performing her ordinary duty of serving as a time-piece for the selenites. for, as the reflecting reader need hardly be reminded, since she rotates with perfect regularity on her axis, she can make such rotations visible to the selenites by bringing some particular point on her surface once every twenty-four hours directly over the same lunar meridian. towards the moon, the view though far less distinct, was still almost as dazzling as ever. the radiant queen of night still glittered in all her splendor in the midst of the starry host, whose pure white light seemed to borrow only additional purity and silvery whiteness from the gorgeous contrast. on her disc, the "seas" were already beginning to assume the ashy tint so well known to us on earth, but the rest of her surface sparkled with all its former radiation, _tycho_ glowing like a sun in the midst of the general resplendescence. barbican attempted in vain to obtain even a tolerable approximation of the velocity at which the projectile was now moving. he had to content himself with the knowledge that it was diminishing at a uniform rate--of which indeed a little reflection on a well known law of dynamics readily convinced him. he had not much difficulty even in explaining the matter to his friends. "once admitting," said he, "the projectile to describe an orbit round the moon, that orbit must of necessity be an ellipse. every moving body circulating regularly around another, describes an ellipse. science has proved this incontestably. the satellites describe ellipses around the planets, the planets around the sun, the sun himself describes an ellipse around the unknown star that serves as a pivot for our whole solar system. how can our baltimore gun club projectile then escape the universal law? "now what is the consequence of this law? if the orbit were a _circle_, the satellite would always preserve the same distance from its primary, and its velocity should therefore be constant. but the orbit being an _ellipse_, and the attracting body always occupying one of the foci, the satellite must evidently lie nearer to this focus in one part of its orbit than in another. the earth when nearest to the sun, is in her _perihelion_; when most distant, in her _aphelion_. the moon, with regard to the earth, is similarly in her _perigee_, and her _apogee_. analogous expressions denoting the relations of the projectile towards the moon, would be _periselene_ and _aposelene_. at its _aposelene_ the projectile's velocity would have reached its minimum; at the _periselene_, its maximum. as it is to the former point that we are now moving, clearly the velocity must keep on diminishing until that point is reached. then, _if it does not die out altogether_, it must spring up again, and even accelerate as it reapproaches the moon. now the great trouble is this: if the _aposelenetic_ point should coincide with the point of lunar attraction, our velocity must certainly become _nil_, and the projectile must remain relatively motionless forever!" "what do you mean by 'relatively motionless'?" asked m'nicholl, who was carefully studying the situation. "i mean, of course, not absolutely motionless," answered barbican; "absolute immobility is, as you are well aware, altogether impossible, but motionless with regard to the earth and the--" "by mahomet's jackass!" interrupted ardan hastily, "i must say we're a precious set of _imbéciles_!" "i don't deny it, dear friend," said barbican quietly, notwithstanding the unceremonious interruption; "but why do you say so just now?" "because though we are possessed of the power of retarding the velocity that takes us from the moon, we have never thought of employing it!" "what do you mean?" "do you forget the rockets?" "it's a fact!" cried m'nicholl. "how have we forgotten them?" "i'm sure i can't tell," answered barbican, "unless, perhaps, because we had too many other things to think about. your thought, my dear friend, is a most happy one, and, of course, we shall utilize it." "when? how soon?" "at the first favorable opportunity, not sooner. for you can see for yourselves, dear friends," he went on explaining, "that with the present obliquity of the projectile with regard to the lunar disc, a discharge of our rockets would be more likely to send us away from the moon than towards her. of course, you are both still desirous of reaching the moon?" "most emphatically so!" "then by reserving our rockets for the last chance, we may possibly get there after all. in consequence of some force, to me utterly inexplicable, the projectile still seems disposed to turn its base towards the earth. in fact, it is likely enough that at the neutral point its cone will point vertically to the moon. that being the moment when its velocity will most probably be _nil_, it will also be the moment for us to discharge our rockets, and the possibility is that we may force a direct fall on the lunar disc." "good!" cried ardan, clapping hands. "why didn't we execute this grand manoeuvre the first time we reached the neutral point?" asked m'nicholl a little crustily. "it would be useless," answered barbican; "the projectile's velocity at that time, as you no doubt remember, not only did not need rockets, but was actually too great to be affected by them." "true!" chimed in ardan; "a wind of four miles an hour is very little use to a steamer going ten." "that assertion," cried m'nicholl, "i am rather dis--" --"dear friends," interposed barbican, his pale face beaming and his clear voice ringing with the new excitement; "let us just now waste no time in mere words. we have one more chance, perhaps a great one. let us not throw it away! we have been on the brink of despair--" --"beyond it!" cried ardan. --"but i now begin to see a possibility, nay, a very decided probability, of our being able to attain the great end at last!" "bravo!" cried ardan. "hurrah!" cried m'nicholl. "yes! my brave boys!" cried barbican as enthusiastically as his companions; "all's not over yet by a long shot!" what had brought about this great revulsion in the spirits of our bold adventurers? the breakfast? prince esterhazy's tokay? the latter, most probably. what had become of the resolutions they had discussed so ably and passed so decidedly a few hours before? _was the moon inhabited? no! was the moon habitable? no!_ yet in the face of all this--or rather as coolly as if such subjects had never been alluded to--here were the reckless scientists actually thinking of nothing but how to work heaven and earth in order to get there! one question more remained to be answered before they played their last trump, namely: "at what precise moment would the projectile reach the neutral point?" to this barbican had very little trouble in finding an answer. the time spent in proceeding from the south pole to the dead point being evidently equal to the time previously spent in proceeding from the dead point to the north pole--to ascertain the former, he had only to calculate the latter. this was easily done. to refer to his notes, to check off the different rates of velocity at which they had readied the different parallels, and to turn these rates into time, required only a very few minutes careful calculation. the projectile then was to reach the point of neutral attraction at one o'clock in the morning of december 8th. at the present time, it was five o'clock in the morning of the 7th; therefore, if nothing unforeseen should occur in the meantime, their great and final effort was to be made about twenty hours later. the rockets, so often alluded to as an idea of ardan's and already fully described, had been originally provided to break the violence of the projectile's fall on the lunar surface; but now the dauntless travellers were about to employ them for a purpose precisely the reverse. in any case, having been put in proper order for immediate use, nothing more now remained to be done till the moment should come for firing them off. "now then, friends," said m'nicholl, rubbing his eyes but hardly able to keep them open, "i'm not over fond of talking, but this time i think i may offer a slight proposition." "we shall be most happy to entertain it, my dear captain," said barbican. [illustration: ardan gazed on the pair.] "i propose we lie down and take a good nap." "good gracious!" protested ardan; "what next?" "we have not had a blessed wink for forty hours," continued the captain; "a little sleep would recuperate us wonderfully." "no sleep now!" exclaimed ardan. "every man to his taste!" said m'nicholl; "mine at present is certainly to turn in!" and suiting the action to the word, he coiled himself on the sofa, and in a few minutes his deep regular breathing showed his slumber to be as tranquil as an infant's. barbican looked at him in a kindly way, but only for a very short time; his eyes grew so filmy that he could not keep them open any longer. "the captain," he said, "may not be without his little faults, but for good practical sense he is worth a ship-load like you and me, ardan. by jove, i'm going to imitate him, and, friend michael, you might do worse!" in a short time he was as unconscious as the captain. ardan gazed on the pair for a few minutes, and then began to feel quite lonely. even his animals were fast asleep. he tried to look out, but observing without having anybody to listen to your observations, is dull work. he looked again at the sleeping pair, and then he gave in. "it can't be denied," he muttered, slowly nodding his head, "that even your practical men sometimes stumble on a good idea." then curling up his long legs, and folding his arms under his head, his restless brain was soon forming fantastic shapes for itself in the mysterious land of dreams. but his slumbers were too much disturbed to last long. after an uneasy, restless, unrefreshing attempt at repose, he sat up at about half-past seven o'clock, and began stretching himself, when he found his companions already awake and discussing the situation in whispers. the projectile, they were remarking, was still pursuing its way from the moon, and turning its conical point more and more in her direction. this latter phenomenon, though as puzzling as ever, barbican regarded with decided pleasure: the more directly the conical summit pointed to the moon at the exact moment, the more directly towards her surface would the rockets communicate their reactionary motion. nearly seventeen hours, however, were still to elapse before that moment, that all important moment, would arrive. the time began to drag. the excitement produced by the moon's vicinity had died out. our travellers, though as daring and as confident as ever, could not help feeling a certain sinking of heart at the approach of the moment for deciding either alternative of their doom in this world--their fall to the moon, or their eternal imprisonment in a changeless orbit. barbican and m'nicholl tried to kill time by revising their calculations and putting their notes in order; ardan, by feverishly walking back and forth from window to window, and stopping for a second or two to throw a nervous glance at the cold, silent and impassive moon. now and then reminiscences of our lower world would flit across their brains. visions of the famous gun club rose up before them the oftenest, with their dear friend marston always the central figure. what was his bustling, honest, good-natured, impetuous heart at now? most probably he was standing bravely at his post on the rocky mountains, his eye glued to the great telescope, his whole soul peering through its tube. had he seen the projectile before it vanished behind the moon's north pole? could he have caught a glimpse of it at its reappearance? if so, could he have concluded it to be the satellite of a satellite! could belfast have announced to the world such a startling piece of intelligence? was that all the earth was ever to know of their great enterprise? what were the speculations of the scientific world upon the subject? etc., etc. in listless questions and desultory conversation of this kind the day slowly wore away, without the occurrence of any incident whatever to relieve its weary monotony. midnight arrived, december the seventh was dead. as ardan said: "_le sept decembre est mort; vive le huit!_" in one hour more, the neutral point would be reached. at what velocity was the projectile now moving? barbican could not exactly tell, but he felt quite certain that no serious error had slipped into his calculations. at one o'clock that night, _nil_ the velocity was to be, and _nil_ it would be! another phenomenon, in any case, was to mark the arrival of the exact moment. at the dead point, the two attractions, terrestrial and lunar, would again exactly counterbalance each other. for a few seconds, objects would no longer possess the slightest weight. this curious circumstance, which had so much surprised and amused the travellers at its first occurrence, was now to appear again as soon as the conditions should become identical. during these few seconds then would come the moment for striking the decisive blow. they could soon notice the gradual approach of this important instant. objects began to weigh sensibly lighter. the conical point of the projectile had become almost directly under the centre of the lunar surface. this gladdened the hearts of the bold adventurers. the recoil of the rockets losing none of its power by oblique action, the chances pronounced decidedly in their favor. now, only supposing the projectile's velocity to be absolutely annihilated at the dead point, the slightest force directing it towards the moon would be _certain_ to cause it finally to fall on her surface. supposing!--but supposing the contrary! --even these brave adventurers had not the courage to suppose the contrary! "five minutes to one o'clock," said m'nicholl, his eyes never quitting his watch. "ready?" asked barbican of ardan. "ay, ay, sir!" was ardan's reply, as he made sure that the electric apparatus to discharge the rockets was in perfect working order. "wait till i give the word," said barbican, pulling out his chronometer. the moment was now evidently close at hand. the objects lying around had no weight. the travellers felt their bodies to be as buoyant as a hydrogen balloon. barbican let go his chronometer, but it kept its place as firmly in empty space before his eyes as if it had been nailed to the wall! "one o'clock!" cried barbican in a solemn tone. ardan instantly touched the discharging key of the little electric battery. a dull, dead, distant report was immediately heard, communicated probably by the vibration of the projectile to the internal air. but ardan saw through the window a long thin flash, which vanished in a second. at the same moment, the three friends became instantaneously conscious of a slight shock experienced by the projectile. they looked at each other, speechless, breathless, for about as long as it would take you to count five: the silence so intense that they could easily hear the pulsation of their hearts. ardan was the first to break it. "are we falling or are we not?" he asked in a loud whisper. "we're not!" answered m'nicholl, also hardly speaking above his breath. "the base of the projectile is still turned away as far as ever from the moon!" barbican, who had been looking out of the window, now turned hastily towards his companions. his face frightened them. he was deadly pale; his eyes stared, and his lips were painfully contracted. "we _are_ falling!" he shrieked huskily. "towards the moon?" exclaimed his companions. "no!" was the terrible reply. "towards the earth!" "_sacré!_" cried ardan, as usually letting off his excitement in french. "fire and fury!" cried m'nicholl, completely startled out of his habitual _sang froid_. "thunder and lightning!" swore the usually serene barbican, now completely stunned by the blow. "i had never expected this!" ardan was the first to recover from the deadening shock: his levity came to his relief. "first impressions are always right," he muttered philosophically. "the moment i set eyes on the confounded thing, it reminded me of the bastille; it is now proving its likeness to a worse place: easy enough to get into, but no redemption out of it!" there was no longer any doubt possible on the subject. the terrible fall had begun. the projectile had retained velocity enough not only to carry it beyond the dead point, but it was even able to completely overcome the feeble resistance offered by the rockets. it was all clear now. the same velocity that had carried the projectile beyond the neutral point on its way to the moon, was still swaying it on its return to the earth. a well known law of motion required that, in the path which it was now about to describe, _it should repass, on its return through all the points through which it had already passed during its departure_. no wonder that our friends were struck almost senseless when the fearful fall they were now about to encounter, flashed upon them in all its horror. they were to fall a clear distance of nearly 200 thousand miles! to lighten or counteract such a descent, the most powerful springs, checks, rockets, screens, deadeners, even if the whole earth were engaged in their construction--would produce no more effect than so many spiderwebs. according to a simple law in ballistics, _the projectile was to strike the earth with a velocity equal to that by which it had been animated when issuing from the mouth of the columbiad_--a velocity of at least seven miles a second! to have even a faint idea of this enormous velocity, let us make a little comparison. a body falling from the summit of a steeple a hundred and fifty feet high, dashes against the pavement with a velocity of fifty five miles an hour. falling from the summit of st. peter's, it strikes the earth at the rate of 300 miles an hour, or five times quicker than the rapidest express train. falling from the neutral point, the projectile should strike the earth with a velocity of more than 25,000 miles an hour! "we are lost!" said m'nicholl gloomily, his philosophy yielding to despair. "one consolation, boys!" cried ardan, genial to the last. "we shall die together!" "if we die," said barbican calmly, but with a kind of suppressed enthusiasm, "it will be only to remove to a more extended sphere of our investigations. in the other world, we can pursue our inquiries under far more favorable auspices. there the wonders of our great creator, clothed in brighter light, shall be brought within a shorter range. we shall require no machine, nor projectile, nor material contrivance of any kind to be enabled to contemplate them in all their grandeur and to appreciate them fully and intelligently. our souls, enlightened by the emanations of the eternal wisdom, shall revel forever in the blessed rays of eternal knowledge!" "a grand view to take of it, dear friend barbican;" replied ardan, "and a consoling one too. the privilege of roaming at will through god's great universe should make ample amends for missing the moon!" m'nicholl fixed his eyes on barbican admiringly, feebly muttering with hardly moving lips: "grit to the marrow! grit to the marrow!" barbican, head bowed in reverence, arms folded across his breast, meekly and uncomplainingly uttered with sublime resignation: "thy will be done!" "amen!" answered his companions, in a loud and fervent whisper. * * * * * they were soon falling through the boundless regions of space with inconceivable rapidity! chapter xx. off the pacific coast. "well, lieutenant, how goes the sounding?" "pretty lively, captain; we're nearly through;" replied the lieutenant. "but it's a tremendous depth so near land. we can't be more than 250 miles from the california coast." "the depression certainly is far deeper than i had expected," observed captain bloomsbury. "we have probably lit on a submarine valley channelled out by the japanese current." "the japanese current, captain?" "certainly; that branch of it which breaks on the western shores of north america and then flows southeast towards the isthmus of panama." "that may account for it, captain," replied young brownson; "at least, i hope it does, for then we may expect the valley to get shallower as we leave the land. so far, there's no sign of a telegraphic plateau in this quarter of the globe." "probably not, brownson. how is the line now?" "we have paid out 3500 fathoms already, captain, but, judging from the rate the reel goes at, we are still some distance from bottom." as he spoke, he pointed to a tall derrick temporarily rigged up at the stern of the vessel for the purpose of working the sounding apparatus, and surrounded by a group of busy men. through a block pulley strongly lashed to the derrick, a stout cord of the best italian hemp, wound off a large reel placed amidships, was now running rapidly and with a slight whirring noise. "i hope it's not the 'cup-lead' you are using, brownson?" said the captain, after a few minutes observation. "oh no, captain, certainly not," replied the lieutenant. "it's only brooke's apparatus that is of any use in such depths." "clever fellow that brooke," observed the captain; "served with him under maury. his detachment of the weight is really the starting point for every new improvement in sounding gear. the english, the french, and even our own, are nothing but modifications of that fundamental principle. exceedingly clever fellow!" "bottom!" sang out one of the men standing near the derrick and watching the operations. the captain and the lieutenant immediately advanced to question him. "what's the depth, coleman?" asked the lieutenant. "21,762 feet," was the prompt reply, which brownson immediately inscribed in his note-book, handing a duplicate to the captain. "all right, lieutenant," observed the captain, after a moment's inspection of the figures. "while i enter it in the log, you haul the line aboard. to do so, i need hardly remind you, is a task involving care and patience. in spite of all our gallant little donkey engine can do, it's a six hours job at least. meanwhile, the chief engineer had better give orders for firing up, so that we may be ready to start as soon as you're through. it's now close on to four bells, and with your permission i shall turn in. let me be called at three. good night!" "goodnight, captain!" replied brownson, who spent the next two hours pacing backward and forward on the quarter deck, watching the hauling in of the sounding line, and occasionally casting a glance towards all quarters of the sky. it was a glorious night. the innumerable stars glittered with the brilliancy of the purest gems. the ship, hove to in order to take the soundings, swung gently on the faintly heaving ocean breast. you felt you were in a tropical clime, for, though no breath fanned your cheek, your senses easily detected the delicious odor of a distant garden of sweet roses. the sea sparkled with phosphorescence. not a sound was heard except the panting of the hard-worked little donkey-engine and the whirr of the line as it came up taut and dripping from the ocean depths. the lamp, hanging from the mast, threw a bright glare on deck, presenting the strongest contrast with the black shadows, firm and motionless as marble. the 11th day of december was now near its last hour. the steamer was the _susquehanna_, a screw, of the united states navy, 4,000 in tonnage, and carrying 20 guns. she had been detached to take soundings between the pacific coast and the sandwich islands, the initiatory movement towards laying down an ocean cable, which the _pacific cable company_ contemplated finally extending to china. she lay just now a few hundred miles directly south of san diego, an old spanish town in southwestern california, and the point which is expected to be the terminus of the great _texas and pacific railroad_. the captain, john bloomsbury by name, but better known as 'high-low jack' from his great love of that game--the only one he was ever known to play--was a near relation of our old friend colonel bloomsbury of the baltimore gun club. of a good kentucky family, and educated at annapolis, he had passed his meridian without ever being heard of, when suddenly the news that he had run the gauntlet in a little gunboat past the terrible batteries of island number ten, amidst a perfect storm of shell, grape and canister discharged at less than a hundred yards distance, burst on the american nation on the sixth of april, 1862, and inscribed his name at once in deep characters on the list of the giants of the great war. but war had never been his vocation. with the return of peace, he had sought and obtained employment on the western coast survey, where every thing he did he looked on as a labor of love. the sounding expedition he had particularly coveted, and, once entered upon it, he discharged his duties with characteristic energy. he could not have had more favorable weather than the present for a successful performance of the nice and delicate investigations of sounding. his vessel had even been fortunate enough to have lain altogether out of the track of the terrible wind storm already alluded to, which, starting from somewhere southwest of the sierra madre, had swept away every vestige of mist from the summits of the rocky mountains and, by revealing the moon in all her splendor, had enabled belfast to send the famous despatch announcing that he had seen the projectile. every feature of the expedition was, in fact, advancing so favorably that the captain expected to be able, in a month or two, to submit to the _p.c. company_ a most satisfactory report of his labors. cyrus w. field, the life and soul of the whole enterprise, flushed with honors still in full bloom (the atlantic telegraph cable having been just laid), could congratulate himself with good reason on having found a treasure in the captain. high-low jack was the congenial spirit by whose active and intelligent aid he promised himself the pleasure of seeing before long the whole pacific ocean covered with a vast reticulation of electric cables. the practical part, therefore, being in such safe hands, mr. field could remain with a quiet conscience in washington, new york or london, seeing after the financial part of the grand undertaking, worthy of the nineteenth century, worthy of the great republic, and eminently worthy of the illustrious cyrus w. himself! as already mentioned, the _susquehanna_ lay a few hundred miles south of san diego, or, to be more accurate, in 27° 7' north latitude and 118° 37' west longitude (greenwich). it was now a little past midnight. the moon, in her last quarter, was just beginning to peep over the eastern horizon. lieutenant brownson, leaving the quarter deck, had gone to the forecastle, where he found a crowd of officers talking together earnestly and directing their glasses towards her disc. even here, out on the ocean, the queen of the night, was as great an object of attraction as on the north american continent generally, where, that very night and that very hour, at least 40 million pairs of eyes were anxiously gazing at her. apparently forgetful that even the very best of their glasses could no more see the projectile than angulate sirius, the officers held them fast to their eyes for five minutes at a time, and then took them away only to talk with remarkable fluency on what they had not discovered. "any sign of them yet, gentlemen?" asked brownson gaily as he joined the group. "it's now pretty near time for them to put in an appearance. they're gone ten days i should think." "they're there, lieutenant! not a doubt of it!" cried a young midshipman, fresh from annapolis, and of course "throughly posted" in the latest revelations of astronomy. "i feel as certain of their being there as i am of our being here on the forecastle of the _susquehanna_!" "i must agree with you of course, mr. midshipman," replied brownson with a slight smile; "i have no grounds whatever for contradicting you." "neither have i," observed another officer, the surgeon of the vessel. "the projectile was to have reached the moon when at her full, which was at midnight on the 5th. to-day was the 11th. this gives them six days of clear light--time enough in all conscience not only to land safely but to install themselves quite comfortably in their new home. in fact, i see them there already--" "in my mind's eye, horatio!" laughed one of the group. "though the doc wears glasses, he can see more than any ten men on board." --"already"--pursued the doctor, heedless of the interruption. "_scene_, a stony valley near a selenite stream; the projectile on the right, half buried in volcanic _scoriae_, but apparently not much the worse for the wear; ring mountains, craters, sharp peaks, etc. all around; old mac discovered taking observations with his levelling staff; barbican perched on the summit of a sharp pointed rock, writing up his note-book; ardan, eye-glass on nose, hat under arm, legs apart, puffing at his _imperador_, like a--" [illustration: mac discovered taking observations.] --"a locomotive!" interrupted the young midshipman, his excitable imagination so far getting the better of him as to make him forget his manners. he had just finished locke's famous moon hoax, and his brain was still full of its pictures. "in the background," he went on, "can be seen thousands of _vespertiliones-homines_ or _man-bats_, in all the various attitudes of curiosity, alarm, or consternation; some of them peeping around the rocks, some fluttering from peak to peak, all gibbering a language more or less resembling the notes of birds. _enter_ lunatico, king of the selenites--" "excuse us, mr. midshipman," interrupted brownson with an easy smile, "locke's authority may have great weight among the young middies at annapolis, but it does not rank very high at present in the estimation of practical scientists." this rebuff administered to the conceited little midshipman, a rebuff which the doctor particularly relished, brownson continued: "gentlemen, we certainly know nothing whatever regarding our friends' fate; guessing gives no information. how we ever are to hear from the moon until we are connected with it by a lunar cable, i can't even imagine. the probability is that we shall never--" "excuse me, lieutenant," interrupted the unrebuffed little midshipman; "can't barbican write?" a shout of derisive comments greeted this question. "certainly he can write, and send his letter by the pony express!" cried one. "a postal card would be cheaper!" cried another. "the _new york herald_ will send a reporter after it!" was the exclamation of a third. "keep cool, just keep cool, gentlemen," persisted the little midshipman, not in the least abashed by the uproarious hilarity excited by his remarks. "i asked if barbican couldn't write. in that question i see nothing whatever to laugh at. can't a man write without being obliged to send his letters?" "this is all nonsense," said the doctor. "what's the use of a man writing to you if he can't send you what he writes?" "what's the use of his sending it to you if he can have it read without that trouble?" answered the little midshipman in a confident tone. "is there not a telescope at long's peak? doesn't it bring the moon within a few miles of the rocky mountains, and enable us to see on her surface, objects as small as nine feet in diameter? well! what's to prevent barbican and his friends from constructing a gigantic alphabet? if they write words of even a few hundred yards and sentences a mile or two long, what is to prevent us from reading them? catch the idea now, eh?" they did catch the idea, and heartily applauded the little middy for his smartness. even the doctor saw a certain kind of merit in it, and brownson acknowledged it to be quite feasible. in fact, expanding on it, the lieutenant assured his hearers that, by means of large parabolic reflectors, luminous groups of rays could be dispatched from the earth, of sufficient brightness to establish direct communication even with venus or mars, where these rays would be quite as visible as the planet neptune is from the earth. he even added that those brilliant points of light, which have been quite frequently observed in mars and venus, are perhaps signals made to the earth by the inhabitants of these planets. he concluded, however, by observing that, though we might by these means succeed in obtaining news from the moon, we could not possibly send any intelligence back in return, unless indeed the selenites had at their disposal optical instruments at least as good as ours. all agreed that this was very true, and, as is generally the case when one keeps all the talk to himself, the conversation now assumed so serious a turn that for some time it was hardly worth recording. at last the chief engineer, excited by some remark that had been made, observed with much earnestness: "you may say what you please, gentlemen, but i would willingly give my last dollar to know what has become of those brave men! have they done anything? have they seen anything? i hope they have. but i should dearly like to know. ever so little success would warrant a repetition of the great experiment. the columbiad is still to the good in florida, as it will be for many a long day. there are millions of men to day as curious as i am upon the subject. therefore it will be only a question of mere powder and bullets if a cargo of visitors is not sent to the moon every time she passes our zenith. "marston would be one of the first of them," observed brownson, lighting his cigar. "oh, he would have plenty of company!" cried the midshipman. "i should be delighted to go if he'd only take me." "no doubt you would, mr. midshipman," said brownson, "the wise men, you know, are not all dead yet." "nor the fools either, lieutenant," growled old frisby, the fourth officer, getting tired of the conversation. "there is no question at all about it," observed another; "every time a projectile started, it would take off as many as it could carry." "i wish it would only start often enough to improve the breed!" growled old frisby. "i have no doubt whatever," added the chief engineer, "that the thing would get so fashionable at last that half the inhabitants of the earth would take a trip to the moon." "i should limit that privilege strictly to some of our friends in washington," said old frisby, whose temper had been soured probably by a neglect to recognize his long services; "and most of them i should by all means insist on sending to the moon. every month i would ram a whole raft of them into the columbiad, with a charge under them strong enough to blow them all to the--but--hey!--what in creation's that?" [illustration: for a second only did they catch its flash.] whilst the officer was speaking, his companions had suddenly caught a sound in the air which reminded them immediately of the whistling scream of a lancaster shell. at first they thought the steam was escaping somewhere, but, looking upwards, they saw that the strange noise proceeded from a ball of dazzling brightness, directly over their heads, and evidently falling towards them with tremendous velocity. too frightened to say a word, they could only see that in its light the whole ship blazed like fireworks, and the whole sea glittered like a silver lake. quicker than tongue can utter, or mind can conceive, it flashed before their eyes for a second, an enormous bolide set on fire by friction with the atmosphere, and gleaming in its white heat like a stream of molten iron gushing straight from the furnace. for a second only did they catch its flash before their eyes; then striking the bowsprit of the vessel, which it shivered into a thousand pieces, it vanished in the sea in an instant with a hiss, a scream, and a roar, all equally indescribable. for some time the utmost confusion reigned on deck. with eyes too dazzled to see, ears still ringing with the frightful combination of unearthly sounds, faces splashed with floods of sea water, and noses stifled with clouds of scalding steam, the crew of the _susquehanna_ could hardly realize that their marvellous escape by a few feet from instant and certain destruction was an accomplished fact, not a frightful dream. they were still engaged in trying to open their eyes and to get the hot water out of their ears, when they suddenly heard the trumpet voice of captain bloomsbury crying, as he stood half dressed on the head of the cabin stairs: "what's up, gentlemen? in heaven's name, what's up?" the little midshipman had been knocked flat by the concussion and stunned by the uproar. but before any body else could reply, his voice was heard, clear and sharp, piercing the din like an arrow: "it's they, captain! didn't i tell you so?" chapter xxi. news for marston! in a few minutes, consciousness had restored order on board the _susquehanna_, but the excitement was as great as ever. they had escaped by a hairsbreadth the terrible fate of being both burned and drowned without a moment's warning, without a single soul being left alive to tell the fatal tale; but on this neither officer nor man appeared to bestow the slightest thought. they were wholly engrossed with the terrible catastrophe that had befallen the famous adventurers. what was the loss of the _susquehanna_ and all it contained, in comparison to the loss experienced by the world at large in the terrible tragic _dénouement_ just witnessed? the worst had now come to the worst. at last the long agony was over forever. those three gallant men, who had not only conceived but had actually executed the grandest and most daring enterprise of ancient or modern times, had paid by the most fearful of deaths, for their sublime devotion to science and their unselfish desire to extend the bounds of human knowledge! before such a reflection as this, all other considerations were at once reduced to proportions of the most absolute insignificance. but was the death of the adventurers so very certain after all? hope is hard to kill. consciousness had brought reflection, reflection doubt, and doubt had resuscitated hope. "it's they!" had exclaimed the little midshipman, and the cry had thrilled every heart on board as with an electric shock. everybody had instantly understood it. everybody had felt it to be true. nothing could be more certain than that the meteor which had just flashed before their eyes was the famous projectile of the baltimore gun club. nothing could be truer than that it contained the three world renowned men and that it now lay in the black depths of the pacific ocean. but here opinions began to diverge. some courageous breasts soon refused to accept the prevalent idea. "they're killed by the shock!" cried the crowd. "killed?" exclaimed the hopeful ones; "not a bit of it! the water here is deep enough to break a fall twice as great." "they're smothered for want of air!" exclaimed the crowd. "their stock may not be run out yet!" was the ready reply. "their air apparatus is still on hand." "they're burned to a cinder!" shrieked the crowd. "they had not time to be burned!" answered the band of hope. "the projectile did not get hot till it reached the atmosphere, through which it tore in a few seconds." "if they're neither burned nor smothered nor killed by the shock, they're sure to be drowned!" persisted the crowd, with redoubled lamentations. "fish 'em up first!" cried the hopeful band. "come! let's lose no time! let's fish 'em up at once!" the cries of hope prevailed. the unanimous opinion of a council of the officers hastily summoned together by the captain was to go to work and fish up the projectile with the least possible delay. but was such an operation possible? asked a doubter. yes! was the overwhelming reply; difficult, no doubt, but still quite possible. certainly, however, such an attempt was not immediately possible as the _susquehanna_ had no machinery strong enough or suitable enough for a piece of work involving such a nicety of detailed operations, not to speak of its exceeding difficulty. the next unanimous decision, therefore, was to start the vessel at once for the nearest port, whence they could instantly telegraph the projectile's arrival to the baltimore gun club. but what _was_ the nearest port? a serious question, to answer which in a satisfactory manner the captain had to carefully examine his sailing charts. the neighboring shores of the california peninsula, low and sandy, were absolutely destitute of good harbors. san diego, about a day's sail directly north, possessed an excellent harbor, but, not yet having telegraphic communication with the rest of the union, it was of course not to be thought of. san pedro bay was too open to be approached in winter. the santa barbara channel was liable to the same objection, not to mention the trouble often caused by kelp and wintry fogs. the bay of san luis obispo was still worse in every respect; having no islands to act as a breakwater, landing there in winter was often impossible. the harbor of the picturesque old town of monterey was safe enough, but some uncertainty regarding sure telegraphic communications with san francisco, decided the council not to venture it. half moon bay, a little to the north, would be just as risky, and in moments like the present when every minute was worth a day, no risk involving the slightest loss of time could be ventured. evidently, therefore, the most advisable plan was to sail directly for the bay of san francisco, the golden gate, the finest harbor on the pacific coast and one of the safest in the world. here telegraphic communication with all parts of the union was assured beyond a doubt. san francisco, about 750 miles distant, the _susquehanna_ could probably make in three days; with a little increased pressure, possibly in two days and a-half. the sooner then she started, the better. the fires were soon in full blast. the vessel could get under weigh at once. in fact, nothing delayed immediate departure but the consideration that two miles of sounding line were still to be hauled up from the ocean depths. rut the captain, after a moment's thought, unwilling that any more time should be lost, determined to cut it. then marking its position by fastening its end to a buoy, he could haul it up at his leisure on his return. "besides," said he, "the buoy will show us the precise spot where the projectile fell." "as for that, captain," observed brownson, "the exact spot has been carefully recorded already: 27° 7' north latitude by 41° 37' west longitude, reckoning from the meridian of washington." "all right, lieutenant," said the captain curtly. "cut the line!" a large cone-shaped metal buoy, strengthened still further by a couple of stout spars to which it was securely lashed, was soon rigged up on deck, whence, being hoisted overboard, the whole apparatus was carefully lowered to the surface of the sea. by means of a ring in the small end of the buoy, the latter was then solidly attached to the part of the sounding line that still remained in the water, and all possible precautions were taken to diminish the danger of friction, caused by the contrary currents, tidal waves, and the ordinary heaving swells of ocean. it was now a little after three o'clock in the morning. the chief engineer announced everything to be in perfect readiness for starting. the captain gave the signal, directing the pilot to steer straight for san francisco, north-north by west. the waters under the stern began to boil and foam; the ship very soon felt and yielded to the power that animated her; and in a few minutes she was making at least twelve knots an hour. her sailing powers were somewhat higher than this, but it was necessary to be careful in the neighborhood of such a dangerous coast as that of california. seven hundred and fifty miles of smooth waters presented no very difficult task to a fast traveller like the _susquehanna_, yet it was not till two days and a-half afterwards that she sighted the golden gate. as usual, the coast was foggy; neither point lobos nor point boneta could be seen. but captain bloomsbury, well acquainted with every portion of this coast, ran as close along the southern shore as he dared, the fog-gun at point boneta safely directing his course. here expecting to be able to gain a few hours time by signalling to the outer telegraph station on point lobos, he had caused to be painted on a sail in large black letters: "the moonmen are back!" but the officers in attendance, though their fog-horn could be easily heard--the distance not being quite two miles--were unfortunately not able to see it. perhaps they did see it, but feared a hoax. giving the fort point a good wide berth, the _susquehanna_ found the fog gradually clearing away, and by half-past three the passengers, looking under it, enjoyed the glorious view of the contra costa mountains east of san francisco, which had obtained for this entrance the famous and well deserved appellation of the golden gate. in another half hour, they had doubled black point, and were lying safely at anchor between the islands of alcatraz and yerba buena. in less than five minutes afterwards the captain was quickly lowered into his gig, and eight stout pairs of arms were pulling him rapidly to shore. the usual crowd of idlers had collected that evening on the summit of telegraph hill to enjoy the magnificent view, which for variety, extent, beauty and grandeur, is probably unsurpassed on earth. of course, the inevitable reporter, hot after an item, was not absent. the _susquehanna_ had hardly crossed the bar, when they caught sight of her. a government vessel entering the bay at full speed, is something to look at even in san francisco. even during the war, it would be considered rather unusual. but they soon remarked that her bowsprit was completely broken off. _very_ unusual. something decidedly is the matter. see! the vessel is hardly anchored when the captain leaves her and makes for megg's wharf at north point as hard as ever his men can pull! something _must_ be the matter--and down the steep hill they all rush as fast as ever their legs can carry them to the landing at megg's wharf. the captain could hardly force his way through the dense throng, but he made no attempt whatever to gratify their ill dissembled curiosity. "carriage!" he cried, in a voice seldom heard outside the din of battle. in a moment seventeen able-bodied cabmen were trying to tear him limb from limb. "to the telegraph office! like lightning!" were his stifled mutterings, as he struggled in the arms of the irish giant who had at last succeeded in securing him. "to the telegraph office!" cried most of the crowd, running after him like fox hounds, but the more knowing ones immediately began questioning the boatmen in the captain's gig. these honest fellows, nothing loth to tell all that they knew and more that they invented, soon had the satisfaction of finding themselves the centrepoint of a wonder stricken audience, greedily swallowing up every item of the extraordinary news and still hungrily gaping for more. by this time, however, an important dispatch was flying east, bearing four different addresses: to the secretary of the u.s. navy, washington; to colonel joseph wilcox, vice-president _pro tem._, baltimore gun club, md; to j.t. marston, esq. long's peak, grand county, colorado; and to professor wenlock, sub-director of the cambridge observatory, mass. this dispatch read as follows: "in latitude twenty-seven degrees seven minutes north and longitude forty-one degrees thirty-seven minutes west shortly after one o'clock on the morning of twelfth instant columbiad projectile fell in pacific--send instructions- bloomsbury, _captain_, susquehanna." in five minutes more all san francisco had the news. an hour later, the newspaper boys were shrieking it through the great cities of the states. before bed-time every man, woman, and child in the country had heard it and gone into ecstasies over it. owing to the difference in longitude, the people of europe could not hear it till after midnight. but next morning the astounding issue of the great american enterprise fell on them like a thunder clap. we must, of course, decline all attempts at describing the effects of this most unexpected intelligence on the world at large. the secretary of the navy immediately telegraphed directions to the _susquehanna_ to keep a full head of steam up night and day so as to be ready to give instant execution to orders received at any moment. the observatory authorities at cambridge held a special meeting that very evening, where, with all the serene calmness so characteristic of learned societies, they discussed the scientific points of the question in all its bearings. but, before committing themselves to any decided opinion, they unanimously resolved to wait for the development of further details. at the rooms of the gun club in baltimore there was a terrible time. the kind reader no doubt remembers the nature of the dispatch sent one day previously by professor belfast from the long's peak observatory, announcing that the projectile had been seen but that it had become the moon's satellite, destined to revolve around her forever and ever till time should be no more. the reader is also kindly aware by this time that such dispatch was not supported by the slightest foundations in fact. the learned professor, in a moment of temporary cerebral excitation, to which even the greatest scientist is just as liable as the rest of us, had taken some little meteor or, still more probably, some little fly-speck in the telescope for the projectile. the worst of it was that he had not only boldly proclaimed his alleged discovery to the world at large but he had even explained all about it with the well known easy pomposity that "science" sometimes ventures to assume. the consequences of all this may be readily guessed. the baltimore gun club had split up immediately into two violently opposed parties. those gentlemen who regularly conned the scientific magazines, took every word of the learned professor's dispatch for gospel--or rather for something of far higher value, and more strictly in accordance with the highly advanced scientific developments of the day. but the others, who never read anything but the daily papers and who could not bear the idea of losing barbican, laughed the whole thing to scorn. belfast, they said, had seen as much of the projectile as he had of the "open polar sea," and the rest of the dispatch was mere twaddle, though asserted with all the sternness of a religious dogma and enveloped in the usual scientific slang. the meeting held in the club house, 24 monument square, baltimore, on the evening of the 13th, had been therefore disorderly in the highest degree. long before the appointed hour, the great hall was densely packed and the greatest uproar prevailed. vice-president wilcox took the chair, and all was comparatively quiet until colonel bloomsbury, the honorary secretary in marston's absence, commenced to read belfast's dispatch. then the scene, according to the account given in the next day's _sun_, from whose columns we condense our report, actually "beggared description." roars, yells, cheers, counter-cheers, clappings, hissings, stampings, squallings, whistlings, barkings, mewings, cock crowings, all of the most fearful and demoniacal character, turned the immense hall into a regular pandemonium. in vain did president wilcox fire off his detonating bell, with a report on ordinary occasions as loud as the roar of a small piece of ordnance. in the dreadful noise then prevailing it was no more heard than the fizz of a lucifer match. some cries, however, made themselves occasionally heard in the pauses of the din. "read! read!" "dry up!" "sit down!" "give him an egg!" "fair play!" "hurrah for barbican!" "down with his enemies!" "free speech!" "belfast won't bite you!" "he'd like to bite barbican, but his teeth aren't sharp enough!" "barbican's a martyr to science, let's hear his fate!" "martyr be hanged; the old man is to the good yet!" "belfast is the grandest name in science!" "groans for the grandest name!" (awful groans.) "three cheers for old man barbican!" (the exceptional strength alone of the walls saved the building, from being blown out by an explosion in which at least 5,000 pairs of lungs participated.) "three cheers for m'nicholl and the frenchman!" this was followed by another burst of cheering so hearty, vigorous and long continued that the scientific party, or _belfasters_ as they were now called, seeing that further prolongation of the meet was perfectly useless, moved to adjourn. it was carried unanimously. president wilcox left the chair, the meeting broke up in the wildest disorder--the scientists rather crest fallen, but the barbican men quite jubilant for having been so successful in preventing the reading of that detested dispatch. little sleeping was done that night in baltimore, and less business next day. even in the public schools so little work was done by the children that s.t. wallace, esq., president of the education board, advised an anticipation of the usual christmas recess by a week. every one talked of the projectile; nothing was heard at the corners but discussions regarding its probable fate. all baltimore was immediately rent into two parties, the _belfasters_ and the _barbicanites_. the latter was the most enthusiastic and noisy, the former decidedly the most numerous and influential. science, or rather pseudo-science, always exerts a mysterious attraction of an exceedingly powerful nature over the generality--that is, the more ignorant portion of the human race. assert the most absurd nonsense, call it a scientific truth, and back it up with strange words which, like _potentiality_, etc., sound as if they had a meaning but in reality have none, and nine out of every ten men who read your book will believe you. acquire a remarkable name in one branch of human knowledge, and presto! you are infallible in all. who can contradict you, if you only wrap up your assertions in specious phrases that not one man in a million attempts to ascertain the real meaning of? we like so much to be saved the trouble of thinking, that it is far easier and more comfortable to be led than to contradict, to fall in quietly with the great flock of sheep that jump blindly after their leader than to remain apart, making one's self ridiculous by foolishly attempting to argue. real argument, in fact, is very difficult, for several reasons: first, you must understand your subject _well_, which is hardly likely; secondly, your opponent must also understand it well, which is even less likely; thirdly, you must listen patiently to his arguments, which is still less likely; and fourthly, he must listen to yours, the least likely of all. if a quack advertises a panacea for all human ills at a dollar a bottle, a hundred will buy the bottle, for one that will try how many are killed by it. what would the investigator gain by charging the quack with murder? nobody would believe him, because nobody would take the trouble to follow his arguments. his adversary, first in the field, had gained the popular ear, and remained the unassailable master of the situation. our love of "science" rests upon our admiration of intellect, only unfortunately the intellect is too often that of other people, not our own. the very sound of belfast's phrases, for instance, "satellite," "lunar attraction," "immutable path of its orbit," etc, convinced the greater part of the "intelligent" community that he who used them so flippantly must be an exceedingly great man. therefore, he had completely proved his case. therefore, the great majority of the ladies and gentlemen that regularly attend the scientific lectures of the peabody institute, pronounced barbican's fate and that of his companions to be sealed. next morning's newspapers contained lengthy obituary notices of the great balloon-attics as the witty man of the _new york herald_ phrased it, some of which might be considered quite complimentary. these, all industriously copied into the evening papers, the people were carefully reading over again, some with honest regret, some deriving a great moral lesson from an attempt exceedingly reprehensible in every point of view, but most, we are sorry to acknowledge, with a feeling of ill concealed pleasure. had not they always said how it was to end? was there anything more absurd ever conceived? scientific men too! hang such science! if you want a real scientific man, no wind bag, no sham, take belfast! _he_ knows what he's talking about! no taking _him_ in! didn't he by means of the monster telescope, see the projectile, as large as life, whirling round and round the moon? anyway, what else could have happened? wasn't it what anybody's common sense expected? don't you remember a conversation we had with you one day? etc., etc. the _barbicanites_ were very doleful, but they never though of giving in. they would die sooner. when pressed for a scientific reply to a scientific argument, they denied that there was any argument to reply to. what! had not belfast seen the projectile? no! was not the great telescope then good for anything? yes, but not for everything! did not belfast know his business? no! did they mean to say that he had seen nothing at all? well, not exactly that, but those scientific gentlemen can seldom be trusted; in their rage for discovery, they make a mountain out of a molehill, or, what is worse, they start a theory and then distort facts to support it. answers of this kind either led directly to a fight, or the _belfasters_ moved away thoroughly disgusted with the ignorance of their opponents, who could not see a chain of reasoning as bright as the noonday sun. things were in this feverish state on the evening of the 14th, when, all at once, bloomsbury's dispatch arrived in baltimore. i need not say that it dropped like a spark in a keg of gun powder. the first question all asked was: is it genuine or bogus? real or got up by the stockbrokers? but a few flashes backwards and forwards over the wires soon settled that point. the stunning effects of the new blow were hardly over when the _barbicanites_ began to perceive that the wonderful intelligence was decidedly in their favor. was it not a distinct contradiction of the whole story told by their opponents? if barbican and his friends were lying at the bottom of the pacific, they were certainly not circumgyrating around the moon. if it was the projectile that had broken off the bowsprit of the _susquehanna_, it could not certainly be the projectile that belfast had seen only the day previous doing the duty of a satellite. did not the truth of one incident render the other an absolute impossibility? if bloomsbury was right, was not belfast an ass? hurrah! the new revelation did not improve poor barbican's fate a bit--no matter for that! did not the _party_ gain by it? what would the _belfasters_ say now? would not they hold down their heads in confusion and disgrace? the _belfasters_, with a versatility highly creditable to human nature, did nothing of the kind. rapidly adopting the very line of tactics they had just been so severely censuring, they simply denied the whole thing. what! the truth of the bloomsbury dispatch? yes, every word of it! had not bloomsbury seen the projectile? no! were not his eyes good for anything? yes, but not for everything! did not the captain know his business? no! did they mean to say that the bowsprit of the _susquehanna_ had not been broken off? well, not exactly that, but those naval gentlemen are not always to be trusted; after a pleasant little supper, they often see the wrong light-house, or, what is worse, in their desire to shield their negligence from censure, they dodge the blame by trying to show that the accident was unavoidable. the _susquehanna's_ bowsprit had been snapped off, in all probability, by some sudden squall, or, what was still more likely, some little aerolite had struck it and frightened the crew into fits. when answers of this kind did not lead to blows, the case was an exceptional one indeed. the contestants were so numerous and so excited that the police at last began to think of letting them fight it out without any interference. marshal o'kane, though ably assisted by his 12 officers and 500 patrolmen, had a terrible time of it. the most respectable men in baltimore, with eyes blackened, noses bleeding, and collars torn, saw the inside of a prison that night for the first time in all their lives. men that even the great war had left the warmest of friends, now abused each other like fishwomen. the prison could not hold the half of those arrested. they were all, however, discharged next morning, for the simple reason that the mayor and the aldermen had been themselves engaged in so many pugilistic combats during the night that they were altogether disabled from attending to their magisterial duties next day. our readers, however, may be quite assured that, even in the wildest whirl of the tremendous excitement around them, all the members of the baltimore gun club did not lose their heads. in spite of the determined opposition of the _belfasters_ who would not allow the bloomsbury dispatch to be read at the special meeting called that evening, a few succeeded in adjourning to a committee-room, where joseph wilcox, esq., presiding, our old friends colonel bloomsbury, major elphinstone, tom hunter, billsby the brave, general morgan, chief engineer john murphy, and about as many more as were sufficient to form a quorum, declared themselves to be in regular session, and proceeded quietly to debate on the nature of captain bloomsbury's dispatch. was it of a nature to justify immediate action or not? decided unanimously in the affirmative. why so? because, whether actually true or untrue, the incident it announced was not impossible. had it indeed announced the projectile to have fallen in california or in south america, there would have been good valid reasons to question its accuracy. but by taking into consideration the moon's distance, and the time elapsed between the moment of the start and that of the presumed fall (about 10 days), and also the earth's revolution in the meantime, it was soon calculated that the point at which the projectile should strike our globe, if it struck it at all, would be somewhere about 27° north latitude, and 42° west longitude--the very identical spot given in the captain's dispatch! this certainly was a strong point in its favor, especially as there was positively nothing valid whatever to urge against it. a decided resolution was therefore immediately taken. everything that man could do was to be done at once, in order to fish up their brave associates from the depths of the pacific. that very night, in fact, whilst the streets of baltimore were still resounding with the yells of contending _belfasters_ and _barbicanites_, a committee of four, morgan, hunter, murphy, and elphinstone, were speeding over the alleghanies in a special train, placed at their disposal by the _baltimore and ohio railroad company_, and fast enough to land them in chicago pretty early on the following evening. here a fresh locomotive and a pullman car taking charge of them, they were whirled off to omaha, reaching that busy locality at about supper time on the evening of december 16th. the pacific train, as it was called though at that time running no further west than julesburg, instead of waiting for the regular hour of starting, fired up that very night, and was soon pulling the famous baltimore club men up the slopes of the nebraska at the rate of forty miles an hour. they were awakened before light next morning by the guard, who told them that julesburg, which they were just entering, was the last point so far reached by the rails. but their regret at this circumstance was most unexpectedly and joyfully interrupted by finding their hands warmly clasped and their names cheerily cried out by their old and beloved friend, j.t. marston, the illustrious secretary of the baltimore gun club. at the close of the first volume of our entertaining and veracious history, we left this most devoted friend and admirer of barbican established firmly at his post on the summit of long's peak, beside the great telescope, watching the skies, night and day, for some traces of his departed friends. there, as the gracious reader will also remember, he had come a little too late to catch that sight of the projectile which belfast had at first reported so confidently, but of which the professor by degrees had begun to entertain the most serious doubts. in these doubts, however, marston, strange to say, would not permit himself for one moment to share. belfast might shake his head as much as he pleased; he, marston, was no fickle reed to be shaken by every wind; he firmly believed the projectile to be there before him, actually in sight, if he could only see it. all the long night of the 13th, and even for several hours of the 14th, he never quitted the telescope for a single instant. the midnight sky was in magnificent order; not a speck dimmed its azure of an intensely dark tint. the stars blazed out like fires; the moon refused none of her secrets to the scientists who were gazing at her so intently that night from the platform on the summit of long's peak. but no black spot crawling over her resplendent surface rewarded their eager gaze. marston indeed would occasionally utter a joyful cry announcing some discovery, but in a moment after he was confessing with groans that it was all a false alarm. towards morning, belfast gave up in despair and went to take a sleep; but no sleep for marston. though he was now quite alone, the assistants having also retired, he kept on talking incessantly to himself, expressing the most unbounded confidence in the safety of his friends, and the absolute certainty of their return. it was not until some hours after the sun had risen and the moon had disappeared behind the snowy peaks of the west, that he at last withdrew his weary eye from the glass through which every image formed by the great reflector was to be viewed. the countenance he turned on belfast, who had now come back, was rueful in the extreme. it was the image of grief and despair. "did you see nothing whatever during the night, professor?" he asked of belfast, though he knew very well the answer he was to get. "nothing whatever." "but you saw them once, didn't you?" "them! who?" "our friends." "oh! the projectile--well--i think i must have made some oversight." "don't say that! did not mr. m'connell see it also?" "no. he only wrote out what i dictated." "why, you must have seen it! i have seen it myself!" "you shall never see it again! it's shot off into space." "you're as wrong now as you thought you were right yesterday." "i'm sorry to say i was wrong yesterday; but i have every reason to believe i'm right to-day." "we shall see! wait till to-night!" "to-night! too late! as far as the projectile is concerned, night is now no better than day." the learned professor was quite right, but in a way which he did not exactly expect. that very evening, after a weary day, apparently a month long, during which marston sought in vain for a few hours' repose, just as all hands, well wrapped up in warm furs, were getting ready to assume their posts once more near the mouth of the gigantic telescope, mr. m'connell hastily presented himself with a dispatch for belfast. the professor was listlessly breaking the envelope, when he uttered a sharp cry of surprise. "hey!" cried marston quickly. "what's up now?" "oh!! the pro--pro--projectile!!" "what of it? what? oh what?? speak!!" "it's back!!" marston uttered a wild yell of mingled horror, surprise, and joy, jumped a little into the air, and then fell flat and motionless on the platform. had belfast shot him with a ten pound weight, right between the two eyes, he could not have knocked him flatter or stiffer. having neither slept all night, nor eaten all day, the poor fellow's system had become so weak that such unexpected news was really more than he could bear. besides, as one of the cambridge men of the party, a young medical student, remarked: the thin, cold air of these high mountains was extremely enervating. the astronomers, all exceedingly alarmed, did what they could to recover their friend from his fit, but it was nearly ten minutes before they had the satisfaction of seeing his limbs moving with a slight quiver and his breast beginning to heave. at last the color came back to his face and his eyes opened. he stared around for a few seconds at his friends, evidently unconscious, but his senses were not long in returning. "say!" he uttered at last in a faint voice. "well!" replied belfast. "where is that infernal pro--pro--jectile?" "in the pacific ocean." "what??" he was on his feet in an instant. "say that again!" "in the pacific ocean." "hurrah! all right! old barbican's not made into mincemeat yet! no, sirree! let's start!" "where for?" "san francisco!" "when?" "this instant!" "in the dark?" "we shall soon have the light of the moon! curse her! it's the least she can do after all the trouble she has given us!" chapter xxii. on the wings of the wind. leaving m'connell and a few other cambridge men to take charge of the great telescope, marston and belfast in little more than an hour after the receipt of the exciting dispatch, were scudding down the slopes of long's peak by the only possible route--the inclined railroad. this mode of travelling, however, highly satisfactory as far as it went, ceased altogether at the mountain foot, at the point where the dale river formed a junction with cache la poudre creek. but marston, having already mapped out the whole journey with some care and forethought, was ready for almost every emergency. instinctively feeling that the first act of the baltimore gun club would be to send a committee to san francisco to investigate matters, he had determined to meet this deputation on the route, and his only trouble now was to determine at what point he would be most likely to catch them. his great start, he knew perfectly well, could not put him more than a day in advance of them: they having the advantage of a railroad nearly all the way, whilst himself and belfast could not help losing much time in struggling through ravines, canyons, mountain precipices, and densely tangled forests, not to mention the possibility of a brush or two with prowling indians, before they could strike the line of the pacific railroad, along which he knew the club men to be approaching. after a few hours rest at la porte, a little settlement lately started in the valley, early in the morning they took the stage that passed through from denver to cheyenne, a town at that time hardly a year old but already flourishing, with a busy population of several thousand inhabitants. losing not a moment at cheyenne, where they arrived much sooner than they had anticipated, they took places in wells, fargo and co.'s _overland stage mail_ bound east, and were soon flying towards julesburg at the rate of twelve miles an hour. here marston was anxious to meet the club men, as at this point the pacific railroad divided into two branches--one bearing north, the other south of the great salt lake --and he feared they might take the wrong one. but he arrived in julesburg fully 10 hours before the committee, so that himself and belfast had not only ample time to rest a little after their rapid flight from long's peak, but also to make every possible preparation for the terrible journey of more than fifteen hundred miles that still lay before them. this journey, undertaken at a most unseasonable period of the year, and over one of the most terrible deserts in the world, would require a volume for itself. constantly presenting the sharpest points of contrast between the most savage features of wild barbaric nature on the one hand, and the most touching traits of the sweetest humanity on the other, the story of our club men's adventures, if only well told, could hardly fail to be highly interesting. but instead of a volume, we can give it only a chapter, and that a short one. from julesburg, the last station on the eastern end of the pacific railroad, to cisco, the last station on its western end, the distance is probably about fifteen hundred miles, about as far as constantinople is from london, or moscow from paris. this enormous stretch of country had to be travelled all the way by, at the best, a six horse stage tearing along night and day at a uniform rate, road or no road, of ten miles an hour. but this was the least of the trouble. bands of hostile indians were a constant source of watchfulness and trouble, against which even a most liberal stock of rifles and revolvers were not always a reassurance. whirlwinds of dust often overwhelmed the travellers so completely that they could hardly tell day from night, whilst blasts of icy chill, sweeping down from the snowy peaks of the rocky mountains, often made them imagine themselves in the midst of the horrors of an arctic winter. the predominant scenery gave no pleasure to the eye or exhilaration to the mind. it was of the dreariest description. days and days passed with hardly a house to be seen, or a tree or a blade of grass. i might even add, or a mountain or a river, for the one was too often a heap of agglomerated sand and clay cut into unsightly chasms by the rain, and the other generally degenerated into a mere stagnant swamp, its shallowness and dryness increasing regularly with its length. the only houses were log ranches, called relays, hardly visible in their sandy surroundings, and separate from each other by a mean distance of ten miles. the only trees were either stunted cedars, so far apart, as to be often denominated lone trees; and, besides wormwood, the only plant was the sage plant, about two feet high, gray, dry, crisp, and emitting a sharp pungent odor by no means pleasant. in fact, barbican and his companions had seen nothing drearier or savager in the dreariest and savagest of lunar landscapes than the scenes occasionally presented to marston and his friends in their headlong journey on the track of the great pacific railroad. here, bowlders, high, square, straight and plumb as an immense hotel, blocked up your way; there, lay an endless level, flat as the palm of your hand, over which your eye might roam in vain in search of something green like a meadow, yellow like a cornfield, or black like ploughed ground--a mere boundless waste of dirty white from the stunted wormwood, often rendered misty with the clouds of smarting alkali dust. occasionally, however, this savage scenery decidedly changed its character. now, a lovely glen would smile before our travellers, traversed by tinkling streams, waving with sweet grasses, dotted with little groves, alive with hares, antelopes, and even elks, but apparently never yet trodden by the foot of man. now, our club men felt like travelling on clouds, as they careered along the great plateau west of the black hills, fully 8,000 feet above the level of the sea, though even there the grass was as green and fresh as if it grew in some sequestered valley of pennsylvania. again, "in this untravelled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever as they moved," they would find themselves in an immense, tawny, treeless plain, outlined by mountains so distant as to resemble fantastic cloud piles. here for days they would have to skirt the coasts of a lake, vast, unruffled, unrippled, apparently of metallic consistency, from whose sapphire depths rose pyramidal islands to a height of fully three thousand feet above the surface. in a few days all would change. no more sand wastes, salt water flats, or clouds of blinding alkali dust. the travellers' road, at the foot of black precipitous cliffs, would wind along the brink of a roaring torrent, whose devious course would lead them into the heart of the sierras, where misty peaks solemnly sentinelled the nestling vales still smiling in genial summer verdure. across these they were often whirled through immense forests of varied character, here dense enough to obscure the track, there swaying in the sweet sunlight and vocal with joyous birds of bright and gorgeous plumage. then tropical vegetation would completely hide the trail, crystal lakes would obstruct it, cascades shooting down from perpendicular rocks would obliterate it, mountain passes barricaded by basaltic columns would render it uncertain, and on one occasion it was completely covered up by a fall of snow to a depth of more than twenty feet. but nothing could oppose serious delay to our travellers. their motto was ever "onward!" and what they lost in one hour by some mishap they endeavored to recover on the next by redoubled speed. they felt that they would be no friends of barbican's if they were discouraged by impossibilities. besides, what would have been real impossibilities at another time, several concurrent circumstances now rendered comparatively easy. the surveys, the gradings, the cuttings, and the other preliminary labors in the great pacific railroad, gave them incalculable aid. horses, help, carriages, provisions were always in abundance. their object being well known, they had the best wishes of every hand on the road. people remained up for them all hours of the night, no matter at what station they were expected. the warmest and most comfortable of meals were always ready for them, for which no charge would be taken on any account. in utah, a deputation of mormons galloped alongside them for forty miles to help them over some points of the road that had been often found difficult. the season was the finest known for many years. in short, as an old californian said as he saw them shooting over the rickety bridge that crossed the bear river at corinne: "they had everything in their favor--_luck_ as well as _pluck_!" the rate at which they performed this terrible ride across the continent and the progress they made each day, some readers may consider worthy of a few more items for the sake of future reference. discarding the ordinary overland mail stage as altogether too slow for their purpose, they hired at julesburg a strong, well built carriage, large enough to hold them all comfortably; but this they had to replace twice before they came to their journey's end. their team always consisted of the best six horses that could be found, and their driver was the famous hank monk of california, who, happening to be in julesburg about that time, volunteered to see them safely landed in cisco on the summit of the sierra nevada. they were enabled to change horses as near as possible every hour, by telegraphing ahead in the morning, during the day, and often far into the hours of night. starting from julesburg early in the morning of the 17th, their first resting place for a few hours at night was granite canyon, twenty miles west of cheyenne, and just at the foot of the pass over the black hills. on the 18th, night-fall found them entering st. mary's, at the further end of the pass between rattle snake hills and elk mountain. it was after 5 o'clock and already dark on the 19th, when the travellers, hurrying with all speed through the gloomy gorge of slate formation leading to the banks of the green river, found the ford too deep to be ventured before morning. the 20th was a clear cold day very favorable for brisk locomotion, and the bright sun had not quite disappeared behind the wahsatch mountains when the club men, having crossed the bear river, began to leave the lofty plateau of the rocky mountains by the great inclined plane marked by the lines of the echo and the weber rivers on their way to the valley of the great american desert. quitting castle rock early on the morning of the 21st, they soon came in sight of the great salt lake, along the northern shores of which they sped all day, taking shelter after night-fall at terrace, in a miserable log cabin surrounded by piles of drifting sand. the 22d was a terrible day. the sand was blinding, the alkali dust choking, the ride for five or six hours was up considerable grade; still they had accomplished their 150 miles before resting for the night at elko, even at this period a flourishing little village on the banks of the humboldt. after another smothering ride on the 23d, they rested, at winnemucca, another flourishing village, situated at the precise point in the desert where the little humboldt joins humboldt river, without, however, making the channel fuller or wider. the 24th was decidedly the hardest day, their course lying through the worst part of the terrible nevada desert. but a glimpse of the sierras looming in the western horizon gave them courage and strength enough to reach wadsworth, at their foot, a little before midnight. our travellers had now but one day's journey more to make before reaching the railroad at cisco, but, this being a very steep ascent nearly all the way up, each mile cost almost twice as much time and exertion. at last, late in the evening of christmas day, amidst the most enthusiastic cheers of all the inhabitants of cisco, who welcomed them with a splendid pine brand procession, marston and his friends, thoroughly used up, feet swelled, limbs bruised, bones aching, stomachs seasick, eyes bleared, ears ringing, and brains on fire for want of rest, took their places in the state car waiting for them, and started without a moment's delay for sacramento, about a hundred miles distant. how delicious was the change to our poor travellers! washed, refreshed, and lying at full length on luxurious sofas, their sensations, as the locomotive spun them down the ringing grooves of the steep sierras, can be more easily imagined than described. they were all fast asleep when the train entered sacramento, but the mayor and the other city authorities who had waited up to receive them, had them carried carefully, so as not to disturb their slumbers, on board the _yo semite_, a fine steamer belonging to the california navigation company, which landed them safely at san francisco about noon on the 26th, after accomplishing the extraordinary winter journey of 1500 miles over land in little more than nine days, only about 200 miles being done by steam. half-past two p.m. found our travellers bathed, dressed, shaved, dined, and ready to receive company in the grand parlor of the _occidental hotel_. captain bloomsbury was the first to call. marston hobbled eagerly towards him and asked: "what have you done towards fishing them up, captain?" "a good deal, mr. marston; indeed almost everything is ready." "is that really the case, captain?" asked all, very agreeably surprised. "yes, gentlemen, i am most happy to state that i am quite in earnest." "can we start to-morrow?" asked general morgan. "we have not a moment to spare, you know." "we can start at noon to-morrow at latest," replied the captain, "if the foundry men do a little extra work to-night." "we must start this very day, captain bloomsbury," cried marston resolutely; "barbican has been lying two weeks and thirteen hours in the depths of the pacific! if he is still alive, no thanks to marston! he must by this time have given me up! the grappling irons must be got on board at once, captain, and let us start this evening!" at half-past four that very evening, a shot from the fort and a lowering of the stars and stripes from its flagstaff saluted the _susquehanna_, as she steamed proudly out of the golden gate at the lively rate of fifteen knots an hour. chapter xxiii. the club men go a fishing. captain bloomsbury was perfectly right when he said that almost everything was ready for the commencement of the great work which the club men had to accomplish. considering how much was required, this was certainly saying a great deal; but here also, as on many other occasions, fortune had singularly favored the club men. san francisco bay, as everybody knows, though one of the finest and safest harbors in the world, is not without some danger from hidden rocks. one of these in particular, the anita rock as it was called, lying right in mid channel, had become so notorious for the wrecks of which it was the cause, that, after much time spent in the consideration of the subject, the authorities had at last determined to blow it up. this undertaking having been very satisfactorily accomplished by means of _dynamite_ or giant powder, another improvement in the harbor had been also undertaken with great success. the wrecks of many vessels lay scattered here and there pretty numerously, some, like that of the _flying dragon_, in spots so shallow that they could be easily seen at low water, but others sunk at least twenty fathoms deep, like that of the _caroline_, which had gone down in 1851, not far from blossom rock, with a treasure on board of 20,000 ounces of gold. the attempt to clear away these wrecks had also turned out very well; even sufficient treasure had been recovered to repay all the expense, though the preparations for the purpose by the contractors, m'gowan and co. had been made on the most extensive scale, and in accordance with the latest improvements in the apparatus for submarine operations. buoys, made of huge canvas sacks, coated with india rubber, and guarded by a net work of strong cordage, had been manufactured and provided by the _new york submarine company_. these buoys, when inflated and working in pairs, had a lifting capacity of 30 tons a pair. reservoirs of air, provided with powerful compression pumps, always accompanied the buoys. to attach the latter, in a collapsed condition, with strong chains to the sides of the vessels which were to be lifted, a diving apparatus was necessary. this also the _new york company_ had provided, and it was so perfect in its way that, by means of peculiar appliances of easy management, the diver could walk about on the bottom, take his own bearings, ascend to the surface at pleasure, and open his helmet without assistance. a few sets likewise of rouquayrol and denayrouze's famous submarine armor had been provided. these would prove of invaluable advantage in all operations performed at great sea depths, as its distinctive feature, "the regulator," could maintain, what is not done by any other diving armor, a constant equality of pressure on the lungs between the external and the internal air. but perhaps the most useful article of all was a new form of diving bell called the _nautilus_, a kind of submarine boat, capable of lateral as well as vertical movement at the will of its occupants. constructed with double sides, the intervening chambers could be filled either with water or air according as descent or ascent was required. a proper supply of water enabled the machine to descend to depths impossible to be reached otherwise; this water could then be expelled by an ingenious contrivance, which, replacing it with air, enabled the diver to rise towards the surface as fast as he pleased. all these and many other portions of the submarine apparatus which had been employed that very year for clearing the channel, lifting the wrecks and recovering the treasure, lay now at san francisco, unused fortunately on account of the season of the year, and therefore they could be readily obtained for the asking. they had even been generously offered to captain bloomsbury, who, in obedience to a telegram from washington, had kept his crew busily employed for nearly two weeks night and day in transferring them all safely on board the _susquehanna_. marston was the first to make a careful inspection of every article intended for the operation. "do you consider these buoys powerful enough to lift the projectile, captain?" he asked next morning, as the vessel was briskly heading southward, at a distance of ten or twelve miles from the coast on their left. "you can easily calculate that problem yourself, mr. marston," replied the captain. "it presents no difficulty. the projectile weighs about 20 thousand pounds, or 10 tons?" "correct!" "well, a pair of these buoys when inflated can raise a weight of 30 tons." "so far so good. but how do you propose attaching them to the projectile?" "we simply let them descend in a state of collapse; the diver, going down with them, will have no difficulty in making a fast connection. as soon as they are inflated the projectile will come up like a cork." "can the divers readily reach such depths?" "that remains to be seen mr. marston." "captain," said morgan, now joining the party, "you are a worthy member of our gun club. you have done wonders. heaven grant it may not be all in vain! who knows if our poor friends are still alive?" "hush!" cried marston quickly. "have more sense than to ask such questions. is barbican alive! am _i_ alive? they're all alive, i tell you, only we must be quick about reaching them before the air gives out. that's what's the matter! air! provisions, water--abundance! but air--oh! that's their weak point! quick, captain, quick--they're throwing the reel--i must see her rate!" so saying, he hurried off to the stern, followed by general morgan. chief engineer murphy and the captain of the _susquehanna_ were thus left for awhile together. these two men had a long talk on the object of their journey and the likelihood of anything satisfactory being accomplished. the man of the sea candidly acknowledged his apprehensions. he had done everything in his power towards collecting suitable machinery for fishing up the projectile, but he had done it all, he said, more as a matter of duty than because he believed that any good could result from it; in fact, he never expected to see the bold adventurers again either living or dead. murphy, who well understood not only what machinery was capable of effecting, but also what it would surely fail in, at first expressed the greatest confidence in the prosperous issue of the undertaking. but when he learned, as he now did for the first time, that the ocean bed on which the projectile was lying could be hardly less than 20,000 feet below the surface, he assumed a countenance as grave as the captain's, and at once confessed that, unless their usual luck stood by them, his poor friends had not the slightest possible chance of ever being fished up from the depths of the pacific. the conversation maintained among the officers and the others on board the _susquehanna_, was pretty much of the same nature. it is almost needless to say that all heads--except belfast's, whose scientific mind rejected the projectile theory with the most serene contempt--were filled with the same idea, all hearts throbbed with the same emotion. wouldn't it be glorious to fish them up alive and well? what were they doing just now? doing? _doing!_ their bodies most probably were lying in a shapeless pile on the floor of the projectile, like a heap of clothes, the uppermost man being the last smothered; or perhaps floating about in the water inside the projectile, like dead gold fish in an aquarium; or perhaps burned to a cinder, like papers in a "champion" safe after a great fire; or, who knows? perhaps at that very moment the poor fellows were making their last and almost superhuman struggles to burst their watery prison and ascend once more into the cheerful regions of light and air! alas! how vain must such puny efforts prove! plunged into ocean depths of three or four miles beneath the surface, subjected to an inconceivable pressure of millions and millions of tons of sea water, their metallic shroud was utterly unassailable from within, and utterly unapproachable from without! early on the morning of december 29th, the captain calculating from his log that they must now be very near the spot where they had witnessed the extraordinary phenomenon, the _susquehanna_ hove to. having to wait till noon to find his exact position, he ordered the steamer to take a short circular course of a few hours' duration, in hope of sighting the buoy. but though at least a hundred telescopes scanned the calm ocean breast for many miles in all directions, it was nowhere to be seen. precisely at noon, aided by his officers and in the presence of marston, belfast, and the gun club committee, the captain took his observations. after a moment or two of the most profound interest, it was a great gratification to all to learn that the _susquehanna_ was on the right parallel, and only about 15 miles west of the precise spot where the projectile had disappeared beneath the waves. the steamer started at once in the direction indicated, and a minute or two before one o'clock the captain said they were "there." no sign of the buoy could yet be seen in any direction; it had probably been drifted southward by the mexican coast current which slowly glides along these shores from december to april. "at last!" cried marston, with a sigh of great relief. "shall we commence at once?" asked the captain. "without losing the twenty thousandth part of a second!" answered marston; "life or death depends upon our dispatch!" the _susquehanna_ again hove to, and this time all possible precautions were taken to keep her in a state of perfect immobility--an operation easily accomplished in these pacific latitudes, where cloud and wind and water are often as motionless as if all life had died out of the world. in fact, as the boats were quietly lowered, preparatory for beginning the operations, the mirror like calmness of sea, sky, and ship so impressed the doctor, who was of a poetical turn of mind, that he could not help exclaiming to the little midshipman, who was standing nearest: "coleridge realized, with variations: the breeze drops down, the sail drops down, all's still as still can be; if we speak, it is only to break the silence of the sea. still are the clouds, still are the shrouds, no life, no breath, no motion; idle are all as a painted ship upon a painted ocean!" chief engineer murphy now took command. before letting down the buoys, the first thing evidently to be done was to find out, if possible, the precise point where the projectile lay. for this purpose, the nautilus was clearly the only part of the machinery that could be employed with advantage. its chambers were accordingly soon filled with water, its air reservoirs were also soon completely charged, and the nautilus itself, suspended by chains from the end of a yard, lay quietly on the ocean surface, its manhole on the top remaining open for the reception of those who were willing to encounter the dangers that awaited it in the fearful depths of the pacific. every one looking on was well aware that, after a few hundred feet below the surface, the pressure would grow more and more enormous, until at last it became quite doubtful if any line could bear the tremendous strain. it was even possible that at a certain depth the walls of the nautilus might be crushed in like an eggshell, and the whole machine made as flat as two leaves of paper pasted together. perfectly conscious of the nature of the tremendous risk they were about to run, marston, morgan, and murphy quietly bade their friends a short farewell and were lowered into the manhole. the nautilus having room enough for four, belfast had been expected to be of the party but, feeling a little sea sick, the professor backed out at the last moment, to the great joy of mr. watkins, the famous reporter of the _n.y. herald_, who was immediately allowed to take his place. every provision against immediate danger had been made. by means of preconcerted signals, the inmates could have themselves drawn up, let down, or carried laterally in whatever direction they pleased. by barometers and other instruments they could readily ascertain the pressure of the air and water, also how far they had descended and at what rate they were moving. the captain, from his bridge, carefully superintended every detail of the operation. all signals he insisted on attending to himself personally, transmitting them instantly by his bell to the engineer below. the whole power of the steam engine had been brought to bear on the windlass; the chains could withstand an enormous strain. the wheels had been carefully oiled and tested beforehand; the signalling apparatus had been subjected to the rigidest examination; and every portion of the machinery had been proved to be in admirable working order. the chances of immediate and unforeseen danger, it is true, had been somewhat diminished by all these precautions. the risk, nevertheless, was fearful. the slightest accident or even carelessness might easily lead to the most disastrous consequence. five minutes after two o'clock, the manhole being closed, the lamps lit, and everything pronounced all right, the signal for the descent was given, and the nautilus immediately disappeared beneath the waters. a double anxiety now possessed all on board the _susquehanna_: the prisoners in the nautilus were in danger as well as the prisoners in the projectile. marston and his friends, however, were anything but disquieted on their own account, and, pencil in hand and noses flattened on the glass plates, they examined carefully everything they could see in the liquid masses through which they were descending. for the first five hundred feet, the descent was accomplished with little trouble. the nautilus sank rather slowly, at a uniform rate of a foot to the second. it had not been two minutes under water when the light of day completely disappeared. but for this the occupants were fully prepared, having provided themselves with powerful lamps, whose brilliant light, radiating from polished reflectors, gave them an opportunity of seeing clearly around it for a distance of eight or ten feet in all directions. owing to the superlatively excellent construction of the nautilus, also on account of the _scaphanders_, or suits of diving armor, with which marston and his friends had clothed themselves, the disagreeable sensations to which divers are ordinarily exposed, were hardly felt at all in the beginning of the descent. marston was about to congratulate his companions on the favorable auspices inaugurating their trip, when murphy, consulting the instrument, discovered to his great surprise that the nautilus was not making its time. in reply to their signal "faster!" the downward movement increased a little, but it soon relaxed again. instead of less than two minutes, as at the beginning, it now took twelve minutes to make a hundred feet. they had gone only seven hundred feet in thirty-seven minutes. in spite of repeated signalling, their progress during the next hour was even still more alarming, one hundred feet taking exactly 59 minutes. to shorten detail, it required two hours more to make another hundred feet; and then the nautilus, after taking ten minutes to crawl an inch further, came to a perfect stand still. the pressure of the water had evidently now become too enormous to allow further descent. the clubmen's distress was very great; marston's, in particular, was indescribable. in vain, catching at straws, he signalled "eastwards!" "westwards!" "northwards!" or "southwards!" the nautilus moved readily every way but downwards. "oh! what shall we do?" he cried in despair; "barbican, must we really give you up though separated from us by the short distance of only a few miles?" at last, nothing better being to be done, the unwilling signal "heave upwards!" was given, and the hauling up commenced. it was done very slowly, and with the greatest care. a sudden jerk might snap the chains; an incautious twist might put a kink on the air tube; besides, it was well known that the sudden removal of heavy pressure resulting from rapid ascent, is attended by very disagreeable sensations, which have sometimes even proved fatal. it was near midnight when the clubmen were lifted out of the manhole. their faces were pale, their eyes bloodshot, their figures stooped. even the _herald_ reporter seemed to have got enough of exploring. but marston was as confident as ever, and tried to be as brisk. he had hardly swallowed the refreshment so positively enjoined in the circumstances, when he abruptly addressed the captain: "what's the weight of your heaviest cannon balls?" "thirty pounds, mr. marston." "can't you attach thirty of them to the nautilus and sink us again?" "certainly, mr. marston, if you wish it. it shall be the first thing done to-morrow." "to-night, captain! at once! barbican has not an instant to lose." "at once then be it, mr. marston. just as you say." the new sinkers were soon attached to the nautilus, which disappeared once more with all its former occupants inside, except the _herald_ reporter, who had fallen asleep over his notes, or at least seemed to be. he had probably made up his mind as to the likelihood of the nautilus ever getting back again. the second descent was quicker than the first, but just as futile. at 1152 feet, the nautilus positively refused to go a single inch further. marston looked like a man in a stupor. he made no objection to the signal given by the others to return; he even helped to cut the ropes by which the cannon balls had been attached. not a single word was spoken by the party, as they slowly rose to the surface. marston seemed to be struggling against despair. for the first time, the impossibility of the great enterprise seemed to dawn upon him. he and his friends had undertaken a great fight with the mighty ocean, which now played with them as a giant with a pigmy. to reach the bottom was evidently completely out of their power; and what was infinitely worse, there was nothing to be gained by reaching it. the projectile was not on the bottom; it could not even have got to the bottom. marston said it all in a few words to the captain, as the clubmen stepped on deck a few hours later: "barbican is floating midway in the depths of the pacific, like mahomet in his coffin!" blindly yielding, however, to the melancholy hope that is born of despair, marston and his friends renewed the search next day, the 30th, but they were all too worn out with watching and excitement to be able to continue it longer than a few hours. after a night's rest, it was renewed the day following, the 31st, with some vigor, and a good part of the ocean lying between guadalupe and benito islands was carefully investigated to a depth of seven or eight hundred feet. no traces whatever of the projectile. several california steamers, plying between san francisco and panama, passed the _susquehanna_ within hailing distance. but to every question, the invariable reply one melancholy burden bore: "no luck!" all hands were now in despair. marston could neither eat nor drink. he never even spoke the whole day, except on two occasions. once, when somebody heard him muttering: "he's now seventeen days in the ocean!" the second time he spoke, the words seemed to be forced out of him. belfast admitted, for the sake of argument, that the projectile had fallen into the ocean, but he strongly denounced the absurd idea of its occupants being still alive. "under such circumstances," went on the learned professor, "further prolongation of vital energy would be simply impossible. want of air, want of food, want of courage--" "no, sir!" interrupted marston quite savagely. "want of air, of meat, of drink, as much as you like! but when you speak of barbican's want of courage, you don't know what you are talking about! no holy martyr ever died at the stake with a loftier courage than my noble friend barbican!" that night he asked the captain if he would not sail down as far as cape san lucas. bloomsbury saw that further search was all labor lost, but he respected such heroic grief too highly to give a positive refusal. he consented to devote the following day, new year's, to an exploring expedition as far as magdalena bay, making the most diligent inquiries in all directions. but new year's was just as barren of results as any of its predecessors, and, a little before sunset, captain bloomsbury, regardless of further entreaties and unwilling to risk further delay, gave orders to 'bout ship and return to san francisco. the _susquehanna_ was slowly turning around in obedience to her wheel, as if reluctant to abandon forever a search in which humanity at large was interested, when the look-out man, stationed in the forecastle, suddenly sang out: "a buoy to the nor'east, not far from shore!" all telescopes were instantly turned in the direction indicated. the buoy, or whatever object it was, could be readily distinguished. it certainly did look like one of those buoys used to mark out the channel that ships follow when entering a harbor. but as the vessel slowly approached it, a small flag, flapping in the dying wind--a strange feature in a buoy--was seen to surmount its cone, which a nearer approach showed to be emerging four or five feet from the water. and for a buoy too it was exceedingly bright and shiny, reflecting the red rays of the setting sun as strongly as if its surface was crystal or polished metal! "call mr. marston on deck at once!" cried the captain, his voice betraying unwonted excitement as he put the glass again to his eye. marston, thoroughly worn out by his incessant anxiety during the day, had been just carried below by his friends, and they were now trying to make him take a little refreshment and repose. but the captain's order brought them all on deck like a flash. they found the whole crew gazing in one direction, and, though speaking in little more than whispers, evidently in a state of extraordinary excitement. what could all this mean? was there any ground for hope? the thought sent a pang of delight through marston's wildly beating heart that almost choked him. the captain beckoned to the club men to take a place on the bridge beside himself. they instantly obeyed, all quietly yielding them a passage. the vessel was now only about a quarter of a mile distant from the object and therefore near enough to allow it to be distinguished without the aid of a glass. what! the flag bore the well known stars and stripes! an electric shudder of glad surprise shot through the assembled crowd. they still spoke, however, in whispers, hardly daring to utter their thoughts aloud. the silence was suddenly startled by a howl of mingled ecstasy and rage from marston. he would have fallen off the bridge, had not the others held him firmly. then he burst into a laugh loud and long, and quite as formidable as his howl. then he tore away from his friends, and began beating himself over the head. "oh!" he cried in accents between a yell and a groan, "what chuckleheads we are! what numskulls! what jackasses! what double-treble-barrelled gibbering idiots!" then he fell to beating himself over the head again. "what's the matter, marston, for heaven's sake!" cried his friends, vainly trying to hold him. "speak for yourself!" cried others, belfast among the number. "no exception, belfast! you're as bad as the rest of us! we're all a set of unmitigated, demoralized, dog-goned old lunatics! ha! ha! ha!" "speak plainly, marston! tell us what you mean!" "i mean," roared the terrible secretary, "that we are no better than a lot of cabbage heads, dead beats, and frauds, calling ourselves scientists! o barbican, how you must blush for us! if we were schoolboys, we should all be skinned alive for our ignorance! do you forget, you herd of ignoramuses, that the projectile weighs only ten tons?" "we don't forget it! we know it well! what of it?" "this of it: it can't sink in water without displacing its own volume in water; its own volume in water weighs thirty tons! consequently, it can't sink; more consequently, it hasn't sunk; and, most consequently, there it is before us, bobbing up and down all the time under our very noses! o barbican, how can we ever venture to look at you straight in the face again!" marston's extravagant manner of showing it did not prevent him from being perfectly right. with all their knowledge of physics, not a single one of those scientific gentlemen had remembered the great fundamental law that governs sinking or floating bodies. thanks to its slight specific gravity, the projectile, after reaching unknown depths of ocean through the terrific momentum of its fall, had been at last arrested in its course and even obliged to return to the surface. by this time, all the passengers of the _susquehanna_ could easily recognize the object of such weary longings and desperate searches, floating quietly a short distance before them in the last rays of the declining day! the boats were out in an instant. marston and his friends took the captain's gig. the rowers pulled with a will towards the rapidly nearing projectile. what did it contain? the living or the dead? the living certainly! as marston whispered to those around him; otherwise how could they have ever run up that flag? the boats approached in perfect silence, all hearts throbbing with the intensity of newly awakened hope, all eyes eagerly watching for some sign to confirm it. no part of the windows appeared over the water, but the trap hole had been thrown open, and through it came the pole that bore the american flag. marston made for the trap hole and, as it was only a few feet above the surface, he had no difficulty in looking in. at that moment, a joyful shout of triumph rose from the interior, and the whole boat's crew heard a dry drawling voice with a nasal twang exclaiming: "queen! how is that for high?" it was instantly answered by another voice, shriller, louder, quicker, more joyous and triumphant in tone, but slightly tinged with a foreign accent: "king! my brave mac! how is that for high?" the deep, clear, calm voice that spoke next thrilled the listeners outside with an emotion that we shall not attempt to portray. except that their ears could detect in it the faintest possible emotion of triumph, it was in all respects as cool, resolute, and self-possessed as ever: "ace! dear friends, how is that for high?" they were quietly enjoying a little game of high-low-jack! [illustration: how is that for high?] how they must have been startled by the wild cheers that suddenly rang around their ocean-prison! how madly were these cheers re-echoed from the decks of the _susquehanna_! who can describe the welcome that greeted these long lost, long beloved, long despaired of sons of earth, now so suddenly and unexpectedly rescued from destruction, and restored once more to the wonderstricken eyes of admiring humanity? who can describe the scenes of joy and exuberant happiness, and deep felt gratitude, and roaring rollicking merriment, that were witnessed on board the steamer that night and during the next three days! as for marston, it need hardly be said that he was simply ecstatic, but it may interest both the psychologist and the philologist to learn that the expression _how is that for high?_ struck him at once as with a kind of frenzy. it became immediately such a favorite tongue morsel of his that ever since he has been employing it on all occasions, appropriate or otherwise. thanks to his exertions in its behalf all over the country, the phrase is now the most popular of the day, well known and relished in every part of the union. if we can judge from its present hold on the popular ear it will continue to live and flourish for many a long day to come; it may even be accepted as the popular expression of triumph in those dim, distant, future years when the memory not only of the wonderful occasion of its formation but also of the illustrious men themselves who originated it, has been consigned forever to the dark tomb of oblivion! chapter xxiv. farewell to the baltimore gun club. the intense interest of our extraordinary but most veracious history having reached its culmination at the end of the last chapter, our absorbing chronicle might with every propriety have been then and there concluded; but we can't part from our gracious and most indulgent reader before giving him a few more details which may be instructive perhaps, if not amusing. no doubt he kindly remembers the world-wide sympathy with which our three famous travellers had started on their memorable trip to the moon. if so, he may be able to form some idea of the enthusiasm universally excited by the news of their safe return. would not the millions of spectators that had thronged florida to witness their departure, now rush to the other extremity of the union to welcome them back? could those innumerable europeans, africans and asiatics, who had visited the united states simply to have a look at m'nicholl, ardan and barbican, ever think of quitting the country without having seen those wonderful men again? certainly not! nay, more--the reception and the welcome that those heroes would everywhere be greeted with, should be on a scale fully commensurate with the grandeur of their own gigantic enterprise. the sons of earth who had fearlessly quitted this terrestrial globe and who had succeeded in returning after accomplishing a journey inconceivably wonderful, well deserved to be received with every extremity of pride, pomp and glorious circumstance that the world is capable of displaying. to catch a glimpse of these demi-gods, to hear the sound of their voices, perhaps even to touch their hands--these were the only emotions with which the great heart of the country at large was now throbbing. to gratify this natural yearning of humanity, to afford not only to every foreigner but to every native in the land an opportunity of beholding the three heroes who had reflected such indelible glory on the american name, and to do it all in a manner eminently worthy of the great american nation, instantly became the desire of the american people. to desire a thing, and to have it, are synonymous terms with the great people of the american republic. a little thinking simplified the matter considerably: as all the people could not go to the heroes, the heroes should go to all the people. so decided, so done. it was nearly two months before barbican and his friends could get back to baltimore. the winter travelling over the rocky mountains had been very difficult on account of the heavy snows, and, even when they found themselves in the level country, though they tried to travel as privately as possible, and for the present positively declined all public receptions, they were compelled to spend some time in the houses of the warm friends near whom they passed in the course of their long journey. the rough notes of their moon adventures--the only ones that they could furnish just then--circulating like wild fire and devoured with universal avidity, only imparted a keener whet to the public desire to feast their eyes on such men. these notes were telegraphed free to every newspaper in the country, but the longest and best account of the "_journey to the moon_" appeared in the columns of the _new york herald_, owing to the fact that watkins the reporter had had the adventurers all to himself during the whole of the three days' trip of the _susquehanna_ back to san francisco. in a week after their return, every man, woman, and child in the united states knew by heart some of the main facts and incidents in the famous journey; but, of course, it is needless to say that they knew nothing at all about the finer points and the highly interesting minor details of the astounding story. these are now all laid before the highly favored reader for the first time. i presume it is unnecessary to add that they are worthy of his most implicit confidence, having been industriously and conscientiously compiled from the daily journals of the three travellers, revised, corrected, and digested very carefully by barbican himself. it was, of course, too early at this period for the critics to pass a decided opinion on the nature of the information furnished by our travellers. besides, the moon is an exceedingly difficult subject. very few newspaper men in the country are capable of offering a single opinion regarding her that is worth reading. this is probably also the reason why half-scientists talk so much dogmatic nonsense about her. enough, however, had appeared in the notes to warrant the general opinion that barbican's explorations had set at rest forever several pet theories lately started regarding the nature of our satellite. he and his friends had seen her with their own eyes, and under such favorable circumstances as to be altogether exceptional. regarding her formation, her origin, her inhabitability, they could easily tell what system _should_ be rejected and what _might_ be admitted. her past, her present, and her future, had been alike laid bare before their eyes. how can you object to the positive assertion of a conscientious man who has passed within a few hundred miles of _tycho_, the culminating point in the strangest of all the strange systems of lunar oreography? what reply can you make to a man who has sounded the dark abysses of the _plato_ crater? how can you dare to contradict those men whom the vicissitudes of their daring journey had swept over the dark, invisible face of the moon, never before revealed to human eye? it was now confessedly the privilege and the right of these men to set limits to that selenographic science which had till now been making itself so very busy in reconstructing the lunar world. they could now say, authoritatively, like cuvier lecturing over a fossil skeleton: "once the moon was this, a habitable world, and inhabitable long before our earth! and now the moon is that, an uninhabitable world, and uninhabitable ages and ages ago!" we must not even dream of undertaking a description of the grand _fête_ by which the return of the illustrious members of the gun club was to be adequately celebrated, and the natural curiosity of their countrymen to see them was to be reasonably gratified. it was one worthy in every way of its recipients, worthy of the gun club, worthy of the great republic, and, best of all, every man, woman, and child in the united states could take part in it. it required at least three months to prepare it: but this was not to be regretted as its leading idea could not be properly carried out during the severe colds of winter. all the great railroads of the union had been closely united by temporary rails, a uniform gauge had been everywhere adopted, and every other necessary arrangement had been made to enable a splendid palace car, expressly manufactured for the occasion by pullman himself, to visit every chief point in the united states without ever breaking connection. through the principal street in each city, or streets if one was not large enough, rails had been laid so as to admit the passage of the triumphal car. in many cities, as a precaution against unfavorable weather, these streets had been arched over with glass, thus becoming grand arcades, many of which have been allowed to remain so to the present day. the houses lining these streets, hung with tapestry, decorated with flowers, waving with banners, were all to be illuminated at night time in a style at once both the most brilliant and the most tasteful. on the sidewalks, tables had been laid, often miles and miles long, at the public expense; these were to be covered with every kind of eatables, exquisitely cooked, in the greatest profusion, and free to everyone for twelve hours before the arrival of the illustrious guests and also for twelve hours after their departure. the idea mainly aimed at was that, at the grand national banquet about to take place, every inhabitant of the united states, without exception, could consider barbican and his companions as his own particular guests for the time being, thus giving them a welcome the heartiest and most unanimous that the world has ever yet witnessed. evergreens were to deck the lamp-posts; triumphal arches to span the streets; fountains, squirting _eau de cologne_, to perfume and cool the air; bands, stationed at proper intervals, to play the most inspiring music; and boys and girls from public and private schools, dressed in picturesque attire, to sing songs of joy and glory. the people, seated at the banquetting tables, were to rise and cheer and toast the heroes as they passed; the military companies, in splendid uniforms, were to salute them with presented arms; while the bells pealed from the church towers, the great guns roared from the armories, _feux de joie_ resounded from the ships in the harbor, until the day's wildest whirl of excitement was continued far into the night by a general illumination and a surpassing display of fireworks. right in the very heart of the city, the slowly moving triumphal car was always to halt long enough to allow the club men to join the cheering citizens at their meal, which was to be breakfast, dinner or supper according to that part of the day at which the halt was made. the number of champagne bottles drunk on these occasions, or of the speeches made, or of the jokes told, or of the toasts offered, or of the hands shaken, of course, i cannot now weary my kind reader by detailing, though i have the whole account lying before me in black and white, written out day by day in barbican's own bold hand. yet i should like to give a few extracts from this wonderful journal. it is a perfect model of accuracy and system. whether detailing his own doings or those of the innumerable people he met, caesar himself never wrote anything more lucid or more pointed. but nothing sets the extraordinary nature of this great man in a better light than the firm, commanding, masterly character of the handwriting in which these records are made. the elegant penmanship all through might easily pass for copper plate engraving--except on one page, dated "_boston, after dinner_," where, candor compels me to acknowledge, the "solid men" appear to have succeeded in rendering his iron nerves the least bit wabbly. the palace car had been so constructed that, by turning a few cranks and pulling out a few bolts, it was transformed at once into a highly decorated and extremely comfortable open barouche. marston took the seat usually occupied by the driver: ardan and m'nicholl sat immediately under him, face to face with barbican, who, in order that everyone might be able to distinguish him, was to keep all the back seat for himself, the post of honor. on monday morning, the fifth of may, a month generally the pleasantest in the united states, the grand national banquet commenced in baltimore, and lasted twenty-four hours. the gun club insisted on paying all the expenses of the day, and the city compromised by being allowed to celebrate in whatever way it pleased the reception of the club men on their return. they started on their trip that same day in the midst of one of the grandest ovations possible to conceive. they stopped for a little while at wilmington, but they took dinner in philadelphia, where the splendor of broad street (at present the finest boulevard in the world, being 113 feet wide and five miles long) can be more easily alluded to than even partially described. the house fronts glittered with flowers, flags, pictures, tapestries, and other decorations; the chimneys and roofs swarmed with men and boys cheerfully risking their necks every moment to get one glance at the "moon men"; every window was a brilliant bouquet of beautiful ladies waving their scented handkerchiefs and showering their sweetest smiles; the elevated tables on the sidewalks, groaning with an abundance of excellent and varied food, were lined with men, women, and children, who, however occupied in eating and drinking, never forgot to salute the heroes, cheering them lustily as they slowly moved along; the spacious street itself, just paved from end to end with smooth belgian blocks, was a living moving panorama of soldiers, temperance men, free masons, and other societies, radiant in gorgeous uniforms, brilliant in flashing banners, and simply perfect in the rhythmic cadence of their tread, wings of delicious music seeming to bear them onward in their proud and stately march. a vast awning, spanning the street from ridge to ridge, had been so prepared and arranged that, in case of rain or too strong a glare from the summer sun, it could be opened out wholly or partially in the space of a very few minutes. there was not, however, the slightest occasion for using it, the weather being exceedingly fine, almost paradisiacal, as marston loved to phrase it. [illustration: their arrival was welcomed with equal _furore_.] the "moon men" supped and spent the night in new york, where they were received with even greater enthusiasm than at philadelphia. but no detailed description can be given of their majestic progress from city to city through all portions of the mighty republic. it is enough to say that they visited every important town from portland to san francisco, from salt lake city to new orleans, from mobile to charleston, and from saint louis to baltimore; that, in every section of the great country, preparations for their reception were equally as enthusiastic, their arrival was welcomed with equal _furore_, and their departure accompanied with an equal amount of affectionate and touching sympathy. the _new york herald_ reporter, mr. watkins, followed them closely everywhere in a palace car of his own, and kept the public fully enlightened regarding every incident worth regarding along the route, almost as soon as it happened. he was enabled to do this by means of a portable telegraphic machine of new and most ingenious construction. though its motive power was electricity, it could dispense with the ordinary instruments and even with wires altogether, yet it managed to transmit messages to most parts of the world with an accuracy that, considering how seldom it failed, is almost miraculous. the principle actuating it, though guessed at by many shrewd scientists, is still a profound secret and will probably remain so for some time longer, the _herald_ having purchased the right to its sole and exclusive use for fifteen years, at an enormous cost. who shall say that the apotheosis of our three heroes was not worthy of them, or that, had they lived in the old prehistoric times, they would not have taken the loftiest places among the demi-gods? as the tremendous whirl of excitement began slowly to die away, the more thoughtful heads of the great republic began asking each other a few questions: can this wonderful journey, unprecedented in the annals of wonderful journeys, ever lead to any practical result? shall we ever live to see direct communication established with the moon? will any air line of space navigation ever undertake to start a system of locomotion between the different members of the solar system? have we any reasonable grounds for ever expecting to see trains running between planet and planet, as from mars to jupiter and, possibly afterwards, from star to star, as from polaris to sirius? even to-day these are exceedingly puzzling questions, and, with all our much vaunted scientific progress, such as "no fellow can make out." but if we only reflect a moment on the audacious go-a-headiveness of the yankee branch of the anglo saxon race, we shall easily conclude that the american people will never rest quietly until they have pushed to its last result and to every logical consequence the astounding step so daringly conceived and so wonderfully carried out by their great countryman barbican. in fact, within a very few months after the return of the club men from the continental banquet, as it was called in the papers, the country was flooded by a number of little books, like insurance pamphlets, thrust into every letter box and pushed under every door, announcing the formation of a new company called _the grand interstellar communication society_. the capital was to be 100 million dollars, at a thousand dollars a share: j.p. barbican, esq., p.g.c. was to be president; colonel joshua d. m'nicholl, vice-president; hon. j.t. marston, secretary; chevalier michael ardan, general manager; john murphy, esq., chief engineer; h. phillips coleman, esq. (philadelphia lawyer), legal adviser; and the astrological adviser was to be professor henry of washington. (belfast's blunder had injured him so much in public estimation, his former partisans having become his most merciless revilers, that it was considered advisable to omit his name altogether even in the list of the directors.) from the very beginning, the moneyed public looked on the g.i.c.s, with decided favor, and its shares were bought up pretty freely. conducted on strictly honorable principles, keeping carefully aloof from all such damaging connection as the _credit mobilier_, and having its books always thrown open for public inspection, its reputation even to-day is excellent and continually improving in the popular estimation. holding out no utopian inducements to catch the unwary, and making no wheedling promises to blind the guileless, it states its great objects with all their great advantages, without at the same time suppressing its enormous and perhaps insuperable difficulties. people know exactly what to think of it, and, whether it ever meets with perfect success or proves a complete failure, no one in the country will ever think of casting a slur on the bright name of its peerless president, j.p. barbican. for a few years this great man devoted every faculty of his mind to the furthering of the company's objects. but in the midst of his labors, the rapid approach of the centennial surprised him. after a long and careful consultation on the subject, the directors and stockholders of the g.i.c.s. advised him to suspend all further labors in their behalf for a few years, in order that he might be freer to devote the full energies of his giant intellect towards celebrating the first hundredth anniversary of his country's independence--as all true americans would wish to see it celebrated--in a manner every way worthy of the great republic of the west! obeying orders instantly and with the single-idea'd, unselfish enthusiasm of his nature, he threw himself at once heart and soul into the great enterprise. though possessing no official prominence--this he absolutely insists upon--he is well known to be the great fountain head whence emanate all the life, order, dispatch, simplicity, economy, and wonderful harmony which, so far, have so eminently characterized the magnificent project. with all operations for raising the necessary funds--further than by giving some sound practical advice--he positively refused to connect himself (this may be the reason why subscriptions to the centennial stock are so slow in coming in), but in the proper apportionment of expenses and the strict surveillance of the mechanical, engineering, and architectural departments, his services have proved invaluable. his experience in the vast operations at stony hill has given him great skill in the difficult art of managing men. his voice is seldom heard at the meetings, but when it is, people seem to take a pleasure in readily submitting to its dictates. in wet weather or dry, in hot weather or cold, he may still be seen every day at fairmount park, philadelphia, leisurely strolling from building to building, picking his steps quietly through the bustling crowds of busy workmen, never speaking a word, not even to marston his faithful shadow, often pencilling something in his pocket book, stopping occasionally to look apparently nowhere, but never, you may be sure, allowing a single detail in the restless panorama around him to escape the piercing shaft of his eagle glance. he is evidently determined on rendering the great centennial of his country a still greater and more wonderful success than even his own world-famous and never to be forgotten journey through the boundless fields of ether, and all around the moon! end. the moon-voyage. containing "from the earth to the moon," and "round the moon." by jules verne, author of "twenty thousand leagues under the sea," "among the cannibals," etc. illustrated by henry austin. * * * * * contents. "from the earth to the moon." i. the gun club ii. president barbicane's communication iii. effect of president barbicane's communication iv. answer from the cambridge observatory v. the romance of the moon vi. what it is impossible to ignore and what is no longer allowed to be believed in the united states vii. the hymn of the cannon-ball viii. history of the cannon ix. the question of powders x. one enemy against twenty-five millions of friends xi. florida and texas xii. "urbi et orbi" xiii. stony hill xiv. pickaxe and trowel xv. the ceremony of the casting xvi. the columbiad xvii. a telegram xviii. the passenger of the atlanta xix. a meeting xx. thrust and parry xxi. how a frenchman settles an affair xxii. the new citizen of the united states xxiii. the projectile compartment xxiv. the telescope of the rocky mountains xxv. final details xxvi. fire xxvii. cloudy weather xxviii. a new star * * * * * "round the moon." preliminary chapter. containing a short account of the first part of this work to serve as preface to the second i. from 10.20 p.m. to 10.47 p.m. ii. the first half-hour iii. taking possession iv. a little algebra v. the temperature of space vi. questions and answers vii. a moment of intoxication viii. at seventy-eight thousand one hundred and fourteen leagues ix. the consequences of deviation x. the observers of the moon xi. imagination and reality xii. orographical details xiii. lunar landscapes xiv. a night of three hundred and fifty-four hours and a half xv. hyperbola or parabola xvi. the southern hemisphere xvii. tycho xviii. grave questions xix. a struggle with the impossible xx. the soundings of the susquehanna xxi. j.t. maston called in xxii. picked up xxiii. the end * * * * * from the earth to the moon. * * * * * chapter i. the gun club. during the federal war in the united states a new and very influential club was established in the city of baltimore, maryland. it is well known with what energy the military instinct was developed amongst that nation of shipowners, shopkeepers, and mechanics. mere tradesmen jumped their counters to become extempore captains, colonels, and generals without having passed the military school at west point; they soon rivalled their colleagues of the old continent, and, like them, gained victories by dint of lavishing bullets, millions, and men. but where americans singularly surpassed europeans was in the science of ballistics, or of throwing massive weapons by the use of an engine; not that their arms attained a higher degree of perfection, but they were of unusual dimensions, and consequently of hitherto unknown ranges. the english, french, and prussians have nothing to learn about flank, running, enfilading, or point-blank firing; but their cannon, howitzers, and mortars are mere pocket-pistols compared with the formidable engines of american artillery. this fact ought to astonish no one. the yankees, the first mechanicians in the world, are born engineers, just as italians are musicians and germans metaphysicians. thence nothing more natural than to see them bring their audacious ingenuity to bear on the science of ballistics. hence those gigantic cannon, much less useful than sewing-machines, but quite as astonishing, and much more admired. the marvels of this style by parrott, dahlgren, and rodman are well known. there was nothing left the armstrongs, pallisers, and treuille de beaulieux but to bow before their transatlantic rivals. therefore during the terrible struggle between northerners and southerners, artillerymen were in great request; the union newspapers published their inventions with enthusiasm, and there was no little tradesman nor _naïf_ "booby" who did not bother his head day and night with calculations about impossible trajectory engines. now when an american has an idea he seeks another american to share it. if they are three, they elect a president and two secretaries. given four, they elect a clerk, and a company is established. five convoke a general meeting, and the club is formed. it thus happened at baltimore. the first man who invented a new cannon took into partnership the first man who cast it and the first man that bored it. such was the nucleus of the gun club. one month after its formation it numbered eighteen hundred and thirty-three effective members, and thirty thousand five hundred and seventy-five corresponding members. one condition was imposed as a _sine quâ non_ upon every one who wished to become a member--that of having invented, or at least perfected, a cannon; or, in default of a cannon, a firearm of some sort. but, to tell the truth, mere inventors of fifteen-barrelled rifles, revolvers, or sword-pistols did not enjoy much consideration. artillerymen were always preferred to them in every circumstance. "the estimation in which they are held," said one day a learned orator of the gun club, "is in proportion to the size of their cannon, and in direct ratio to the square of distance attained by their projectiles!" a little more and it would have been newton's law of gravitation applied to moral order. once the gun club founded, it can be easily imagined its effect upon the inventive genius of the americans. war-engines took colossal proportions, and projectiles launched beyond permitted distances cut inoffensive pedestrians to pieces. all these inventions left the timid instruments of european artillery far behind them. this may be estimated by the following figures:-formerly, "in the good old times," a thirty-six pounder, at a distance of three hundred feet, would cut up thirty-six horses, attacked in flank, and sixty-eight men. the art was then in its infancy. projectiles have since made their way. the rodman gun that sent a projectile weighing half a ton a distance of seven miles could easily have cut up a hundred and fifty horses and three hundred men. there was some talk at the gun club of making a solemn experiment with it. but if the horses consented to play their part, the men unfortunately were wanting. however that may be, the effect of these cannon was very deadly, and at each discharge the combatants fell like ears before a scythe. after such projectiles what signified the famous ball which, at coutras, in 1587, disabled twenty-five men; and the one which, at zorndorff, in 1758, killed forty fantassins; and in 1742, kesseldorf's austrian cannon, of which every shot levelled seventy enemies with the ground? what was the astonishing firing at jena or austerlitz, which decided the fate of the battle? during the federal war much more wonderful things had been seen. at the battle of gettysburg, a conical projectile thrown by a rifle-barrel cut up a hundred and seventy-three confederates, and at the passage of the potomac a rodman ball sent two hundred and fifteen southerners into an evidently better world. a formidable mortar must also be mentioned, invented by j.t. maston, a distinguished member and perpetual secretary of the gun club, the result of which was far more deadly, seeing that, at its trial shot, it killed three hundred and thirty-seven persons--by bursting, it is true. what can be added to these figures, so eloquent in themselves? nothing. so the following calculation obtained by the statistician pitcairn will be admitted without contestation: by dividing the number of victims fallen under the projectiles by that of the members of the gun club, he found that each one of them had killed, on his own account, an average of two thousand three hundred and seventy-five men and a fraction. by considering such a result it will be seen that the single preoccupation of this learned society was the destruction of humanity philanthropically, and the perfecting of firearms considered as instruments of civilisation. it was a company of exterminating angels, at bottom the best fellows in the world. it must be added that these yankees, brave as they have ever proved themselves, did not confine themselves to formulae, but sacrificed themselves to their theories. amongst them might be counted officers of every rank, those who had just made their _début_ in the profession of arms, and those who had grown old on their gun-carriage. many whose names figured in the book of honour of the gun club remained on the field of battle, and of those who came back the greater part bore marks of their indisputable valour. crutches, wooden legs, articulated arms, hands with hooks, gutta-percha jaws, silver craniums, platinum noses, nothing was wanting to the collection; and the above-mentioned pitcairn likewise calculated that in the gun club there was not quite one arm amongst every four persons, and only two legs amongst six. but these valiant artillerymen paid little heed to such small matters, and felt justly proud when the report of a battle stated the number of victims at tenfold the quantity of projectiles expended. one day, however, a sad and lamentable day, peace was signed by the survivors of the war, the noise of firing gradually ceased, the mortars were silent, the howitzers were muzzled for long enough, and the cannon, with muzzles depressed, were stored in the arsenals, the shots were piled up in the parks, the bloody reminiscences were effaced, cotton shrubs grew magnificently on the well-manured fields, mourning garments began to be worn-out, as well as sorrow, and the gun club had nothing whatever to do. certain old hands, inveterate workers, still went on with their calculations in ballistics; they still imagined gigantic bombs and unparalleled howitzers. but what was the use of vain theories that could not be put in practice? so the saloons were deserted, the servants slept in the antechambers, the newspapers grew mouldy on the tables, from dark corners issued sad snores, and the members of the gun club, formerly so noisy, now reduced to silence by the disastrous peace, slept the sleep of platonic artillery! "this is distressing," said brave tom hunter, whilst his wooden legs were carbonising at the fireplace of the smoking-room. "nothing to do! nothing to look forward to! what a tiresome existence! where is the time when cannon awoke you every morning with its joyful reports?" "that time is over," answered dandy bilsby, trying to stretch the arms he had lost. "there was some fun then! you invented an howitzer, and it was hardly cast before you ran to try it on the enemy; then you went back to the camp with an encouragement from sherman, or a shake of the hands from macclellan! but now the generals have gone back to their counters, and instead of cannon-balls they expedite inoffensive cotton bales! ah, by saint barb! the future of artillery is lost to america!" "yes, bilsby," cried colonel blomsberry, "it is too bad! one fine morning you leave your tranquil occupations, you are drilled in the use of arms, you leave baltimore for the battle-field, you conduct yourself like a hero, and in two years, three years at the latest, you are obliged to leave the fruit of so many fatigues, to go to sleep in deplorable idleness, and keep your hands in your pockets." the valiant colonel would have found it very difficult to give such a proof of his want of occupation, though it was not the pockets that were wanting. "and no war in prospect, then," said the famous j.t. maston, scratching his gutta-percha cranium with his steel hook; "there is not a cloud on the horizon now that there is so much to do in the science of artillery! i myself finished this very morning a diagram with plan, basin, and elevation of a mortar destined to change the laws of warfare!" "indeed!" replied tom hunter, thinking involuntarily of the honourable j.t. maston's last essay. "indeed!" answered maston. "but what is the use of the good results of such studies and so many difficulties conquered? it is mere waste of time. the people of the new world seem determined to live in peace, and our bellicose _tribune_ has gone as far as to predict approaching catastrophes due to the scandalous increase of population!" "yet, maston," said colonel blomsberry, "they are always fighting in europe to maintain the principle of nationalities!" "what of that?" "why, there might be something to do over there, and if they accepted our services--" "what are you thinking of?" cried bilsby. "work at ballistics for the benefit of foreigners!" "perhaps that would be better than not doing it at all," answered the colonel. "doubtless," said j.t. maston, "it would be better, but such an expedient cannot be thought of." "why so?" asked the colonel. "because their ideas of advancement would be contrary to all our american customs. those folks seem to think that you cannot be a general-in-chief without having served as second lieutenant, which comes to the same as saying that no one can point a gun that has not cast one. now that is simply--" "absurd!" replied tom hunter, whittling the arms of his chair with his bowie-knife; "and as things are so, there is nothing left for us but to plant tobacco or distil whale-oil!" "what!" shouted j.t. maston, "shall we not employ these last years of our existence in perfecting firearms? will not a fresh opportunity present itself to try the ranges of our projectiles? will the atmosphere be no longer illuminated by the lightning of our cannons? won't some international difficulty crop up that will allow us to declare war against some transatlantic power? won't france run down one of our steamers, or won't england, in defiance of the rights of nations, hang up three or four of our countrymen?" "no, maston," answered colonel blomsberry; "no such luck! no, not one of those incidents will happen; and if one did, it would be of no use to us. american sensitiveness is declining daily, and we are going to the dogs!" "yes, we are growing quite humble," replied bilsby. "and we are humiliated!" answered tom hunter. "all that is only too true," replied j.t. maston, with fresh vehemence. "there are a thousand reasons for fighting floating about, and still we don't fight! we economise legs and arms, and that to the profit of folks that don't know what to do with them. look here, without looking any farther for a motive for war, did not north america formerly belong to the english?" "doubtless," answered tom hunter, angrily poking the fire with the end of his crutch. "well," replied j.t. maston, "why should not england in its turn belong to the americans?" "it would be but justice," answered colonel blomsberry. "go and propose that to the president of the united states," cried j.t. maston, "and see what sort of a reception you would get." "it would not be a bad reception," murmured bilsby between the four teeth he had saved from battle. "i'faith," cried j.t. maston, "they need not count upon my vote in the next elections." "nor upon ours," answered with common accord these bellicose invalids. "in the meantime," continued j.t. maston, "and to conclude, if they do not furnish me with the opportunity of trying my new mortar on a real battle-field, i shall send in my resignation as member of the gun club, and i shall go and bury myself in the backwoods of arkansas." "we will follow you there," answered the interlocutors of the enterprising j.t. maston. things had come to that pass, and the club, getting more excited, was menaced with approaching dissolution, when an unexpected event came to prevent so regrettable a catastrophe. the very day after the foregoing conversation each member of the club received a circular couched in these terms:-"baltimore, october 3rd. "the president of the gun club has the honour to inform his colleagues that at the meeting on the 5th ultimo he will make them a communication of an extremely interesting nature. he therefore begs that they, to the suspension of all other business, will attend, in accordance with the present invitation, "their devoted colleague, "impey barbicane, p.g.c." chapter ii. president barbicane's communication. on the 5th of october, at 8 p.m., a dense crowd pressed into the saloons of the gun club, 21, union-square. all the members of the club residing at baltimore had gone on the invitation of their president. the express brought corresponding members by hundreds, and if the meeting-hall had not been so large, the crowd of _savants_ could not have found room in it; they overflowed into the neighbouring rooms, down the passages, and even into the courtyards; there they ran against the populace who were pressing against the doors, each trying to get into the front rank, all eager to learn the important communication of president barbicane, all pressing, squeezing, crushing with that liberty of action peculiar to the masses brought up in the idea of self-government. that evening any stranger who might have chanced to be in baltimore could not have obtained a place at any price in the large hall; it was exclusively reserved to residing or corresponding members; no one else was admitted; and the city magnates, common councillors, and select men were compelled to mingle with their inferiors in order to catch stray news from the interior. the immense hall presented a curious spectacle; it was marvellously adapted to the purpose for which it was built. lofty pillars formed of cannon, superposed upon huge mortars as a base, supported the fine ironwork of the arches--real cast-iron lacework. trophies of blunderbusses, matchlocks, arquebuses, carbines, all sorts of ancient or modern firearms, were picturesquely enlaced against the walls. the gas, in full flame, came out of a thousand revolvers grouped in the form of lustres, whilst candlesticks of pistols, and candelabra made of guns done up in sheaves, completed this display of light. models of cannons, specimens of bronze, targets spotted with shot-marks, plaques broken by the shock of the gun club, balls, assortments of rammers and sponges, chaplets of shells, necklaces of projectiles, garlands of howitzers--in a word, all the tools of the artilleryman surprised the eyes by their wonderful arrangement, and induced a belief that their real purpose was more ornamental than deadly. in the place of honour was seen, covered by a splendid glass case, a piece of breech, broken and twisted under the effort of the powder--a precious fragment of j.t. maston's cannon. at the extremity of the hall the president, assisted by four secretaries, occupied a wide platform. his chair, placed on a carved gun-carriage, was modelled upon the powerful proportions of a 32-inch mortar; it was pointed at an angle of 90 degs., and hung upon trunnions so that the president could use it as a rocking-chair, very agreeable in great heat. upon the desk, a huge iron plate, supported upon six carronades, stood a very tasteful inkstand, made of a beautifully-chased spanish piece, and a report-bell, which, when required, went off like a revolver. during the vehement discussions this new sort of bell scarcely sufficed to cover the voices of this legion of excited artillerymen. in front of the desk, benches, arranged in zigzags, like the circumvallations of intrenchment, formed a succession of bastions and curtains where the members of the gun club took their seats; and that evening, it may be said, there were plenty on the ramparts. the president was sufficiently known for all to be assured that he would not have called together his colleagues without a very great motive. impey barbicane was a man of forty, calm, cold, austere, of a singularly serious and concentrated mind, as exact as a chronometer, of an imperturbable temperament and immovable character; not very chivalrous, yet adventurous, and always bringing practical ideas to bear on the wildest enterprises; an essential new-englander, a northern colonist, the descendant of those roundheads so fatal to the stuarts, and the implacable enemy of the southern gentlemen, the ancient cavaliers of the mother country--in a word, a yankee cast in a single mould. barbicane had made a great fortune as a timber-merchant; named director of artillery during the war, he showed himself fertile in inventions; enterprising in his ideas, he contributed powerfully to the progress of ballistics, gave an immense impetus to experimental researches. he was a person of average height, having, by a rare exception in the gun club, all his limbs intact. his strongly-marked features seemed to be drawn by square and rule, and if it be true that in order to guess the instincts of a man one must look at his profile, barbicane seen thus offered the most certain indications of energy, audacity, and _sang-froid_. at that moment he remained motionless in his chair, mute, absorbed, with an inward look sheltered under his tall hat, a cylinder of black silk, which seems screwed down upon the skull of american men. his colleagues talked noisily around him without disturbing him; they questioned one another, launched into the field of suppositions, examined their president, and tried, but in vain, to make out the _x_ of his imperturbable physiognomy. just as eight o'clock struck from the fulminating clock of the large hall, barbicane, as if moved by a spring, jumped up; a general silence ensued, and the orator, in a slightly emphatic tone, spoke as follows:-"brave colleagues,--it is some time since an unfruitful peace plunged the members of the gun club into deplorable inactivity. after a period of some years, so full of incidents, we have been obliged to abandon our works and stop short on the road of progress. i do not fear to proclaim aloud that any war which would put arms in our hands again would be welcome--" "yes, war!" cried impetuous j.t. maston. "hear, hear!" was heard on every side. "but war," said barbicane, "war is impossible under actual circumstances, and, whatever my honourable interrupter may hope, long years will elapse before our cannons thunder on a field of battle. we must, therefore, make up our minds to it, and seek in another order of ideas food for the activity by which we are devoured." the assembly felt that its president was coming to the delicate point; it redoubled its attention. "a few months ago, my brave colleagues," continued barbicane, "i asked myself if, whilst still remaining in our speciality, we could not undertake some grand experiment worthy of the nineteenth century, and if the progress of ballistics would not allow us to execute it with success. i have therefore sought, worked, calculated, and the conviction has resulted from my studies that we must succeed in an enterprise that would seem impracticable in any other country. this project, elaborated at length, will form the subject of my communication; it is worthy of you, worthy of the gun club's past history, and cannot fail to make a noise in the world!" "much noise?" cried a passionate artilleryman. "much noise in the true sense of the word," answered barbicane. "don't interrupt!" repeated several voices. "i therefore beg of you, my brave colleagues," resumed the president, "to grant me all your attention." a shudder ran through the assembly. barbicane, having with a rapid gesture firmly fixed his hat on his head, continued his speech in a calm tone:-"there is not one of you, brave colleagues, who has not seen the moon, or, at least, heard of it. do not be astonished if i wish to speak to you about the queen of night. it is, perhaps, our lot to be the columbuses of this unknown world. understand me, and second me as much as you can, i will lead you to its conquest, and its name shall be joined to those of the thirty-six states that form the grand country of the union!" "hurrah for the moon!" cried the gun club with one voice. "the moon has been much studied," resumed barbicane; "its mass, density, weight, volume, constitution, movements, distance, the part it plays in the solar world, are all perfectly determined; selenographic maps have been drawn with a perfection that equals, if it does not surpass, those of terrestrial maps; photography has given to our satellite proofs of incomparable beauty--in a word, all that the sciences of mathematics, astronomy, geology, and optics can teach is known about the moon; but until now no direct communication with it has ever been established." a violent movement of interest and surprise welcomed this sentence of the orator. "allow me," he resumed, "to recall to you in few words how certain ardent minds, embarked upon imaginary journeys, pretended to have penetrated the secrets of our satellite. in the seventeenth century a certain david fabricius boasted of having seen the inhabitants of the moon with his own eyes. in 1649 a frenchman, jean baudoin, published his _journey to the moon by dominique gonzales, spanish adventurer_. at the same epoch cyrano de bergerac published the celebrated expedition that had so much success in france. later on, another frenchman (that nation took a great deal of notice of the moon), named fontenelle, wrote his _plurality of worlds_, a masterpiece of his time; but science in its progress crushes even masterpieces! about 1835, a pamphlet, translated from the _new york american_, related that sir john herschel, sent to the cape of good hope, there to make astronomical observations, had, by means of a telescope, perfected by interior lighting, brought the moon to within a distance of eighty yards. then he distinctly perceived caverns in which lived hippopotami, green mountains with golden borders, sheep with ivory horns, white deer, and inhabitants with membraneous wings like those of bats. this treatise, the work of an american named locke, had a very great success. but it was soon found out that it was a scientific mystification, and frenchmen were the first to laugh at it." "laugh at an american!" cried j.t. maston; "but that's a _casus belli_!" "be comforted, my worthy friend; before frenchmen laughed they were completely taken in by our countryman. to terminate this rapid history, i may add that a certain hans pfaal, of rotterdam, went up in a balloon filled with a gas made from azote, thirty-seven times lighter than hydrogen, and reached the moon after a journey of nineteen days. this journey, like the preceding attempts, was purely imaginary, but it was the work of a popular american writer of a strange and contemplative genius. i have named edgar poe!" "hurrah for edgar poe!" cried the assembly, electrified by the words of the president. "i have now come to an end of these attempts which i may call purely literary, and quite insufficient to establish any serious communications with the queen of night. however, i ought to add that some practical minds tried to put themselves into serious communication with her. some years ago a german mathematician proposed to send a commission of _savants_ to the steppes of siberia. there, on the vast plains, immense geometrical figures were to be traced by means of luminous reflectors; amongst others, the square of the hypothenuse, vulgarly called the 'ass's bridge.' 'any intelligent being,' said the mathematician, 'ought to understand the scientific destination of that figure. the selenites (inhabitants of the moon), if they exist, will answer by a similar figure, and, communication once established, it will be easy to create an alphabet that will allow us to hold converse with the inhabitants of the moon.' thus spoke the german mathematician, but his project was not put into execution, and until now no direct communication has existed between the earth and her satellite. but it was reserved to the practical genius of americans to put itself into communication with the sidereal world. the means of doing so are simple, easy, certain, unfailing, and will make the subject of my proposition." a hubbub and tempest of exclamations welcomed these words. there was not one of the audience who was not dominated and carried away by the words of the orator. "hear, hear! silence!" was heard on all sides. when the agitation was calmed down barbicane resumed, in a graver tone, his interrupted speech. "you know," said he, "what progress the science of ballistics has made during the last few years, and to what degree of perfection firearms would have been brought if the war had gone on. you are not ignorant in general that the power of resistance of cannons and the expansive force of powder are unlimited. well, starting from that principle, i asked myself if, by means of sufficient apparatus, established under determined conditions of resistance, it would not be possible to send a cannon-ball to the moon!" at these words an "oh!" of stupefaction escaped from a thousand panting breasts; then occurred a moment of silence, like the profound calm that precedes thunder. in fact, the thunder came, but a thunder of applause, cries, and clamour which made the meeting-hall shake again. the president tried to speak; he could not. it was only at the end of ten minutes that he succeeded in making himself heard. "let me finish," he resumed coldly. "i have looked at the question in all its aspects, and from my indisputable calculations it results that any projectile, hurled at an initial speed of twelve thousand yards a second, and directed at the moon, must necessarily reach her. i have, therefore, the honour of proposing to you, my worthy colleagues, the attempting of this little experiment." chapter iii. effect of president barbicane's communication. it is impossible to depict the effect produced by the last words of the honourable president. what cries! what vociferations! what a succession of groans, hurrahs, cheers, and all the onomatopoeia of which the american language is so full. it was an indescribable hubbub and disorder. mouths, hands, and feet made as much noise as they could. all the weapons in this artillery museum going off at once would not have more violently agitated the waves of sound. that is not surprising; there are cannoneers nearly as noisy as their cannons. barbicane remained calm amidst these enthusiastic clamours; perhaps he again wished to address some words to his colleagues, for his gestures asked for silence, and his fulminating bell exhausted itself in violent detonations; it was not even heard. he was soon dragged from his chair, carried in triumph, and from the hands of his faithful comrades he passed into those of the no less excited crowd. nothing can astonish an american. it has often been repeated that the word "impossible" is not french; the wrong dictionary must have been taken by mistake. in america everything is easy, everything is simple, and as to mechanical difficulties, they are dead before they are born. between the barbicane project and its realisation not one true yankee would have allowed himself to see even the appearance of a difficulty. as soon said as done. the triumphant march of the president was prolonged during the evening. a veritable torchlight procession--irish, germans, frenchmen, scotchmen--all the heterogeneous individuals that compose the population of maryland--shouted in their maternal tongue, and the cheering was unanimous. precisely as if she knew it was all about her, the moon shone out then with serene magnificence, eclipsing other lights with her intense irradiation. all the yankees directed their eyes towards the shining disc; some saluted her with their hands, others called her by the sweetest names; between eight o'clock and midnight an optician in jones-fall-street made a fortune by selling field-glasses. the queen of night was looked at through them like a lady of high life. the americans acted in regard to her with the freedom of proprietors. it seemed as if the blonde phoebe belonged to these enterprising conquerors and already formed part of the union territory. and yet the only question was that of sending a projectile--a rather brutal way of entering into communication even with a satellite, but much in vogue amongst civilised nations. midnight had just struck, and the enthusiasm did not diminish; it was kept up in equal doses in all classes of the population; magistrates, _savants_, merchants, tradesmen, street-porters, intelligent as well as "green" men were moved even in their most delicate fibres. it was a national enterprise; the high town, low town, the quays bathed by the waters of the patapsco, the ships, imprisoned in their docks, overflowed with crowds intoxicated with joy, gin, and whisky; everybody talked, argued, perorated, disputed, approved, and applauded, from the gentleman comfortably stretched on the bar-room couch before his glass of "sherry-cobbler" to the waterman who got drunk upon "knock-me-down" in the dark taverns of fell's point. however, about 2 a.m. the emotion became calmer. president barbicane succeeded in getting home almost knocked to pieces. a hercules could not have resisted such enthusiasm. the crowd gradually abandoned the squares and streets. the four railroads of ohio, susquehanna, philadelphia, and washington, which converge at baltimore, took the heterogeneous population to the four corners of the united states, and the town reposed in a relative tranquillity. it would be an error to believe that during this memorable evening baltimore alone was agitated. the large towns of the union, new york, boston, albany, washington, richmond, new orleans, charlestown, la mobile of texas, massachusetts, michigan, and florida, all shared in the delirium. the thirty thousand correspondents of the gun club were acquainted with their president's letter, and awaited with equal impatience the famous communication of the 5th of october. the same evening as the orator uttered his speech it ran along the telegraph wires, across the states of the union, with a speed of 348,447 miles a second. it may, therefore, be said with absolute certainty that at the same moment the united states of america, ten times as large as france, cheered with a single voice, and twenty-five millions of hearts, swollen with pride, beat with the same pulsation. the next day five hundred daily, weekly, monthly, or bi-monthly newspapers took up the question; they examined it under its different aspects--physical, meteorological, economical, or moral, from a political or social point of view. they debated whether the moon was a finished world, or if she was not still undergoing transformation. did she resemble the earth in the time when the atmosphere did not yet exist? what kind of spectacle would her hidden hemisphere present to our terrestrial spheroid? granting that the question at present was simply about sending a projectile to the queen of night, every one saw in that the starting-point of a series of experiments; all hoped that one day america would penetrate the last secrets of the mysterious orb, and some even seemed to fear that her conquest would disturb the balance of power in europe. the project once under discussion, not one of the papers suggested a doubt of its realisation; all the papers, treatises, bulletins, and magazines published by scientific, literary, or religious societies enlarged upon its advantages, and the "natural history society" of boston, the "science and art society" of albany, the "geographical and statistical society" of new york, the "american philosophical society" of philadelphia, and the "smithsonian institution" of washington sent in a thousand letters their congratulations to the gun club, with immediate offers of service and money. it may be said that no proposition ever had so many adherents; there was no question of hesitations, doubts, or anxieties. as to the jokes, caricatures, and comic songs that would have welcomed in europe, and, above all, in france, the idea of sending a projectile to the moon, they would have been turned against their author; all the "life-preservers" in the world would have been powerless to guarantee him against the general indignation. there are things that are not to be laughed at in the new world. impey barbicane became from that day one of the greatest citizens of the united states, something like a washington of science, and one fact amongst several will serve to show the sudden homage which was paid by a nation to one man. some days after the famous meeting of the gun club the manager of an english company announced at the baltimore theatre a representation of _much ado about nothing_, but the population of the town, seeing in the title a damaging allusion to the projects of president barbicane, invaded the theatre, broke the seats, and forced the unfortunate manager to change the play. like a sensible man, the manager, bowing to public opinion, replaced the offending comedy by _as you like it_, and for several weeks he had fabulous houses. chapter iv. answer from the cambridge observatory. in the meantime barbicane did not lose an instant amidst the enthusiasm of which he was the object. his first care was to call together his colleagues in the board-room of the gun club. there, after a debate, they agreed to consult astronomers about the astronomical part of their enterprise. their answer once known, they would then discuss the mechanical means, and nothing would be neglected to assure the success of their great experiment. a note in precise terms, containing special questions, was drawn up and addressed to the observatory of cambridge in massachusetts. this town, where the first university of the united states was founded, is justly celebrated for its astronomical staff. there are assembled the greatest men of science; there is the powerful telescope which enabled bond to resolve the nebula of andromeda and clarke to discover the satellite of sirius. this celebrated institution was, therefore, worthy in every way of the confidence of the gun club. after two days the answer, impatiently awaited, reached the hands of president barbicane. it ran as follows:-"_the director of the cambridge observatory to the president of the gun club at baltimore_. "on the receipt of your favour of the 6th inst., addressed to the observatory of cambridge in the name of the members of the baltimore gun club, we immediately called a meeting of our staff, who have deemed it expedient to answer as follows:-"the questions proposed to it were these:-"'1. is it possible to send a projectile to the moon? "'2. what is the exact distance that separates the earth and her satellite? "'3. what would be the duration of the projectile's transit to which a sufficient initial speed had been given, and consequently at what moment should it be hurled so as to reach the moon at a particular point? "'4. at what moment would the moon present the most favourable position for being reached by the projectile? "'5. what point in the heavens ought the cannon, destined to hurl the projectile, be aimed at? "'6. what place in the heavens will the moon occupy at the moment when the projectile will start?' "regarding question no. 1, 'is it possible to send a projectile to the moon?' "yes, it is possible to send a projectile to the moon if it is given an initial velocity of 1,200 yards a second. calculations prove that this speed is sufficient. in proportion to the distance from the earth the force of gravitation diminishes in an inverse ratio to the square of the distance--that is to say, that for a distance three times greater that force is nine times less. in consequence, the weight of the projectile will decrease rapidly, and will end by being completely annulled at the moment when the attraction of the moon will be equal to that of the earth--that is to say, at the 47/52 of the distance. at that moment the projectile will have no weight at all, and if it clears that point it will fall on to the moon only by the effect of lunar gravitation. the theoretic possibility of the experiment is, therefore, quite demonstrated; as to its success, that depends solely in the power of the engine employed. "regarding question no. 2, 'what is the exact distance that separates the earth from her satellite?' "the moon does not describe a circle round the earth, but an ellipse, of which our earth occupies one of the foci; the consequence is, therefore, that at certain times it approaches nearer to, and at others recedes farther from, the earth, or, in astronomical language, it has its apogee and its perigee. at its apogee the moon is at 247,552 miles from the earth, and at its perigee at 218,657 miles only, which makes a difference of 28,895, or more than a ninth of the distance. the perigee distance is, therefore, the one that should give us the basis of all calculations. "regarding question no. 3, 'what would be the duration of the projectile's transit to which a sufficient initial speed has been given, and consequently at what moment should it be hurled so as to reach the moon at a particular point?' "if the projectile kept indefinitely the initial speed of 12,000 yards a second, it would only take about nine hours to reach its destination; but as that initial velocity will go on decreasing, it will happen, everything calculated upon, that the projectile will take 300,000 seconds, or 83 hours and 20 minutes, to reach the point where the terrestrial and lunar gravitations are equal, and from that point it will fall upon the moon in 50,000 seconds, or 13 hours, 53 minutes, and 20 seconds. it must, therefore, be hurled 97 hours, 13 minutes, and 20 seconds before the arrival of the moon at the point aimed at. "regarding question no. 4, 'at what moment would the moon present the most favourable position for being reached by the projectile?' "according to what has been said above the epoch of the moon's perigee must first be chosen, and at the moment when she will be crossing her zenith, which will still further diminish the entire distance by a length equal to the terrestrial radius--i.e., 3,919 miles; consequently, the passage to be accomplished will be 214,976 miles. but the moon is not always at her zenith when she reaches her perigee, which is once a month. she is only under the two conditions simultaneously at long intervals of time. this coincidence of perigee and zenith must be waited for. it happens fortunately that on december 4th of next year the moon will offer these two conditions; at midnight she will be at her perigee and her zenith--that is to say, at her shortest distance from the earth and at her zenith at the same time. "regarding question no. 5, 'at what point in the heavens ought the cannon destined to hurl the projectile be aimed?' "the preceding observations being admitted, the cannon ought to be aimed at the zenith of the place (the zenith is the spot situated vertically above the head of a spectator), so that its range will be perpendicular to the plane of the horizon, and the projectile will pass the soonest beyond the range of terrestrial gravitation. but for the moon to reach the zenith of a place that place must not exceed in latitude the declination of the luminary--in other words, it must be comprised between 0° and 28° of north or south latitude. in any other place the range must necessarily be oblique, which would seriously affect the success of the experiment. "regarding question no. 6, 'what place will the moon occupy in the heavens at the moment of the projectile's departure?' "at the moment when the projectile is hurled into space, the moon, which travels forward 13° 10' 35" each day, will be four times as distant from her zenith point--i.e., by 52° 42' 20", a space which corresponds to the distance she will travel during the transit of the projectile. but as the deviation which the rotatory movement of the earth will impart to the shock must also be taken into account, and as the projectile cannot reach the moon until after a deviation equal to sixteen radii of the earth, which, calculated upon the moon's orbit, is equal to about 11°, it is necessary to add these 11° to those caused by the already-mentioned delay of the moon, or, in round numbers, 64°. thus, at the moment of firing, the visual radius applied to the moon will describe with the vertical line of the place an angle of 64°. "such are the answers to the questions proposed to the observatory of cambridge by the members of the gun club. "to sum up-"1st. the cannon must be placed in a country situated between 0° and 28° of north or south latitude. "2nd. it must be aimed at the zenith of the place. "3rd. the projectile must have an initial speed of 12,000 yards a second. "4th. it must be hurled on december 1st of next year, at 10hrs. 46mins. 40secs. p.m. "5th. it will meet the moon four days after its departure on december 4th, at midnight precisely, at the moment she arrives at her zenith. "the members of the gun club ought, therefore, at once to commence the labour necessitated by such an enterprise, and be ready to put them into execution at the moment fixed upon, for they will not find the moon in the same conditions of perigee and zenith till eighteen years and eleven days later. "the staff of the observatory of cambridge puts itself entirely at their disposition for questions of theoretic astronomy, and begs to join its congratulations to those of the whole of america. "on behalf of the staff, "j.m. belfast, "_director of the observatory of cambridge_." chapter v. the romance of the moon. a spectator endowed with infinite power of sight, and placed at the unknown centre round which gravitates the universe, would have seen myriads of atoms filling all space during the chaotic epoch of creation. but by degrees, as centuries went on, a change took place; a law of gravitation manifested itself which the wandering atoms obeyed; these atoms, combined chemically according to their affinities, formed themselves into molecules, and made those nebulous masses with which the depths of the heavens are strewed. these masses were immediately animated by a movement of rotation round their central point. this centre, made of vague molecules, began to turn on itself whilst progressively condensing; then, following the immutable laws of mechanics, in proportion as its volume became diminished by condensation its movement of rotation was accelerated, and these two effects persisting, there resulted a principal planet, the centre of the nebulous mass. by watching attentively the spectator would then have seen other molecules in the mass behave like the central planet, and condense in the same manner by a movement of progressively-accelerated rotation, and gravitate round it under the form of innumerable stars. the nebulae, of which astronomers count nearly 5,000 at present, were formed. amongst these 5,000 nebulae there is one that men have called the milky way, and which contains eighteen millions of stars, each of which has become the centre of a solar world. if the spectator had then specially examined amongst these eighteen millions of stars one of the most modest and least brilliant, a star of the fourth order, the one that proudly named itself the sun, all the phenomena to which the formation of the universe is due would have successively taken place under his eyes. in fact, he would have perceived this sun still in its gaseous state, and composed of mobile molecules; he would have perceived it turning on its own axis to finish its work of concentration. this movement, faithful to the laws of mechanics, would have been accelerated by the diminution of volume, and a time would have come when the centrifugal force would have overpowered the centripetal, which causes the molecules all to tend towards the centre. then another phenomenon would have passed before the eyes of the spectator, and the molecules situated in the plane of the equator would have formed several concentric rings like that of saturn round the sun. in their turn these rings of cosmic matter, seized with a movement of rotation round the central mass, would have been broken up into secondary nebulae--that is to say, into planets. if the spectator had then concentrated all his attention on these planets he would have seen them behave exactly like the sun and give birth to one or more cosmic rings, origin of those secondary bodies which we call satellites. thus in going up from the atom to the molecule, from the molecule to the nebulae, and from the nebulae to the principal star, from the principal star to the sun, from the sun to the planet, and from the planet to the satellite, we have the whole series of transformations undergone by the celestial powers from the first days of the universe. the sun seems lost amidst the immensities of the stellar universe, and yet it is related, by actual theories of science, to the nebula of the milky way. centre of a world, and small as it appears amidst the ethereal regions, it is still enormous, for its size is 1,400,000 times that of the earth. around it gravitate eight planets, struck off from its own mass in the first days of creation. these are, in proceeding from the nearest to the most distant, mercury, venus, the earth, mars, jupiter, saturn, uranus, and neptune. between mars and jupiter circulate regularly other smaller bodies, the wandering _débris_, perhaps, of a star broken up into thousands of pieces, of which the telescope has discovered eighty-two at present. some of these asteroids are so small that they could be walked round in a single day by going at a gymnastic pace. of these attendant bodies which the sun maintains in their elliptical orbit by the great law of gravitation, some possess satellites of their own. uranus has eight, saturn eight, jupiter four, neptune three perhaps, and the earth one; this latter, one of the least important of the solar world, is called the moon, and it is that one that the enterprising genius of the americans means to conquer. the queen of night, from her relative proximity and the spectacle rapidly renewed of her different phases, at first divided the attention of the inhabitants of the earth with the sun; but the sun tires the eyesight, and the splendour of its light forces its admirers to lower their eyes. the blonde phoebe, more humane, graciously allows herself to be seen in her modest grace; she is gentle to the eye, not ambitious, and yet she sometimes eclipses her brother the radiant apollo, without ever being eclipsed by him. the mahommedans understood what gratitude they owed to this faithful friend of the earth, and they ruled their months at 29-1/2 days on her revolution. the first people of the world dedicated particular worship to this chaste goddess. the egyptians called her isis, the phoenicians astarte, the greeks phoebe, daughter of jupiter and latona, and they explained her eclipses by the mysterious visits of diana and the handsome endymion. the mythological legend relates that the nemean lion traversed the country of the moon before its apparition upon earth, and the poet agesianax, quoted by plutarch, celebrated in his sweet lines its soft eyes, charming nose, and admirable mouth, formed by the luminous parts of the adorable selene. but though the ancients understood the character, temperament, and, in a word, moral qualities of the moon from a mythological point of view, the most learned amongst them remained very ignorant of selenography. several astronomers, however, of ancient times discovered certain particulars now confirmed by science. though the arcadians pretended they had inhabited the earth at an epoch before the moon existed, though simplicius believed her immovable and fastened to the crystal vault, though tacitus looked upon her as a fragment broken off from the solar orbit, and clearch, the disciple of aristotle, made of her a polished mirror upon which were reflected the images of the ocean--though, in short, others only saw in her a mass of vapours exhaled by the earth, or a globe half fire and half ice that turned on itself, other _savants_, by means of wise observations and without optical instruments, suspected most of the laws that govern the queen of night. thus thales of miletus, b.c. 460, gave out the opinion that the moon was lighted up by the sun. aristarchus of samos gave the right explanation of her phases. cleomenus taught that she shone by reflected light. berose the chaldean discovered that the duration of her movement of rotation was equal to that of her movement of revolution, and he thus explained why the moon always presented the same side. lastly, hipparchus, 200 years before the christian era, discovered some inequalities in the apparent movements of the earth's satellite. these different observations were afterwards confirmed, and other astronomers profited by them. ptolemy in the second century, and the arabian aboul wefa in the tenth, completed the remarks of hipparchus on the inequalities that the moon undergoes whilst following the undulating line of its orbit under the action of the sun. then copernicus, in the fifteenth century, and tycho brahe, in the sixteenth, completely exposed the system of the world and the part that the moon plays amongst the celestial bodies. at that epoch her movements were pretty well known, but very little of her physical constitution was known. it was then that galileo explained the phenomena of light produced in certain phases by the existence of mountains, to which he gave an average height of 27,000 feet. after him, hevelius, an astronomer of dantzig, lowered the highest altitudes to 15,000 feet; but his contemporary, riccioli, brought them up again to 21,000 feet. herschel, at the end of the eighteenth century, armed with a powerful telescope, considerably reduced the preceding measurements. he gave a height of 11,400 feet to the highest mountains, and brought down the average of different heights to little more than 2,400 feet. but herschel was mistaken too, and the observations of schroeter, louville, halley, nasmyth, bianchini, pastorff, lohrman, gruithuysen, and especially the patient studies of mm. boeer and moedler, were necessary to definitely resolve the question. thanks to these _savants_, the elevation of the mountains of the moon is now perfectly known. boeer and moedler measured 1,905 different elevations, of which six exceed 15,000 feet and twenty-two exceed 14,400 feet. their highest summit towers to a height of 22,606 feet above the surface of the lunar disc. at the same time the survey of the moon was being completed; she appeared riddled with craters, and her essentially volcanic nature was affirmed by each observation. from the absence of refraction in the rays of the planets occulted by her it is concluded that she can have no atmosphere. this absence of air entails absence of water; it therefore became manifest that the selenites, in order to live under such conditions, must have a special organisation, and differ singularly from the inhabitants of the earth. lastly, thanks to new methods, more perfected instruments searched the moon without intermission, leaving not a point of her surface unexplored, and yet her diameter measures 2,150 miles; her surface is one-thirteenth of the surface of the globe, and her volume one-forty-ninth of the volume of the terrestrial spheroid; but none of her secrets could escape the astronomers' eyes, and these clever _savants_ carried their wonderful observations still further. thus they remarked that when the moon was at her full the disc appeared in certain places striped with white lines, and during her phases striped with black lines. by prosecuting the study of these with greater precision they succeeded in making out the exact nature of these lines. they are long and narrow furrows sunk between parallel ridges, bordering generally upon the edges of the craters; their length varied from ten to one hundred miles, and their width was about 1,600 yards. astronomers called them furrows, and that was all they could do; they could not ascertain whether they were the dried-up beds of ancient rivers or not. the americans hope, some day or other, to determine this geological question. they also undertake to reconnoitre the series of parallel ramparts discovered on the surface of the moon by gruithuysen, a learned professor of munich, who considered them to be a system of elevated fortifications raised by selenite engineers. these two still obscure points, and doubtless many others, can only be definitely settled by direct communication with the moon. as to the intensity of her light there is nothing more to be learnt; it is 300,000 times weaker than that of the sun, and its heat has no appreciable action upon thermometers; as to the phenomenon known as the "ashy light," it is naturally explained by the effect of the sun's rays transmitted from the earth to the moon, and which seem to complete the lunar disc when it presents a crescent form during its first and last phases. such was the state of knowledge acquired respecting the earth's satellite which the gun club undertook to perfect under all its aspects, cosmographical, geographical, geological, political, and moral. chapter vi. what it is impossible to ignore and what is no longer allowed to be believed in the united states. the immediate effect of barbicane's proposition was that of bringing out all astronomical facts relative to the queen of night. everybody began to study her assiduously. it seemed as if the moon had appeared on the horizon for the first time, and that no one had ever seen her in the sky before. she became the fashion; she was the lion of the day, without appearing less modest on that account, and took her place amongst the "stars" without being any the prouder. the newspapers revived old anecdotes in which this "sun of the wolves" played a part; they recalled the influence which the ignorance of past ages had ascribed to her; they sang about her in every tone; a little more and they would have quoted her witty sayings; the whole of america was filled with selenomania. the scientific journals treated the question which touched upon the enterprise of the gun club more specially; they published the letter from the observatory of cambridge, they commented upon it and approved of it without reserve. in short, even the most ignorant yankee was no longer allowed to be ignorant of a single fact relative to his satellite, nor, to the oldest women amongst them, to have any superstitions about her left. science flooded them; it penetrated into their eyes and ears; it was impossible to be an ass--in astronomy. until then many people did not know how the distance between the earth and the moon had been calculated. this fact was taken advantage of to explain to them that it was done by measuring the parallax of the moon. if the word "parallax" seemed new to them, they were told it was the angle formed by two straight lines drawn from either extremity of the earth's radius to the moon. if they were in doubt about the perfection of this method, it was immediately proved to them that not only was the mean distance 234,347 miles, but that astronomers were right to within seventy miles. to those who were not familiar with the movements of the moon, the newspapers demonstrated daily that she possesses two distinct movements, the first being that of rotation upon her axis, the second that of revolution round the earth, accomplishing both in the same time--that is to say, in 27-1/3 days. the movement of rotation is the one that causes night and day on the surface of the moon, only there is but one day and one night in a lunar month, and they each last 354-1/3 hours. but, happily, the face, turned towards the terrestrial globe, is lighted by it with an intensity equal to the light of fourteen moons. as to the other face, the one always invisible, it has naturally 354 hours of absolute night, tempered only by "the pale light that falls from the stars." this phenomenon is due solely to the peculiarity that the movements of rotation and revolution are accomplished in rigorously equal periods, a phenomenon which, according to cassini and herschel, is common to the satellites of jupiter, and, very probably to the other satellites. some well-disposed but rather unyielding minds did not quite understand at first how, if the moon invariably shows the same face to the earth during her revolution, she describes one turn round herself in the same period of time. to such it was answered--"go into your dining-room, and turn round the table so as always to keep your face towards the centre; when your circular walk is ended you will have described one circle round yourselves, since your eye will have successively traversed every point of the room. well, then, the room is the heavens, the table is the earth, and you are the moon!" and they go away delighted with the comparison. thus, then, the moon always presents the same face to the earth; still, to be quite exact, it should be added that in consequence of certain fluctuations from north to south and from west to east, called libration, she shows rather more than the half of her disc, about 0.57. when the ignoramuses knew as much as the director of the cambridge observatory about the moon's movement of rotation they began to make themselves uneasy about her movement of revolution round the earth, and twenty scientific reviews quickly gave them the information they wanted. they then learnt that the firmament, with its infinite stars, may be looked upon as a vast dial upon which the moon moves, indicating the time to all the inhabitants of the earth; that it is in this movement that the queen of night shows herself in her different phases, that she is full when she is in opposition with the sun--that is to say, when the three bodies are on a line with each other, the earth being in the centre; that the moon is new when she is in conjunction with the sun--that is to say, when she is between the sun and the earth; lastly, that the moon is in her first or last quarter when she makes, with the sun and the earth, a right angle of which she occupies the apex. some perspicacious yankees inferred in consequence that eclipses could only take place at the periods of conjunction or opposition, and their reasoning was just. in conjunction the moon can eclipse the sun, whilst in opposition it is the earth that can eclipse him in her turn; and the reason these eclipses do not happen twice in a lunar month is because the plane upon which the moon moves is elliptical like that of the earth. as to the height which the queen of night can attain above the horizon, the letter from the observatory of cambridge contained all that can be said about it. every one knew that this height varies according to the latitude of the place where the observation is taken. but the only zones of the globe where the moon reaches her zenith--that is to say, where she is directly above the heads of the spectators--are necessarily comprised between the 28th parallels and the equator. hence the important recommendation given to attempt the experiment upon some point in this part of the globe, in order that the projectile may be hurled perpendicularly, and may thus more quickly escape the attraction of gravitation. this was a condition essential to the success of the enterprise, and public opinion was much exercised thereupon. as to the line followed by the moon in her revolution round the earth, the observatory of cambridge had demonstrated to the most ignorant that it is an ellipse of which the earth occupies one of the foci. these elliptical orbits are common to all the planets as well as to all the satellites, and rational mechanism rigorously proves that it could not be otherwise. it was clearly understood that when at her apogee the moon was farthest from the earth, and when at her perigee she was nearest to our planet. this, therefore, was what every american knew whether he wished to or no, and what no one could decently be ignorant of. but if these true principles rapidly made their way, certain illusive fears and many errors were with difficulty cleared away. some worthy people maintained, for instance, that the moon was an ancient comet, which, whilst travelling along its elongated orbit round the sun, passed near to the earth, and was retained in her circle of attraction. the drawing-room astronomers pretended to explain thus the burnt aspect of the moon, a misfortune of which they accused the sun. only when they were told to notice that comets have an atmosphere, and that the moon has little or none, they did not know what to answer. others belonging to the class of "shakers" manifested certain fears about the moon; they had heard that since the observations made in the times of the caliphs her movement of revolution had accelerated in a certain proportion; they thence very logically concluded that an acceleration of movement must correspond to a diminution in the distance between the two bodies, and that this double effect going on infinitely the moon would one day end by falling into the earth. however, they were obliged to reassure themselves and cease to fear for future generations when they were told that according to the calculations of laplace, an illustrious french mathematician, this acceleration of movement was restricted within very narrow limits, and that a proportional diminution will follow it. thus the equilibrium of the solar world cannot be disturbed in future centuries. lastly there was the superstitious class of ignoramuses to be dealt with; these are not content with being ignorant; they know what does not exist, and about the moon they know a great deal. some of them considered her disc to be a polished mirror by means of which people might see themselves from different points on the earth, and communicate their thoughts to one another. others pretended that out of 1,000 new moons 950 had brought some notable change, such as cataclysms, revolutions, earthquakes, deluges, &c.; they therefore believed in the mysterious influence of the queen of night on human destinies; they think that every selenite is connected by some sympathetic tie with each inhabitant of the earth; they pretend, with dr. mead, that she entirely governs the vital system--that boys are born during the new moon and girls during her last quarter, &c., &c. but at last it became necessary to give up these vulgar errors, to come back to truth; and if the moon, stripped of her influence, lost her prestige in the minds of courtesans of every power, if some turned their backs on her, the immense majority were in her favour. as to the yankees, they had no other ambition than that of taking possession of this new continent of the sky, and to plant upon its highest summit the star-spangled banner of the united states of america. chapter vii. the hymn of the cannon-ball. the cambridge observatory had, in its memorable letter of october 7th, treated the question from an astronomical point of view--the mechanical point had still to be treated. it was then that the practical difficulties would have seemed insurmountable to any other country but america; but there they were looked upon as play. president barbicane had, without losing any time, nominated a working committee in the heart of the gun club. this committee was in three sittings to elucidate the three great questions of the cannon, the projectile, and the powder. it was composed of four members very learned upon these matters. barbicane had the casting vote, and with him were associated general morgan, major elphinstone, and, lastly, the inevitable j.t. maston, to whom were confided the functions of secretary. on the 8th of october the committee met at president barbicane's house, no. 3, republican-street; as it was important that the stomach should not trouble so important a debate, the four members of the gun club took their seats at a table covered with sandwiches and teapots. j.t. maston immediately screwed his pen on to his steel hook and the business began. barbicane opened the meeting as follows:-"dear colleagues," said he, "we have to solve one of the more important problems in ballistics--that greatest of sciences which treats of the movement of projectiles--that is to say, of bodies hurled into space by some power of impulsion and then left to themselves." "oh, ballistics, ballistics!" cried j.t. maston in a voice of emotion. "perhaps," continued barbicane, "the most logical thing would be to consecrate this first meeting to discussing the engine." "certainly," answered general morgan. "nevertheless," continued barbicane, "after mature deliberation, it seems to me that the question of the projectile ought to precede that of the cannon, and that the dimensions of the latter ought to depend upon the dimensions of the former." j.t. maston here interrupted the president, and was heard with the attention which his magnificent past career deserved. "my dear friends," said he in an inspired tone, "our president is right to give the question of the projectile the precedence of every other; the cannon-ball we mean to hurl at the moon will be our messenger, our ambassador, and i ask your permission to regard it from an entirely moral point of view." this new way of looking at a projectile excited the curiosity of the members of the committee; they therefore listened attentively to the words of j.t. maston. "my dear colleagues," he continued, "i will be brief. i will lay aside the material projectile--the projectile that kills--in order to take up the mathematical projectile--the moral projectile. a cannon-ball is to me the most brilliant manifestation of human power, and by creating it man has approached nearest to the creator!" "hear, hear!" said major elphinstone. "in fact," cried the orator, "if god has made the stars and the planets, man has made the cannon-ball--that criterion of terrestrial speed--that reduction of bodies wandering in space which are really nothing but projectiles. let providence claim the speed of electricity, light, the stars, comets, planets, satellites, sound, and wind! but ours is the speed of the cannon-ball--a hundred times greater than that of trains and the fastest horses!" j.t. maston was inspired; his accents became quite lyrical as he chanted the hymn consecrated to the projectile. "would you like figures?" continued he; "here are eloquent ones. take the simple 24 pounder; though it moves 80,000 times slower than electricity, 64,000 times slower than light, 76 times slower than the earth in her movement of translation round the sun, yet when it leaves the cannon it goes quicker than sound; it goes at the rate of 14 miles a minute, 840 miles an hour, 20,100 miles a day--that is to say, at the speed of the points of the equator in the globe's movement of rotation, 7,336,500 miles a year. it would therefore take 11 days to get to the moon, 12 years to get to the sun, 360 years to reach neptune, at the limits of the solar world. that is what this modest cannon-ball, the work of our hands, can do! what will it be, therefore, when, with twenty times that speed, we shall hurl it with a rapidity of seven miles a second? ah! splendid shot! superb projectile! i like to think you will be received up there with the honours due to a terrestrial ambassador!" cheers greeted this brilliant peroration, and j.t. maston, overcome with emotion, sat down amidst the felicitations of his colleagues. "and now," said barbicane, "that we have given some time to poetry, let us proceed to facts." "we are ready," answered the members of the committee as they each demolished half-a-dozen sandwiches. "you know what problem it is we have to solve," continued the president; "it is that of endowing a projectile with a speed of 12,000 yards per second. i have every reason to believe that we shall succeed, but at present let us see what speeds we have already obtained; general morgan can edify us upon that subject." "so much the more easily," answered the general, "because during the war i was a member of the experiment commission. the 100-pound cannon of dahlgren, with a range of 5,000 yards, gave their projectiles an initial speed of 500 yards a second." "yes; and the rodman columbiad?" (the americans gave the name of "columbiad" to their enormous engines of destruction) asked the president. "the rodman columbiad, tried at fort hamilton, near new york, hurled a projectile, weighing half a ton, a distance of six miles, with a speed of 800 yards a second, a result which neither armstrong nor palliser has obtained in england." "englishmen are nowhere!" said j.t. maston, pointing his formidable steel hook eastward. "then," resumed barbicane, "a speed of 800 yards is the maximum obtained at present." "yes," answered morgan. "i might add, however," replied j.t. maston, "that if my mortar had not been blown up--" "yes, but it was blown up," replied barbicane with a benevolent gesture. "we must take the speed of 800 yards for a starting point. we must keep till another meeting the discussion of the means used to produce this speed; allow me to call your attention to the dimensions which our projectile must have. of course it must be something very different to one of half a ton weight." "why?" asked the major. "because," quickly answered j.t. maston, "it must be large enough to attract the attention of the inhabitants of the moon, supposing there are any." "yes," answered barbicane, "and for another reason still more important." "what do you mean, barbicane?" asked the major. "i mean that it is not enough to send up a projectile and then to think no more about it; we must follow it in its transit." "what?" said the general, slightly surprised at the proposition. "certainly," replied barbicane, like a man who knew what he was saying, "or our experiment will be without result." "but then," replied the major, "you will have to give the projectile enormous dimensions." "no. please grant me your attention. you know that optical instruments have acquired great perfection; certain telescopes increase objects six thousand, and bring the moon to within a distance of forty miles. now at that distance objects sixty feet square are perfectly visible. the power of penetration of the telescope has not been increased, because that power is only exercised to the detriment of their clearness, and the moon, which is only a reflecting mirror, does not send a light intense enough for the telescopes to increase objects beyond that limit." "very well, then, what do you mean to do?" asked the general. "do you intend giving a diameter of sixty feet to your projectile?" "no." "you are not going to take upon yourself the task of making the moon more luminous?" "i am, though." "that's rather strong!" exclaimed maston. "yes, but simple," answered barbicane. "if i succeed in lessening the density of the atmosphere which the moon's light traverses, shall i not render that light more intense?" "evidently." "in order to obtain that result i shall only have to establish my telescope upon some high mountain. we can do that." "i give in," answered the major; "you have such a way of simplifying things! what enlargement do you hope to obtain thus?" "one of 48,000 times, which will bring the moon within five miles only, and objects will only need a diameter of nine feet." "perfect!" exclaimed j.t. maston; "then our projectile will have a diameter of nine feet?" "precisely." "allow me to inform you, however," returned major elphinstone, "that its weight will still be--" "oh, major!" answered barbicane, "before discussing its weight allow me to tell you that our forefathers did marvels in that way. far be it from me to pretend that ballistics have not progressed, but it is well to know that in the middle ages surprising results were obtained, i dare affirm, even more surprising than ours." "justify your statement," exclaimed j.t. maston. "nothing is easier," answered barbicane; "i can give you some examples. at the siege of constantinople by mahomet ii., in 1453, they hurled stone bullets that weighed 1,900 lbs.; at malta, in the time of its knights, a certain cannon of fort saint elme hurled projectiles weighing 2,500 lbs. according to a french historian, under louis xi. a mortar hurled a bomb of 500 lbs. only; but that bomb, fired at the bastille, a place where mad men imprisoned wise ones, fell at charenton, where wise men imprison mad ones." "very well," said j.t. maston. "since, what have we seen, after all? the armstrong cannons hurl projectiles of 500 lbs., and the rodman columbiads projectiles of half a ton! it seems, then, that if projectiles have increased in range they have lost in weight. now, if we turn our efforts in that direction, we must succeed with the progress of the science in doubling the weight of the projectiles of mahomet ii. and the knights of malta." "that is evident," answered the major; "but what metal do you intend to employ for your own projectile?" "simply cast-iron," said general morgan. "cast-iron!" exclaimed j.t. maston disdainfully, "that's very common for a bullet destined to go to the moon." "do not let us exaggerate, my honourable friend," answered morgan; "cast-iron will be sufficient." "then," replied major elphinstone, "as the weight of the projectile is in proportion to its volume, a cast-iron bullet, measuring nine feet in diameter, will still be frightfully heavy." "yes, if it be solid, but not if it be hollow," said barbicane. "hollow!--then it will be an obus?" "in which we can put despatches," replied j.t. maston, "and specimens of our terrestrial productions." "yes, an obus," answered barbicane; "that is what it must be; a solid bullet of 108 inches would weigh more than 200,000 lbs., a weight evidently too great; however, as it is necessary to give the projectile a certain stability, i propose to give it a weight of 20,000 lbs." "what will be the thickness of the metal?" asked the major. "if we follow the usual proportions," replied morgan, "a diameter of 800 inches demands sides two feet thick at least." "that would be much too thick," answered barbicane; "we do not want a projectile to pierce armour-plate; it only needs sides strong enough to resist the pressure of the powder-gas. this, therefore, is the problem:--what thickness ought an iron obus to have in order to weigh only 20,000 lbs.? our clever calculator, mr. maston, will tell us at once." "nothing is easier," replied the honourable secretary. so saying, he traced some algebraical signs on the paper, amongst which n^2 and x^2 frequently appeared. he even seemed to extract from them a certain cubic root, and said-"the sides must be hardly two inches thick." "will that be sufficient?" asked the major doubtfully. "no," answered the president, "certainly not." "then what must be done?" resumed elphinstone, looking puzzled. "we must use another metal instead of cast-iron." "brass?" suggested morgan. "no; that is too heavy too, and i have something better than that to propose." "what?" asked the major. "aluminium," answered barbicane. "aluminium!" cried all the three colleagues of the president. "certainly, my friends. you know that an illustrious french chemist, henry st. claire deville, succeeded in 1854 in obtaining aluminium in a compact mass. this precious metal possesses the whiteness of silver, the indestructibility of gold, the tenacity of iron, the fusibility of copper, the lightness of glass; it is easily wrought, and is very widely distributed in nature, as aluminium forms the basis of most rocks; it is three times lighter than iron, and seems to have been created expressly to furnish us with the material for our projectile!" "hurrah for aluminium!" cried the secretary, always very noisy in his moments of enthusiasm. "but, my dear president," said the major, "is not aluminium quoted exceedingly high?" "it was so," answered barbicane; "when first discovered a pound of aluminium cost 260 to 280 dollars; then it fell to twenty-seven dollars, and now it is worth nine dollars." "but nine dollars a pound," replied the major, who did not easily give in; "that is still an enormous price." "doubtless, my dear major; but not out of reach." "what will the projectile weigh, then?" asked morgan. "here is the result of my calculations," answered barbicane. "a projectile of 108 inches in diameter and 12 inches thick would weigh, if it were made of cast-iron, 67,440 lbs.; cast in aluminium it would be reduced to 19,250 lbs." "perfect!" cried maston; "that suits our programme capitally." "yes," replied the major; "but do you not know that at nine dollars a pound the projectile would cost--" "one hundred seventy-three thousand and fifty dollars. yes, i know that; but fear nothing, my friends; money for our enterprise will not be wanting, i answer for that." "it will be showered upon us," replied j.t. maston. "well, what do you say to aluminium?" asked the president. "adopted," answered the three members of the committee. "as to the form of the projectile," resumed barbicane, "it is of little consequence, since, once the atmosphere cleared, it will find itself in empty space; i therefore propose a round ball, which will turn on itself, if it so pleases." thus ended the first committee meeting. the question of the projectile was definitely resolved upon, and j.t. maston was delighted with the idea of sending an aluminium bullet to the selenites, "as it will give them no end of an idea of the inhabitants of the earth!" chapter viii. history of the cannon. the resolutions passed at this meeting produced a great effect outside. some timid people grew alarmed at the idea of a projectile weighing 20,000 lbs. hurled into space. people asked what cannon could ever transmit an initial speed sufficient for such a mass. the report of the second meeting was destined to answer these questions victoriously. the next evening the four members of the gun club sat down before fresh mountains of sandwiches and a veritable ocean of tea. the debate then began. "my dear colleagues," said barbicane, "we are going to occupy ourselves with the construction of the engine, its length, form, composition, and weight. it is probable that we shall have to give it gigantic dimensions, but, however great our difficulties might be, our industrial genius will easily overcome them. will you please listen to me and spare objections for the present? i do not fear them." an approving murmur greeted this declaration. "we must not forget," resumed barbicane, "to what point our yesterday's debate brought us; the problem is now the following: how to give an initial speed of 12,000 yards a second to a shot 108 inches in diameter weighing 20,000 lbs. "that is the problem indeed," answered major elphinstone. "when a projectile is hurled into space," resumed barbicane, "what happens? it is acted upon by three independent forces, the resistance of the medium, the attraction of the earth, and the force of impulsion with which it is animated. let us examine these three forces. the resistance of the medium--that is to say, the resistance of the air--is of little importance. in fact, the terrestrial atmosphere is only forty miles deep. with a rapidity of 12,000 yards the projectile will cross that in five seconds, and this time will be short enough to make the resistance of the medium insignificant. let us now pass to the attraction of the earth--that is to say, to the weight of the projectile. we know that that weight diminishes in an inverse ratio to the square of distances--in fact, this is what physics teach us: when a body left to itself falls on the surface of the earth, it falls 15 feet in the first second, and if the same body had to fall 257,542 miles--that is to say, the distance between the earth and the moon--its fall would be reduced to half a line in the first second. that is almost equivalent to immobility. the question is, therefore, how progressively to overcome this law of gravitation. how shall we do it? by the force of impulsion?" "that is the difficulty," answered the major. "that is it indeed," replied the president. "but we shall triumph over it, for this force of impulsion we want depends on the length of the engine and the quantity of powder employed, the one only being limited by the resistance of the other. let us occupy ourselves, therefore, to-day with the dimensions to be given to the cannon. it is quite understood that we can make it, as large as we like, seeing it will not have to be moved." "all that is evident," replied the general. "until now," said barbicane, "the longest cannon, our enormous columbiads, have not been more than twenty-five feet long; we shall therefore astonish many people by the dimensions we shall have to adopt." "certainly," exclaimed j.t. maston. "for my part, i ask for a cannon half a mile long at least!" "half a mile!" cried the major and the general. "yes, half a mile, and that will be half too short." "come, maston," answered morgan, "you exaggerate." "no, i do not," said the irate secretary; "and i really do not know why you tax me with exaggeration." "because you go too far." "you must know, sir," answered j.t. maston, looking dignified, "that an artilleryman is like a cannon-ball, he can never go too far." the debate was getting personal, but the president interfered. "be calm, my friends, and let us reason it out. we evidently want a gun of great range, as the length of the engine will increase the detention of gas accumulated behind the projectile, but it is useless to overstep certain limits." "perfectly," said the major. "what are the usual rules in such a case? ordinarily the length of a cannon is twenty or twenty-five times the diameter of the projectile, and it weighs 235 to 240 times its weight." "it is not enough," cried j.t. maston with impetuosity. "i agree to that, my worthy friend, and in fact by keeping that proportion for a projectile nine feet wide, weighing 30,000 lbs., the engine would only have a length of 225 feet and a weight of 7,200,000 lbs." "that is ridiculous," resumed j.t. maston. "you might as well take a pistol." "i think so too," answered barbicane; "that is why i propose to quadruple that length, and to construct a cannon 900 feet long." the general and the major made some objections, but, nevertheless, this proposition, strongly supported by the secretary, was definitely adopted. "now," said elphinstone, "what thickness must we give its sides?" "a thickness of six feet," answered barbicane. "you do not think of raising such a mass upon a gun-carriage?" asked the major. "that would be superb, however! said j.t. maston. "but impracticable," answered barbicane. "no, i think of casting this engine in the ground itself, binding it up with wrought-iron hoops, and then surrounding it with a thick mass of stone and cement masonry. when it is cast it must be bored with great precision so as to prevent windage, so there will be no loss of gas, and all the expansive force of the powder will be employed in the propulsion." "hurrah! hurrah!" said maston, "we have our cannon." "not yet," answered barbicane, calming his impatient friend with his hand. "why not?" "because we have not discussed its form. shall it be a cannon, howitzer, or a mortar?" "a cannon," replied morgan. "a howitzer," said the major. "a mortar," exclaimed j.t. maston. a fresh discussion was pending, each taking the part of his favourite weapon, when the president stopped it short. "my friends," said he, "i will soon make you agree. our columbiad will be a mixture of all three. it will be a cannon, because the powder-magazine will have the same diameter as the chamber. it will be a howitzer, because it will hurl an obus. lastly, it will be a mortar, because it will be pointed at an angle of 90°, and that without any chance of recoil; unalterably fixed to the ground, it will communicate to the projectile all the power of impulsion accumulated in its body." "adopted, adopted," answered the members of the committee. "one question," said elphinstone, "and will this _canobusomortar_ be rifled?" "no," answered barbicane. "no, we must have an enormous initial speed, and you know very well that a shot leaves a rifle less rapidly than a smooth-bore." "true," answered the major. "well, we have it this time," repeated j.t. maston. "not quite yet," replied the president. "why not?" "because we do not yet know of what metal it will be made." "let us decide that without delay." "i was going to propose it to you." the four members of the committee each swallowed a dozen sandwiches, followed by a cup of tea, and the debate recommenced. "our cannon," said barbicane, "must be possessed of great tenacity, great hardness; it must be infusible by heat, indissoluble, and inoxydable by the corrosive action of acids." "there is no doubt about that," answered the major, "and as we shall have to employ a considerable quantity of metal we shall not have much choice." "well, then," said morgan, "i propose for the fabrication of the columbiad the best alloy hitherto known--that is to say, 100 parts of copper, 12 of tin, and 6 of brass." "my friends," answered the president, "i agree that this composition has given excellent results; but in bulk it would be too dear and very hard to work. i therefore think we must adopt an excellent material, but cheap, such as cast-iron. is not that your opinion, major?" "quite," answered elphinstone. "in fact," resumed barbicane, "cast-iron costs ten times less than bronze; it is easily melted, it is readily run into sand moulds, and is rapidly manipulated; it is, therefore, an economy of money and time. besides, that material is excellent, and i remember that during the war at the siege of atlanta cast-iron cannon fired a thousand shots each every twenty minutes without being damaged by it." "yet cast-iron is very brittle," answered morgan. "yes, but it possesses resistance too. besides, we shall not let it explode, i can answer for that." "it is possible to explode and yet be honest," replied j.t. maston sententiously. "evidently," answered barbicane. "i am, therefore, going to beg our worthy secretary to calculate the weight of a cast-iron cannon 900 feet long, with an inner diameter of nine feet, and sides six feet thick." "at once," answered j.t. maston, and, as he had done the day before, he made his calculations with marvellous facility, and said at the end of a minute-"this cannon will weigh 68,040 tons." "and how much will that cost at two cents a pound?" "two million five hundred and ten thousand seven hundred and one dollars." j.t. maston, the major, and the general looked at barbicane anxiously. "well, gentlemen," said the president, "i can only repeat what i said to you yesterday, don't be uneasy; we shall not want for money." upon this assurance of its president the committee broke up, after having fixed a third meeting for the next evening. chapter ix. the question of powders. the question of powder still remained to be settled. the public awaited this last decision with anxiety. the size of the projectile and length of the cannon being given, what would be the quantity of powder necessary to produce the impulsion? this terrible agent, of which, however, man has made himself master, was destined to play a part in unusual proportions. it is generally known and often asserted that gunpowder was invented in the fourteenth century by the monk schwartz, who paid for his great discovery with his life. but it is nearly proved now that this story must be ranked among the legends of the middle ages. gunpowder was invented by no one; it is a direct product of greek fire, composed, like it, of sulphur and saltpetre; only since that epoch these mixtures; which were only dissolving, have been transformed into detonating mixtures. but if learned men know perfectly the false history of gunpowder, few people are aware of its mechanical power. now this is necessary to be known in order to understand the importance of the question submitted to the committee. thus a litre of gunpowder weighs about 2 lbs.; it produces, by burning, about 400 litres of gas; this gas, liberated, and under the action of a temperature of 2,400°, occupies the space of 4,000 litres. therefore the volume of powder is to the volume of gas produced by its deflagration as 1 to 400. the frightful force of this gas, when it is compressed into a space 4,000 times too small, may be imagined. this is what the members of the committee knew perfectly when, the next day, they began their sitting. major elphinstone opened the debate. "my dear comrades," said the distinguished chemist, "i am going to begin with some unexceptionable figures, which will serve as a basis for our calculation. the 24-lb. cannon-ball, of which the hon. j.t. maston spoke the day before yesterday, is driven out of the cannon by 16 lbs. of powder only." "you are certain of your figures?" asked barbicane. "absolutely certain," answered the major. "the armstrong cannon only uses 75 lbs. of powder for a projectile of 800 lbs., and the rodman columbiad only expends 160 lbs. of powder to send its half-ton bullet six miles. these facts cannot be doubted, for i found them myself in the reports of the committee of artillery." "that is certain," answered the general. "well," resumed the major, "the conclusion to be drawn from these figures is that the quantity of powder does not augment with the weight of the shot; in fact, if a shot of 24 lbs. took 16 lbs. of powder, and, in other terms, if in ordinary cannons a quantity of powder weighing two-thirds of the weight of the projectile is used, this proportion is not always necessary. calculate, and you will see that for the shot of half a ton weight, instead of 333 lbs. of powder, this quantity has been reduced to 116 lbs. only. "what are you driving at?" asked the president. "the extreme of your theory, my dear major," said j.t. maston, "would bring you to having no powder at all, provided your shot were sufficiently heavy." "friend maston will have his joke even in the most serious things," replied the major; "but he need not be uneasy; i shall soon propose a quantity of powder that will satisfy him. only i wish to have it understood that during the war, and for the largest guns, the weight of the powder was reduced, after experience, to a tenth of the weight of the shot." "nothing is more exact," said morgan; "but, before deciding the quantity of powder necessary to give the impulsion, i think it would be well to agree upon its nature." "we shall use a large-grained powder," answered the major; "its deflagration is the most rapid." "no doubt," replied morgan; "but it is very brittle, and ends by damaging the chamber of the gun." "certainly; but what would be bad for a gun destined for long service would not be so for our columbiad. we run no danger of explosion, and the powder must immediately take fire to make its mechanical effect complete." "we might make several touchholes," said j.t. maston, "so as to set fire to it in several places at the same time." "no doubt," answered elphinstone, "but that would make the working of it more difficult. i therefore come back to my large-grained powder that removes these difficulties." "so be it," answered the general. "to load his columbiad," resumed the major, "rodman used a powder in grains as large as chestnuts, made of willow charcoal, simply rarefied in cast-iron pans. this powder was hard and shining, left no stain on the hands, contained a great proportion of hydrogen and oxygen, deflagrated instantaneously, and, though very brittle, did not much damage the mouthpiece." "well, it seems to me," answered j.t. maston, "that we have nothing to hesitate about, and that our choice is made." "unless you prefer gold-powder," replied the major, laughing, which provoked a threatening gesture from the steel hook of his susceptible friend. until then barbicane had kept himself aloof from the discussion; he listened, and had evidently an idea. he contented himself with saying simply-"now, my friends, what quantity of powder do you propose?" the three members of the gun club looked at one another for the space of a minute. "two hundred thousand pounds," said morgan at last. "five hundred thousand," replied the major. "eight hundred thousand," exclaimed j.t. maston. this, time elphinstone dared not tax his colleague with exaggeration. in fact, the question was that of sending to the moon a projectile weighing 20,000 lbs., and of giving it an initial force of 2000 yards a second. a moment of silence, therefore, followed the triple proposition made by the three colleagues. it was at last broken by president barbicane. "my brave comrades," said he in a quiet tone, "i start from this principle, that the resistance of our cannon, in the given conditions, is unlimited. i shall, therefore, surprise the honourable j.t. maston when i tell him that he has been timid in his calculations, and i propose to double his 800,000 lbs. of powder." "sixteen hundred thousand pounds!" shouted j.t. maston, jumping out of his chair. "quite as much as that." "then we shall have to come back to my cannon half a mile long." "it is evident," said the major. "sixteen hundred thousand pounds of powder," resumed the secretary of committee, "will occupy about a space of 22,000 cubic feet; now, as your cannon will only hold about 54,000 cubic feet, it will be half full, and the chamber will not be long enough to allow the explosion of the gas to give sufficient impulsion to your projectile." there was nothing to answer. j.t. maston spoke the truth. they all looked at barbicane. "however," resumed the president, "i hold to that quantity of powder. think! 1,600,000 pounds of powder will give 6,000,000,000 litres of gas." "then how is it to be done?" asked the general. "it is very simple. we must reduce this enormous quantity of powder, keeping at the same time its mechanical power." "good! by what means?" "i will tell you," answered barbicane simply. his interlocutors all looked at him. "nothing is easier, in fact," he resumed, "than to bring that mass of powder to a volume four times less. you all know that curious cellular matter which constitutes the elementary tissues of vegetables?" "ah!" said the major, "i understand you, barbicane." "this matter," said the president, "is obtained in perfect purity in different things, especially in cotton, which is nothing but the skin of the seeds of the cotton plant. now cotton, combined with cold nitric acid, is transformed into a substance eminently insoluble, eminently combustible, eminently explosive. some years ago, in 1832, a french chemist, braconnot, discovered this substance, which he called xyloidine. in 1838, another frenchman, pelouze, studied its different properties; and lastly, in 1846, schonbein, professor of chemistry at basle, proposed it as gunpowder. this powder is nitric cotton." "or pyroxyle," answered elphinstone. "or fulminating cotton," replied morgan. "is there not an american name to put at the bottom of this discovery?" exclaimed j.t. maston, animated by a lively sentiment of patriotism. "not one, unfortunately," replied the major. "nevertheless, to satisfy maston," resumed the president, "i may tell him that one of our fellow-citizens may be annexed to the study of the celluosity, for collodion, which is one of the principal agents in photography, is simply pyroxyle dissolved in ether to which alcohol has been added, and it was discovered by maynard, then a medical student." "hurrah for maynard and fulminating cotton!" cried the noisy secretary of the gun club. "i return to pyroxyle," resumed barbicane. "you are acquainted with its properties which make it so precious to us. it is prepared with the greatest facility; cotton plunged in smoking nitric acid for fifteen minutes, then washed in water, then dried, and that is all." "nothing is more simple, certainty," said morgan. "what is more, pyroxyle is not damaged by moisture, a precious quality in our eyes, as it will take several days to load the cannon. its inflammability takes place at 170° instead of at 240° and its deflagration is so immediate that it may be fired on ordinary gunpowder before the latter has time to catch fire too." "perfect," answered the major. "only it will cost more." "what does that matter?" said j.t. maston. "lastly, it communicates to projectiles a speed four times greater than that of gunpowder. i may even add that if 8/10ths of its weight of nitrate of potash is added its expansive force is still greatly augmented." "will that be necessary?" asked the major. "i do not think so," answered barbicane. "thus instead of 1,600,000 lbs. of powder, we shall only have 400,000 lbs. of fulminating cotton, and as we can, without danger, compress 500 lbs. of cotton into 27 cubic feet, that quantity will not take up more than 180 feet in the chamber of the columbiad. by these means the projectile will have more than 700 feet of chamber to traverse under a force of 6,000,000,000 of litres of gas before taking its flight over the queen of night." here j.t. maston could not contain his emotion. he threw himself into the arms of his friend with the violence of a projectile, and he would have been stove in had he not have been bombproof. this incident ended the first sitting of the committee. barbicane and his enterprising colleagues, to whom nothing seemed impossible, had just solved the complex question of the projectile, cannon, and powder. their plan being made, there was nothing left but to put it into execution. chapter x. one enemy against twenty-five millions of friends. the american public took great interest in the least details of the gun club's enterprise. it followed the committee debates day by day. the most simple preparations for this great experiment, the questions of figures it provoked, the mechanical difficulties to be solved, all excited popular opinion to the highest pitch. more than a year would elapse between the commencement of the work and its completion; but the interval would not be void of excitement. the place to be chosen for the boring, the casting the metal of the columbiad, its perilous loading, all this was more than necessary to excite public curiosity. the projectile, once fired, would be out of sight in a few seconds; then what would become of it, how it would behave in space, how it would reach the moon, none but a few privileged persons would see with their own eyes. thus, then, the preparations for the experiment and the precise details of its execution constituted the real source of interest. in the meantime the purely scientific attraction of the enterprise was all at once heightened by an incident. it is known what numerous legions of admirers and friends the barbicane project had called round its author. but, notwithstanding the number and importance of the majority, it was not destined to be unanimous. one man, one out of all the united states, protested against the gun club. he attacked it violently on every occasion, and--for human nature is thus constituted--barbicane was more sensitive to this one man's opposition than to the applause of all the others. nevertheless he well knew the motive of this antipathy, from whence came this solitary enmity, why it was personal and of ancient date; lastly, in what rivalry it had taken root. the president of the gun club had never seen this persevering enemy. happily, for the meeting of the two men would certainly have had disastrous consequences. this rival was a _savant_ like barbicane, a proud, enterprising, determined, and violent character, a pure yankee. his name was captain nicholl. he lived in philadelphia. no one is ignorant of the curious struggle which went on during the federal war between the projectile and ironclad vessels, the former destined to pierce the latter, the latter determined not to be pierced. thence came a radical transformation in the navies of the two continents. cannon-balls and iron plates struggled for supremacy, the former getting larger as the latter got thicker. ships armed with formidable guns went into the fire under shelter of their invulnerable armour. the merrimac, monitor, ram tennessee, and wechhausen shot enormous projectiles after having made themselves proof against the projectiles of other ships. they did to others what they would not have others do to them, an immoral principle upon which the whole art of war is based. now barbicane was a great caster of projectiles, and nicholl was an equally great forger of plate-armour. the one cast night and day at baltimore, the other forged day and night at philadelphia. each followed an essentially different current of ideas. as soon as barbicane had invented a new projectile, nicholl invented a new plate armour. the president of the gun club passed his life in piercing holes, the captain in preventing him doing it. hence a constant rivalry which even touched their persons. nicholl appeared in barbicane's dreams as an impenetrable ironclad against which he split, and barbicane in nicholl's dreams appeared like a projectile which ripped him up. still, although they ran along two diverging lines, these _savants_ would have ended by meeting each other in spite of all the axioms in geometry; but then it would have been on a duel field. happily for these worthy citizens, so useful to their country, a distance of from fifty to sixty miles separated them, and their friends put such obstacles in the way that they never met. at present it was not clearly known which of the two inventors held the palm. the results obtained rendered a just decision difficult. it seemed, however, that in the end armour-plate would have to give way to projectiles. nevertheless, competent men had their doubts. at the latest experiments the cylindro-conical shots of barbicane had no more effect than pins upon nicholl's armour-plate. that day the forger of philadelphia believed himself victorious, and henceforth had nothing but disdain for his rival. but when, later on, barbicane substituted simple howitzers of 600 lbs. for conical shots, the captain was obliged to go down in his own estimation. it fact, these projectiles, though of mediocre velocity, drilled with holes and broke to pieces armour-plate of the best metal. things had reached this point and victory seemed to rest with the projectile, when the war ended the very day that nicholl terminated a new forged armour-plate. it was a masterpiece of its kind. it defied all the projectiles in the world. the captain had it taken to the washington polygon and challenged the president of the gun club to pierce it. barbicane, peace having been made, would not attempt the experiment. then nicholl, in a rage, offered to expose his armour-plate to the shock of any kind of projectile, solid, hollow, round, or conical. the president, who was determined not to compromise his last success, refused. nicholl, excited by this unqualified obstinacy, tried to tempt barbicane by leaving him every advantage. he proposed to put his plate 200 yards from the gun. barbicane still refused. at 100 yards? not even at 75. "at 50, then," cried the captain, through the newspapers, "at 25 yards from my plate, and i will be behind it." barbicane answered that even if captain nicholl would be in front of it he would not fire any more. on this reply, nicholl could no longer contain himself. he had recourse to personalities; he insinuated cowardice--that the man who refuses to fire a shot from a cannon is very nearly being afraid of it; that, in short, the artillerymen who fight now at six miles distance have prudently substituted mathematical formulae for individual courage, and that there is as much bravery required to quietly wait for a cannon-ball behind armour-plate as to send it according to all the rules of science. to these insinuations barbicane answered nothing. perhaps he never knew about them, for the calculations of his great enterprise absorbed him entirely. when he made his famous communication to the gun club, the anger of captain nicholl reached its maximum. mixed with it was supreme jealousy and a sentiment of absolute powerlessness. how could he invent anything better than a columbiad 900 feet long? what armour-plate could ever resist a projectile of 30,000 lbs.? nicholl was at first crushed by this cannon-ball, then he recovered and resolved to crush the proposition by the weight of his best arguments. he therefore violently attacked the labours of the gun club. he sent a number of letters to the newspapers, which they did not refuse to publish. he tried to demolish barbicane's work scientifically. once the war begun, he called reasons of every kind to his aid, reasons it must be acknowledged often specious and of bad metal. firstly, barbicane was violently attacked about his figures. nicholl tried to prove by a + b the falseness of his formulae, and he accused him of being ignorant of the rudimentary principles of ballistics. amongst other errors, and according to nicholl's own calculations, it was impossible to give any body a velocity of 12,000 yards a second. he sustained, algebra in hand, that even with that velocity a projectile thus heavy would never pass the limits of the terrestrial atmosphere. it would not even go eight leagues! better still. granted the velocity, and taking it as sufficient, the shot would not resist the pressure of the gas developed by the combustion of 1,600,000 pounds of powder, and even if it did resist that pressure, it at least would not support such a temperature; it would melt as it issued from the columbiad, and would fall in red-hot rain on the heads of the imprudent spectators. barbicane paid no attention to these attacks, and went on with his work. then nicholl considered the question in its other aspects. without speaking of its uselessness from all other points of view, he looked upon the experiment as exceedingly dangerous, both for the citizens who authorised so condemnable a spectacle by their presence, and for the towns near the deplorable cannon. he also remarked that if the projectile did not reach its destination, a result absolutely impossible, it was evident that it would fall on to the earth again, and that the fall of such a mass multiplied by the square of its velocity would singularly damage some point on the globe. therefore, in such a circumstance, and without any restriction being put upon the rights of free citizens, it was one of those cases in which the intervention of government became necessary, and the safety of all must not be endangered for the good pleasure of a single individual. it will be seen to what exaggeration captain nicholl allowed himself to be carried. he was alone in his opinion. nobody took any notice of his cassandra prophecies. they let him exclaim as much as he liked, till his throat was sore if he pleased. he had constituted himself the defender of a cause lost in advance. he was heard but not listened to, and he did not carry off a single admirer from the president of the gun club, who did not even take the trouble to refute his rival's arguments. nicholl, driven into his last intrenchments, and not being able to fight for his opinion, resolved to pay for it. he therefore proposed in the _richmond inquirer_ a series of bets conceived in these terms and in an increasing proportion. he bet that-1. the funds necessary for the gun club's enterprise would not be forthcoming, 1,000 dols. 2. that the casting of a cannon of 900 feet was impracticable and would not succeed, 2,000 dols. 3. that it would be impossible to load the columbiad, and that the pyroxyle would ignite spontaneously under the weight of the projectile, 3,000 dols. 4. that the columbiad would burst at the first discharge, 4,000 dols. 5. that the projectile would not even go six miles, and would fall a few seconds after its discharge, 5,000 dols. it will be seen that the captain was risking an important sum in his invincible obstinacy. no less than 15,000 dols. were at stake. notwithstanding the importance of the wager, he received on the 19th of october a sealed packet of superb laconism, couched in these terms:-"baltimore, october 18th. "done. "barbicane." chapter xi. florida and texas. there still remained one question to be decided--a place favourable to the experiment had to be chosen. according to the recommendation of the cambridge observatory the gun must be aimed perpendicularly to the plane of the horizon--that is to say, towards the zenith. now the moon only appears in the zenith in the places situated between 0° and 28° of latitude, or, in other terms, when her declination is only 28°. the question was, therefore, to determine the exact point of the globe where the immense columbiad should be cast. on the 20th of october the gun club held a general meeting. barbicane brought a magnificent map of the united states by z. belltropp. but before he had time to unfold it j.t. maston rose with his habitual vehemence, and began to speak as follows:-"honourable colleagues, the question we are to settle to-day is really of national importance, and will furnish us with an occasion for doing a great act of patriotism." the members of the gun club looked at each other without understanding what the orator was coming to. "not one of you," he continued, "would think of doing anything to lessen the glory of his country, and if there is one right that the union may claim it is that of harbouring in its bosom the formidable cannon of the gun club. now, under the present circumstances--" "will you allow me--" said barbicane. "i demand the free discussion of ideas," replied the impetuous j.t. maston, "and i maintain that the territory from which our glorious projectile will rise ought to belong to the union." "certainly," answered several members. "well, then, as our frontiers do not stretch far enough, as on the south the ocean is our limit, as we must seek beyond the united states and in a neighbouring country this 28th parallel, this is all a legitimate _casus belli_, and i demand that war should be declared against mexico!" "no, no!" was cried from all parts. "no!" replied j.t. maston. "i am much astonished at hearing such a word in these precincts!" "but listen--" "never! never!" cried the fiery orator. "sooner or later this war will be declared, and i demand that it should be this very day." "maston," said barbicane, making his bell go off with a crash, "i agree with you that the experiment cannot and ought not to be made anywhere but on the soil of the union, but if i had been allowed to speak before, and you had glanced at this map, you would know that it is perfectly useless to declare war against our neighbours, for certain frontiers of the united states extend beyond the 28th parallel. look, we have at our disposition all the southern part of texas and florida." this incident had no consequences; still it was not without regret that j.t. maston allowed himself to be convinced. it was, therefore, decided that the columbiad should be cast either on the soil of texas or on that of florida. but this decision was destined to create an unexampled rivalry between the towns of these two states. the 28th parallel, when it touches the american coast, crosses the peninsula of florida, and divides it into two nearly equal portions. then, plunging into the gulf of mexico, it subtends the arc formed by the coasts of alabama, mississippi, and louisiana; then skirting texas, off which it cuts an angle, it continues its direction over mexico, crosses the sonora and old california, and loses itself in the pacific ocean; therefore only the portions of texas and florida situated below this parallel fulfilled the requisite conditions of latitude recommended by the observatory of cambridge. the southern portion of florida contains no important cities. it only bristles with forts raised against wandering indians. one town only, tampa town, could put in a claim in favour of its position. in texas, on the contrary, towns are more numerous and more important. corpus christi in the county of nuaces, and all the cities situated on the rio bravo, laredo, comalites, san ignacio in web, rio grande city in starr, edinburgh in hidalgo, santa-rita, el panda, and brownsville in cameron, formed a powerful league against the pretensions of florida. the decision, therefore, was hardly made public before the floridan and texican deputies flocked to baltimore by the shortest way. from that moment president barbicane and the influential members of the gun club were besieged day and night by formidable claims. if seven towns of greece contended for the honour of being homer's birthplace, two entire states threatened to fight over a cannon. these rival parties were then seen marching with weapons about the streets of the town. every time they met a fight was imminent, which would have had disastrous consequences. happily the prudence and skill of president barbicane warded off this danger. personal demonstrations found an outlet in the newspapers of the different states. it was thus that the _new york herald_ and the _tribune_ supported the claims of texas, whilst the _times_ and the _american review_ took the part of the floridan deputies. the members of the gun club did not know which to listen to. texas came up proudly with its twenty-six counties, which it seemed to put in array; but florida answered that twelve counties proved more than twenty-six in a country six times smaller. texas bragged of its 33,000 inhabitants; but florida, much smaller, boasted of being much more densely populated with 56,000. besides, florida accused texas of being the home of paludian fevers, which carried off, one year with another, several thousands of inhabitants, and florida was not far wrong. in its turn texas replied that florida need not envy its fevers, and that it was, at least, imprudent to call other countries unhealthy when florida itself had chronic "vomito negro," and texas was not far wrong. "besides," added the texicans through the _new york herald_, "there are rights due to a state that grows the best cotton in all america, a state which produces holm oak for building ships, a state that contains superb coal and mines of iron that yield fifty per cent. of pure ore." to that the _american review_ answered that the soil of florida, though not so rich, offered better conditions for the casting of the columbiad, as it was composed of sand and clay-ground. "but," answered the texicans, "before anything can be cast in a place, it must get to that place; now communication with florida is difficult, whilst the coast of texas offers galveston bay, which is fourteen leagues round, and could contain all the fleets in the world." "why," replied the newspapers devoted to florida, "your galveston bay is situated above the 29th parallel, whilst our bay of espiritu-santo opens precisely at the 28th degree of latitude, and by it ships go direct to tampa town." "a nice bay truly!" answered texas; "it is half-choked up with sand." "any one would think, to hear you talk," cried florida, "that i was a savage country." "well, the seminoles do still wander over your prairies!" "and what about your apaches and your comanches--are they civilised?" the war had been thus kept up for some days when florida tried to draw her adversary upon another ground, and one morning the _times_ insinuated that the enterprise being "essentially american," it ought only to be attempted upon an "essentially american" territory. at these words texas could not contain itself. "american!" it cried, "are we not as american as you? were not texas and florida both incorporated in the union in 1845?" "certainly," answered the _times_, "but we have belonged to america since 1820." "yes," replied the _tribune_, "after having been spanish or english for 200 years, you were sold to the united states for 5,000,000 of dollars!" "what does that matter?" answered florida. "need we blush for that? was not louisiana bought in 1803 from napoleon for 16,000,000 of dollars?" "it is shameful!" then cried the texican deputies. "a miserable slice of land like florida to dare to compare itself with texas, which, instead of being sold, made itself independent, which drove out the mexicans on the 2nd of march, 1836, which declared itself federative republican after the victory gained by samuel houston on the banks of the san jacinto over the troops of santa-anna--a country, in short, which voluntarily joined itself to the united states of america!" "because it was afraid of the mexicans!" answered florida. "afraid!" from the day this word, really too cutting, was pronounced, the situation became intolerable. an engagement was expected between the two parties in the streets of baltimore. the deputies were obliged to be watched. president barbicane was half driven wild. notes, documents, and letters full of threats inundated his house. which course ought he to decide upon? in the point of view of fitness of soil, facility of communications, and rapidity of transport, the rights of the two states were really equal. as to the political personalities, they had nothing to do with the question. now this hesitation and embarrassment had already lasted some time when barbicane resolved to put an end to it; he called his colleagues together, and the solution he proposed to them was a profoundly wise one, as will be seen from the following:-"after due consideration," said he, "of all that has just occurred between florida and texas, it is evident that the same difficulties will again crop up between the towns of the favoured state. the rivalry will be changed from state to city, and that is all. now texas contains eleven towns with the requisite conditions that will dispute the honour of the enterprise, and that will create fresh troubles for us, whilst florida has but one; therefore i decide for tampa town!" the texican deputies were thunderstruck at this decision. it put them into a terrible rage, and they sent nominal provocations to different members of the gun club. there was only one course for the magistrates of baltimore to take, and they took it. they had the steam of a special train got up, packed the texicans into it, whether they would or no, and sent them away from the town at a speed of thirty miles an hour. but they were not carried off too quickly to hurl a last and threatening sarcasm at their adversaries. making allusion to the width of florida, a simple peninsula between two seas, they pretended it would not resist the shock, and would be blown up the first time the cannon was fired. "very well! let it be blown up!" answered the floridans with a laconism worthy of ancient times. chapter xii. "urbi et orbi." the astronomical, mechanical, and topographical difficulties once removed, there remained the question of money. an enormous sum was necessary for the execution of the project. no private individual, no single state even, could have disposed of the necessary millions. president barbicane had resolved--although the enterprise was american--to make it a business of universal interest, and to ask every nation for its financial co-operation. it was the bounded right and duty of all the earth to interfere in the business of the satellite. the subscription opened at baltimore, for this end extended thence to all the world--_urbi et orbi_. this subscription was destined to succeed beyond all hope; yet the money was to be given, not lent. the operation was purely disinterested, in the literal meaning of the word, and offered no chance of gain. but the effect of barbicane's communication had not stopped at the frontiers of the united states; it had crossed the atlantic and pacific, had invaded both asia and europe, both africa and oceania. the observatories of the union were immediately put into communication with the observatories of foreign countries; some--those of paris, st. petersburg, the cape, berlin, altona, stockholm, warsaw, hamburg, buda, bologna, malta, lisbon, benares, madras, and pekin--sent their compliments to the gun club; the others prudently awaited the result. as to the greenwich observatory, seconded by the twenty-two astronomical establishments of great britain, it made short work of it; it boldly denied the possibility of success, and took up captain nicholl's theories. whilst the different scientific societies promised to send deputies to tampa town, the greenwich staff met and contemptuously dismissed the barbicane proposition. this was pure english jealousy and nothing else. generally speaking, the effect upon the world of science was excellent, and from thence it passed to the masses, who, in general, were greatly interested in the question, a fact of great importance, seeing those masses were to be called upon to subscribe a considerable capital. on the 8th of october president barbicane issued a manifesto, full of enthusiasm, in which he made appeal to "all persons on the face of the earth willing to help." this document, translated into every language, had great success. subscriptions were opened in the principal towns of the union with a central office at the baltimore bank, 9, baltimore street; then subscriptions were opened in the different countries of the two continents:--at vienna, by s.m. de rothschild; st. petersburg, stieglitz and co.; paris, crédit mobilier; stockholm, tottie and arfuredson; london, n.m. de rothschild and son; turin, ardouin and co.; berlin, mendelssohn; geneva, lombard, odier, and co.; constantinople, ottoman bank; brussels, j. lambert; madrid, daniel weisweller; amsterdam, netherlands credit co.; rome, torlonia and co.; lisbon, lecesne; copenhagen, private bank; buenos ayres, mana bank; rio janeiro, mana bank; monte video, mana bank; valparaiso, thomas la chambre and co.; lima, thomas la chambre and co.; mexico, martin daran and co. three days after president barbicane's manifesto 400,000 dollars were received in the different towns of the union. with such a sum in hand the gun club could begin at once. but a few days later telegrams informed america that foreign subscriptions were pouring in rapidly. certain countries were distinguished by their generosity; others let go their money less easily. it was a matter of temperament. however, figures are more eloquent than words, and the following is an official statement of the sums paid to the credit of the gun club when the subscription was closed:-the contingent of russia was the enormous sum of 368,733 roubles. this need astonish no one who remembers the scientific taste of the russians and the impetus which they have given to astronomical studies, thanks to their numerous observatories, the principal of which cost 2,000,000 roubles. france began by laughing at the pretensions of the americans. the moon served as an excuse for a thousand stale puns and a score of vaudevilles in which bad taste contested the palm with ignorance. but, as the french formerly paid after singing, they now paid after laughing, and subscribed a sum of 1,258,930 francs. at that price they bought the right to joke a little. austria, in the midst of her financial difficulties, was sufficiently generous. her part in the public subscription amounted to 216,000 florins, which were welcome. sweden and norway contributed 52,000 rix-dollars. the figure was small considering the country; but it would certainly have been higher if a subscription had been opened at christiania as well as at stockholm. for some reason or other the norwegians do not like to send their money to norway. prussia, by sending 250,000 thalers, testified her approbation of the enterprise. her different observatories contributed an important sum, and were amongst the most ardent in encouraging president barbicane. turkey behaved generously, but she was personally interested in the business; the moon, in fact, rules the course of her years and her ramadan fast. she could do no less than give 1,372,640 piastres, and she gave them with an ardour that betrayed, however, a certain pressure from the government of the porte. belgium distinguished herself amongst all the second order of states by a gift of 513,000 francs, about one penny and a fraction for each inhabitant. holland and her colonies contributed 110,000 florins, only demanding a discount of five per cent., as she paid ready money. denmark, rather confined for room, gave, notwithstanding, 9,000 ducats, proving her love for scientific experiments. the germanic confederation subscribed 34,285 florins; more could not be asked from her; besides, she would not have given more. although in embarrassed circumstances, italy found 2,000,000 francs in her children's pockets, but by turning them well inside out. if she had then possessed venetia she would have given more, but she did not yet possess venetia. the pontifical states thought they could not send less than 7,040 roman crowns, and portugal pushed her devotion to the extent of 3,000 cruzades. mexico gent the widow's mite, 86 piastres; but empires in course of formation are always in rather embarrassed circumstances. switzerland sent the modest sum of 257 francs to the american scheme. it must be frankly stated that switzerland only looked upon the practical side of the operation; the action of sending a bullet to the moon did not seem of a nature sufficient for the establishing of any communication with the queen of night, so switzerland thought it imprudent to engage capital in an enterprise depending upon such uncertain events. after all, switzerland was, perhaps, right. as to spain, she found it impossible to get together more than 110 reals. she gave as an excuse that she had her railways to finish. the truth is that science is not looked upon very favourably in that country; it is still a little behindhand. and then certain spaniards, and not the most ignorant either, had no clear conception of the size of the projectile compared with that of the moon; they feared it might disturb the satellite from her orbit, and make her fall on to the surface of the terrestrial globe. in that case it was better to have nothing to do with it, which they carried out, with that small exception. england alone remained. the contemptuous antipathy with which she received barbicane's proposition is known. the english have but a single mind in their 25,000,000 of bodies which great britain contains. they gave it to be understood that the enterprise of the gun club was contrary "to the principle of non-intervention," and they did not subscribe a single farthing. at this news the gun club contented itself with shrugging its shoulders, and returned to its great work. when south america--that is to say, peru, chili, brazil, the provinces of la plata and columbia--had poured into their hands their quota of 300,000 dollars, it found itself possessed of a considerable capital of which the following is a statement:-united states subscription, 4,000,000 dollars; foreign subscriptions, 1,446,675 dollars; total, 5,446,675 dollars. this was the large sum poured by the public into the coffers of the gun club. no one need be surprised at its importance. the work of casting, boring, masonry, transport of workmen, and their installation in an almost uninhabited country, the construction of furnaces and workshops, the manufacturing tools, powder, projectile and incidental expenses would, according to the estimates, absorb nearly the whole. some of the cannon-shots fired during the war cost 1,000 dollars each; that of president barbicane, unique in the annals of artillery, might well cost 5,000 times more. on the 20th of october a contract was made with the goldspring manufactory, new york, which during the war had furnished parrott with his best cast-iron guns. it was stipulated between the contracting parties that the goldspring manufactory should pledge itself to send to tampa town, in south florida, the necessary materials for the casting of the columbiad. this operation was to be terminated, at the latest, on the 15th of the next october, and the cannon delivered in good condition, under penalty of 100 dollars a day forfeit until the moon should again present herself under the same conditions--that is to say, during eighteen years and eleven days. the engagement of the workmen, their pay, and the necessary transports all to be made by the goldspring company. this contract, made in duplicate, was signed by i. barbicane, president of the gun club, and j. murphison, manager of the goldspring manufactory, who thus signed on the part of the contracting parties. chapter xiii. stony hill. since the choice made by the members of the gun club to the detriment of texas, every one in america--where every one knows how to read--made it his business to study the geography of florida. never before had the booksellers sold so many _bertram's travels in florida_, _roman's natural history of east and west florida_, _williams' territory of florida_, and _cleland on the culture of the sugar cane in east florida_. new editions of these works were required. there was quite a rage for them. barbicane had something better to do than to read; he wished to see with his own eyes and choose the site of the columbiad. therefore, without losing a moment, he put the funds necessary for the construction of a telescope at the disposition of the cambridge observatory, and made a contract with the firm of breadwill and co., of albany, for the making of the aluminium projectile; then he left baltimore accompanied by j.t. maston, major elphinstone, and the manager of the goldspring manufactory. the next day the four travelling companions reached new orleans. there they embarked on board the _tampico_, a despatch-boat belonging to the federal navy, which the government had placed at their disposal, and, with all steam on, they quickly lost sight of the shores of louisiana. the passage was not a long one; two days after its departure the _tampico_, having made four hundred and eighty miles, sighted the floridian coast. as it approached, barbicane saw a low, flat coast, looking rather unfertile. after coasting a series of creeks rich in oysters and lobsters, the _tampico_ entered the bay of espiritu-santo. this bay is divided into two long roadsteads, those of tampa and hillisboro, the narrow entrance to which the steamer soon cleared. a short time afterwards the batteries of fort brooke rose above the waves and the town of tampa appeared, carelessly lying on a little natural harbour formed by the mouth of the river hillisboro. there the _tampico_ anchored on october 22nd, at seven p.m.; the four passengers landed immediately. barbicane felt his heart beat violently as he set foot on floridian soil; he seemed to feel it with his feet like an architect trying the solidity of a house. j.t. maston scratched the ground with his steel hook. "gentlemen," then said barbicane, "we have no time to lose, and we will set off on horseback to-morrow to survey the country." the minute barbicane landed the three thousand inhabitants of tampa town went out to meet him, an honour quite due to the president of the gun club, who had decided in their favour. they received him with formidable exclamations, but barbicane escaped an ovation by shutting himself up in his room at the franklin hotel and refusing to see any one. the next day, october 23rd, small horses of spanish race, full of fire and vigour, pawed the ground under his windows. but, instead of four, there were fifty, with their riders. barbicane went down accompanied by his three companions, who were at first astonished to find themselves in the midst of such a cavalcade. he remarked besides that each horseman carried a carbine slung across his shoulders and pistols in his holsters. the reason for such a display of force was immediately given him by a young floridian, who said to him-"sir, the seminoles are there." "what seminoles?" "savages who frequent the prairies, and we deemed it prudent to give you an escort." "pooh!" exclaimed j.t. maston as he mounted his steed. "it is well to be on the safe side," answered the floridian. "gentlemen," replied barbicane, "i thank you for your attention, and now let us be off." the little troop set out immediately, and disappeared in a cloud of dust. it was five a.m.; the sun shone brilliantly already, and the thermometer indicated 84°, but fresh sea breezes moderated this excessive heat. barbicane, on leaving tampa town, went down south and followed the coast to alifia creek. this small river falls into hillisboro bay, twelve miles below tampa town. barbicane and his escort followed its right bank going up towards the east. the waves of the bay disappeared behind an inequality in the ground, and the floridian country was alone in sight. florida is divided into two parts; the one to the north, more populous and less abandoned, has tallahassee for capital, and pensacola, one of the principal marine arsenals of the united states; the other, lying between the atlantic and the gulf of mexico, is only a narrow peninsula, eaten away by the current of the gulf stream--a little tongue of land lost amidst a small archipelago, which the numerous vessels of the bahama channel double continually. it is the advanced sentinel of the gulf of great tempests. the superficial area of this state measures 38,033,267 acres, amongst which one had to be chosen situated beyond the 28th parallel and suitable for the enterprise. as barbicane rode along he attentively examined the configuration of the ground and its particular distribution. florida, discovered by juan ponce de leon in 1512, on palm sunday, was first of all named _pascha florida_. it was well worthy of that designation with its dry and arid coasts. but a few miles from the shore the nature of the ground gradually changed, and the country showed itself worthy of its name; the soil was cut up by a network of creeks, rivers, watercourses, ponds, and small lakes; it might have been mistaken for holland or guiana; but the ground gradually rose and soon showed its cultivated plains, where all the vegetables of the north and south grow in perfection, its immense fields, where a tropical sun and the water conserved in its clayey texture do all the work of cultivating, and lastly its prairies of pineapples, yams, tobacco, rice, cotton, and sugarcanes, which extended as far as the eye could reach, spreading out their riches with careless prodigality. barbicane appeared greatly satisfied on finding the progressive elevation of the ground, and when j.t. maston questioned him on the subject, "my worthy friend," said he, "it is greatly to our interest to cast our columbiad on elevated ground." "in order to be nearer the moon?" exclaimed the secretary of the gun club. "no," answered barbicane, smiling. "what can a few yards more or less matter? no, but on elevated ground our work can be accomplished more easily; we shall not have to struggle against water, which will save us long and expensive tubings, and that has to be taken into consideration when a well 900 feet deep has to be sunk." "you are right," said murchison, the engineer; "we must, as much as possible, avoid watercourses during the casting; but if we meet with springs they will not matter much; we can exhaust them with our machines or divert them from their course. here we have not to work at an artesian well, narrow and dark, where all the boring implements have to work in the dark. no; we can work under the open sky, with spade and pickaxe, and, by the help of blasting, our work will not take long." "still," resumed barbicane, "if by the elevation of the ground or its nature we can avoid a struggle with subterranean waters, we can do our work more rapidly and perfectly; we must, therefore, make our cutting in ground situated some thousands of feet above the level of the sea." "you are right, mr. barbicane, and, if i am not mistaken, we shall soon find a suitable spot." "i should like to see the first spadeful turned up," said the president. "and i the last!" exclaimed j.t. maston. "we shall manage it, gentlemen," answered the engineer; "and, believe me, the goldspring company will not have to pay you any forfeit for delay." "faith! it had better not," replied j.t. maston; "a hundred dollars a day till the moon presents herself in the same conditions--that is to say, for eighteen years and eleven days--do you know that would make 658,000 dollars?" "no, sir, we do not know, and we shall not need to learn." about ten a.m. the little troop had journeyed about twelve miles; to the fertile country succeeded a forest region. there were the most varied perfumes in tropical profusion. the almost impenetrable forests were made up of pomegranates, orange, citron, fig, olive, and apricot trees, bananas, huge vines, the blossoms and fruit of which rivalled each other in colour and perfume. under the perfumed shade of these magnificent trees sang and fluttered a world of brilliantly-coloured birds, amongst which the crab-eater deserved a jewel casket, worthy of its feathered gems, for a nest. j.t. maston and the major could not pass through such opulent nature without admiring its splendid beauty. but president barbicane, who thought little of these marvels, was in a hurry to hasten onwards; this country, so fertile, displeased him by its very fertility; without being otherwise hydropical, he felt water under his feet, and sought in vain the signs of incontestable aridity. in the meantime they journeyed on. they were obliged to ford several rivers, and not without danger, for they were infested with alligators from fifteen to eighteen feet long. j.t. maston threatened them boldly with his formidable hook, but he only succeeded in frightening the pelicans, phaetons, and teals that frequented the banks, while the red flamingoes looked on with a stupid stare. at last these inhabitants of humid countries disappeared in their turn. the trees became smaller and more thinly scattered in smaller woods; some isolated groups stood amidst immense plains where ranged herds of startled deer. "at last!" exclaimed barbicane, rising in his stirrups. "here is the region of pines." "and savages," answered the major. in fact, a few seminoles appeared on the horizon. they moved about backwards and forwards on their fleet horses, brandishing long lances or firing their guns with a dull report. however, they confined themselves to these hostile demonstrations, which had no effect on barbicane and his companions. they were then in the middle of a rocky plain, a vast open space of several acres in extent which the sun covered with burning rays. it was formed by a wide elevation of the soil, and seemed to offer to the members of the gun club all the required conditions for the construction of their columbiad. "halt!" cried barbicane, stopping. "has this place any name?" "it is called stony hill," answered the floridians. barbicane, without saying a word, dismounted, took his instruments, and began to fix his position with extreme precision. the little troop drawn up around him watched him in profound silence. at that moment the sun passed the meridian. barbicane, after an interval, rapidly noted the result of his observation, and said-"this place is situated 1,800 feet above the sea level in lat. 27° 7' and west long. 5° 7' by the washington meridian. it appears to me by its barren and rocky nature to offer every condition favourable to our enterprise; we will therefore raise our magazines, workshops, furnaces, and workmen's huts here, and it is from this very spot," said he, stamping upon it with his foot, "the summit of stony hill, that our projectile will start for the regions of the solar world!" chapter xiv. pickaxe and trowel. that same evening barbicane and his companions returned to tampa town, and murchison, the engineer, re-embarked on board the _tampico_ for new orleans. he was to engage an army of workmen to bring back the greater part of the working-stock. the members of the gun club remained at tampa town in order to set on foot the preliminary work with the assistance of the inhabitants of the country. eight days after its departure the _tampico_ returned to the espiritu-santo bay with a fleet of steamboats. murchison had succeeded in getting together 1,500 workmen. in the evil days of slavery he would have lost his time and trouble; but since america, the land of liberty, has only contained freemen, they flock wherever they can get good pay. now money was not wanting to the gun club; it offered a high rate of wages with considerable and proportionate perquisites. the workman enlisted for florida could, once the work finished, depend upon a capital placed in his name in the bank of baltimore. murchison had therefore only to pick and choose, and could be severe about the intelligence and skill of his workmen. he enrolled in his working legion the pick of mechanics, stokers, iron-founders, lime-burners, miners, brickmakers, and artisans of every sort, white or black without distinction of colour. many of them brought their families with them. it was quite an emigration. on the 31st of october, at 10 a.m., this troop landed on the quays of tampa town. the movement and activity which reigned in the little town that had thus doubled its population in a single day may be imagined. in fact, tampa town was enormously benefited by this enterprise of the gun club, not by the number of workmen who were immediately drafted to stony hill, but by the influx of curious idlers who converged by degrees from all points of the globe towards the floridian peninsula. during the first few days they were occupied in unloading the flotilla of the tools, machines, provisions, and a large number of plate iron houses made in pieces separately pieced and numbered. at the same time barbicane laid the first sleepers of a railway fifteen miles long that was destined to unite stony hill and tampa town. it is known how american railways are constructed, with capricious bends, bold slopes, steep hills, and deep valleys. they do not cost much and are not much in their way, only their trains run off or jump off as they please. the railway from tampa town to stony hill was but a trifle, and wanted neither much time nor much money for its construction. barbicane was the soul of this army of workmen who had come at his call. he animated them, communicated to them his ardour, enthusiasm, and conviction. he was everywhere at once, as if endowed with the gift of ubiquity, and always followed by j.t. maston, his bluebottle fly. his practical mind invented a thousand things. with him there were no obstacles, difficulties, or embarrassment. he was as good a miner, mason, and mechanic as he was an artilleryman, having an answer to every question, and a solution to every problem. he corresponded actively with the gun club and the goldspring manufactory, and day and night the _tampico_ kept her steam up awaiting his orders in hillisboro harbour. barbicane, on the 1st of november, left tampa town with a detachment of workmen, and the very next day a small town of workmen's houses rose round stony hill. they surrounded it with palisades, and from its movement and ardour it might soon have been taken for one of the great cities of the union. life was regulated at once and work began in perfect order. careful boring had established the nature of the ground, and digging was begun on november 4th. that day barbicane called his foremen together and said to them-"you all know, my friends, why i have called you together in this part of florida. we want to cast a cannon nine feet in diameter, six feet thick, and with a stone revetment nineteen and a half feet thick; we therefore want a well 60 feet wide and 900 feet deep. this large work must be terminated in nine months. you have, therefore, 2,543,400 cubic feet of soil to dig out in 255 days--that is to say, 10,000 cubic feet a day. that would offer no difficulty if you had plenty of elbow-room, but as you will only have a limited space it will be more trouble. nevertheless as the work must be done it will be done, and i depend upon your courage as much as upon your skill." at 8 a.m. the first spadeful was dug out of the floridian soil, and from that moment this useful tool did not stop idle a moment in the hands of the miner. the gangs relieved each other every three hours. besides, although the work was colossal it did not exceed the limit of human capability. far from that. how many works of much greater difficulty, and in which the elements had to be more directly contended against, had been brought to a successful termination! suffice it to mention the well of father joseph, made near cairo by the sultan saladin at an epoch when machines had not yet appeared to increase the strength of man a hundredfold, and which goes down to the level of the nile itself at a depth of 300 feet! and that other well dug at coblentz by the margrave jean of baden, 600 feet deep! all that was needed was a triple depth and a double width, which made the boring easier. there was not one foreman or workman who doubted about the success of the operation. an important decision taken by murchison and approved of by barbicane accelerated the work. an article in the contract decided that the columbiad should be hooped with wrought-iron--a useless precaution, for the cannon could evidently do without hoops. this clause was therefore given up. hence a great economy of time, for they could then employ the new system of boring now used for digging wells, by which the masonry is done at the same time as the boring. thanks to this very simple operation they were not obliged to prop up the ground; the wall kept it up and went down by its own weight. this manoeuvre was only to begin when the spade should have reached the solid part of the ground. on the 4th of november fifty workmen began to dig in the very centre of the inclosure surrounded by palisades--that is to say, the top of stony hill--a circular hole sixty feet wide. the spade first turned up a sort of black soil six inches deep, which it soon carried away. to this soil succeeded two feet of fine sand, which was carefully taken out, as it was to be used for the casting. after this sand white clay appeared, similar to english chalk, and which was four feet thick. then the pickaxes rang upon the hard layer, a species of rock formed by very dry petrified shells. at that point the hole was six and a half feet deep, and the masonry was begun. at the bottom of that excavation they made an oak wheel, a sort of circle strongly bolted and of enormous strength; in its centre a hole was pierced the size of the exterior diameter of the columbiad. it was upon this wheel that the foundations of the masonry were placed, the hydraulic cement of which joined the stones solidly together. after the workmen had bricked up the space from the circumference to the centre, they found themselves inclosed in a well twenty-one feet wide. when this work was ended the miners began again with spade and pickaxe, and set upon the rock under the wheel itself, taking care to support it on extremely strong tressels; every time the hole was two feet deeper they took away the tressels; the wheel gradually sank, taking with it its circle of masonry, at the upper layer of which the masons worked incessantly, taking care to make vent-holes for the escape of gas during the operation of casting. this kind of work required great skill and constant attention on the part of the workmen; more than one digging under the wheel was dangerous, and some were even mortally wounded by the splinters of stone; but their energy did not slacken for a moment by day nor night; by day, when the sun's rays sent the thermometer up to 99° on the calcined planes; by night, under the white waves of electric light, the noise of the pickaxe on the rock, the blasting and the machines, together with the wreaths of smoke scattered through the air, traced a circle of terror round stony hill, which the herds of buffaloes and the detachments of seminoles never dared to pass. in the meantime the work regularly advanced; steam-cranes speeded the carrying away of the rubbish; of unexpected obstacles there were none; all the difficulties had been foreseen and guarded against. when the first month had gone by the well had attained the depth assigned for the time--i.e., 112 feet. in december this depth was doubled, and tripled in january. during february the workmen had to contend against a sheet of water which sprang from the ground. they were obliged to employ powerful pumps and apparatus of compressed air to drain it off, so as to close up the orifice from which it issued, just as leaks are caulked on board ship. at last they got the better of these unwelcome springs, only in consequence of the loosening of the soil the wheel partially gave way, and there was a landslip. the frightful force of this bricked circle, more than 400 feet high, may be imagined! this accident cost the life of several workmen. three weeks had to be taken up in propping the stone revetment and making the wheel solid again. but, thanks to the skill of the engineer and the power of the machines, it was all set right, and the boring continued. no fresh incident henceforth stopped the progress of the work, and on the 10th of june, twenty days before the expiration of the delay fixed by barbicane, the well, quite bricked round, had reached the depth of 900 feet. at the bottom the masonry rested upon a massive block, thirty feet thick, whilst at the top it was on a level with the soil. president barbicane and the members of the gun club warmly congratulated the engineer murchison; his cyclopean work had been accomplished with extraordinary rapidity. during these eight months barbicane did not leave stony hill for a minute; whilst he narrowly watched over the boring operations, he took every precaution to insure the health and well-being of his workmen, and he was fortunate enough to avoid the epidemics common to large agglomerations of men, and so disastrous in those regions of the globe exposed to tropical influence. it is true that several workmen paid with their lives for the carelessness engendered by these dangerous occupations; but such deplorable misfortunes cannot be avoided, and these are details that americans pay very little attention to. they are more occupied with humanity in general than with individuals in particular. however, barbicane professed the contrary principles, and applied them upon every occasion. thanks to his care, to his intelligence and respectful intervention in difficult cases, to his prodigious and humane wisdom, the average of catastrophes did not exceed that of cities on the other side of the atlantic, amongst others those of france, where they count about one accident upon every 200,000 francs of work. chapter xv. the ceremony of the casting. during the eight months that were employed in the operation of boring the preparatory works of the casting had been conducted simultaneously with extreme rapidity; a stranger arriving at stony hill would have been much surprised at what he saw there. six hundred yards from the well, and standing in a circle round it as a central point, were 1,200 furnaces, each six feet wide and three yards apart. the line made by these 1,200 furnaces was two miles long. they were all built on the same model, with high quadrangular chimneys, and had a singular effect. j.t. maston thought the architectural arrangement superb. it reminded him of the monuments at washington. he thought there was nothing finer in the world, not even in greece, where he acknowledged never to have been. it will be remembered that at their third meeting the committee decided to use cast-iron for the columbiad, and in particular the grey description. this metal is, in fact, the most tenacious, ductile, and malleable, suitable for all moulding operations, and when smelted with pit coal it is of superior quality for engine-cylinders, hydraulic presses, &c. but cast-iron, if it has undergone a single fusion, is rarely homogeneous enough; and it is by means of a second fusion that it is purified, refined, and dispossessed of its last earthly deposits. before being forwarded to tampa town, the iron ore, smelted in the great furnaces of goldspring, and put in contact with coal and silicium heated to a high temperature, was transformed into cast-iron. after this first operation the metal was taken to stony hill. but there were 136 millions of pounds of cast-iron, a bulk too expensive to be sent by railway; the price of transport would have doubled that of the raw material. it appeared preferable to freight vessels at new york and to load them with the iron in bars; no less than sixty-eight vessels of 1,000 tons were required, quite a fleet, which on may 3rd left new york, took the ocean route, coasted the american shores, entered the bahama channel, doubled the point of florida, and on the 10th of the same month entered the bay of espiritu-santo and anchored safely in the port of tampa town. there the vessels were unloaded and their cargo carried by railway to stony hill, and about the middle of january the enormous mass of metal was delivered at its destination. it will easily be understood that 1,200 furnaces were not too many to melt these 60,000 tons of iron simultaneously. each of these furnaces contained about 1,400,000 lbs. of metal; they had been built on the model of those used for the casting of the rodman gun; they were trapezoidal in form, with a high elliptical arch. the warming apparatus and the chimney were placed at the two extremities of the furnace, so that it was equally heated throughout. these furnaces, built of fireproof brick, were filled with coal-grates and a "sole" for the bars of iron; this sole, inclosed at an angle of 25°, allowed the metal to flow into the receiving-troughs; from thence 1,200 converging trenches carried it down to the central well. the day following that upon which the works of masonry and casting were terminated, barbicane set to work upon the interior mould; his object now was to raise in the centre of the well, with a coincident axis, a cylinder 900 feet high and nine in diameter, to exactly fill up the space reserved for the bore of the columbiad. this cylinder was made of a mixture of clay and sand, with the addition of hay and straw. the space left between the mould and the masonry was to be filled with the molten metal, which would thus make the sides of the cannon six feet thick. this cylinder, in order to have its equilibrium maintained, had to be consolidated with iron bands and fixed at intervals by means of cross-clamps fastened into the stone lining; after the casting these clamps would be lost in the block of metal, which would not be the worse for them. this operation was completed on the 8th of july, and the casting was fixed for the 10th. "the casting will be a fine ceremony," said j.t. maston to his friend barbicane. "undoubtedly," answered barbicane, "but it will not be a public one!" "what! you will not open the doors of the inclosure to all comers?" "certainly not; the casting of the columbiad is a delicate, not to say a dangerous, operation, and i prefer that it should be done with closed doors. when the projectile is discharged you may have a public ceremony if you like, but till then, no!" the president was right; the operation might be attended with unforeseen danger, which a large concourse of spectators would prevent being averted. it was necessary to preserve complete freedom of movement. no one was admitted into the inclosure except a delegation of members of the gun club who made the voyage to tampa town. among them was the brisk bilsby, tom hunter, colonel blomsberry, major elphinstone, general morgan, and _tutti quanti_, to whom the casting of the columbiad was a personal business. j.t. maston constituted himself their cicerone; he did not excuse them any detail; he led them about everywhere, through the magazines, workshops, amongst the machines, and he forced them to visit the 1,200 furnaces one after the other. at the end of the 1,200th visit they were rather sick of it. the casting was to take place precisely at twelve o'clock; the evening before each furnace had been charged with 114,000 lbs. of metal in bars disposed crossway to each other so that the warm air could circulate freely amongst them. since early morning the 1,200 chimneys had been pouring forth volumes of flames into the atmosphere, and the soil was shaken convulsively. there were as many pounds of coal to be burnt as metal to be melted. there were, therefore, 68,000 tons of coal throwing up before the sun a thick curtain of black smoke. the heat soon became unbearable in the circle of furnaces, the rambling of which resembled the rolling of thunder; powerful bellows added their continuous blasts, and saturated the incandescent furnaces with oxygen. the operation of casting in order to succeed must be done rapidly. at a signal given by a cannon-shot each furnace was to pour out the liquid iron and to be entirely emptied. these arrangements made, foremen and workmen awaited the preconcerted moment with impatience mixed with emotion. there was no longer any one in the inclosure, and each superintendent took his place near the aperture of the run. barbicane and his colleagues, installed on a neighbouring eminence, assisted at the operation. before them a cannon was planted ready to be fired as a sign from the engineer. a few minutes before twelve the first drops of metal began to run; the reservoirs were gradually filled, and when the iron was all in a liquid state it was left quiet for some instants in order to facilitate the separation of foreign substances. twelve o'clock struck. the cannon was suddenly fired, and shot its flame into the air. twelve hundred tapping-holes were opened simultaneously, and twelve hundred fiery serpents crept along twelve hundred troughs towards the central well, rolling in rings of fire. there they plunged with terrific noise down a depth of 900 feet. it was an exciting and magnificent spectacle. the ground trembled, whilst these waves of iron, throwing into the sky their clouds of smoke, evaporated at the same time the humidity of the mould, and hurled it upwards through the vent-holes of the masonry in the form of impenetrable vapour. these artificial clouds unrolled their thick spirals as they went up to a height of 3,000 feet into the air. any red indian wandering upon the limits of the horizon might have believed in the formation of a new crater in the heart of florida, and yet it was neither an irruption, nor a typhoon, nor a storm, nor a struggle of the elements, nor one of those terrible phenomena which nature is capable of producing. no; man alone had produced those reddish vapours, those gigantic flames worthy of a volcano, those tremendous vibrations like the shock of an earthquake, those reverberations, rivals of hurricanes and storms, and it was his hand which hurled into an abyss, dug by himself, a whole niagara of molten metal! chapter xvi. the columbiad. had the operation of casting succeeded? people were reduced to mere conjecture. however, there was every reason to believe in its success, as the mould had absorbed the entire mass of metal liquefied in the furnaces. still it was necessarily a long time impossible to be certain. in fact, when major rodman cast his cannon of 160,000 lbs., it took no less than a fortnight to cool. how long, therefore, would the monstrous columbiad, crowned with its clouds of vapour, and guarded by its intense heat, be kept from the eyes of its admirers? it was difficult to estimate. the impatience of the members of the gun club was put to a rude test during this lapse of time. but it could not be helped. j.t. maston was nearly roasted through his anxiety. a fortnight after the casting an immense column of smoke was still soaring towards the sky, and the ground burnt the soles of the feet within a radius of 200 feet round the summit of stony hill. the days went by; weeks followed them. there were no means of cooling the immense cylinder. it was impossible to approach it. the members of the gun club were obliged to wait with what patience they could muster. "here we are at the 10th of august," said j.t. maston one morning. "it wants hardly four months to the 1st of december! there still remains the interior mould to be taken out, and the columbiad to be loaded! we never shall be ready! one cannot even approach the cannon! will it never get cool? that would be a cruel deception!" they tried to calm the impatient secretary without succeeding. barbicane said nothing, but his silence covered serious irritation. to see himself stopped by an obstacle that time alone could remove--time, an enemy to be feared under the circumstances--and to be in the power of an enemy was hard for men of war. however, daily observations showed a certain change in the state of the ground. towards the 15th of august the vapour thrown off had notably diminished in intensity and thickness. a few days after the earth only exhaled a slight puff of smoke, the last breath of the monster shut up in its stone tomb. by degrees the vibrations of the ground ceased, and the circle of heat contracted; the most impatient of the spectators approached; one day they gained ten feet, the next twenty, and on the 22nd of august barbicane, his colleagues, and the engineer could take their place on the cast-iron surface which covered the summit of stony hill, certainly a very healthy spot, where it was not yet allowed to have cold feet. "at last!" cried the president of the gun club with an immense sigh of satisfaction. the works were resumed the same day. the extraction of the interior mould was immediately proceeded with in order to clear out the bore; pickaxes, spades, and boring-tools were set to work without intermission; the clay and sand had become exceedingly hard under the action of the heat; but by the help of machines they cleared away the mixture still burning at its contact with the iron; the rubbish was rapidly carted away on the railway, and the work was done with such spirit, barbicane's intervention was so urgent, and his arguments, presented under the form of dollars, carried so much conviction, that on the 3rd of september all trace of the mould had disappeared. the operation of boring was immediately begun; the boring-machines were set up without delay, and a few weeks later the interior surface of the immense tube was perfectly cylindrical, and the bore had acquired a high polish. at last, on the 22nd of september, less than a year after the barbicane communication, the enormous weapon, raised by means of delicate instruments, and quite vertical, was ready for use. there was nothing but the moon to wait for, but they were sure she would not fail. j.t. maston's joy knew no bounds, and he nearly had a frightful fall whilst looking down the tube of 900 feet. without colonel blomsberry's right arm, which he had happily preserved, the secretary of the gun club, like a modern erostatus, would have found a grave in the depths of the columbiad. the cannon was then finished; there was no longer any possible doubt as to its perfect execution; so on the 6th of october captain nicholl cleared off his debt to president barbicane, who inscribed in his receipt-column a sum of 2,000 dollars. it may be believed that the captain's anger reached its highest pitch, and cost him an illness. still there were yet three bets of 3,000, 4,000, and 5,000 dollars, and if he only gained 2,000, his bargain would not be a bad one, though not excellent. but money did not enter into his calculations, and the success obtained by his rival in the casting of a cannon against which iron plates sixty feet thick would not have resisted was a terrible blow to him. since the 23rd of september the inclosure on stony hill had been quite open to the public, and the concourse of visitors will be readily imagined. in fact, innumerable people from all points of the united states flocked to florida. the town of tampa was prodigiously increased during that year, consecrated entirely to the works of the gun club; it then comprised a population of 150,000 souls. after having surrounded fort brooke in a network of streets it was now being lengthened out on that tongue of land which separated the two harbours of espiritu-santo bay; new quarters, new squares, and a whole forest of houses had grown up in these formerly-deserted regions under the heat of the american sun. companies were formed for the erection of churches, schools, private dwellings, and in less than a year the size of the town was increased tenfold. it is well known that yankees are born business men; everywhere that destiny takes them, from the glacial to the torrid zone, their instinct for business is usefully exercised. that is why simple visitors to florida for the sole purpose of following the operations of the gun club allowed themselves to be involved in commercial operations as soon as they were installed in tampa town. the vessels freighted for the transport of the metal and the workmen had given unparalleled activity to the port. soon other vessels of every form and tonnage, freighted with provisions and merchandise, ploughed the bay and the two harbours; vast offices of shipbrokers and merchants were established in the town, and the _shipping gazette_ each day published fresh arrivals in the port of tampa. whilst roads were multiplied round the town, in consequence of the prodigious increase in its population and commerce, it was joined by railway to the southern states of the union. one line of rails connected la mobile to pensacola, the great southern maritime arsenal; thence from that important point it ran to tallahassee. there already existed there a short line, twenty-one miles long, to saint marks on the seashore. it was this loop-line that was prolonged as far as tampa town, awakening in its passage the dead or sleeping portions of central florida. thus tampa, thanks to these marvels of industry due to the idea born one line day in the brain of one man, could take as its right the airs of a large town. they surnamed it "moon-city," and the capital of florida suffered an eclipse visible from all points of the globe. every one will now understand why the rivalry was so great between texas and florida, and the irritation of the texicans when they saw their pretensions set aside by the gun club. in their long-sighted sagacity they had foreseen what a country might gain from the experiment attempted by barbicane, and the wealth that would accompany such a cannon-shot. texas lost a vast centre of commerce, railways, and a considerable increase of population. all these advantages had been given to that miserable floridian peninsula, thrown like a pier between the waves of the gulf and those of the atlantic ocean. barbicane, therefore, divided with general santa-anna the texan antipathy. however, though given up to its commercial and industrial fury, the new population of tampa town took care not to forget the interesting operations of the gun club. on the contrary, the least details of the enterprise, every blow of the pickaxe, interested them. there was an incessant flow of people to and from tampa town to stony hill--a perfect procession, or, better still, a pilgrimage. it was already easy to foresee that the day of the experiment the concourse of spectators would be counted by millions, for they came already from all points of the earth to the narrow peninsula. europe was emigrating to america. but until then, it must be acknowledged, the curiosity of the numerous arrivals had only been moderately satisfied. many counted upon seeing the casting who only saw the smoke from it. this was not much for hungry eyes, but barbicane would allow no one to see that operation. thereupon ensued grumbling, discontent, and murmurs; they blamed the president for what they considered dictatorial conduct. his act was stigmatised as "un-american." there was nearly a riot round stony hill, but barbicane was not to be moved. when, however, the columbiad was quite finished, this state of closed doors could no longer be kept up; besides, it would have been in bad taste, and even imprudent, to offend public opinion. barbicane, therefore, opened the inclosure to all comers; but, in accordance with his practical character, he determined to coin money out of the public curiosity. it was, indeed, something to even be allowed to see this immense columbiad, but to descend into its depths seemed to the americans the _ne plus ultra_ of earthly felicity. in consequence there was not one visitor who was not willing to give himself the pleasure of visiting the interior of this metallic abyss. baskets hung from steam-cranes allowed them to satisfy their curiosity. it became a perfect mania. women, children, and old men all made it their business to penetrate the mysteries of the colossal gun. the price for the descent was fixed at five dollars a head, and, notwithstanding this high charge, during the two months that preceded the experiment, the influx of visitors allowed the gun club to pocket nearly 500,000 dollars! it need hardly be said that the first visitors to the columbiad were the members of the gun club. this privilege was justly accorded to that illustrious body. the ceremony of reception took place on the 25th of september. a basket of honour took down the president, j.t. maston, major elphinstone, general morgan, colonel blomsberry, and other members of the gun club, ten in all. how hot they were at the bottom of that long metal tube! they were nearly stifled, but how delightful--how exquisite! a table had been laid for ten on the massive stone which formed the bottom of the columbiad, and was lighted by a jet of electric light as bright as day itself. numerous exquisite dishes, that seemed to descend from heaven, were successively placed before the guests, and the richest wines of france flowed profusely during this splendid repast, given 900 feet below the surface of the earth! the festival was a gay, not to say a noisy one. toasts were given and replied to. they drank to the earth and her satellite, to the gun club, the union, the moon, diana, phoebe, selene, "the peaceful courier of the night." all the hurrahs, carried up by the sonorous waves of the immense acoustic tube, reached its mouth with a noise of thunder; then the multitude round stony hill heartily united their shouts to those of the ten revellers hidden from sight in the depths of the gigantic columbiad. j.t. maston could contain himself no longer. whether he shouted or ate, gesticulated or talked most would be difficult to determine. any way he would not have given up his place for an empire, "not even if the cannon--loaded, primed, and fired at that very moment--were to blow him in pieces into the planetary universe." chapter xvii. a telegram. the great work undertaken by the gun club was now virtually ended, and yet two months would still elapse before the day the projectile would start for the moon. these two months would seem as long as two years to the universal impatience. until then the smallest details of each operation had appeared in the newspapers every day, and were eagerly devoured by the public, but now it was to be feared that this "interest dividend" would be much diminished, and every one was afraid of no longer receiving his daily share of emotions. they were all agreeably disappointed: the most unexpected, extraordinary, incredible, and improbable incident happened in time to keep up the general excitement to its highest pitch. on september 30th, at 3.47 p.m., a telegram, transmitted through the atlantic cable, arrived at tampa town for president barbicane. he tore open the envelope and read the message, and, notwithstanding his great self-control, his lips grew pale and his eyes dim as he read the telegram. the following is the text of the message stored in the archives of the gun club:-"france, paris, "september 30th, 4 a.m. "barbicane, tampa town, florida, united states. "substitute a cylindro-conical projectile for your spherical shell. shall go inside. shall arrive by steamer _atlanta_. "michel ardan." chapter xviii. the passenger of the atlanta. if this wonderful news, instead of coming by telegraph, had simply arrived by post and in a sealed envelope--if the french, irish, newfoundland, and american telegraph clerks had not necessarily been acquainted with it--barbicane would not have hesitated for a moment. he would have been quite silent about it for prudence' sake, and in order not to throw discredit on his work. this telegram might be a practical joke, especially as it came from a frenchman. what probability could there be that any man should conceive the idea of such a journey? and if the man did exist was he not a madman who would have to be inclosed in a strait-waistcoat instead of in a cannon-ball? but the message was known, and michel ardan's proposition was already all over the states of the union, so barbicane had no reason for silence. he therefore called together his colleagues then in tampa town, and, without showing what he thought about it or saying a word about the degree of credibility the telegram deserved, he read coldly the laconic text. "not possible!"--"unheard of!"--"they are laughing at us!"--"ridiculous!"--"absurd!" every sort of expression for doubt, incredulity, and folly was heard for some minutes with accompaniment of appropriate gestures. j.t. maston alone uttered the words:-"that's an idea!" he exclaimed. "yes," answered the major, "but if people have such ideas as that they ought not to think of putting them into execution." "why not?" quickly answered the secretary of the gun club, ready for an argument. but the subject was let drop. in the meantime michel ardan's name was already going about tampa town. strangers and natives talked and joked together, not about the european--evidently a mythical personage--but about j.t. maston, who had the folly to believe in his existence. when barbicane proposed to send a projectile to the moon every one thought the enterprise natural and practicable--a simple affair of ballistics. but that a reasonable being should offer to go the journey inside the projectile was a farce, or, to use a familiar americanism, it was all "humbug." this laughter lasted till evening throughout the union, an unusual thing in a country where any impossible enterprise finds adepts and partisans. still michel ardan's proposition did not fail to awaken a certain emotion in many minds. "they had not thought of such a thing." how many things denied one day had become realities the next! why should not this journey be accomplished one day or another? but, any way, the man who would run such a risk must be a madman, and certainly, as his project could not be taken seriously, he would have done better to be quiet about it, instead of troubling a whole population with such ridiculous trash. but, first of all, did this personage really exist? that was the great question. the name of "michel ardan" was not altogether unknown in america. it belonged to a european much talked about for his audacious enterprises. then the telegram sent all across the depths of the atlantic, the designation of the ship upon which the frenchman had declared he had taken his passage, the date assigned for his arrival--all these circumstances gave to the proposition a certain air of probability. they were obliged to disburden their minds about it. soon these isolated individuals formed into groups, the groups became condensed under the action of curiosity like atoms by virtue of molecular attraction, and the result was a compact crowd going towards president barbicane's dwelling. the president, since the arrival of the message, had not said what he thought about it; he had let j.t. maston express his opinions without manifesting either approbation or blame. he kept quiet, proposing to await events, but he had not taken public impatience into consideration, and was not very pleased at the sight of the population of tampa town assembled under his windows. murmurs, cries, and vociferations soon forced him to appear. it will be seen that he had all the disagreeables as well as the duties of a public man. he therefore appeared; silence was made, and a citizen asked him the following question:--"is the person designated in the telegram as michel ardan on his way to america or not?" "gentlemen," answered barbicane, "i know no more than you." "we must get to know," exclaimed some impatient voices. "time will inform us," answered the president coldly. "time has no right to keep a whole country in suspense," answered the orator. "have you altered your plans for the projectile as the telegram demanded?" "not yet, gentlemen; but you are right, we must have recourse to the telegraph that has caused all this emotion." "to the telegraph-office!" cried the crowd. barbicane descended into the street, and, heading the immense assemblage, he went towards the telegraph-office. a few minutes afterwards a telegram was on its way to the underwriters at liverpool, asking for an answer to the following questions:-"what sort of vessel is the _atlanta_? when did she leave europe? had she a frenchman named michel ardan on board?" two hours afterwards barbicane received such precise information that doubt was no longer possible. "the steamer _atlanta_, from liverpool, set sail on october 2nd for tampa town, having on board a frenchman inscribed in the passengers' book as michel ardan." at this confirmation of the first telegram the eyes of the president were lighted up with a sudden flame; he clenched his hands, and was heard to mutter-"it is true, then! it is possible, then! the frenchman does exist! and in a fortnight he will be here! but he is a madman! i never can consent." and yet the very same evening he wrote to the firm of breadwill and co. begging them to suspend the casting of the projectile until fresh orders. now how can the emotion be described which took possession of the whole of america? the effect of the barbicane proposition was surpassed tenfold; what the newspapers of the union said, the way they accepted the news, and how they chanted the arrival of this hero from the old continent; how to depict the feverish agitation in which every one lived, counting the hours, minutes, and seconds; how to give even a feeble idea of the effect of one idea upon so many heads; how to show every occupation being given up for a single preoccupation, work stopped, commerce suspended, vessels, ready to start, waiting in the ports so as not to miss the arrival of the _atlanta_, every species of conveyance arriving full and returning empty, the bay of espiritu-santo incessantly ploughed by steamers, packet-boats, pleasure-yachts, and fly-boats of all dimensions; how to denominate in numbers the thousands of curious people who in a fortnight increased the population of tampa town fourfold, and were obliged to encamp under tents like an army in campaign--all this is a task above human force, and could not be undertaken without rashness. at 9 a.m. on the 20th of october the semaphores of the bahama channel signalled thick smoke on the horizon. two hours later a large steamer exchanged signals with them. the name _atlanta_ was immediately sent to tampa town. at 4 p.m. the english vessel entered the bay of espiritu-santo. at 5 p.m. she passed the entrance to hillisboro harbour, and at 6 p.m. weighed anchor in the port of tampa town. the anchor had not reached its sandy bed before 500 vessels surrounded the _atlanta_ and the steamer was taken by assault. barbicane was the first on deck, and in a voice the emotion of which he tried in vain to suppress-"michel ardan!" he exclaimed. "present!" answered an individual mounted on the poop. barbicane, with his arms crossed, questioning eyes, and silent mouth, looked fixedly at the passenger of the _atlanta_. he was a man forty-two years of age, tall, but already rather stooping, like caryatides which support balconies on their shoulders. his large head shook every now and then a shock of red hair like a lion's mane; a short face, wide forehead, a moustache bristling like a cat's whiskers, and little bunches of yellow hair on the middle of his cheeks, round and rather wild-looking, short-sighted eyes completed this eminently feline physiognomy. but the nose was boldly cut, the mouth particularly humane, the forehead high, intelligent, and ploughed like a field that was never allowed to remain fallow. lastly, a muscular body well poised on long limbs, muscular arms, powerful and well-set levers, and a decided gait made a solidly built fellow of this european, "rather wrought than cast," to borrow one of his expressions from metallurgic art. the disciples of lavater or gratiolet would have easily deciphered in the cranium and physiognomy of this personage indisputable signs of combativity--that is to say, of courage in danger and tendency to overcome obstacles, those of benevolence, and a belief in the marvellous, an instinct that makes many natures dwell much on superhuman things; but, on the other hand, the bumps of acquisivity, the need of possessing and acquiring, were absolutely wanting. to put the finishing touches to the physical type of the passenger of the _atlanta_, his garments wide, loose, and flowing, open cravat, wide collar, and cuffs always unbuttoned, through which came nervous hands. people felt that even in the midst of winter and dangers that man was never cold. on the deck of the steamer, amongst the crowd, he bustled about, never still for a moment, "dragging his anchors," in nautical speech, gesticulating, making friends with everybody, and biting his nails nervously. he was one of those original beings whom the creator invents in a moment of fantasy, and of whom he immediately breaks the cast. in fact, the character of michel ardan offered a large field for physiological analysis. this astonishing man lived in a perpetual disposition to hyperbole, and had not yet passed the age of superlatives; objects depicted themselves on the retina of his eye with exaggerated dimensions; from thence an association of gigantic ideas; he saw everything on a large scale except difficulties and men. he was besides of a luxuriant nature, an artist by instinct, and witty fellow; he loved arguments _ad hominem_, and defended the weak side tooth and nail. amongst other peculiarities he gave himself out as "sublimely ignorant," like shakspeare, and professed supreme contempt for all _savants_, "people," said he, "who only score our points." he was, in short, a bohemian of the country of brains, adventurous but not an adventurer, a harebrained fellow, a phaeton running away with the horses of the sun, a kind of icarus with relays of wings. he had a wonderful facility for getting into scrapes, and an equally wonderful facility for getting out of them again, falling on his feet like a cat. in short, his motto was, "whatever it may cost!" and the love of the impossible his "ruling passion," according to pope's fine expression. but this enterprising fellow had the defects of his qualities. who risks nothing wins nothing, it is said. ardan often risked much and got nothing. he was perfectly disinterested and chivalric; he would not have signed the death-warrant of his worst enemy, and would have sold himself into slavery to redeem a negro. in france and europe everybody knew this brilliant, bustling person. did he not get talked of ceaselessly by the hundred voices of fame, hoarse in his service? did he not live in a glass house, taking the entire universe as confidant of his most intimate secrets? but he also possessed an admirable collection of enemies amongst those he had cuffed and wounded whilst using his elbows to make a passage in the crowd. still he was generally liked and treated like a spoiled child. every one was interested in his bold enterprises, and followed them with uneasy mind. he was known to be so imprudent! when some friend wished to stop him by predicting an approaching catastrophe, "the forest is only burnt by its own trees," he answered with an amiable smile, not knowing that he was quoting the prettiest of arabian proverbs. such was the passenger of the _atlanta_, always in a bustle, always boiling under the action of inward fire, always moved, not by what he had come to do in america--he did not even think about it--but on account of his feverish organisation. if ever individuals offered a striking contrast they were the frenchman michel ardan and the yankee barbicane, both, however, enterprising, bold, and audacious, each in his own way. barbicane's contemplation of his rival was quickly interrupted by the cheers of the crowd. these cries became even so frantic and the enthusiasm took such a personal form that michel ardan, after having shaken a thousand hands in which he nearly left his ten fingers, was obliged to take refuge in his cabin. barbicane followed him without having uttered a word. "you are barbicane?" michel ardan asked him as soon as they were alone, and in the same tone as he would have spoken to a friend of twenty years' standing. "yes," answered the president of the gun club. "well, good morning, barbicane. how are you? very well? that's right! that's right!" "then," said barbicane, without further preliminary, "you have decided to go?" "quite decided." "nothing will stop you?" "nothing. have you altered your projectile as i told you in my message?" "i waited till you came. but," asked barbicane, insisting once more, "you have quite reflected?" "reflected! have i any time to lose? i find the occasion to go for a trip to the moon, i profit by it, and that is all. it seems to me that does not want so much reflection." barbicane looked eagerly at the man who spoke of his project of journey with so much carelessness, and with such absence of anxiety. "but at least," he said, "you have some plan, some means of execution?" "excellent means. but allow me to tell you one thing. i like to say my say once and for all, and to everybody, and to hear no more about it. then, unless you can think of something better, call together your friends, your colleagues, all the town, all florida, all america if you like, and to-morrow i shall be ready to state my means of execution, and answer any objections, whatever they may be. will that do?" "yes, that will do," answered barbicane. whereupon the president left the cabin, and told the crowd about michel ardan's proposition. his words were received with great demonstrations of joy. that cut short all difficulties. the next day every one could contemplate the european hero at their ease. still some of the most obstinate spectators would not leave the deck of the _atlanta_; they passed the night on board. amongst others, j.t. maston had screwed his steel hook into the combing of the poop, and it would have taken the capstan to get it out again. "he is a hero! a hero!" cried he in every tone, "and we are only old women compared to that european!" as to the president, after having requested the spectators to withdraw, he re-entered the passenger's cabin, and did not leave it till the bell of the steamer rang out the midnight quarter. but then the two rivals in popularity shook each other warmly by the hand, and separated friends. chapter xix. a meeting. the next day the sun did not rise early enough to satisfy public impatience. barbicane, fearing that indiscreet questions would be put to michel ardan, would like to have reduced his auditors to a small number of adepts, to his colleagues for instance. but it was as easy as to dam up the falls at niagara. he was, therefore, obliged to renounce his project, and let his friend run all the risks of a public lecture. the new town hall of tampa town, notwithstanding its colossal dimensions, was considered insufficient for the occasion, which had assumed the proportions of a public meeting. the place chosen was a vast plain, situated outside the town. in a few hours they succeeded in sheltering it from the rays of the sun. the ships of the port, rich in canvas, furnished the necessary accessories for a colossal tent. soon an immense sky of cloth was spread over the calcined plain, and defended it against the heat of the day. there 300,000 persons stood and braved a stifling temperature for several hours whilst awaiting the frenchman's arrival. of that crowd of spectators one-third alone could see and hear; a second third saw badly, and did not hear. as to the remaining third, it neither heard nor saw, though it was not the least eager to applaud. at three o'clock michel ardan made his appearance, accompanied by the principal members of the gun club. he gave his right arm to president barbicane, and his left to j.t. maston, more radiant than the midday sun, and nearly as ruddy. ardan mounted the platform, from which his eyes extended over a forest of black hats. he did not seem in the least embarrassed; he did not pose; he was at home there, gay, familiar, and amiable. to the cheers that greeted him he answered by a gracious bow; then with his hand asked for silence, began to speak in english, and expressed himself very correctly in these terms:-"gentlemen," said he, "although it is very warm, i intend to keep you a few minutes to give you some explanation of the projects which have appeared to interest you. i am neither an orator nor a _savant_, and i did not count upon having to speak in public; but my friend barbicane tells me it would give you pleasure, so i do it. then listen to me with your 600,000 ears, and please to excuse the faults of the orator." this unceremonious beginning was much admired by the audience, who expressed their satisfaction by an immense murmur of applause. "gentlemen," said he, "no mark of approbation or dissent is prohibited. that settled, i continue. and, first of all, do not forget that you have to do with an ignorant man, but his ignorance goes far enough to ignore difficulties. it has, therefore, appeared a simple, natural, and easy thing to him to take his passage in a projectile and to start for the moon. that journey would be made sooner or later, and as to the mode of locomotion adopted, it simply follows the law of progress. man began by travelling on all fours, then one fine day he went on two feet, then in a cart, then in a coach, then on a railway. well, the projectile is the carriage of the future, and, to speak the truth, planets are only projectiles, simple cannon-balls hurled by the hand of the creator. but to return to our vehicle. some of you, gentlemen, may think that the speed it will travel at is excessive--nothing of the kind. all the planets go faster, and the earth itself in its movement round the sun carries us along three times as fast. here are some examples. only i ask your permission to express myself in leagues, for american measures are not very familiar to me, and i fear getting muddled in my calculations." the demand appeared quite simple, and offered no difficulty. the orator resumed his speech. "the following, gentlemen, is the speed of the different planets. i am obliged to acknowledge that, notwithstanding my ignorance, i know this small astronomical detail exactly, but in two minutes you will be as learned as i. learn, then, that neptune goes at the rate of 5,000 leagues an hour; uranus, 7,000; saturn, 8,858; jupiter, 11,675; mars, 22,011; the earth, 27,500; venus, 32,190; mercury, 52,520; some comets, 14,000 leagues in their perihelion! as to us, veritable idlers, people in no hurry, our speed does not exceed 9,900 leagues, and it will go on decreasing! i ask you if there is anything to wonder at, and if it is not evident that it will be surpassed some day by still greater speeds, of which light or electricity will probably be the mechanical agents?" no one seemed to doubt this affirmation. "dear hearers," he resumed, "according to certain narrow minds--that is the best qualification for them--humanity is inclosed in a popilius circle which it cannot break open, and is condemned to vegetate upon this globe without ever flying towards the planetary shores! nothing of the kind! we are going to the moon, we shall go to the planets, we shall go to the stars as we now go from liverpool to new york, easily, rapidly, surely, and the atmospheric ocean will be as soon crossed as the oceans of the earth! distance is only a relative term, and will end by being reduced to zero." the assembly, though greatly in favour of the french hero, was rather staggered by this audacious theory. michel ardan appeared to see it. "you do not seem convinced, my worthy hosts," he continued with an amiable smile. "well, let us reason a little. do you know how long it would take an express train to reach the moon? three hundred days. not more. a journey of 86,410 leagues, but what is that? not even nine times round the earth, and there are very few sailors who have not done that during their existence. think, i shall be only ninety-eight hours on the road! ah, you imagine that the moon is a long way from the earth, and that one must think twice before attempting the adventure! but what would you say if i were going to neptune, which gravitates at 1,147,000,000 leagues from the sun? that is a journey that very few people could go, even if it only cost a farthing a mile! even baron rothschild would not have enough to take his ticket!" this argument seemed greatly to please the assembly; besides, michel ardan, full of his subject, grew superbly eloquent; he felt he was listened to, and resumed with admirable assurance-"well, my friends, this distance from neptune to the sun is nothing compared to that of the stars, some of which are billions of leagues from the sun! and yet people speak of the distance that separates the planets from the sun! do you know what i think of this universe that begins with the sun and ends at neptune? should you like to know my theory? it is a very simple one. according to my opinion, the solar universe is one solid homogeneous mass; the planets that compose it are close together, crowd one another, and the space between them is only the space that separates the molecules of the most compact metal--silver, iron, or platinum! i have, therefore, the right to affirm, and i will repeat it with a conviction you will all share--distance is a vain word; distance does not exist!" "well said! bravo! hurrah!" cried the assembly with one voice, electrified by the gesture and accent of the orator, and the boldness of his conceptions. "no!" cried j.t. maston, more energetically than the others; "distance does not exist!" and, carried away by the violence of his movements and emotions he could hardly contain, he nearly fell from the top of the platform to the ground. but he succeeded in recovering his equilibrium, and thus avoided a fall that would have brutally proved distance not to be a vain word. then the speech of the distinguished orator resumed its course. "my friends," said he, "i think that this question is now solved. if i have not convinced you all it is because i have been timid in my demonstrations, feeble in my arguments, and you must set it down to my theoretic ignorance. however that may be, i repeat, the distance from the earth to her satellite is really very unimportant and unworthy to occupy a serious mind. i do not think i am advancing too much in saying that soon a service of trains will be established by projectiles, in which the journey from the earth to the moon will be comfortably accomplished. there will be no shocks nor running off the lines to fear, and the goal will be reached rapidly, without fatigue, in a straight line, 'as the crow flies.' before twenty years are over, half the earth will have visited the moon!" "three cheers for michel ardan!" cried the assistants, even those least convinced. "three cheers for barbicane!" modestly answered the orator. this act of gratitude towards the promoter of the enterprise was greeted with unanimous applause. "now, my friends," resumed michel ardan, "if you have any questions to ask me you will evidently embarrass me, but still i will endeavour to answer you." until now the president of the gun club had reason to be very satisfied with the discussion. it had rolled upon speculative theories, upon which michel ardan, carried away by his lively imagination, had shown himself very brilliant. he must, therefore, be prevented from deviating towards practical questions, which he would doubtless not come out of so well. barbicane made haste to speak, and asked his new friend if he thought that the moon or the planets were inhabited. "that is a great problem, my worthy president," answered the orator, smiling; "still, if i am not mistaken, men of great intelligence--plutarch, swedenborg, bernardin de saint-pierre, and many others--answered in the affirmative. if i answered from a natural philosophy point of view i should do the same--i should say to myself that nothing useless exists in this world, and, answering your question by another, friend barbicane, i should affirm that if the planets are inhabitable, either they are inhabited, they have been, or they will be." "very well," cried the first ranks of spectators, whose opinion had the force of law for the others. "it is impossible to answer with more logic and justice," said the president of the gun club. "the question, therefore, comes to this: 'are the planets inhabitable?' i think so, for my part." "and i--i am certain of it," answered michel ardan. "still," replied one of the assistants, "there are arguments against the inhabitability of the worlds. in most of them it is evident that the principles of life must be modified. thus, only to speak of the planets, the people must be burnt up in some and frozen in others according as they are a long or short distance from the sun." "i regret," answered michel ardan, "not to know my honourable opponent personally. his objection has its value, but i think it may be combated with some success, like all those of which the habitability of worlds has been the object. if i were a physician i should say that if there were less caloric put in motion in the planets nearest to the sun, and more, on the contrary, in the distant planets, this simple phenomenon would suffice to equalise the heat and render the temperature of these worlds bearable to beings organised like we are. if i were a naturalist i should tell him, after many illustrious _savants_, that nature furnishes us on earth with examples of animals living in very different conditions of habitability; that fish breathe in a medium mortal to the other animals; that amphibians have a double existence difficult to explain; that certain inhabitants of the sea live in the greatest depths, and support there, without being crushed, pressures of fifty or sixty atmospheres; that some aquatic insects, insensible to the temperature, are met with at the same time in springs of boiling water and in the frozen plains of the polar ocean--in short, there are in nature many means of action, often incomprehensible, but no less real. if i were a chemist i should say that aërolites--bodies evidently formed away from our terrestrial globe--have when analysed, revealed indisputable traces of carbon, a substance that owes its origin solely to organised beings, and which, according to reichenbach's experiments, must necessarily have been 'animalised.' lastly, if i were a theologian i should say that divine redemption, according to st. paul, seems applicable not only to the earth but to all the celestial bodies. but i am neither a theologian, chemist, naturalist, nor natural philosopher. so, in my perfect ignorance of the great laws that rule the universe, i can only answer, 'i do not know if the heavenly bodies are inhabited, and, as i do not know, i am going to see!'" did the adversary of michel ardan's theories hazard any further arguments? it is impossible to say, for the frantic cries of the crowd would have prevented any opinion from being promulgated. when silence was again restored, even in the most distant groups, the triumphant orator contented himself with adding the following considerations:-"you will think, gentlemen, that i have hardly touched upon this grave question. i am not here to give you an instructive lecture upon this vast subject. there is another series of arguments in favour of the heavenly bodies being inhabited; i do not look upon that. allow me only to insist upon one point. to the people who maintain that the planets are not inhabited you must answer, 'you may be right if it is demonstrated that the earth is the best of possible worlds; but it is not so, notwithstanding voltaire.' it has only one satellite, whilst jupiter, uranus, saturn, and neptune have several at their service, an advantage that is not to be disdained. but that which now renders the earth an uncomfortable place of abode is the inclination of its axis upon its orbit. hence the inequality of day and night; hence the unfortunate diversity of seasons. upon our miserable spheroid it is always either too warm or too cold; we are frozen in winter and roasted in summer; it is the planet of colds, rheumatism, and consumption, whilst on the surface of jupiter, for instance, where the axis has only a very slight inclination, the inhabitants can enjoy invariable temperature. there is the perpetual spring, summer, autumn, and winter zone; each 'jovian' may choose the climate that suits him, and may shelter himself all his life from the variations of the temperature. you will doubtless agree to this superiority of jupiter over our planet without speaking of its years, which each lasts twelve years! what is more, it is evident to me that, under these auspices, and under such marvellous conditions of existence, the inhabitants of that fortunate world are superior beings--that _savants_ are more learned, artists more artistic, the wicked less wicked, and the good are better. alas! what is wanting to our spheroid to reach this perfection is very little!--an axis of rotation less inclined on the plane of its orbit." "well!" cried an impetuous voice, "let us unite our efforts, invent machines, and rectify the earth's axis!" thunders of applause greeted this proposition, the author of which could be no other than j.t. maston. it is probable that the fiery secretary had been carried away by his instincts as engineer to venture such a proposition; but it must be said, for it is the truth, many encouraged him with their cries, and doubtless, if they had found the resting-point demanded by archimedes, the americans would have constructed a lever capable of raising the world and redressing its axis. but this point was wanting to these bold mechanicians. nevertheless, this eminently practical idea had enormous success: the discussion was suspended for a good quarter of an hour, and long, very long afterwards, they talked in the united states of america of the proposition so energetically enunciated by the perpetual secretary of the gun club. chapter xx. thrust and parry. this incident seemed to have terminated the discussion, but when the agitation had subsided these words were heard uttered in a loud and severe voice:-"now that the orator has allowed his fancy to roam, perhaps he would kindly go back to his subject, pay less attention to theories, and discuss the practical part of his expedition." all eyes were turned towards the person who spoke thus. he was a thin, dry-looking man, with an energetic face and an american beard. by taking advantage of the agitation in the assembly from time to time he had gained, by degrees, the front row of spectators. there, with his arms crossed, his eyes brilliant and bold, he stared imperturbably at the hero of the meeting. after having asked his question he kept silence, and did not seem disturbed by the thousands of eyes directed towards him nor by the disapproving murmur excited by his words. the answer being delayed he again put the question with the same clear and precise accent; then he added-"we are here to discuss the moon, not the earth." "you are right, sir," answered michel ardan, "the discussion has wandered from the point; we will return to the moon." "sir," resumed the unknown man, "you pretend that our satellite is inhabited. so far so good; but if selenites do exist they certainly live without breathing, for--i tell you the fact for your good--there is not the least particle of air on the surface of the moon." at this affirmation ardan shook his red mane; he understood that a struggle was coming with this man on the real question. he looked at him fixedly in his turn, and said-"ah! there is no air in the moon! and who says so, pray?" "the _savants_." "indeed?" "indeed." "sir," resumed michel, "joking apart, i have a profound respect for _savants_ who know, but a profound contempt for _savants_ who do not know." "do you know any who belong to the latter category?" "yes; in france there is one who maintains that, 'mathematically,' a bird cannot fly, and another who demonstrates that a fish is not made to live in water." "there is no question of those two, sir, and i can quote in support of my proposition names that you will not object to." "then, sir, you would greatly embarrass a poor ignorant man like me!" "then why do you meddle with scientific questions which you have never studied?" asked the unknown brutally. "why?" answered ardan; "because the man who does not suspect danger is always brave! i know nothing, it is true, but it is precisely my weakness that makes my strength." "your weakness goes as far as madness," exclaimed the unknown in a bad-tempered tone. "so much the better," replied the frenchman, "if my madness takes me to the moon!" barbicane and his colleagues stared at the intruder who had come so boldly to stand in the way of their enterprise. none of them knew him, and the president, not reassured upon the upshot of such a discussion, looked at his new friend with some apprehension. the assembly was attentive and slightly uneasy, for this struggle called attention to the dangers and impossibilities of the expedition. "sir," resumed michel ardan's adversary, "the reasons that prove the absence of all atmosphere round the moon are numerous and indisputable. i may say, even, that, _à priori_ if that atmosphere had ever existed, it must have been drawn away by the earth, but i would rather oppose you with incontestable facts." "oppose, sir," answered michel ardan, with perfect gallantry--oppose as much as you like." "you know," said the unknown, "that when the sun's rays traverse a medium like air they are deviated from a straight line, or, in other words, they are refracted. well, when stars are occulted by the moon their rays, on grazing the edge of her disc, do not show the least deviation nor offer the slightest indication of refraction. it follows, therefore, that the moon can have no atmosphere." every one looked at the frenchman, for, this once admitted, the consequences were rigorous. "in fact," answered michel ardan, "that is your best if not only argument, and a _savant_, perhaps, would be embarrassed to answer it. i can only tell you that this argument has no absolute value because it supposes the angular diameter of the moon to be perfectly determined, which it is not. but let us waive that, and tell me, my dear sir, if you admit the existence of volcanoes on the surface of the moon." "extinct volcanoes, yes; volcanoes in eruption, no." "for the sake of argument let us suppose that these volcanoes have been in eruption for a certain period." "that is certain, but as they can themselves furnish the oxygen necessary for combustion the fact of their eruption does not in the least prove the presence of a lunar atmosphere." "we will pass on, then," answered michel ardan, "and leave this series of argument and arrive at direct observation. but i warn you that i am going to quote names." "very well." "in 1715 the astronomers louville and halley, observing the eclipse of the 3rd of may, remarked certain fulminations of a remarkable nature. these jets of light, rapid and frequent, were attributed by them to storms in the atmosphere of the moon." "in 1715," replied the unknown, "the astronomers louville and halley took for lunar phenomena phenomena purely terrestrial, such as meteoric or other bodies which are generated in our own atmosphere. that was the scientific aspect of these facts, and i go with it." "let us pass on again," answered ardan, without being confused by the reply. "did not herschel, in 1787, observe a great number of luminous points on the surface of the moon?" "certainly; but without explaining the origin of these luminous points. herschel himself did not thereby conclude the necessity of a lunar atmosphere." "well answered," said michel ardan, complimenting his adversary; "i see that you are well up in selenography." "yes, sir; and i may add that the most skilful observers, mm. boeer and moedler, agree that air is absolutely wanting on the moon's surface." a movement took place amongst the audience, who appeared struck by the arguments of this singular personage. "we will pass on again," answered michel ardan, with the greatest calmness, "and arrive now at an important fact. a skilful french astronomer, m. laussedat, whilst observing the eclipse of july 18th, 1860, proved that the horns of the solar crescent were rounded and truncated. now this appearance could only have been produced by a deviation of the solar rays in traversing the atmosphere of the moon. there is no other possible explanation of the fact." "but is this fact authenticated?" "it is absolutely certain." an inverse movement brought back the audience to the side of their favourite hero, whose adversary remained silent. ardan went on speaking without showing any vanity about his last advantage; he said simply-"you see, therefore, my dear sir, that it cannot be positively affirmed that there is no atmosphere on the surface of the moon. this atmosphere is probably not dense, but science now generally admits that it exists." "not upon the mountains," replied the unknown, who would not give in. "no, but in the depths of the valleys, and it is not more than some hundreds of feet deep." "any way you will do well to take your precautions, for the air will be terribly rarefied." "oh, there will always be enough for one man. besides, once delivered up there, i shall do my best to economise it and only to breathe it on great occasions." a formidable burst of laughter saluted the mysterious interlocutor, who looked round the assembly daring it proudly. "then," resumed michel ardan, carelessly, "as we are agreed upon the presence of some atmosphere, we are forced to admit the presence of some water--a consequence i am delighted with, for my part. besides, i have another observation to make. we only know one side of the moon's disc, and if there is little air on that side there may be much on the other." "how so?" "because the moon under the action of terrestrial attraction has assumed the form of an egg, of which we see the small end. hence the consequence due to the calculations of hausen, that its centre of gravity is situated in the other hemisphere. hence this conclusion that all the masses of air and water have been drawn to the other side of our satellite in the first days of the creation." "pure fancies," exclaimed the unknown. "no, pure theories based upon mechanical laws, and it appears difficult to me to refute them. i make appeal to this assembly and put it to the vote to know if life such as it exists upon earth is possible on the surface of the moon?" three hundred thousand hearers applauded this proposition. michel ardan's adversary wished to speak again, but he could not make himself heard. cries and threats were hailed upon him. "enough, enough!" said some. "turn him out!" repeated others. but he, holding on to the platform, did not move, and let the storm pass by. it might have assumed formidable proportions if michel ardan had not appeased it by a gesture. he was too chivalrous to abandon his contradicter in such an extremity. "you wish to add a few words?" he asked, in the most gracious tone. "yes, a hundred! a thousand!" answered the unknown, carried away, "or rather no, one only! to persevere in your enterprise you must be--" "imprudent! how can you call me that when i have asked for a cylindro-conical bullet from my friend barbicane so as not to turn round on the road like a squirrel?" "but, unfortunate man! the fearful shock will smash you to pieces when you start." "you have there put your finger upon the real and only difficulty; but i have too good an opinion of the industrial genius of the americans to believe that they will not overcome that difficulty." "but the heat developed by the speed of the projectile whilst crossing the beds of air?" "oh, its sides are thick, and i shall so soon pass the atmosphere." "but provisions? water?" "i have calculated that i could carry enough for one year, and i shall only be four days going." "but air to breathe on the road?" "i shall make some by chemical processes." "but your fall upon the moon, supposing you ever get there?" "it will be six times less rapid than a fall upon the earth, as attraction is six times less on the surface of the moon." "but it still will be sufficient to smash you like glass." "what will prevent me delaying my fall by means of rockets conveniently placed and lighted at the proper time?" "but lastly, supposing that all difficulties be solved, all obstacles cleared away by uniting every chance in your favour, admitting that you reach the moon safe and well, how shall you come back?" "i shall not come back." upon this answer, which was almost sublime by reason of its simplicity, the assembly remained silent. but its silence was more eloquent than its cries of enthusiasm would have been. the unknown profited by it to protest one last time. "you will infallibly kill yourself," he cried, "and your death, which will be only a madman's death, will not even be useful to science." "go on, most generous of men, for you prophesy in the most agreeable manner." "ah, it is too much!" exclaimed michel ardan's adversary, "and i do not know why i go on with so childish a discussion. go on with your mad enterprise as you like. it is not your fault." "fire away." "no, another must bear the responsibility of your acts." "who is that, pray?" asked michel ardan in an imperious voice. "the fool who has organised this attempt, as impossible as it is ridiculous." the attack was direct. barbicane since the intervention of the unknown had made violent efforts to contain himself and "consume his own smoke," but upon seeing himself so outrageously designated he rose directly and was going to walk towards his adversary, who dared him to his face, when he felt himself suddenly separated from him. the platform was lifted up all at once by a hundred vigorous arms, and the president of the gun club was forced to share the honours of triumph with michel ardan. the platform was heavy, but the bearers came in continuous relays, disputing, struggling, even fighting for the privilege of lending the support of their shoulders to this manifestation. however, the unknown did not take advantage of the tumult to leave the place. he kept in the front row, his arms folded, still staring at president barbicane. the president did not lose sight of him either, and the eyes of these two men met like flaming swords. the cries of the immense crowds kept at their maximum of intensity during this triumphant march. michel ardan allowed himself to be carried with evident pleasure. sometimes the platform pitched and tossed like a ship beaten by the waves. but the two heroes of the meeting were good sailors, and their vessel safely arrived in the port of tampa town. michel ardan happily succeeded in escaping from his vigorous admirers. he fled to the franklin hotel, quickly reached his room, and glided rapidly into bed whilst an army of 100,000 men watched under his windows. in the meanwhile a short, grave, and decisive scene had taken place between the mysterious personage and the president of the gun club. barbicane, liberated at last, went straight to his adversary. "come!" said he in a curt voice. the stranger followed him on to the quay, and they were soon both alone at the entrance to a wharf opening on to jones' fall. there these enemies, still unknown to one another, looked at each other. "who are you?" asked barbicane. "captain nicholl." "i thought so. until now fate has never made you cross my path." "i crossed it of my own accord." "you have insulted me." "publicly." "and you shall give me satisfaction for that insult." "now, this minute." "no. i wish everything between us to be kept secret. there is a wood situated three miles from tampa--skersnaw wood. do you know it?" "yes." "will you enter it to-morrow morning at five o'clock by one side?" "yes, if you will enter it by the other at the same time." "and you will not forget your rifle?" said barbicane. "not more than you will forget yours," answered captain nicholl. after these words had been coldly pronounced the president of the gun club and the captain separated. barbicane returned to his dwelling; but, instead of taking some hours' rest, he passed the night in seeking means to avoid the shock of the projectile, and to solve the difficult problem given by michel ardan at the meeting. chapter xxi. how a frenchman settles an affair. whilst the duel was being discussed between the president and the captain--a terrible and savage duel in which each adversary became a man-hunter--michel ardan was resting after the fatigues of his triumph. resting is evidently not the right expression, for american beds rival in hardness tables of marble or granite. ardan slept badly, turning over and over between the _serviettes_ that served him for sheets, and he was thinking of installing a more comfortable bed in his projectile when a violent noise startled him from his slumbers. thundering blows shook his door. they seemed to be administered with an iron instrument. shouts were heard in this racket, rather too early to be agreeable. "open!" some one cried. "open, for heaven's sake!" there was no reason why ardan should acquiesce in so peremptory a demand. still he rose and opened his door at the moment it was giving way under the efforts of the obstinate visitor. the secretary of the gun club bounded into the room. a bomb would not have entered with less ceremony. "yesterday evening," exclaimed j.t. maston _ex abrupto_, "our president was publicly insulted during the meeting! he has challenged his adversary, who is no other than captain nicholl! they are going to fight this morning in skersnaw wood! i learnt it all from barbicane himself! if he is killed our project will be at an end! this duel must be prevented! now one man only can have enough empire over barbicane to stop it, and that man is michel ardan." whilst j.t. maston was speaking thus, michel ardan, giving up interrupting him, jumped into his vast trousers, and in less than two minutes after the two friends were rushing as fast as they could go towards the suburbs of tampa town. it was during this rapid course that maston told ardan the state of the case. he told him the real causes of the enmity between barbicane and nicholl, how that enmity was of old date, why until then, thanks to mutual friends, the president and the captain had never met; he added that it was solely a rivalry between iron-plate and bullet; and, lastly, that the scene of the meeting had only been an occasion long sought by nicholl to satisfy an old grudge. there is nothing more terrible than these private duels in america, during which the two adversaries seek each other across thickets, and hunt each other like wild animals. it is then that each must envy those marvellous qualities so natural to the indians of the prairies, their rapid intelligence, their ingenious ruse, their scent of the enemy. an error, a hesitation, a wrong step, may cause death. in these meetings the yankees are often accompanied by their dogs, and both sportsmen and game go on for hours. "what demons you are!" exclaimed michel ardan, when his companion had depicted the scene with much energy. "we are what we are," answered j.t. maston modestly; "but let us make haste." in vain did michel ardan and he rush across the plain still wet with dew, jump the creeks, take the shortest cuts; they could not reach skersnaw wood before half-past five. barbicane must have entered it half-an-hour before. there an old bushman was tying up faggots his axe had cut. maston ran to him crying-"have you seen a man enter the wood armed with a rifle? barbicane, the president--my best friend?" the worthy secretary of the gun club thought naïvely that all the world must know his president. but the bushman did not seem to understand. "a sportsman," then said ardan. "a sportsman? yes," answered the bushman. "is it long since?" "about an hour ago." "too late!" exclaimed maston. "have you heard any firing?" asked michel ardan. "no." "not one shot?" "not one. that sportsman does not seem to bag much game!" "what shall we do?" said maston. "enter the wood at the risk of catching a bullet not meant for us." "ah!" exclaimed maston, with an unmistakable accent, "i would rather have ten bullets in my head than one in barbicane's head." "go ahead, then!" said ardan, pressing his companion's hand. a few seconds after the two companions disappeared in a copse. it was a dense thicket made of huge cypresses, sycamores, tulip-trees, olives, tamarinds, oaks, and magnolias. the different trees intermingled their branches in inextricable confusion, and quite hid the view. michel ardan and maston walked on side by side phasing silently through the tall grass, making a road for themselves through the vigorous creepers, looking in all the bushes or branches lost in the sombre shade of the foliage, and expecting to hear a shot at every step. as to the traces that barbicane must have left of his passage through the wood, it was impossible for them to see them, and they marched blindly on in the hardly-formed paths in which an indian would have followed his adversary step by step. after a vain search of about an hour's length the two companions stopped. their anxiety was redoubled. "it must be all over," said maston in despair. "a man like barbicane would not lay traps or condescend to any manoeuvre! he is too frank, too courageous. he has gone straight into danger, and doubtless far enough from the bushman for the wind to carry off the noise of the shot!" "but we should have heard it!" answered michel ardan. "but what if we came too late?" exclaimed j.t. maston in an accent of despair. michel ardan did not find any answer to make. maston and he resumed their interrupted walk. from time to time they shouted; they called either barbicane or nicholl; but neither of the two adversaries answered. joyful flocks of birds, roused by the noise, disappeared amongst the branches, and some frightened deer fled through the copses. they continued their search another hour. the greater part of the wood had been explored. nothing revealed the presence of the combatants. they began to doubt the affirmation of the bushman, and ardan was going to renounce the pursuit as useless, when all at once maston stopped. "hush!" said he. "there is some one yonder!" "some one?" answered michel ardan. "yes! a man! he does not seem to move. his rifle is not in his hand. what can he be doing?" "but do you recognise him?" asked michel ardan. "yes, yes! he is turning round," answered maston. "who is it?" "captain nicholl!" "nicholl!" cried michel ardan, whose heart almost stopped beating. "nicholl disarmed! then he had nothing more to fear from his adversary?" "let us go to him," said michel ardan; "we shall know how it is." but his companion and he had not gone fifty steps when they stopped to examine the captain more attentively. they imagined they should find a bloodthirsty and revengeful man. upon seeing him they remained stupefied. a net with fine meshes was hung between two gigantic tulip-trees, and in it a small bird, with its wings entangled, was struggling with plaintive cries. the bird-catcher who had hung the net was not a human being but a venomous spider, peculiar to the country, as large as a pigeon's egg, and furnished with enormous legs. the hideous insect, as he was rushing on his prey, was forced to turn back and take refuge in the high branches of a tulip-tree, for a formidable enemy threatened him in his turn. in fact, captain nicholl, with his gun on the ground, forgetting the dangers of his situation, was occupied in delivering as delicately as possible the victim taken in the meshes of the monstrous spider. when he had finished he let the little bird fly away; it fluttered its wings joyfully and disappeared. nicholl, touched, was watching it fly through the copse when he heard these words uttered in a voice full of emotion:-"you are a brave man, you are!" he turned. michel ardan was in front of him, repeating in every tone-"and a kind one!" "michel ardan!" exclaimed the captain, "what have you come here for, sir?" "to shake hands with you, nicholl, and prevent you killing barbicane or being killed by him." "barbicane!" cried the captain, "i have been looking for him these two hours without finding him! where is he hiding himself?" "nicholl!" said michel ardan, "this is not polite! you must always respect your adversary; don't be uneasy; if barbicane is alive we shall find him, and so much the more easily that if he has not amused himself with protecting birds he must be looking for you too. but when you have found him--and michel ardan tells you this--there will be no duel between you." "between president barbicane and me," answered nicholl gravely, "there is such rivalry that the death of one of us--" "come, come!" resumed michel ardan, "brave men like you may detest one another, but they respect one another too. you will not fight." "i shall fight, sir." "no you won't." "captain," then said j.t. maston heartily, "i am the president's friend, his _alter ego_; if you must absolutely kill some one kill me; that will be exactly the same thing." "sir," said nicholl, convulsively seizing his rifle, "this joking--" "friend maston is not joking," answered michel ardan, "and i understand his wanting to be killed for the man he loves; but neither he nor barbicane will fall under captain nicholl's bullets, for i have so tempting a proposition to make to the two rivals that they will hasten to accept it." "but what is it, pray?" asked nicholl, with visible incredulity. "patience," answered ardan; "i can only communicate it in barbicane's presence." "let us look for him, then," cried the captain. the three men immediately set out; the captain, having discharged his rifle, threw it on his shoulder and walked on in silence. during another half-hour the search was in vain. maston was seized with a sinister presentiment. he observed captain nicholl closely, asking himself if, once the captain's vengeance satisfied, the unfortunate barbicane had not been left lying in some bloody thicket. michel ardan seemed to have the same thought, and they were both looking questioningly at captain nicholl when maston suddenly stopped. the motionless bust of a man leaning against a gigantic catalpa appeared twenty feet off half hidden in the grass. "it is he!" said maston. barbicane did not move. ardan stared at the captain, but he did not wince. ardan rushed forward, crying-"barbicane! barbicane!" no answer. ardan was about to seize his arm; he stopped short, uttering a cry of surprise. barbicane, with a pencil in his hand, was tracing geometrical figures upon a memorandum-book, whilst his unloaded gun lay on the ground. absorbed in his work, the _savant_, forgetting in his turn his duel and his vengeance, had neither seen nor heard anything. but when michel ardan placed his hand on that of the president, he got up and looked at him with astonishment. "ah!" cried he at last; "you here! i have found it, my friend, i have found it!" "what?" "the way to do it." "the way to do what?" "to counteract the effect of the shock at the departure of the projectile." "really?" said michel, looking at the captain out of the corner of his eye. "yes, water! simply water, which will act as a spring. ah, maston!" cried barbicane, "you too!" "himself," answered michel ardan; "and allow me to introduce at the same time the worthy captain nicholl." "nicholl!" cried barbicane, up in a moment. "excuse me, captain," said he; "i had forgotten. i am ready." michel ardan interfered before the two enemies had time to recriminate. "faith," said he, "it is fortunate that brave fellows like you did not meet sooner. we should now have to mourn for one or other of you; but, thanks to god, who has prevented it, there is nothing more to fear. when one forgets his hatred to plunge into mechanical problems and the other to play tricks on spiders, their hatred cannot be dangerous to anybody." and michel ardan related the captain's story to the president. "i ask you now," said he as he concluded, "if two good beings like you were made to break each other's heads with gunshots?" there was in this rather ridiculous situation something so unexpected, that barbicane and nicholl did not know how to look at one another. michel ardan felt this, and resolved to try for a reconciliation. "my brave friends," said he, smiling in his most fascinating manner, "it has all been a mistake between you, nothing more. well, to prove that all is ended between you, and as you are men who risk your lives, frankly accept the proposition that i am going to make to you." "speak," said nicholl. "friend barbicane believes that his projectile will go straight to the moon." "yes, certainly," replied the president. "and friend nicholl is persuaded that it will fall back on the earth." "i am certain of it," cried the captain. "good," resumed michel ardan. "i do not pretend to make you agree; all i say to you is, 'come with me, and see if we shall stop on the road.'" "what?" said j.t. maston, stupefied. the two rivals at this sudden proposition had raised their eyes and looked at each other attentively. barbicane waited for captain nicholl's answer; nicholl awaited the president's reply. "well," said michel in his most engaging tone, "as there is now no shock to fear----" "accepted!" cried barbicane. but although this word was uttered very quickly, nicholl had finished it at the same time. "hurrah! bravo!" cried michel ardan, holding out his hands to the two adversaries. "and now that the affair is arranged, my friends, allow me to treat you french fashion. _allons déjeuner_." chapter xxii. the new citizen of the united states. that day all america heard about the duel and its singular termination. the part played by the chivalrous european, his unexpected proposition which solved the difficulty, the simultaneous acceptation of the two rivals, that conquest of the lunar continent to which france and the united states were going to march in concert--everything tended to increase michel ardan's popularity. it is well known how enthusiastic the yankees will get about an individual. in a country where grave magistrates harness themselves to a dancer's carriage and draw it in triumph, it may be judged how the bold frenchman was treated. if they did not take out his horses it was probably because he had none, but all other marks of enthusiasm were showered upon him. there was no citizen who did not join him heart and mind:--_ex pluribus unam_, according to the motto of the united states. from that day michel ardan had not a minute's rest. deputations from all parts of the union worried him incessantly. he was forced to receive them whether he would or no. the hands he shook could not be counted; he was soon completely worn out, his voice became hoarse in consequence of his innumerable speeches, and only escaped from his lips in unintelligible sounds, and he nearly caught a gastro-enterite after the toasts he proposed to the union. this success would have intoxicated another man from the first, but he managed to stay in a _spirituelle_ and charming demi-inebriety. amongst the deputations of every sort that assailed him, that of the "lunatics" did not forget what they owed to the future conqueror of the moon. one day some of these poor creatures, numerous enough in america, went to him and asked to return with him to their native country. some of them pretended to speak "selenite," and wished to teach it to michel ardan, who willingly lent himself to their innocent mania, and promised to take their messages to their friends in the moon. "singular folly!" said he to barbicane, after having dismissed them; "and a folly that often takes possession of men of great intelligence. one of our most illustrious _savants_, arago, told me that many very wise and reserved people in their conceptions became much excited and gave way to incredible singularities every time the moon occupied them. do you believe in the influence of the moon upon maladies?" "very little," answered the president of the gun club. "i do not either, and yet history has preserved some facts that, to say the least, are astonishing. thus in 1693, during an epidemic, people perished in the greatest numbers on the 21st of january, during an eclipse. the celebrated bacon fainted during the moon eclipses, and only came to himself after its entire emersion. king charles vi. relapsed six times into madness during the year 1399, either at the new or full moon. physicians have ranked epilepsy amongst the maladies that follow the phases of the moon. nervous maladies have often appeared to be influenced by it. mead speaks of a child who had convulsions when the moon was in opposition. gall remarked that insane persons underwent an accession of their disorder twice in every month, at the epochs of the new and full moon. lastly, a thousand observations of this sort made upon malignant fevers and somnambulism tend to prove that the queen of night has a mysterious influence upon terrestrial maladies." "but how? why?" asked barbicane. "why?" answered ardan. "why, the only thing i can tell you is what arago repeated nineteen centuries after plutarch. perhaps it is because it is not true." in the height of his triumph michel ardan could not escape any of the annoyances incidental to a celebrated man. managers of entertainments wished to exhibit him. barnum offered him a million dollars to show him as a curious animal in the different towns of the united states. still, though he refused to satisfy public curiosity in that way, his portraits went all over the world, and occupied the place of honour in albums; proofs were made of all sizes from life size to medallions. every one could possess the hero in all positions--head, bust, standing, full-face, profile, three-quarters, back. fifteen hundred thousand copies were taken, and it would have been a fine occasion to get money by relics, but he did not profit by it. if he had sold his hairs for a dollar apiece there would have remained enough to make his fortune! to tell the truth, this popularity did not displease him. on the contrary, he put himself at the disposition of the public, and corresponded with the entire universe. they repeated his witticisms, especially those he did not perpetrate. not only had he all the men for him, but the women too. what an infinite number of good marriages he might have made if he had taken a fancy to "settle!" old maids especially dreamt before his portraits day and night. it is certain that he would have found female companions by hundreds, even if he had imposed the condition of following him up into the air. women are intrepid when they are not afraid of everything. but he had no intention of transplanting a race of franco-americans upon the lunar continent, so he refused. "i do not mean," said he, "to play the part of adam with a daughter of eve up there. i might meet with serpents!" as soon as he could withdraw from the joys of triumph, too often repeated, he went with his friends to pay a visit to the columbiad. he owed it that. besides, he was getting very learned in ballistics since he had lived with barbicane, j.t. maston, and _tutti quanti_. his greatest pleasure consisted in repeating to these brave artillerymen that they were only amiable and learned murderers. he was always joking about it. the day he visited the columbiad he greatly admired it, and went down to the bore of the gigantic mortar that was soon to hurl him towards the queen of night. "at least," said he, "that cannon will not hurt anybody, which is already very astonishing on the part of a cannon. but as to your engines that destroy, burn, smash, and kill, don't talk to me about them!" it is necessary to report here a proposition made by j.t. maston. when the secretary of the gun club heard barbicane and nicholl accept michel ardan's proposition he resolved to join them, and make a party of four. one day he asked to go. barbicane, grieved at having to refuse, made him understand that the projectile could not carry so many passengers. j.t. maston, in despair, went to michel ardan, who advised him to be resigned, adding one or two arguments _ad hominem_. "you see, old fellow," he said to him, "you must not be offended, but really, between ourselves, you are too incomplete to present yourself in the moon." "incomplete!" cried the valiant cripple. "yes, my brave friend. suppose we should meet with inhabitants up there. do you want to give them a sorry idea of what goes on here, teach them what war is, show them that we employ the best part of our time in devouring each other and breaking arms and limbs, and that upon a globe that could feed a hundred thousand millions of inhabitants, and where there are hardly twelve hundred millions? why, my worthy friend, you would have us shown to the door!" "but if you arrive smashed to pieces," replied j.t. maston, "you will be as incomplete as i." "certainly," answered michel ardan, "but we shall not arrive in pieces." in fact, a preparatory experiment, tried on the 18th of october, had been attended with the best results, and given rise to the most legitimate hopes. barbicane, wishing to know the effect of the shock at the moment of the projectile's departure, sent for a 32-inch mortar from pensacola arsenal. it was installed upon the quay of hillisboro harbour, in order that the bomb might fall into the sea, and the shock of its fall be deadened. he only wished to experiment upon the shock of its departure, not that of its arrival. a hollow projectile was prepared with the greatest care for this curious experiment. a thick wadding put upon a network of springs made of the best steel lined it inside. it was quite a wadded nest. "what a pity one can't go in it!" said j.t. maston, regretting that his size did not allow him to make the venture. into this charming bomb, which was closed by means of a lid, screwed down, they put first a large cat, then a squirrel belonging to the perpetual secretary of the gun club, which j.t. maston was very fond of. but they wished to know how this little animal, not likely to be giddy, would support this experimental journey. the mortar was loaded with 160 lbs. of powder and the bomb. it was then fired. the projectile immediately rose with rapidity, described a majestic parabola, attained a height of about a thousand feet, and then with a graceful curve fell into the waves. without losing an instant, a vessel was sent to the spot where it fell; skilful divers sank under water and fastened cable-chains to the handles of the bomb, which was rapidly hoisted on board. five minutes had not elapsed between the time the animals were shut up and the unscrewing of their prison lid. ardan, barbicane, maston, and nicholl were upon the vessel, and they assisted at the operation with a sentiment of interest easy to understand. the bomb was hardly opened before the cat sprang out, rather bruised but quite lively, and not looking as if it had just returned from an aërial expedition. but nothing, was seen of the squirrel. the truth was then discovered. the cat had eaten its travelling companion. j.t. maston was very grieved at the loss of his poor squirrel, and proposed to inscribe it in the martyrology of science. however that may be, after this experiment all hesitation and fear were at an end; besides, barbicane's plans were destined further to perfect the projectile, and destroy almost entirely the effect of the shock. there was nothing more to do but to start. two days later michel ardan received a message from the president of the union, an honour which he much appreciated. after the example of his chivalrous countryman, la fayette, the government had bestowed upon him the title of "citizen of the united states of america." chapter xxiii. the projectile compartment. after the celebrated columbiad was completed public interest immediately centred upon the projectile, the new vehicle destined to transport the three bold adventurers across space. no one had forgotten that in his despatch of september 30th michel ardan asked for a modification of the plans laid out by the members of the committee. president barbicane then thought with reason that the form of the projectile was of slight importance, for, after crossing the atmosphere in a few seconds, it would meet with vacuum. the committee had therefore chosen the round form, so that the ball might turn over and over and do as it liked. but as soon as it had to be made into a vehicle, that was another thing. michel ardan did not want to travel squirrel-fashion; he wished to go up head up and feet down with as much dignity as in the car of a balloon, quicker of course, but without unseemly gambols. new plans were, therefore, sent to the firm of breadwill and co., of albany, with the recommendation to execute them without delay. the projectile, thus modified, was cast on the 2nd of november, and sent immediately to stony hill by the eastern railway. on the 10th it arrived without accident at its place of destination. michel ardan, barbicane, and nicholl awaited with the most lively impatience this "projectile compartment" in which they were to take their passage for the discovery of a new world. it must be acknowledged that it was a magnificent piece of metal, a metallurgic production that did the greatest honour to the industrial genius of the americans. it was the first time that aluminium had been obtained in so large a mass, which result might be justly regarded as prodigious. this precious projectile sparkled in the rays of the sun. seeing it in its imposing shape with its conical top, it might easily have been taken for one of those extinguisher-shaped towers that architects of the middle ages put at the angles of their castles. it only wanted loopholes and a weathercock. "i expect," exclaimed michel ardan, "to see a man armed _cap-à-pie_ come out of it. we shall be like feudal lords in there; with a little artillery we could hold our own against a whole army of selenites--that is, if there are any in the moon!" "then the vehicle pleases you?" asked barbicane. "yes, yes! certainly," answered michel ardan, who was examining it as an artist. "i only regret that its form is not a little more slender, its cone more graceful; it ought to be terminated by a metal group, some gothic ornament, a salamander escaping from it with outspread wings and open beak." "what would be the use?" said barbicane, whose positive mind was little sensitive to the beauties of art. "ah, friend barbicane, i am afraid you will never understand the use, or you would not ask!" "well, tell me, at all events, my brave companion." "well, my friend, i think we ought always to put a little art in all we do. do you know an indian play called _the child's chariot_?" "not even by name," answered barbicane. "i am not surprised at that," continued michel ardan. "learn, then, that in that play there is a robber who, when in the act of piercing the wall of a house, stops to consider whether he shall make his hole in the shape of a lyre, a flower, or a bird. well, tell me, friend barbicane, if at that epoch you had been his judge would you have condemned that robber?" "without hesitation," answered the president of the gun club, "and as a burglar too." "well, i should have acquitted him, friend barbicane. that is why you could never understand me." "i will not even try, my valiant artist." "but, at least," continued michel ardan, "as the exterior of our projectile compartment leaves much to be desired, i shall be allowed to furnish the inside as i choose, and with all luxury suitable to ambassadors from the earth." "about that, my brave michel," answered barbicane, "you can do entirely as you please." but before passing to the agreeable the president of the gun club had thought of the useful, and the means he had invented for lessening the effects of the shock were applied with perfect intelligence. barbicane had said to himself, not unreasonably, that no spring would be sufficiently powerful to deaden the shock, and during his famous promenade in skersnaw wood he had ended by solving this great difficulty in an ingenious fashion. he depended upon water to render him this signal service. this is how:-the projectile was to be filled to the depth of three feet with water destined to support a water-tight wooden disc, which easily worked within the walls of the projectile. it was upon this raft that the travellers were to take their place. as to the liquid mass, it was divided by horizontal partitions which the departing shock would successively break; then each sheet of water, from the lowest to the highest, escaping by valves in the upper part of the projectile, thus making a spring, and the disc, itself furnished with extremely powerful buffers, could not strike the bottom until it had successively broken the different partitions. the travellers would doubtless feel a violent recoil after the complete escape of the liquid mass, but the first shock would be almost entirely deadened by so powerful a spring. it is true that three feet on a surface of 541 square feet would weigh nearly 11,500 lbs; but the escape of gas accumulated in the columbiad would suffice, barbicane thought to conquer that increase of weight; besides, the shock would send out all that water in less than a second, and the projectile would soon regain its normal weight. this is what the president of the gun club had imagined, and how he thought he had solved the great question of the recoil. this work, intelligently comprehended by the engineers of the breadwill firm, was marvellously executed; the effect once produced and the water gone, the travellers could easily get rid of the broken partitions and take away the mobile disc that bore them at the moment of departure. as to the upper sides of the projectile, they were lined with a thick wadding of leather, put upon the best steel springs as supple as watch-springs. the escape-pipes hidden under this wadding were not even seen. all imaginable precautions for deadening the first shock having been taken, michel ardan said they must be made of "very bad stuff" to be crushed. the projectile outside was nine feet wide and twelve feet high. in order not to pass the weight assigned the sides had been made a little less thick and the bottom thicker, as it would have to support all the violence of the gases developed by the deflagration of the pyroxyle. bombs and cylindro-conical howitzers are always made with thicker bottoms. the entrance to this tower of metal was a narrow opening in the wall of the cone, like the "man-hole" of steam boilers. it closed hermetically by means of an aluminium plate fastened inside by powerful screw pressure. the travellers could therefore leave their mobile prison at will as soon as they had reached the queen of night. but going was not everything; it was necessary to see on the road. nothing was easier. in fact, under the wadding were four thick lenticular footlights, two let into the circular wall of the projectile, the third in its lower part, and the fourth in its cone. the travellers could, therefore, observe during their journey the earth they were leaving, the moon they were approaching, and the constellated spaces of the sky. these skylights were protected against the shocks of departure by plates let into solid grooves, which it was easy to move by unscrewing them. by that means the air contained in the projectile could not escape, and it was possible to make observations. all these mechanical appliances, admirably set, worked with the greatest ease, and the engineers had not shown themselves less intelligent in the arrangement of the projectile compartment. lockers solidly fastened were destined to contain the water and provisions necessary for the three travellers; they could even procure themselves fire and light by means of gas stored up in a special case under a pressure of several atmospheres. all they had to do was to turn a tap, and the gas would light and warm this comfortable vehicle for six days. it will be seen that none of the things essential to life, or even to comfort, were wanting. more, thanks to the instincts of michel ardan, the agreeable was joined to the useful under the form of objects of art; he would have made a veritable artist's studio of his projectile if room had not been wanting. it would be mistaken to suppose that three persons would be restricted for space in that metal tower. it had a surface of 54 square feet, and was nearly 10 feet high, and allowed its occupiers a certain liberty of movement. they would not have been so much at their ease in the most comfortable railway compartment of the united states. the question of provisions and lighting having been solved, there remained the question of air. it was evident that the air confined in the projectile would not be sufficient for the travellers' respiration for four days; each man, in fact, consumes in one hour all the oxygen contained in 100 litres of air. barbicane, his two companions, and two dogs that he meant to take, would consume every twenty-four hours 2,400 litres of oxygen, or a weight equal to 7 lbs. the air in the projectile must, therefore, be renewed. how? by a very simple method, that of messrs. reiset and regnault, indicated by michel ardan during the discussion of the meeting. it is known that the air is composed principally of twenty-one parts of oxygen and seventy-nine parts of azote. now what happens in the act of respiration? a very simple phenomenon, man absorbs the oxygen of the air, eminently adapted for sustaining life, and throws out the azote intact. the air breathed out has lost nearly five per cent, of its oxygen, and then contains a nearly equal volume of carbonic acid, the definitive product of the combustion of the elements of the blood by the oxygen breathed in it. it happens, therefore, that in a confined space and after a certain time all the oxygen of the air is replaced by carbonic acid, an essentially deleterious gas. the question was then reduced to this, the azote being conserved intact--1. to remake the oxygen absorbed; 2. to destroy the carbonic acid breathed out. nothing easier to do by means of chlorate of potash and caustic potash. the former is a salt which appears under the form of white crystals; when heated to a temperature of 400° it is transformed into chlorine of potassium, and the oxygen which it contains is given off freely. now 18 lbs. of chlorate of potash give 7 lbs of oxygen--that is to say, the quantity necessary to the travellers for twenty-four hours. as to caustic potash, it has a great affinity for carbonic acid mixed in air, and it is sufficient to shake it in order for it to seize upon the acid and form bicarbonate of potash. so much for the absorption of carbonic acid. by combining these two methods they were certain of giving back to vitiated air all its life-giving qualities. the two chemists, messrs. reiset and regnault, had made the experiment with success. but it must be said the experiment had only been made _in anima vili_. whatever its scientific accuracy might be, no one knew how man could bear it. such was the observation made at the meeting where this grave question was discussed. michel ardan meant to leave no doubt about the possibility of living by means of this artificial air, and he offered to make the trial before the departure. but the honour of putting it to the proof was energetically claimed by j.t. maston. "as i am not going with you," said the brave artilleryman, "the least i can do will be to live in the projectile for a week." it would have been ungracious to refuse him. his wish was complied with. a sufficient quantity of chlorate of potash and caustic potash was placed at his disposition, with provisions for a week; then having shaken hands with his friends, on the 12th of november at 6 a.m., after having expressly recommended them not to open his prison before the 20th at 6 p.m., he crept into the projectile, the iron plate of which was hermetically shut. what happened during that week? it was impossible to ascertain. the thickness of the projectile's walls prevented any interior noise from reaching the outside. on the 20th of november, at six o'clock precisely, the plate was removed; the friends of j.t. maston were rather uneasy. but they were promptly reassured by hearing a joyful voice shouting a formidable hurrah! the secretary of the gun club appeared on the summit of the cone in a triumphant attitude. he had grown fat! chapter xxiv. the telescope of the rocky mountains. on the 20th of october of the preceding year, after the subscription list was closed, the president of the gun club had credited the cambridge observatory with the sums necessary for the construction of a vast optical instrument. this telescope was to be powerful enough to render visible on the surface of the moon an object being at least nine feet wide. there is an important difference between a field-glass and a telescope, which it is well to recall here. a field-glass is composed of a tube which carries at its upper extremity a convex glass called an object-glass, and at its lower extremity a second glass called ocular, to which the eye of the observer is applied. the rays from the luminous object traverse the first glass, and by refraction form an image upside down at its focus. this image is looked at with the ocular, which magnifies it. the tube of the field-glass is, therefore, closed at each extremity by the object and the ocular glasses. the telescope, on the contrary, is open at its upper extremity. the rays from the object observed penetrate freely into it, and strike a concave metallic mirror--that is to say, they are focussed. from thence their reflected rays meet with a little mirror, which sends them back to the ocular in such a way as to magnify the image produced. thus in field-glasses refraction plays the principal part, and reflection does in the telescope. hence the name of refractors given to the former, and reflectors given to the latter. all the difficulty in the execution of these optical instruments lies in the making of the object-glass, whether they be made of glass or metallic mirrors. still at the epoch when the gun club made its great experiment these instruments were singularly perfected and gave magnificent results. the time was far distant when galileo observed the stars with his poor glass, which magnified seven times at the most. since the 16th century optical instruments had widened and lengthened in considerable proportions, and they allowed the stellar spaces to be gauged to a depth unknown before. amongst the refracting instruments at work at that period were the glass of the poulkowa observatory in russia, the object-glass of which measured 15 inches in width, that of the french optician lerebours, furnished with an object-glass equally large, and lastly that of the cambridge observatory, furnished with an object-glass 19 inches in diameter. amongst telescopes, two were known of remarkable power and gigantic dimensions. the first, constructed by herschel, was 36 feet in length, and had an object-glass of 4 feet 6 inches; it magnified 6,000 times; the second, raised in ireland, at birrcastle, in parsonstown park, belonged to lord rosse; the length of its tube was 48 feet and the width of its mirror 6 feet; it magnified 6,400 times, and it had required an immense erection of masonry on which to place the apparatus necessary for working the instrument, which weighed 12-1/2 tons. but it will be seen that notwithstanding these colossal dimensions the magnifying power obtained did not exceed 6,000 times in round numbers; now that power would only bring the moon within 39 miles, and would only allow objects 60 feet in diameter to be perceived unless these objects were very elongated. now in space they had to deal with a projectile 9 feet wide and 15 long, so the moon had to be brought within five miles at least, and for that a magnifying power of 48,000 times was necessary. such was the problem propounded to the cambridge observatory. they were not to be stopped by financial difficulties, so there only remained material difficulties. first of all they had to choose between telescopes and field-glasses. the latter had some advantages. with equal object-glasses they have a greater magnifying power, because the luminous rays that traverse the glasses lose less by absorption than the reflection on the metallic mirror of telescopes; but the thickness that can be given to glass is limited, for too thick it does not allow the luminous rays to pass. besides, the construction of these vast glasses is excessively difficult, and demands a considerable time, measured by years. therefore, although images are better given by glasses, an inappreciable advantage when the question is to observe the moon, the light of which is simply reflected they decided to employ the telescope, which is prompter in execution and is capable of a greater magnifying power; only as the luminous rays lose much of their intensity by traversing the atmosphere, the gun club resolved to set up the instrument on one of the highest mountains of the union, which would diminish the depth of the aërial strata. in telescopes it has been seen that the glass placed at the observer's eye produces the magnifying power, and the object-glass which bears this power the best is the one that has the largest diameter and the greatest focal distance. in order to magnify 48,000 times it must be much larger than those of herschel and lord rosse. there lay the difficulty, for the casting of these mirrors is a very delicate operation. happily, some years before a _savant_ of the _institut de france_, léon foucault, had just invented means by which the polishing of object-glasses became very prompt and easy by replacing the metallic mirror by taking a piece of glass the size required and plating it. it was to be fixed according to the method invented by herschel for telescopes. in the great instrument of the astronomer at slough, the image of objects reflected by the mirror inclined at the bottom of the tube was formed at the other extremity where the eyeglass was placed. thus the observer, instead of being placed at the lower end of the tube, was hoisted to the upper end, and there with his eyeglass he looked down into the enormous cylinder. this combination had the advantage of doing away with the little mirror destined to send back the image to the ocular glass, which thus only reflected once instead of twice; therefore there were fewer luminous rays extinguished, the image was less feeble, and more light was obtained, a precious advantage in the observation that was to be made. this being resolved upon, the work was begun. according to the calculations of the cambridge observatory staff, the tube of the new reflector was to be 280 feet long and its mirror 16 feet in diameter. although it was so colossal it was not comparable to the telescope 10,000 feet long which the astronomer hooke proposed to construct some years ago. nevertheless the setting up of such an apparatus presented great difficulties. the question of its site was promptly settled. it must be upon a high mountain, and high mountains are not numerous in the states. in fact, the orographical system of this great country only contains two chains of average height, amongst which flows the magnificent mississippi, which the americans would call the "king of rivers" if they admitted any royalty whatever. on the east rise the apalachians, the very highest point of which, in new hampshire, does not exceed the very moderate altitude of 5,600 feet. on the west are, however, the rocky mountains, that immense chain which begins at the straits of magellan, follows the west coast of south america under the name of the andes or cordilleras, crosses the isthmus of panama, and runs up the whole of north america to the very shores of the polar sea. these mountains are not very high, and the alps or himalayas would look down upon them with disdain. in fact, their highest summit is only 10,701 feet high, whilst mont blanc is 14,439, and the highest summit of the himalayas is 26,776 feet above the level of the sea. but as the gun club wished that its telescope, as well as the columbiad, should be set up in the states of the union, they were obliged to be content with the rocky mountains, and all the necessary material was sent to the summit of long's peak in the territory of missouri. neither pen nor language could relate the difficulties of every kind that the american engineers had to overcome, and the prodigies of audacity and skill that they accomplished. enormous stones, massive pieces of wrought-iron, heavy corner-clamps, and huge portions of cylinder had to be raised with an object-glass, weighing nearly 30,000 lbs., above the line of perpetual snow for more than 10,000 feet in height, after crossing desert prairies, impenetrable forests, fearful rapids far from all centres of population, and in the midst of savage regions in which every detail of life becomes an insoluble problem, and, nevertheless, american genius triumphed over all these obstacles. less than a year after beginning the works in the last days of the month of september, the gigantic reflector rose in the air to a height of 280 feet. it was hung from an enormous iron scaffolding; an ingenious arrangement allowed it to be easily moved towards every point of the sky, and to follow the stars from one horizon to the other during their journey across space. it had cost more than 400,000 dollars. the first time it was pointed at the moon the observers felt both curious and uneasy. what would they discover in the field of this telescope which magnified objects 48,000 times? populations, flocks of lunar animals, towns, lakes, and oceans? no, nothing that science was not already acquainted with, and upon all points of her disc the volcanic nature of the moon could be determined with absolute precision. but the telescope of the rocky mountains, before being used by the gun club, rendered immense services to astronomy. thanks to its power of penetration, the depths of the sky were explored to their utmost limits, the apparent diameter of a great number of stars could be rigorously measured, and mr. clarke, of the cambridge staff, resolved the crab nebula in taurus, which lord rosse's reflector had never been able to do. chapter xxv. final details. it was the 22nd of november. the supreme departure was to take place ten days later. one operation still remained to bring it to a happy termination, a delicate and perilous operation exacting infinite precautions, and against the success of which captain nicholl had laid his third bet. it was, in fact, nothing less than the loading of the gun and the introduction into it of 400,000 lbs. of gun-cotton. nicholl had thought, not without reason, perhaps, that the handling of so large a quantity of pyroxyle would cause grave catastrophes, and that in any case this eminently explosive mass would ignite of itself under the pressure of the projectile. there were also grave dangers increased by the carelessness of the americans, who, during the federal war, used to load their cannon cigar in mouth. but barbicane had set his heart on succeeding, and did not mean to founder in port; he therefore chose his best workmen, made them work under his superintendence, and by dint of prudence and precautions he managed to put all the chances of success on his side. first he took care not to bring all his charge at once to the inclosure of stony hill. he had it brought little by little carefully packed in sealed cases. the 400,000 lbs. of pyroxyle had been divided into packets of 500 lbs., which made 800 large cartridges made carefully by the cleverest artisans of pensacola. each case contained ten, and they arrived one after the other by the railroad of tampa town; by that means there were never more than 500 lbs. of pyroxyle at once in the inclosure. as soon as it arrived each case was unloaded by workmen walking barefoot, and each cartridge transported to the orifice of the columbiad, into which they lowered them by means of cranes worked by the men. every steam-engine had been excluded, and the least fires extinguished for two miles round. even in november it was necessary to preserve this gun-cotton from the ardour of the sun. so they worked at night by light produced in a vacuum by means of rühmkorff's apparatus, which threw an artificial brightness into the depths of the columbiad. there the cartridges were arranged with the utmost regularity, fastened together by a wire destined to communicate the electric spark to them all simultaneously. in fact, it was by means of electricity that fire was to be set to this mass of gun-cotton. all these single wires, surrounded by isolating material, were rolled into a single one at a narrow hole pierced at the height the projectile was to be placed; there they crossed the thick metal wall and came up to the surface by one of the vent-holes in the masonry made on purpose. once arrived at the summit of stony hill, the wire supported on poles for a distance of two miles met a powerful pile of bunsen passing through a non-conducting apparatus. it would, therefore, be enough to press with the finger the knob of the apparatus for the electric current to be at once established, and to set fire to the 400,000 lbs. of gun-cotton. it is hardly necessary to say that this was only to be done at the last moment. on the 28th of november the 800 cartridges were placed at the bottom of the columbiad. that part of the operation had succeeded. but what worry, anxiety, and struggles president barbicane had to undergo! in vain had he forbidden entrance to stony hill; every day curious sightseers climbed over the palisading, and some, pushing imprudence to folly, came and smoked amongst the bales of gun-cotton. barbicane put himself into daily rages. j.t. maston seconded him to the best of his ability, chasing the intruders away and picking up the still-lighted cigar-ends which the yankees threw about--a rude task, for more than 300,000 people pressed round the palisades. michel ardan had offered himself to escort the cases to the mouth of the gun, but having caught him with a cigar in his mouth whilst he drove out the intruders to whom he was giving this unfortunate example, the president of the gun club saw that he could not depend upon this intrepid smoker, and was obliged to have him specially watched. at last, there being a providence even for artillerymen, nothing blew up, and the loading was happily terminated. the third bet of captain nicholl was therefore much imperilled. there still remained the work of introducing the projectile into the columbiad and placing it on the thick bed of gun-cotton. but before beginning this operation the objects necessary for the journey were placed with order in the waggon-compartment. there were a good many of them, and if they had allowed michel ardan to do as he pleased he would soon have filled up all the space reserved for the travellers. no one can imagine all that the amiable frenchman wished to carry to the moon--a heap of useless trifles. but barbicane interfered, and refused all but the strictly necessary. several thermometers, barometers, and telescopes were placed in the instrument-case. the travellers were desirous of examining the moon during their transit, and in order to facilitate the survey of this new world they took an excellent map by boeer and moedler, the _mappa selenographica_, published in four plates, which is justly looked upon as a masterpiece of patience and observation. it represented with scrupulous exactitude the slightest details of that portion of the moon turned towards the earth. mountains, valleys, craters, peaks, watersheds, were depicted on it in their exact dimensions, faithful positions, and names, from mounts doerfel and leibnitz, whose highest summits rise on the eastern side of the disc, to the _mare frigoris_, which extends into the north polar regions. it was, therefore, a precious document for the travellers, for they could study the country before setting foot upon it. they took also three rifles and three fowling-pieces with powder and shot in great quantity. "we do not know with whom we may have to deal," said michel ardan. "both men and beasts may be displeased at our visit; we must, therefore, take our precautions." the instruments of personal defence were accompanied by pickaxes, spades, saws, and other indispensable tools, without mentioning garments suitable to every temperature, from the cold of the polar regions to the heat of the torrid zone. michel ardan would have liked to take a certain number of animals of different sorts, not male and female of every species, as he did not see the necessity of acclimatising serpents, tigers, alligators, or any other noxious beasts in the moon. "no," said he to barbicane, "but some useful animals, ox or cow, ass or horse, would look well in the landscape and be of great use." "i agree with you, my dear ardan," answered the president of the gun club; "but our projectile is not noah's ark. it differs both in dimensions and object, so let us remain in the bounds of possibility." at last after long discussions it was agreed that the travellers should be content to take with them an excellent sporting dog belonging to nicholl and a vigorous newfoundland of prodigious strength. several cases of the most useful seeds were included amongst the indispensable objects. if they had allowed him, michel ardan would have taken several sacks of earth to sow them in. any way he took a dozen little trees, which were carefully enveloped in straw and placed in a corner of the projectile. then remained the important question of provisions, for they were obliged to provide against finding the moon absolutely barren. barbicane managed so well that he took enough for a year. but it must be added, to prevent astonishment, that these provisions consisted of meat and vegetable compressed to their smallest volume by hydraulic pressure, and included a great quantity of nutritive elements; there was not much variety, but it would not do to be too particular in such an expedition. there was also about fifty gallons of brandy and water for two months only, for, according to the latest observations of astronomers, no one doubted the presence of a large quantity of water in the moon. as to provisions, it would have been insane to believe that the inhabitants of the earth would not find food up there. michel ardan had no doubt about it. if he had he would not have gone. "besides," said he one day to his friends, "we shall not be completely abandoned by our friends on earth, and they will take care not to forget us." "no, certainly," answered j.t. maston. "what do you mean?" asked nicholl. "nothing more simple," answered ardan. "will not our columbiad be still there? well, then, every time that the moon is in favourable conditions of zenith, if not of perigee--that is to say, about once a year--could they not send us a projectile loaded with provisions which we should expect by a fixed date?" "hurrah!" cried j.t. maston. "that is not at all a bad idea. certainly we will not forget you." "i depend upon you. thus you see we shall have news regularly from the globe, and for our part we shall be very awkward if we do not find means to communicate with our good friends on earth." these words inspired such confidence that michel ardan with his superb assurance would have carried the whole gun club with him. what he said seemed simple, elementary, and sure of success, and it would have been sordid attachment to this earth to hesitate to follow the three travellers upon their lunar expedition. when the different objects were placed in the projectile the water was introduced between the partitions and the gas for lighting purposes laid in. barbicane took enough chlorate of potash and caustic potash for two months, as he feared unforeseen delay. an extremely ingenious machine working automatically put the elements for good air in motion. the projectile, therefore, was ready, and the only thing left to do was to lower it into the gun, an operation full of perils and difficulty. the enormous projectile was taken to the summit of stony hill. there enormous cranes seized it and held it suspended over the metal well. this was an anxious moment. if the chains were to break under the enormous weight the fall of such a mass would inevitably ignite the gun-cotton. happily nothing of the sort happened, and a few hours afterwards the projectile-compartment rested on its pyroxyle bed, a veritable fulminating pillow. the only effect of its pressure was to ram the charge of the gun more strongly. "i have lost," said the captain, handing the sum of 3,000 dollars to president barbicane. barbicane did not wish to receive this money from his travelling companion, but he was obliged to give way to nicholl, who wished to fulfil all his engagements before leaving the earth. "then," said michel ardan, "there is but one thing i wish for you now, captain." "what is that?" asked nicholl. "it is that you may lose your other two wagers. by that means we shall be sure not to be stopped on the road." chapter xxvi. fire! the 1st of december came, the fatal day, for if the projectile did not start that very evening at 10h. 46m. and 40s. p.m., more than eighteen years would elapse before the moon would present the same simultaneous conditions of zenith and perigee. the weather was magnificent; notwithstanding the approach of winter the sun shone brightly and bathed in its radiance that earth which three of its inhabitants were about to leave for a new world. how many people slept badly during the night that preceded the ardently-longed-for day! how many breasts were oppressed with the heavy burden of waiting! all hearts beat with anxiety except only the heart of michel ardan. this impassible person went and came in his usual business-like way, but nothing in him denoted any unusual preoccupation. his sleep had been peaceful--it was the sleep of turenne upon a gun-carriage the night before the battle. from early dawn an innumerable crowd covered the prairie, which extended as far as the eye could reach round stony hill. every quarter of an hour the railroad of tampa brought fresh sightseers. according to the _tampa town observer_, five millions of spectators were that day upon floridian soil. the greater part of this crowd had been living in tents round the inclosure, and laid the foundations of a town which has since been called "ardan's town." the ground bristled with huts, cabins, and tents, and these ephemeral habitations sheltered a population numerous enough to rival the largest cities of europe. every nation upon earth was represented; every language was spoken at the same time. it was like the confusion of tongues at the tower of babel. there the different classes of american society mixed in absolute equality. bankers, cultivators, sailors, agents, merchants, cotton-planters, and magistrates elbowed each other with primitive ease. the creoles of louisiana fraternised with the farmers of indiana; the gentlemen of kentucky and tennessee, the elegant and haughty virginians, joked with the half-savage trappers of the lakes and the butchers of cincinnati. they appeared in broad-brimmed white beavers and panamas, blue cotton trousers, from the opelousa manufactories, draped in elegant blouses of écru cloth, in boots of brilliant colours, and extravagant shirt-frills; upon shirt-fronts, cuffs, cravats, on their ten fingers, even in their ears, an assortment of rings, pins, diamonds, chains, buckles, and trinkets, the cost of which equalled the bad taste. wife, children, servants, in no less rich dress, accompanied, followed, preceded, and surrounded their husbands, fathers, and masters, who resembled the patriarchs amidst their innumerable families. at meal-times it was a sight to see all these people devour the dishes peculiar to the southern states, and eat, with an appetite menacing to the provisioning of florida, the food that would be repugnant to a european stomach, such as fricasseed frogs, monkey-flesh, fish-chowder, underdone opossum, and raccoon steaks. the liquors that accompanied this indigestible food were numerous. shouts and vociferations to buy resounded through the bar-rooms or taverns, decorated with glasses, tankards, decanters, and bottles of marvellous shapes, mortars for pounding sugar, and bundles of straws. "mint-julep!" roars out one of the salesmen. "claret sangaree!" shouts another through his nose. "gin-sling!" shouts one. "cocktail! brandy-smash!" cries another. "who'll buy real mint-julep in the latest style?" shouted these skilful salesmen, rapidly passing from one glass to another the sugar, lemon, green mint, crushed ice, water, cognac, and fresh pine-apple which compose this refreshing drink. generally these sounds, addressed to throats made thirsty by the spices they consumed, mingled into one deafening roar. but on this 1st of december these cries were rare. no one thought of eating and drinking, and at 4 p.m. there were many spectators in the crowd who had not taken their customary lunch! a much more significant fact, even the national passion for gaming was allayed by the general emotion. thimbles, skittles, and cards were left in their wrappings, and testified that the great event of the day absorbed all attention. until nightfall a dull, noiseless agitation like that which precedes great catastrophes ran through the anxious crowd. an indescribable uneasiness oppressed all minds, and stopped the beating of all hearts. every one wished it over. however, about seven o'clock this heavy silence was suddenly broken. the moon rose above the horizon. several millions of hurrahs saluted her apparition. she was punctual to the appointment. shouts of welcome broke from all parts, whilst the blonde phoebe shone peacefully in a clear sky, and caressed the enraptured crowd with her most affectionate rays. at that moment the three intrepid travellers appeared. when they appeared the cries redoubled in intensity. unanimously, instantaneously, the national song of the united states escaped from all the spectators, and "yankee doodle," sung by 5,000,000 of hearty throats, rose like a roaring tempest to the farthest limits of the atmosphere. then, after this irresistible outburst, the hymn was ended, the last harmonies died away by degrees, and a silent murmur floated over the profoundly-excited crowd. in the meantime the frenchman and the two americans had stepped into the inclosure round which the crowd was pressing. they were accompanied by the members of the gun club, and deputations sent by the european observatories. barbicane was coolly and calmly giving his last orders. nicholl, with compressed lips and hands crossed behind his back, walked with a firm and measured step. michel ardan, always at his ease, clothed in a perfect travelling suit, with leather gaiters on his legs, pouch at his side, in vast garment of maroon velvet, a cigar in his mouth, distributed shakes of the hand with princely prodigality. he was full of inexhaustible gaiety, laughing, joking, playing pranks upon the worthy j.t. maston, and was, in a word, "french," and, what is worse, "parisian," till the last second. ten o'clock struck. the moment had come to take their places in the projectile; the necessary mechanism for the descent the door-plate to screw down, the removal of the cranes and scaffolding hung over the mouth of the columbiad, took some time. barbicane had set his chronometer to the tenth of a second by that of the engineer murchison, who was entrusted with setting fire to the powder by means of the electric spark; the travellers shut up in the projectile could thus watch the impassive needle which was going to mark the precise instant of their departure. the moment for saying farewell had come. the scene was touching; in spite of his gaiety michel ardan felt touched. j.t. maston had found under his dry eyelids an ancient tear that he had, doubtless, kept for the occasion. he shed it upon the forehead of his dear president. "suppose i go too?" said he. "there is still time!" "impossible, old fellow," answered barbicane. a few moments later the three travelling companions were installed in the projectile, and had screwed down the door-plate, and the mouth of the columbiad, entirely liberated, rose freely towards the sky. nicholl, barbicane, and michel ardan were definitively walled up in their metal vehicle. who could predict the universal emotion then at its paroxysm? the moon was rising in a firmament of limpid purity, outshining on her passage the twinkling fire of the stars; she passed over the constellation of the twins, and was now nearly halfway between the horizon and the zenith. a frightful silence hung over all that scene. there was not a breath of wind on the earth! not a sound of breathing from the crowd! hearts dared not beat. every eye was fixed on the gaping mouth of the columbiad. murchison watched the needle of his chronometer. hardly forty seconds had to elapse before the moment of departure struck, and each one lasted a century! at the twentieth there was a universal shudder, and the thought occurred to all the crowd that the audacious travellers shut up in the vehicle were likewise counting these terrible seconds! some isolated cries were heard. "thirty-five!--thirty-six!--thirty-seven!--thirty--eight!--thirty-nine! --forty! fire!!!" murchison immediately pressed his finger upon the electric knob and hurled the electric spark into the depths of the columbiad. a fearful, unheard-of, superhuman report, of which nothing could give an idea, not even thunder or the eruption of volcanoes, was immediately produced. an immense spout of fire sprang up from the bowels of the earth as if from a crater. the soil heaved and very few persons caught a glimpse of the projectile victoriously cleaving the air amidst the flaming smoke. chapter xxvii. cloudy weather. at the moment when the pyramid of flame rose to a prodigious height in the air it lighted up the whole of florida, and for an incalculable moment day was substituted for night over a considerable extent of country. this immense column of fire was perceived for a hundred miles out at sea, from the gulf and from the atlantic, and more than one ship's captain noted the apparition of this gigantic meteor in his log-book. the discharge of the columbiad was accompanied by a veritable earthquake. florida was shaken to its very depths. the gases of the powder, expanded by heat, forced back the atmospheric strata with tremendous violence, passing like a waterspout through the air. not one spectator remained on his legs; men, women, and children were thrown down like ears of wheat in a storm; there was a terrible tumult, and a large number of people were seriously injured. j.t. maston, who had very imprudently kept to the fore, was thrown twenty yards backwards like a bullet over the heads of his fellow-citizens. three hundred thousand people were temporarily deafened and as though thunderstruck. the atmospheric current, after throwing over huts and cabins, uprooting trees within a radius of twenty miles, throwing the trains off the railway as far as tampa, burst upon the town like an avalanche and destroyed a hundred houses, amongst others the church of st. mary and the new edifice of the exchange. some of the vessels in the port were run against each other and sunk, and ten of them were stranded high and dry after breaking their chains like threads of cotton. but the circle of these devastations extended farther still, and beyond the limits of the united states. the recoil, aided by the westerly winds, was felt on the atlantic at more than 300 miles from the american shores. an unexpected tempest, which even admiral fitzroy could not have foreseen, broke upon the ships with unheard-of violence. several vessels, seized by a sort of whirlwind before they had time to furl their sails, were sunk, amongst others the _childe harold_, of liverpool, a regrettable catastrophe which was the object of lively recriminations. lastly--although the fact is not warranted except by the affirmation of a few natives--half-an-hour after the departure of the projectile the inhabitants of sierra-leone pretended that they heard a dull noise, the last displacement of the sonorous waves, which, after crossing the atlantic, died away on the african coast. but to return to florida. the tumult once lessened, the wounded and deaf--in short, all the crowd--rose and shouted in a sort of frenzy, "hurrah for ardan! hurrah for barbicane! hurrah for nicholl!" several millions of men, nose in air, armed with telescopes and every species of field-glass, looked into space, forgetting contusions and feelings, in order to look at the projectile. but they sought in vain; it was not to be seen, and they resolved to await the telegrams from long's peak. the director of the cambridge observatory, m. belfast, was at his post in the rocky mountains, and it was to this skilful and persevering astronomer that the observations had been entrusted. but an unforeseen phenomenon, against which nothing could be done, soon came to put public impatience to a rude test. the weather, so fine before, suddenly changed; the sky became covered with clouds. it could not be otherwise after so great a displacement of the atmospheric strata and the dispersion of the enormous quantity of gases from the combustion of 200,000 lbs. of pyroxyle. all natural order had been disturbed. there is nothing astonishing in that, for in sea-fights it has been noticed that the state of the atmosphere has been suddenly changed by the artillery discharge. the next day the sun rose upon an horizon covered with thick clouds, a heavy and an impenetrable curtain hung between earth and sky, and which unfortunately extended as far as the regions of the rocky mountains. it was a fatality. a concert of complaints rose from all parts of the globe. but nature took no notice, and as men had chosen to disturb the atmosphere with their gun, they must submit to the consequences. during this first day every one tried to pierce the thick veil of clouds, but no one was rewarded for the trouble; besides, they were all mistaken in supposing they could see it by looking up at the sky, for on account of the diurnal movement of the globe the projectile was then, of course, shooting past the line of the antipodes. however that might be, when night again enveloped the earth--a dark, impenetrable night--it was impossible to see the moon above the horizon; it might have been thought that she was hiding on purpose from the bold beings who had shot at her. no observation was, therefore, possible, and the despatches from long's peak confirmed the disastrous intelligence. however, if the experiment had succeeded, the travellers, who had started on the 1st of december, at 10h. 46m. 40s. p.m., were due at their destination on the 4th at midnight; so that as up to that time it would, after all, have been difficult to observe a body so small, people waited with all the patience they could muster. on the 4th of december, from 8 p.m. till midnight, it would have been possible to follow the trace of the projectile, which would have appeared like a black speck on the shining disc of the moon. but the weather remained imperturbably cloudy, and exasperated the public, who swore at the moon for not showing herself. _sic transit gloria mundi_! j.t. maston, in despair, set out for long's peak. he wished to make an observation himself. he did not doubt that his friends had arrived at the goal of their journey. no one had heard that the projectile had fallen upon any continent or island upon earth, and j.t. maston did not admit for a moment that it could have fallen into any of the oceans with which the earth is three parts covered. on the 5th the same weather. the large telescopes of the old world--those of herschel, rosse, and foucault--were invariably fixed upon the queen of night, for the weather was magnificent in europe, but the relative weakness of these instruments prevented any useful observation. on the 6th the same weather reigned. impatience devoured three parts of the globe. the most insane means were proposed for dissipating the clouds accumulated in the air. on the 7th the sky seemed to clear a little. hopes revived but did not last long, and in the evening thick clouds defended the starry vault against all eyes. things now became grave. in fact, on the 11th, at 9.11 a.m., the moon would enter her last quarter. after this delay she would decline every day, and even if the sky should clear the chances of observation would be considerably lessened--in fact, the moon would then show only a constantly-decreasing portion of her disc, and would end by becoming new--that is to say, she would rise and set with the sun, whose rays would make her quite invisible. they would, therefore, be obliged to wait till the 3rd of january, at 12.43 p.m., till she would be full again and ready for observation. the newspapers published these reflections with a thousand commentaries, and did not fail to tell the public that it must arm itself with angelic patience. on the 8th no change. on the 9th the sun appeared for a moment, as if to jeer at the americans. it was received with hisses, and wounded, doubtless, by such a reception, it was very miserly of its rays. on the 10th no change. j.t. maston nearly went mad, and fears were entertained for his brain until then so well preserved in its gutta-percha cranium. but on the 11th one of those frightful tempests peculiar to tropical regions was let loose in the atmosphere. terrific east winds swept away the clouds which had been so long there, and in the evening the half-disc of the moon rode majestically amidst the limpid constellations of the sky. chapter xxviii. a new star. that same night the news so impatiently expected burst like a thunderbolt over the united states of the union, and thence darting across the atlantic it ran along all the telegraphic wires of the globe. the projectile had been perceived, thanks to the gigantic reflector of long's peak. the following is the notice drawn up by the director of the cambridge observatory. it resumes the scientific conclusion of the great experiment made by the gun club:-"long's peak, december 12th. "to the staff of the cambridge observatory. "the projectile hurled by the columbiad of stony hill was perceived by messrs. belfast and j.t. maston on the 12th of december at 8.47 p.m., the moon having entered her last quarter. "the projectile has not reached its goal. it has deviated to the side, but near enough to be detained by lunar attraction. "there its rectilinear movement changed to a circular one of extreme velocity, and it has been drawn round the moon in an elliptical orbit, and has become her satellite. "we have not yet been able to determine the elements of this new star. neither its speed of translation or rotation is known. the distance which separates it from the surface of the moon may be estimated at about 2,833 miles. "now two hypotheses may be taken into consideration as to a modification in this state of things:-"either the attraction of the moon will end by drawing it towards her, and the travellers will reach the goal of their journey, "or the projectile, maintained in an immutable orbit, will gravitate round the lunar disc till the end of time. "observation will settle this point some day, but until now the experiment of the gun club has had no other result than that of providing our solar system with a new star. "j belfast." what discussions this unexpected _dénouement_ gave rise to! what a situation full of mystery the future reserved for the investigations of science! thanks to the courage and devotion of three men, this enterprise of sending a bullet to the moon, futile enough in appearance, had just had an immense result, the consequences of which are incalculable. the travellers imprisoned in a new satellite, if they have not attained their end, form at least part of the lunar world; they gravitate around the queen of night, and for the first time human eyes can penetrate all her mysteries. the names of nicholl, barbicane, and michel ardan would be for ever celebrated in astronomical annals, for these bold explorers, desirous of widening the circle of human knowledge, had audaciously rushed into space, and had risked their lives in the strangest experiment of modern times. the notice from long's peak once made known, there spread throughout the universe a feeling of surprise and horror. was it possible to go to the aid of these bold inhabitants of the earth? certainly not, for they had put themselves outside of the pale of humanity by crossing the limits imposed by the creator on his terrestrial creatures. they could procure themselves air for two months; they had provisions for one year; but after? the hardest hearts palpitated at this terrible question. one man alone would not admit that the situation was desperate. one alone had confidence, and it was their friend--devoted, audacious, and resolute as they--the brave j.t. maston. he resolved not to lose sight of them. his domicile was henceforth the post of long's peak--his horizon the immense reflector. as soon as the moon rose above the horizon he immediately framed her in the field of his telescope; he did not lose sight of her for an instant, and assiduously followed her across the stellar spaces; he watched with eternal patience the passage of the projectile over her disc of silver, and in reality the worthy man remained in perpetual communication with his three friends, whom he did not despair of seeing again one day. "we will correspond with them," said he to any one who would listen, "as soon as circumstances will allow. we shall have news from them, and they will have news from us. besides, i know them--they are ingenious men. those three carry with them into space all the resources of art, science, and industry. with those everything can be accomplished, and you will see that they will get out of the difficulty." (for sequel, see "around the moon.") [illustration: "they watched thus through the lateral windows."] * * * * * round the moon. * * * * * introduction. preliminary chapter. containing a short account of the first part of this work to serve as preface to the second. during the course of the year 186---the entire world was singularly excited by a scientific experiment without precedent in the annals of science. the members of the gun club, a circle of artillerymen established at baltimore after the american war, had the idea of putting themselves in communication with the moon--yes, with the moon--by sending a bullet to her. their president, barbicane, the promoter of the enterprise, having consulted the astronomers of the cambridge observatory on this subject, took all the precautions necessary for the success of the extraordinary enterprise, declared practicable by the majority of competent people. after having solicited a public subscription which produced nearly 30,000,000 of francs, it began its gigantic labours. according to the plan drawn up by the members of the observatory, the cannon destined to hurl the projectile was to be set up in some country situated between the 0° and 28° of north or south latitude in order to aim at the moon at the zenith. the bullet was to be endowed with an initial velocity of 12,000 yards a second. hurled on the 1st of december at thirteen minutes and twenty seconds to eleven in the evening, it was to get to the moon four days after its departure on the 5th of december at midnight precisely, at the very instant she would be at her perigee--that is to say, nearest to the earth, or at exactly 86,410 leagues' distance. the principal members of the gun club, the president, barbicane, major elphinstone, the secretary, j.t. maston, and other _savants_, held several meetings, in which the form and composition of the bullet were discussed, as well as the disposition and nature of the cannon, and the quality and quantity of the powder to be employed. it was decided--1, that the projectile should be an obus of aluminium, with a diameter of 800 inches; its sides were to be 12 inches thick, and it was to weigh 19,250 lbs.; 2, that the cannon should be a cast-iron columbiad 900 feet long, and should be cast at once in the ground; 3, that the charge should consist of 400,000 lbs. of gun-cotton, which, by developing 6,000,000,000 litres of gas under the projectile, would carry it easily towards the queen of night. these questions settled, president barbicane, aided by the engineer, murchison, chose a site in florida in 27° 7' north lat. and 5° 7' west long. it was there that after marvels of labour the columbiad was cast quite successfully. things were at that pass when an incident occurred which increased the interest attached to this great enterprise. a frenchman, a regular parisian, an artist as witty as audacious, asked leave to shut himself up in the bullet in order to reach the moon and make a survey of the terrestrial satellite. this intrepid adventurer's name was michel ardan. he arrived in america, was received with enthusiasm, held meetings, was carried in triumph, reconciled president barbicane to his mortal enemy, captain nicholl, and in pledge of the reconciliation he persuaded them to embark with him in the projectile. the proposition was accepted. the form of the bullet was changed. it became cylindro-conical. they furnished this species of aërial compartment with powerful springs and breakable partitions to break the departing shock. it was filled with provisions for one year, water for some months, and gas for some days. an automatic apparatus made and gave out the air necessary for the respiration of the three travellers. at the same time the gun club had a gigantic telescope set up on one of the highest summits of the rocky mountains, through which the projectile could be followed during its journey through space. everything was then ready. on the 30th of november, at the time fixed, amidst an extraordinary concourse of spectators, the departure took place, and for the first time three human beings left the terrestrial globe for the interplanetary regions with almost the certainty of reaching their goal. these audacious travellers, michel ardan, president barbicane, and captain nicholl were to accomplish their journey in ninety-seven hours thirteen minutes and twenty seconds; consequently they could not reach the lunar disc until the 5th of december, at midnight, at the precise moment that the moon would be full, and not on the 4th, as some wrongly-informed newspapers had given out. but an unexpected circumstance occurred; the detonation produced by the columbiad had the immediate effect of disturbing the terrestrial atmosphere, where an enormous quantity of vapour accumulated. this phenomenon excited general indignation, for the moon was hidden during several nights from the eyes of her contemplators. the worthy j.t. maston, the greatest friend of the three travellers, set out for the rocky mountains in the company of the honourable j. belfast, director of the cambridge observatory, and reached the station of long's peak, where the telescope was set up which brought the moon, apparently, to within two leagues. the honourable secretary of the gun club wished to observe for himself the vehicle that contained his audacious friends. the accumulation of clouds in the atmosphere prevented all observation during the 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, and 10th of december. it was even thought that no observation could take place before the 3rd of january in the following year, for the moon, entering her last quarter on the 11th, would after that not show enough of her surface to allow the trace of the projectile to be followed. but at last, to the general satisfaction, a strong tempest during the night between the 11th and 12th of december cleared the atmosphere, and the half-moon was distinctly visible on the dark background of the sky. that same night a telegram was sent from long's peak station by j.t. maston and belfast to the staff of the cambridge observatory. this telegram announced that on the 11th of december, at 8.47 p.m., the projectile hurled by the columbiad of stony hill had been perceived by messrs. belfast and j.t. maston, that the bullet had deviated from its course through some unknown cause, and had not reached its goal, but had gone near enough to be retained by lunar attraction; that its rectilinear movement had been changed to a circular one, and that it was describing an elliptical orbit round the moon, and had become her satellite. the telegram added that the elements of this new star had not yet been calculated--in fact, three observations, taking a star in three different positions, are necessary to determine them. then it stated that the distance separating the projectile from the lunar surface "might be" estimated at about 2,833 leagues, or 4,500 miles. it ended with the following double hypothesis:--either the attraction of the moon would end by carrying the day, and the travellers would reach their goal; or the projectile, fixed in an immutable orbit, would gravitate around the lunar disc to the end of time. in either of these alternatives what would be the travellers' fate? it is true they had provisions enough for some time. but even supposing that their bold enterprise were crowned with success, how would they return? could they ever return? would news of them ever reach the earth? these questions, debated upon by the most learned writers of the time, intensely interested the public. a remark may here be made which ought to be meditated upon by too impatient observers. when a _savant_ announces a purely speculative discovery to the public he cannot act with too much prudence. no one is obliged to discover either a comet or a satellite, and those who make a mistake in such a case expose themselves justly to public ridicule. therefore it is better to wait; and that is what impatient j.t. maston ought to have done before sending to the world the telegram which, according to him, contained the last communication about this enterprise. in fact, the telegram contained errors of two sorts, verified later:--1. errors of observation concerning the distance of the projectile from the surface of the moon, for upon the date of the 11th of december it was impossible to perceive it, and that which j.t. maston had seen, or thought he saw, could not be the bullet from the columbiad. 2. a theoretic error as to the fate of the said projectile, for making it a satellite of the moon was an absolute contradiction of the laws of rational mechanics. one hypothesis only made by the astronomers of long's peak might be realised, the one that foresaw the case when the travellers--if any yet existed--should unite their efforts with the lunar attraction so as to reach the surface of the disc. now these men, as intelligent as they were bold, had survived the terrible shock at departure, and their journey in their bullet-carriage will be related in its most dramatic as well as in its most singular details. this account will put an end to many illusions and previsions, but it will give a just idea of the various circumstances incidental to such an enterprise, and will set in relief barbicane's scientific instincts, nicholl's industrial resources, and the humorous audacity of michel ardan. besides, it will prove that their worthy friend j.t. maston was losing his time when, bending over the gigantic telescope, he watched the course of the moon across the planetary regions. chapter i. from 10.20 p.m. to 10.47 p.m. when ten o'clock struck, michel ardan, barbicane, and nicholl said good-bye to the numerous friends they left upon the earth. the two dogs, destined to acclimatise the canine race upon the lunar continents, were already imprisoned in the projectile. the three travellers approached the orifice of the enormous iron tube, and a crane lowered them to the conical covering of the bullet. there an opening made on purpose let them down into the aluminium vehicle. the crane's tackling was drawn up outside, and the mouth of the columbiad instantly cleared of its last scaffolding. as soon as nicholl and his companions were in the projectile he closed the opening by means of a strong plate screwed down inside. other closely-fitting plates covered the lenticular glasses of the skylights. the travellers, hermetically inclosed in their metal prison, were in profound darkness. "and now, my dear companions," said michel ardan, "let us make ourselves at home. i am a domestic man myself, and know how to make the best of any lodgings. first let us have a light; gas was not invented for moles!" saying which the light-hearted fellow struck a match on the sole of his boot and then applied it to the burner of the receptacle, in which there was enough carbonised hydrogen, stored under strong pressure, for lighting and heating the bullet for 144 hours, or six days and six nights. once the gas lighted, the projectile presented the aspect of a comfortable room with padded walls, furnished with circular divans, the roof of which was in the shape of a dome. the objects in it, weapons, instruments, and utensils, were solidly fastened to the sides in order to bear the parting shock with impunity. every possible precaution had been taken to insure the success of so bold an experiment. michel ardan examined everything, and declared himself quite satisfied with his quarters. "it is a prison," said he, "but a travelling prison, and if i had the right to put my nose to the window i would take it on a hundred years' lease! you are smiling, barbicane. you are thinking of something you do not communicate. do you say to yourself that this prison may be our coffin? our coffin let it be; i would not change it for mahomet's, which only hangs in space, and does not move!" whilst michel ardan was talking thus, barbicane and nicholl were making their last preparations. it was 10.20 p.m. by nicholl's chronometer when the three travellers were definitely walled up in their bullet. this chronometer was regulated to the tenth of a second by that of the engineer, murchison. barbicane looked at it. "my friends," said he, "it is twenty minutes past ten; at thirteen minutes to eleven murchison will set fire to the columbiad; at that minute precisely we shall leave our spheroid. we have, therefore, still seven-and-twenty minutes to remain upon earth." "twenty-six minutes and thirteen seconds," answered the methodical nicholl. "very well!" cried michel ardan good-humouredly; "in twenty-six minutes lots of things can be done. we can discuss grave moral or political questions, and even solve them. twenty-six minutes well employed are worth more than twenty-six years of doing nothing. a few seconds of a pascal or a newton are more precious than the whole existence of a crowd of imbeciles." "and what do you conclude from that, talker eternal?" asked president barbicane. "i conclude that we have twenty-six minutes," answered ardan. "twenty-four only," said nicholl. "twenty-four, then, if you like, brave captain," answered ardan; "twenty-four minutes, during which we might investigate--" "michel," said barbicane, "during our journey we shall have plenty of time to investigate the deepest questions. now we must think of starting." "are we not ready?" "certainly. but there are still some precautions to be taken to deaden the first shock as much as possible!" "have we not water-cushions placed between movable partitions elastic enough to protect us sufficiently?" "i hope so, michel," answered barbicane gently; "but i am not quite sure!" "ah, the joker!" exclaimed michel ardan. "he hopes! he is not quite sure! and he waits till we are encased to make this deplorable acknowledgment! i ask to get out." "by what means?" asked barbicane. "well!" said michel ardan, "it would be difficult. we are in the train, and the guard's whistle will be heard in twenty-four minutes." "twenty!" ejaculated nicholl. the three travellers looked at one another for a few seconds. then they examined all the objects imprisoned with them. "everything is in its place," said barbicane. "the question now is where we can place ourselves so as best to support the departing shock. the position we assume must be important too--we must prevent the blood rushing too violently to our heads." "that is true," said nicholl. "then," answered michel ardan, always ready to suit the action to the word, "we will stand on our heads like the clowns at the circus." "no," said barbicane; "but let us lie on our sides; we shall thus resist the shock better. when the bullet starts it will not much matter whether we are inside or in front." "if it comes to 'not much matter' i am more reassured," answered michel ardan. "do you approve of my idea, nicholl?" asked barbicane. "entirely," answered the captain. "still thirteen minutes and a-half." "nicholl is not a man," exclaimed michel; "he is a chronometer marking the seconds, and with eight holes in--" but his companions were no longer listening to him, and they were making their last preparations with all the coolness imaginable. they looked like two methodical travellers taking their places in the train and making themselves as comfortable as possible. one wonders, indeed, of what materials these american hearts are made, to which the approach of the most frightful danger does not add a single pulsation. three beds, thick and solidly made, had been placed in the projectile. nicholl and barbicane placed them in the centre of the disc that formed the movable flooring. there the three travellers were to lie down a few minutes before their departure. in the meanwhile ardan, who could not remain quiet, turned round his narrow prison like a wild animal in a cage, talking to his friends and his dogs, diana and satellite, to whom it will be noticed he had some time before given these significant names. "up, diana! up, satellite!" cried he, exciting them. "you are going to show to the selenite dogs how well-behaved the dogs of the earth can be! that will do honour to the canine race. if we ever come back here i will bring back a cross-breed of 'moon-dogs' that will become all the rage." "if there are any dogs in the moon," said barbicane. "there are some," affirmed michel ardan, "the same as there are horses, cows, asses, and hens. i wager anything we shall find some hens." "i bet a hundred dollars we find none," said nicholl. "done, captain," answered ardan, shaking hands with nicholl. "but, by-the-bye, you have lost three bets with the president, for the funds necessary for the enterprise were provided, the casting succeeded, and lastly, the columbiad was loaded without accident--that makes six thousand dollars." "yes," answered nicholl. "twenty-three minutes and six seconds to eleven." "i hear, captain. well, before another quarter of an hour is over you will have to make over another nine thousand dollars to the president, four thousand because the columbiad will not burst, and five thousand because the bullet will rise higher than six miles into the air." "i have the dollars," answered nicholl, striking his coat pocket, "and i only want to pay." "come, nicholl, i see you are a man of order, what i never could be; but allow me to tell you that your series of bets cannot be very advantageous to you." "why?" asked barbicane. "because if you win the first the columbiad will have burst, and the bullet with it, and barbicane will not be there to pay you your dollars." "my wager is deposited in the baltimore bank," answered barbicane simply; "and in default of nicholl it will go to his heirs." "what practical men you are!" cried michel ardan. "i admire you as much as i do not understand you." "eighteen minutes to eleven," said nicholl. "only five minutes more," answered barbicane. "yes, five short minutes!" replied michel ardan. "and we are shut up in a bullet at the bottom of a cannon 900 feet long! and under this bullet there are 400,000 lbs. of gun-cotton, worth more than 1,600,000 lbs. of ordinary powder! and friend murchison, with his chronometer in hand and his eye fixed on the hand and his finger on the electric knob, is counting the seconds to hurl us into the planetary regions." "enough, michel, enough!" said barbicane in a grave tone. "let us prepare ourselves. a few seconds only separate us from a supreme moment. your hands, my friends." "yes," cried michel ardan, more moved than he wished to appear. the three bold companions shook hands. "god help us!" said the religious president. michel ardan and nicholl lay down on their beds in the centre of the floor. "thirteen minutes to eleven," murmured the captain. twenty seconds more! barbicane rapidly put out the gas, and lay down beside his companions. the profound silence was only broken by the chronometer beating the seconds. suddenly a frightful shock was felt, and the projectile, under the impulsion of 6,000,000,000 litres of gas developed by the deflagration of the pyroxyle, rose into space. chapter ii. the first half-hour. what had happened? what was the effect of the frightful shock? had the ingenuity of the constructors of the projectile been attended by a happy result? was the effect of the shock deadened, thanks to the springs, the four buffers, the water-cushions, and the movable partitions? had they triumphed over the frightful impulsion of the initial velocity of 11,000 metres a second? this was evidently the question the thousands of witnesses of the exciting scene asked themselves. they forgot the object of the journey, and only thought of the travellers! suppose one of them--j.t. maston, for instance--had been able to get a glimpse of the interior of the projectile, what would he have seen? nothing then. the obscurity was profound in the bullet. its cylindro-conical sides had resisted perfectly. there was not a break, a crack, or a dint in them. the admirable projectile was not hurt by the intense deflagration of the powders, instead of being liquefied, as it was feared, into a shower of aluminium. in the interior there was very little disorder on the whole. a few objects had been violently hurled up to the roof, but the most important did not seem to have suffered from the shock. their fastenings were intact. on the movable disc, crushed down to the bottom by the smashing of the partitions and the escape of the water, three bodies lay motionless. did barbicane, nicholl, and michel ardan still breathe? was the projectile nothing but a metal coffin carrying three corpses into space? a few minutes after the departure of the bullet one of these bodies moved, stretched out its arms, lifted up its head, and succeeded in getting upon its knees. it was michel ardan. he felt himself, uttered a sonorous "hum," then said-"michel ardan, complete. now for the others!" the courageous frenchman wanted to get up, but he could not stand. his head vacillated; his blood, violently sent up to his head, blinded him. he felt like a drunken man. "brrr!" said he. "i feel as though i had been drinking two bottles of corton, only that was not so agreeable to swallow!" then passing his hand across his forehead several times, and rubbing his temples, he called out in a firm voice-"nicholl! barbicane!" he waited anxiously. no answer. not even a sigh to indicate that the hearts of his companions still beat. he reiterated his call. same silence. "the devil!" said he. "they seem as though they had fallen from the fifth story upon their heads! bah!" he added with the imperturbable confidence that nothing could shake, "if a frenchman can get upon his knees, two americans will have no difficulty in getting upon their feet. but, first of all, let us have a light on the subject." ardan felt life come back to him in streams. his blood became calm, and resumed its ordinary circulation. fresh efforts restored his equilibrium. he succeeded in getting up, took a match out of his pocket, and struck it; then putting it to the burner he lighted the gas. the meter was not in the least damaged. the gas had not escaped. besides, the smell would have betrayed it, and had this been the case, michel ardan could not with impunity have lighted a match in a medium filled with hydrogen. the gas, mixed in the air, would have produced a detonating mixture, and an explosion would have finished what a shock had perhaps begun. as soon as the gas was lighted ardan bent down over his two companions. their bodies were thrown one upon the other, nicholl on the top, barbicane underneath. ardan raised the captain, propped him up against a divan, and rubbed him vigorously. this friction, administered skilfully, reanimated nicholl, who opened his eyes, instantly recovered his presence of mind, seized ardan's hand, and then looking round him-"and barbicane?" he asked. "each in turn," answered michel ardan tranquilly. "i began with you, nicholl, because you were on the top. now i'll go to barbicane." that said, ardan and nicholl raised the president of the gun club and put him on a divan. barbicane seemed to have suffered more than his companions. he was bleeding, but nicholl was glad to find that the hemorrhage only came from a slight wound in his shoulder. it was a simple scratch, which he carefully closed. nevertheless, barbicane was some time before he came to himself, which frightened his two friends, who did not spare their friction. "he is breathing, however," said nicholl, putting his ear to the breast of the wounded man. "yes," answered ardan, "he is breathing like a man who is in the habit of doing it daily. rub, nicholl, rub with all your might." and the two improvised practitioners set to work with such a will and managed so well that barbicane at last came to his senses. he opened his eyes, sat up, took the hands of his two friends, and his first words were-"nicholl, are we going on?" nicholl and ardan looked at one another. they had not yet thought about the projectile. their first anxiety had been for the travellers, not for the vehicle. "well, really, are we going on?" repeated michel ardan. "or are we tranquilly resting on the soil of florida?" asked nicholl. "or at the bottom of the gulf of mexico?" added michel ardan. "impossible!" cried president barbicane. this double hypothesis suggested by his two friends immediately recalled him to life and energy. they could not yet decide the question. the apparent immovability of the bullet and the want of communication with the exterior prevented them finding it out. perhaps the projectile was falling through space. perhaps after rising a short distance it had fallen upon the earth, or even into the gulf of mexico, a fall which the narrowness of the floridian peninsula rendered possible. the case was grave, the problem interesting. it was necessary to solve it as soon as possible. barbicane, excited, and by his moral energy triumphing over his physical weakness, stood up and listened. a profound silence reigned outside. but the thick padding was sufficient to shut out all the noises on earth; however, one circumstance struck barbicane. the temperature in the interior of the projectile was singularly high. the president drew out a thermometer from the envelope that protected it and consulted it. the instrument showed 81° fahr. "yes!" he then exclaimed--"yes, we are moving! this stifling heat oozes through the sides of our projectile. it is produced by friction against the atmosphere. it will soon diminish; because we are already moving in space, and after being almost suffocated we shall endure intense cold." "what!" asked michel ardan, "do you mean to say that we are already beyond the terrestrial atmosphere?" "without the slightest doubt, michel. listen to me. it now wants but five minutes to eleven. it is already eight minutes since we started. now, if our initial velocity has not been diminished by friction, six seconds would be enough for us to pass the sixteen leagues of atmosphere which surround our spheroid." "just so," answered nicholl; "but in what proportion do you reckon the diminution of speed by friction?" "in the proportion of one-third," answered barbicane. "this diminution is considerable, but it is so much according to my calculations. if, therefore, we have had an initial velocity of 11,000 metres, when we get past the atmosphere it will be reduced to 7,332 metres. however that may be, we have already cleared that space, and--" "and then," said michel ardan, "friend nicholl has lost his two bets--four thousand dollars because the columbiad has not burst, five thousand dollars because the projectile has risen to a greater height than six miles; therefore, nicholl, shell out." "we must prove it first," answered the captain, "and pay afterwards. it is quite possible that barbicane's calculations are exact, and that i have lost my nine thousand dollars. but another hypothesis has come into my mind, and it may cancel the wager." "what is that?" asked barbicane quickly. "the supposition that for some reason or other the powder did not catch fire, and we have not started." "good heavens! captain," cried michel ardan, "that is a supposition worthy of me! it is not serious! have we not been half stunned by the shock? did i not bring you back to life? does not the president's shoulder still bleed from the blow?" "agreed, michel," replied nicholl, "but allow me to ask one question." "ask it, captain." "did you hear the detonation, which must certainly have been formidable?" "no," answered ardan, much surprised, "i certainly did not hear it." "and you, barbicane?" "i did not either." "what do you make of that?" asked nicholl. "what indeed!" murmured the president; "why did we not hear the detonation?" the three friends looked at one another rather disconcertedly. here was an inexplicable phenomenon. the projectile had been fired, however, and there must have been a detonation. "we must know first where we are," said barbicane, "so let us open the panel." this simple operation was immediately accomplished. the screws that fastened the bolts on the outer plates of the right-hand skylight yielded to the coach-wrench. these bolts were driven outside, and obturators wadded with indiarubber corked up the hole that let them through. the exterior plate immediately fell back upon its hinges like a port-hole, and the lenticular glass that covered the hole appeared. an identical light-port had been made in the other side of the projectile, another in the dome, and a fourth in the bottom. the firmament could therefore be observed in four opposite directions--the firmament through the lateral windows, and the earth or the moon more directly through the upper or lower opening of the bullet. barbicane and his companions immediately rushed to the uncovered port-hole. no ray of light illuminated it. profound darkness surrounded the projectile. this darkness did not prevent barbicane exclaiming-"no, my friends, we have not fallen on the earth again! no, we are not immersed at the bottom of the gulf of mexico! yes, we are going up through space! look at those stars that are shining in the darkness, and the impenetrable darkness that lies between the earth and us!" "hurrah! hurrah!" cried michel ardan and nicholl with one voice. in fact, the thick darkness proved that the projectile had left the earth, for the ground, then brilliantly lighted by the moon, would have appeared before the eyes of the travellers if they had been resting upon it. this darkness proved also that the projectile had passed beyond the atmosphere, for the diffused light in the air would have been reflected on the metallic sides of the projectile, which reflection was also wanting. this light would have shone upon the glass of the light-port, and that glass was in darkness. doubt was no longer possible. the travellers had quitted the earth. "i have lost." said nicholl. "i congratulate you upon it," answered ardan. "here are nine thousand dollars," said the captain, taking a bundle of notes out of his pocket. "will you have a receipt?" asked barbicane as he took the money. "if you do not mind," answered nicholl; "it is more regular." and as seriously and phlegmatically as if he had been in his counting-house, president barbicane drew out his memorandum-book and tore out a clear page, wrote a receipt in pencil, dated it, signed it, and gave it to the captain, who put it carefully into his pocket-book. michel ardan took off his hat and bowed to his two companions without speaking a word. such formality under such circumstances took away his power of speech. he had never seen anything so american. once their business over, barbicane and nicholl went back to the light-port and looked at the constellations. the stars stood out clearly upon the dark background of the sky. but from this side the moon could not be seen, as she moves from east to west, rising gradually to the zenith. her absence made ardan say-"and the moon? is she going to fail us?" "do not frighten yourself," answered barbicane, "our spheroid is at her post, but we cannot see her from this side. we must open the opposite light-port." at the very moment when barbicane was going to abandon one window to set clear the opposite one, his attention was attracted by the approach of a shining object. it was an enormous disc the colossal dimensions of which could not be estimated. its face turned towards the earth was brilliantly lighted. it looked like a small moon reflecting the light of the large one. it advanced at prodigious speed, and seemed to describe round the earth an orbit right across the passage of the projectile. to the movement of translation of this object was added a movement of rotation upon itself. it was therefore behaving like all celestial bodies abandoned in space. "eh!" cried michel ardan. "whatever is that? another projectile?" barbicane did not answer. the apparition of this enormous body surprised him and made him uneasy. a collision was possible which would have had deplorable results, either by making the projectile deviate from its route and fall back upon the earth, or be caught up by the attractive power of the asteroid. president barbicane had rapidly seized the consequences of these three hypotheses, which in one way or other would fatally prevent the success of his attempt. his companions were silently watching the object, which grew prodigiously larger as it approached, and through a certain optical illusion it seemed as if the projectile were rushing upon it. "ye gods!" cried michel ardan; "there will be a collision on the line!" the three travellers instinctively drew back. their terror was extreme, but it did not last long, hardly a few seconds. the asteroid passed at a distance of a few hundred yards from the projectile and disappeared, not so much on account of the rapidity of its course, but because its side opposite to the moon was suddenly confounded with the absolute darkness of space. "a good journey to you!" cried michel ardan, uttering a sigh of satisfaction. "is not infinitude large enough to allow a poor little bullet to go about without fear? what was that pretentious globe which nearly knocked against us?" "i know!" answered barbicane. "of course! you know everything." "it is a simple asteroid," said barbicane; "but so large that the attraction of the earth has kept it in the state of a satellite." "is it possible!" exclaimed michel ardan. "then the earth has two moons like neptune?" "yes, my friend, two moons, though she is generally supposed to have but one. but this second moon is so small and her speed so great that the inhabitants of the earth cannot perceive her. it was by taking into account certain perturbations 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 asteroid accomplishes its revolution round the earth in three hours and twenty minutes only. that implies prodigious speed." "do all astronomers admit the existence of this satellite?" asked nicholl. "no," answered barbicane; "but if they had met it like we have they could not doubt any longer. by-the-bye, this asteroid, which would have much embarrassed us had it knocked against us, allows us to determine our position in space." "how?" said ardan. "because its distance is known, and where we met it we were exactly at 8,140 kilometres from the surface of the terrestrial globe." "more than 2,000 leagues!" cried michel ardan. "that beats the express trains of the pitiable globe called the earth!" "i should think it did," answered nicholl, consulting his chronometer; "it is eleven o'clock, only thirteen minutes since we left the american continent." "only thirteen minutes?" said barbicane. "that is all," answered nicholl; "and if our initial velocity were constant we should make nearly 10,000 leagues an hour." "that is all very well, my friends," said the president; "but one insoluble question still remains--why did we not hear the detonation of the columbiad?" for want of an answer the conversation stopped, and barbicane, still reflecting, occupied himself with lowering the covering of the second lateral light-port. his operation succeeded, and through the glass the moon filled the interior of the projectile with brilliant light. nicholl, like an economical man, put out the gas that was thus rendered useless, and the brilliance of which obstructed the observation of planetary space. the lunar disc then shone with incomparable purity. her rays, no longer filtered by the vapoury atmosphere of the terrestrial globe, shone clearly through the glass and saturated the interior air of the projectile with silvery reflections. the black curtain of the firmament really doubled the brilliancy of the moon, which in this void of ether unfavourable to diffusion did not eclipse the neighbouring stars. the sky, thus seen, presented quite a different aspect--one that no human eye could imagine. it will be readily understood with what interest these audacious men contemplated the moon, the supreme goal of their journey. the earth's satellite, in her movement of translation, insensibly neared the zenith, a mathematical point which she was to reach about ninety-six hours later. her mountains and plains, or any object in relief, were not seen more plainly than from the earth; but her light across the void was developed with incomparable intensity. the disc shone like a platinum mirror. the travellers had already forgotten all about the earth which was flying beneath their feet. it was captain nicholl who first drew attention to the vanished globe. "yes!" answered michel ardan. "we must not be ungrateful to it. as we are leaving our country let our last looks reach it. i want to see the earth before it disappears completely from our eyes!" barbicane, to satisfy the desires of his companion, occupied himself with clearing the window at the bottom of the projectile, the one through which they could observe the earth directly. the movable floor which the force of projection had sent to the bottom was taken to pieces, not without difficulty; its pieces, carefully placed against the sides, might still be of use. then appeared a circular bay window, half a yard wide, cut in the lower part of the bullet. it was filled with glass five inches thick, strengthened with brass settings. under it was an aluminium plate, held down by bolts. the screws taken out and the bolts withdrawn, the plate fell back, and visual communication was established between interior and exterior. michel ardan knelt upon the glass. it was dark, and seemed opaque. "well," cried he, "but where's the earth?" "there it is," said barbicane. "what!" cried ardan, "that thin streak, that silvery crescent?" "certainly, michel. in four days' time, when the moon is full, at the very minute we shall reach her, the earth will be new. she will only appear to us under the form of a slender crescent, which will soon disappear, and then she will be buried for some days in impenetrable darkness." "that the earth!" repeated michel ardan, staring at the thin slice of his natal planet. the explanation given by president barbicane was correct. the earth, looked at from the projectile, was entering her last quarter. she was in her octant, and her crescent was clearly outlined on the dark background of the sky. her light, made bluish by the thickness of her atmosphere, was less intense than that of the lunar crescent. this crescent then showed itself under considerable dimensions. it looked like an enormous arch stretched across the firmament. some points, more vividly lighted, especially in its concave part, announced the presence of high mountains; but they disappeared sometimes under black spots, which are never seen on the surface of the lunar disc. they were rings of clouds placed concentrically round the terrestrial spheroid. however, by dint of a natural phenomenon, identical with that produced on the moon when she is in her octants, the contour of the terrestrial globe could be traced. its entire disc appeared slightly visible through an effect of pale light, less appreciable than that of the moon. the reason of this lessened intensity is easy to understand. when this reflection is produced on the moon it is caused by the solar rays which the earth reflects upon her satellite. here it was caused by the solar rays reflected from the moon upon the earth. now terrestrial light is thirteen times more intense than lunar light on account of the difference of volume in the two bodies. hence it follows that in the phenomenon of the pale light the dark part of the earth's disc is less clearly outlined than that of the moon's disc, because the intensity of the phenomenon is in proportion to the lighting power of the two stars. it must be added that the terrestrial crescent seems to form a more elongated curve than that of the disc--a pure effect of irradiation. whilst the travellers were trying to pierce the profound darkness of space, a brilliant shower of falling stars shone before their eyes. hundreds of meteors, inflamed by contact with the atmosphere, streaked the darkness with luminous trails, and lined the cloudy part of the disc with their fire. at that epoch the earth was in her perihelion, and the month of december is so propitious to these shooting stars that astronomers have counted as many as 24,000 an hour. but michel ardan, disdaining scientific reasoning, preferred to believe that the earth was saluting with her finest fireworks the departure of her three children. this was all they saw of the globe lost in the darkness, an inferior star of the solar world, which for the grand planets rises or sets as a simple morning or evening star! imperceptible point in space, it was now only a fugitive crescent, this globe where they had left all their affections. for a long time the three friends, not speaking, yet united in heart, watched while the projectile went on with uniformly decreasing velocity. then irresistible sleep took possession of them. was it fatigue of body and mind? doubtless, for after the excitement of the last hours passed upon earth, reaction must inevitably set in. "well," said michel, "as we must sleep, let us go to sleep." stretched upon their beds, all three were soon buried in profound slumber. but they had not been unconscious for more than a quarter of an hour when barbicane suddenly rose, and, waking his companions, in a loud voice cried-"i've found it!" "what have you found?" asked michel ardan, jumping out of bed. "the reason we did not hear the detonation of the columbiad!" "well?" said nicholl. "it was because our projectile went quicker than sound." chapter iii. taking possession. this curious but certainly correct explanation once given, the three friends fell again into a profound sleep. where would they have found a calmer or more peaceful place to sleep in? upon earth, houses in the town or cottages in the country feel every shock upon the surface of the globe. at sea, ships, rocked by the waves, are in perpetual movement. in the air, balloons incessantly oscillate upon the fluid strata of different densities. this projectile alone, travelling in absolute void amidst absolute silence, offered absolute repose to its inhabitants. the sleep of the three adventurers would have, perhaps, been indefinitely prolonged if an unexpected noise had not awakened them about 7 a.m. on the 2nd of december, eight hours after their departure. this noise was a very distinct bark. "the dogs! it is the dogs!" cried michel ardan, getting up immediately. "they are hungry," said nicholl. "i should think so," answered michel; "we have forgotten them." "where are they?" asked barbicane. one of the animals was found cowering under the divan. terrified and stunned by the first shock, it had remained in a corner until the moment it had recovered its voice along with the feeling of hunger. it was diana, still rather sheepish, that came from the retreat, not without urging. michel ardan encouraged her with his most gracious words. "come, diana," he said--"come, my child; your destiny will be noted in cynegetic annals! pagans would have made you companion to the god anubis, and christians friend to st. roch! you are worthy of being carved in bronze for the king of hell, like the puppy that jupiter gave beautiful europa as the price of a kiss! your celebrity will efface that of the montargis and st. bernard heroes. you are rushing through interplanetary space, and will, perhaps, be the eve of selenite dogs! you will justify up there toussenel's saying, 'in the beginning god created man, and seeing how weak he was, gave him the dog!' come, diana, come here!" diana, whether flattered or not, came out slowly, uttering plaintive moans. "good!" said barbicane. "i see eve, but where is adam?" "adam," answered michel ardan, "can't be far off. he is here somewhere. he must be called! satellite! here, satellite!" but satellite did not appear. diana continued moaning. it was decided, however, that she was not wounded, and an appetising dish was set before her to stop her complaining. as to satellite, he seemed lost. they were obliged to search a long time before discovering him in one of the upper compartments of the projectile, where a rather inexplicable rebound had hurled him violently. the poor animal was in a pitiable condition. "the devil!" said michel. "our acclimatisation is in danger!" the unfortunate dog was carefully lowered. his head had been fractured against the roof, and it seemed difficult for him to survive such a shock. nevertheless, he was comfortably stretched on a cushion, where he sighed once. "we will take care of you," said michel; "we are responsible for your existence. i would rather lose an arm than a paw of my poor satellite." so saying he offered some water to the wounded animal, who drank it greedily. these attentions bestowed, the travellers attentively watched the earth and the moon. the earth only appeared like a pale disc terminated by a crescent smaller than that of the previous evening, but its volume compared with that of the moon, which was gradually forming a perfect circle, remained enormous. "_parbleu_!" then said michel ardan; "i am really sorry we did not start when the earth was at her full--that is to say, when our globe was in opposition to the sun!" "why?" asked nicholl. "because we should have seen our continents and seas under a new aspect--the continents shining under the solar rays, the seas darker, like they figure upon certain maps of the world! i should like to have seen those poles of the earth upon which the eye of man has never yet rested!" "i daresay," answered barbicane, "but if the earth had been full the moon would have been new--that is to say, invisible amidst the irradiation of the sun. it is better for us to see the goal we want to reach than the place we started from." "you are right, barbicane," answered captain nicholl; "and besides, when we have reached the moon we shall have plenty of time during the long lunar nights to consider at leisure the globe that harbours men like us." "men like us!" cried michel ardan. "but now they are not more like us than the selenites. we are inhabitants of a new world peopled by us alone--the projectile! i am a man like barbicane, and barbicane is a man like nicholl. beyond us and outside of us humanity ends, and we are the only population of this microcosm until the moment we become simple selenites." "in about eighty-eight hours," replied the captain. "which means?" asked michel ardan. "that it is half-past eight," answered nicholl. "very well," answered michel, "i fail to find the shadow of a reason why we should not breakfast _illico_." in fact, the inhabitants of the new star could not live in it without eating, and their stomachs then submitted to the imperious laws of hunger. michel ardan, in his quality of frenchman, declared himself chief cook, an important function that no one disputed with him. the gas gave the necessary degrees of heat for cooking purposes, and the provision-locker furnished the elements of this first banquet. the breakfast began with three cups of excellent broth, due to the liquefaction in hot water of three precious liebig tablets, prepared from the choicest morsels of the pampas ruminants. some slices of beefsteak succeeded them, compressed by the hydraulic press, as tender and succulent as if they had just come from the butchers of the paris café anglais. michel, an imaginative man, would have it they were even rosy. preserved vegetables, "fresher than the natural ones," as the amiable michel observed, succeeded the meat, and were followed by some cups of tea and slices of bread and butter, american fashion. this beverage, pronounced excellent, was made from tea of the first quality, of which the emperor of russia had put some cases at the disposition of the travellers. lastly, as a worthy ending to the meal, ardan ferreted out a fine bottle of "nuits" burgundy that "happened" to be in the provision compartment. the three friends drank it to the union of the earth and her satellite. and as if the generous wine it had distilled upon the hill-sides of burgundy were not enough, the sun was determined to help in the feast. the projectile at that moment emerged from the cone of shadow cast by the terrestrial globe, and the sun's rays fell directly upon the lower disc of the bullet, on account of the angle which the orbit of the moon makes with that of the earth. "the sun!" exclaimed michel ardan. "of course," answered barbicane; "i expected it." "but," said michel, "the cone of shadow thrown by the earth into space extends beyond the moon." "much beyond if you do not take the atmospheric refraction into account," said barbicane. "but when the moon is enveloped in that shadow the centres of the three heavenly bodies--the sun, the earth, and the moon--are in a straight line. then the nodes coincide with the full moon and there is an eclipse. if, therefore, we had started during an eclipse of the moon all our journey would have been accomplished in the dark, which would have been a pity." "why?" "because, although we are journeying in the void, our projectile, bathed in the solar rays, will gather their light and heat; therefore there will be economy of gas, a precious economy in every way." in fact, under these rays, the temperature and brilliancy of which there was no atmosphere to soften, the projectile was lighted and warmed as if it had suddenly passed from winter to summer. the moon above and the sun below inundated it with their rays. "it is pleasant here now," said nicholl. "i believe you!" cried michel ardan. "with a little vegetable soil spread over our aluminium planet we could grow green peas in twenty-four hours. i have only one fear, that is that the walls of our bullet will melt." "you need not alarm yourself, my worthy friend," answered barbicane. "the projectile supported a much higher temperature while it was travelling through the atmosphere. i should not even wonder if it looked to the eyes of the spectators like a fiery meteor." "then j.t. maston must think we are roasted!" "what i am astonished at," answered barbicane, "is that we are not. it was a danger we did not foresee." "i feared it," answered nicholl simply. "and you did not say anything about it, sublime captain!" cried michel ardan, shaking his companion's hand. in the meantime barbicane was making his arrangements in the projectile as though he was never going to leave it. it will be remembered that the base of the aërial vehicle was fifty-four feet square. it was twelve feet high, and admirably fitted up in the interior. it was not much encumbered by the instruments and travelling utensils, which were all in special places, and it left some liberty of movement to its three inhabitants. the thick glass let into a part of the floor could bear considerable weight with impunity. barbicane and his companions walked upon it as well as upon a solid floor; but the sun, which struck it directly with its rays, lighting the interior of the projectile from below, produced singular effects of light. they began by examining the state of the water and provision receptacles. they were not in the least damaged, thanks to the precautions taken to deaden the shock. the provisions were abundant, and sufficient for one year's food. barbicane took this precaution in case the projectile should arrive upon an absolutely barren part of the moon. there was only enough water and brandy for two months. but according to the latest observations of astronomers, the moon had a dense low and thick atmosphere, at least in its deepest valleys, and there streams and watercourses could not fail. therefore the adventurous explorers would not suffer from hunger or thirst during the journey, and the first year of their installation upon the lunar continent. the question of air in the interior of the projectile also offered all security. the reiset and regnault apparatus, destined to produce oxygen, was furnished with enough chlorate of potash for two months. it necessarily consumed a large quantity of gas, for it was obliged to keep the productive matter up to 100°. but there was abundance of that also. the apparatus wanted little looking after. it worked automatically. at that high temperature the chlorate of potash changed into chlorine of potassium, and gave out all the oxygen it contained. the eighteen pounds of chlorate of potash gave out the seven pounds of oxygen necessary for the daily consumption of the three travellers. but it was not enough to renew the oxygen consumed; the carbonic acid gas produced by expiration must also be absorbed. now for the last twelve hours the atmosphere of the bullet had become loaded with this deleterious gas, the product of the combustion of the elements of blood by the oxygen taken into the lungs. nicholl perceived this state of the air by seeing diana palpitate painfully. in fact, carbonic acid gas--through a phenomenon identical with the one to be noticed in the famous dog's grotto--accumulated at the bottom of the projectile by reason of its weight. poor diana, whose head was low down, therefore necessarily suffered from it before her masters. but captain nicholl made haste to remedy this state of things. he placed on the floor of the projectile several receptacles containing caustic potash which he shook about for some time, and this matter, which is very greedy of carbonic acid, completely absorbed it, and thus purified the interior air. an inventory of the instruments was then begun. the thermometers and barometers were undamaged, with the exception of a minimum thermometer the glass of which was broken. an excellent aneroid was taken out of its padded box and hung upon the wall. of course it was only acted upon by and indicated the pressure of the air inside the projectile; but it also indicated the quantity of moisture it contained. at that moment its needle oscillated between 25.24 and 25.08. it was at "set fair." barbicane had brought several compasses, which were found intact. it will be easily understood that under those circumstances their needles were acting at random, without any constant direction. in fact, at the distance the projectile was from the earth the magnetic pole could not exercise any sensible action upon the apparatus. but these compasses, taken upon the lunar disc, might show particular phenomena. in any case it would be interesting to verify whether the earth's satellite, like the earth herself, submitted to magnetical influence. a hypsometer to measure the altitude of the lunar mountains, a sextant to take the height of the sun, a theodolite, an instrument for surveying, telescopes to be used as the moon approached--all these instruments were carefully inspected and found in good condition, notwithstanding the violence of the initial shock. as to the utensils--pickaxes, spades, and different tools--of which nicholl had made a special collection, the sacks of various kinds of grain, and the shrubs which michel ardan counted upon transplanting into selenite soil, they were in their places in the upper corners of the projectile. there was made a sort of granary, which the prodigal frenchman had filled. what was in it was very little known, and the merry fellow did not enlighten anybody. from time to time he climbed up the cramp-irons riveted in the walls to this store-room, the inspection of which he had reserved to himself. he arranged and re-arranged, plunged his hand rapidly into certain mysterious boxes, singing all the time in a voice very out of tune some old french song to enliven the situation. barbicane noticed with interest that his rockets and other fireworks were not damaged. these were important, for, powerfully loaded, they were meant to slacken the speed with which the projectile would, when attracted by the moon after passing the point of neutral attraction, fall upon her surface. this fall besides would be six times less rapid than it would have been upon the surface of the earth, thanks to the difference of volume in the two bodies. the inspection ended, therefore, in general satisfaction. then they all returned to their posts of observation at the lateral and lower port-lights. the same spectacle was spread before them. all the extent of the celestial sphere swarmed with stars and constellations of marvellous brilliancy, enough to make an astronomer wild! on one side the sun, like the mouth of a fiery furnace, shone upon the dark background of the heavens. on the other side the moon, reflecting back his fires, seemed motionless amidst the starry world. then a large spot, like a hole in the firmament, bordered still by a slight thread of silver--it was the earth. here and there nebulous masses like large snow-flakes, and from zenith to nadir an immense ring, formed of an impalpable dust of stars--that milky way amidst which the sun only counts as a star of the fourth magnitude! the spectators could not take their eyes off a spectacle so new, of which no description could give any idea. what reflections it suggested! what unknown emotions it aroused in the soul! barbicane wished to begin the recital of his journey under the empire of these impressions, and he noted down hourly all the events that signalised the beginning of his enterprise. he wrote tranquilly in his large and rather commercial-looking handwriting. during that time the calculating nicholl looked over the formulae of trajectories, and worked away at figures with unparalleled dexterity. michel ardan talked sometimes to barbicane, who did not answer much, to nicholl, who did not hear, and to diana, who did not understand his theories, and lastly to himself, making questions and answers, going and coming, occupying himself with a thousand details, sometimes leaning over the lower port-light, sometimes roosting in the heights of the projectile, singing all the time. in this microcosm he represented the french agitation and loquacity, and it was worthily represented. the day, or rather--for the expression is not correct--the lapse of twelve hours which makes a day upon earth--was ended by a copious supper carefully prepared. no incident of a nature to shake the confidence of the travellers had happened, so, full of hope and already sure of success, they went to sleep peacefully, whilst the projectile, at a uniformly increasing speed, made its way in the heavens. chapter iv. a little algebra. the night passed without incident. correctly speaking, the word "night" is an improper one. the position of the projectile in regard to the sun did not change. astronomically it was day on the bottom of the bullet, and night on the top. when, therefore, in this recital these two words are used they express the lapse of time between the rising and setting of the sun upon earth. the travellers' sleep was so much the more peaceful because, notwithstanding its excessive speed, the projectile seemed absolutely motionless. no movement indicated its journey through space. however rapidly change of place may be effected, it cannot produce any sensible effect upon the organism when it takes place in the void, or when the mass of air circulates along with the travelling body. what inhabitant of the earth perceives the speed which carries him along at the rate of 68,000 miles an hour? movement under such circumstances is not felt more than repose. every object is indifferent to it. when a body is in repose it remains so until some foreign force puts it in movement. when in movement it would never stop if some obstacle were not in its road. this indifference to movement or repose is inertia. barbicane and his companions could, therefore, imagine themselves absolutely motionless, shut up in the interior of the projectile. the effect would have been the same if they had placed themselves on the outside. without the moon, which grew larger above them, and the earth that grew smaller below, they would have sworn they were suspended in a complete stagnation. that morning, the 3rd of december, they were awakened by a joyful but unexpected noise. it was the crowing of a cock in the interior of their vehicle. michel ardan was the first to get up; he climbed to the top of the projectile and closed a partly-open case. "be quiet," said he in a whisper. "that animal will spoil my plan!" in the meantime nicholl and barbicane awoke. "was that a cock?" said nicholl. "no, my friends," answered michel quickly. "i wished to awake you with that rural sound." so saying he gave vent to a cock-a-doodle-do which would have done honour to the proudest of gallinaceans. the two americans could not help laughing. "a fine accomplishment that," said nicholl, looking suspiciously at his companion. "yes," answered michel, "a joke common in my country. it is very gallic. we perpetrate it in the best society." then turning the conversation-"barbicane, do you know what i have been thinking about all night?" "no," answered the president. "about our friends at cambridge. you have already remarked how admirably ignorant i am of mathematics. i find it, therefore, impossible to guess how our _savants_ of the observatory could calculate what initial velocity the projectile ought to be endowed with on leaving the columbiad in order to reach the moon." "you mean," replied barbicane, "in order to reach that neutral point where the terrestrial and lunar attractions are equal; for beyond this point, situated at about 0.9 of the distance, the projectile will fall upon the moon by virtue of its own weight merely." "very well," answered michel; "but once more; how did they calculate the initial velocity?" "nothing is easier," said barbicane. "and could you have made the calculation yourself?" asked michel ardan. "certainly; nicholl and i could have determined it if the notice from the observatory had not saved us the trouble." "well, old fellow," answered michel, "they might sooner cut off my head, beginning with my feet, than have made me solve that problem!" "because you do not know algebra," replied barbicane tranquilly. "ah, that's just like you dealers in _x_! you think you have explained everything when you have said 'algebra.'" "michel," replied barbicane, "do you think it possible to forge without a hammer, or to plough without a ploughshare?" "it would be difficult." "well, then, algebra is a tool like a plough or a hammer, and a good tool for any one who knows how to use it." "seriously?" "quite." "could you use that tool before me?" "if it would interest you." "and could you show me how they calculated the initial speed of our vehicle?" "yes, my worthy friend. by taking into account all the elements of the problem, the distance from the centre of the earth to the centre of the moon, of the radius of the earth, the volume of the earth and the volume of the moon, i can determine exactly what the initial speed of the projectile ought to be, and that by a very simple formula." "show me the formula." "you shall see it. only i will not give you the curve really traced by the bullet between the earth and the moon, by taking into account their movement of translation round the sun. no. i will consider both bodies to be motionless, and that will be sufficient for us." "why?" "because that would be seeking to solve the problem called 'the problem of the three bodies,' for which the integral calculus is not yet far enough advanced." "indeed," said michel ardan in a bantering tone; "then mathematics have not said their last word." "certainly not," answered barbicane. "good! perhaps the selenites have pushed the integral calculus further than you! by-the-bye, what is the integral calculus?" "it is the inverse of the differential calculus," answered barbicane seriously. "much obliged." "to speak otherwise, it is a calculus by which you seek finished quantities of what you know the differential quantities." "that is clear at least," answered barbicane with a quite satisfied air. "and now," continued barbicane, "for a piece of paper and a pencil, and in half-an-hour i will have found the required formula." that said, barbicane became absorbed in his work, whilst nicholl looked into space, leaving the care of preparing breakfast to his companion. half-an-hour had not elapsed before barbicane, raising his head, showed michel ardan a page covered with algebraical signs, amidst which the following general formula was discernible:- 1 2 2 r m' r r (v v ) = gr { --1 + --( -----) } 2 0 x m d-x d-r "and what does that mean?" asked michel. "that means," answered nicholl, "that the half of _v_ minus _v_ zero square equals _gr_ multiplied by _r_ upon _x_ minus 1 plus _m_ prime upon _m_ multiplied by _r_ upon _d_ minus _x_, minus _r_ upon _d_ minus _x_ minus _r_--" "_x_ upon _y_ galloping upon _z_ and rearing upon _p_" cried michel ardan, bursting out laughing. "do you mean to say you understand that, captain?" "nothing is clearer." "then," said michel ardan, "it is as plain as a pikestaff, and i want nothing more." "everlasting laugher," said barbicane, "you wanted algebra, and now you shall have it over head and ears." "i would rather be hung!" "that appears a good solution, barbicane," said nicholl, who was examining the formula like a _connaisseur_. "it is the integral of the equation of 'vis viva,' and i do not doubt that it will give us the desired result." "but i should like to understand!" exclaimed michel. "i would give ten years of nicholl's life to understand!" "then listen," resumed barbicane. "the half of _v_ minus _v_ zero square is the formula that gives us the demi-variation of the 'vis viva.'" "good; and does nicholl understand what that means?" "certainly, michel," answered the captain. "all those signs that look so cabalistic to you form the clearest and most logical language for those who know how to read it." "and do you pretend, nicholl," asked michel, "that by means of these hieroglyphics, more incomprehensible than the egyptian ibis, you can find the initial speed necessary to give to the projectile?" "incontestably," answered nicholl; "and even by that formula i could always tell you what speed it is going at on any point of the journey." "upon your word of honour?" "yes." "then you are as clever as our president." "no, michel, all the difficulty consists in what barbicane has done. it is to establish an equation which takes into account all the conditions of the problem. the rest is only a question of arithmetic, and requires nothing but a knowledge of the four rules." "that's something," answered michel ardan, who had never been able to make a correct addition in his life, and who thus defined the rule: "a chinese puzzle, by which you can obtain infinitely various results." still barbicane answered that nicholl would certainly have found the formula had he thought about it. "i do not know if i should," said nicholl, "for the more i study it the more marvellously correct i find it." "now listen," said barbicane to his ignorant comrade, "and you will see that all these letters have a signification." "i am listening," said michel, looking resigned. "_d_," said barbicane, "is the distance from the centre of the earth to the centre of the moon, for we must take the centres to calculate the attraction." "that i understand." "_r_ is the radius of the earth." "_r_, radius; admitted." "_m_ is the volume of the earth; _m prime_ that of the moon. we are obliged to take into account the volume of the two attracting bodies, as the attraction is in proportion to the volume." "i understand that." "_g_ represents gravity, the speed acquired at the end of a second by a body falling on the surface of the earth. is that clear?" "a mountain stream!" answered michel. "now i represent by _x_ the variable distance that separates the projectile from the centre of the earth, and by _v_ the velocity the projectile has at that distance." "good." "lastly, the expression _v_ zero which figures in the equation is the speed the bullet possesses when it emerges from the atmosphere." "yes," said nicholl, "you were obliged to calculate the velocity from that point, because we knew before that the velocity at departure is exactly equal to 3/2 of the velocity upon emerging from the atmosphere." "don't understand any more!" said michel. "yet it is very simple," said barbicane. "i do not find it very simple," replied michel. "it means that when our projectile reached the limit of the terrestrial atmosphere it had already lost one-third of its initial velocity." "as much as that?" "yes, my friend, simply by friction against the atmosphere. you will easily understand that the greater its speed the more resistance it would meet with from the air." "that i admit," answered michel, "and i understand it, although your _v_ zero two and your _v_ zero square shake about in my head like nails in a sack." "first effect of algebra," continued barbicane. "and now to finish we are going to find the numerical known quantity of these different expressions--that is to say, find out their value." "you will finish me first!" answered michel. "some of these expressions," said barbicane, "are known; the others have to be calculated." "i will calculate those," said nicholl. "and _r_," resumed barbicane, "_r_ is the radius of the earth under the latitude of florida, our point of departure, _d_--that is to say, the distance from the centre of the earth to the centre of the moon equals fifty-six terrestrial radii--" nicholl rapidly calculated. "that makes 356,720,000 metres when the moon is at her perigee--that is to say, when she is nearest to the earth." "very well," said barbicane, "now _m_ prime upon _m_--that is to say, the proportion of the moon's volume to that of the earth equals 1/81." "perfect," said michel. "and _g_, the gravity, is to florida 9-1/81 metres. from whence it results that _gr_ equals--" "sixty-two million four hundred and twenty-six thousand square metres," answered nicholl. "what next?" asked michel ardan. "now that the expressions are reduced to figures, i am going to find the velocity _v zero_--that is to say, the velocity that the projectile ought to have on leaving the atmosphere to reach the point of equal attraction with no velocity. the velocity at that point i make equal _zero_, and _x_, the distance where the neutral point is, will be represented by the nine-tenths of _d_--that is to say, the distance that separates the two centres." "i have some vague idea that it ought to be so," said michel. "i shall then have, _x_ equals nine-tenths of _d_, and _v_ equals _zero_, and my formula will become--" barbicane wrote rapidly on the paper- 2 10r 1 10r r v = 2 gr { 1 -- --( -----) } 0 9d 81 d d-r nicholl read it quickly. "that's it! that is it!" he cried. "is it clear?" asked barbicane. "it is written in letters of fire!" answered nicholl. "clever fellows!" murmured michel. "do you understand now?" asked barbicane. "if i understand!" cried michel ardan. "my head is bursting with it." "thus," resumed barbicane, "_v zero_ square equals 2 _gr_ multiplied by 1 minus 10 _r_ upon 9 _d_ minus 1/81 multiplied by 10 _r_ upon _d_ minus _r_ upon _d_ minus _r_." "and now," said nicholl, "in order to obtain the velocity of the bullet as it emerges from the atmosphere i have only to calculate." the captain, like a man used to overcome all difficulties, began to calculate with frightful rapidity. divisions and multiplications grew under his fingers. figures dotted the page. barbicane followed him with his eyes, whilst michel ardan compressed a coming headache with his two hands. "well, what do you make it?" asked barbicane after several minutes' silence. "i make it 11,051 metres in the first second." "what do you say?" said barbicane, starting. "eleven thousand and fifty-one metres." "malediction!" cried the president with a gesture of despair. "what's the matter with you?" asked michel ardan, much surprised. "the matter! why if at this moment the velocity was already diminished one-third by friction, the initial speed ought to have been--" "sixteen thousand five hundred and seventy-six metres!" answered nicholl. "but the cambridge observatory declared that 11,000 metres were enough at departure, and our bullet started with that velocity only!" "well?" asked nicholl. "why it was not enough!" "no." "we shall not reach the neutral point." "the devil!" "we shall not even go half way!" "_nom d'un boulet_!" exclaimed michel ardan, jumping up as if the projectile were on the point of striking against the terrestrial globe. "and we shall fall back upon the earth!" chapter v. the temperature of space. this revelation acted like a thunderbolt. who could have expected such an error in calculation? barbicane would not believe it. nicholl went over the figures again. they were correct. the formula which had established them could not be mistrusted, and, when verified, the initial velocity of 16,576 metres, necessary for attaining the neutral point, was found quite right. the three friends looked at one another in silence. no one thought about breakfast after that. barbicane, with set teeth, contracted brow, and fists convulsively closed, looked through the port-light. nicholl folded his arms and examined his calculations. michel ardan murmured-"that's just like _savants_! that's the way they always do! i would give twenty pistoles to fall upon the cambridge observatory and crush it, with all its stupid staff inside!" all at once the captain made a reflection which struck barbicane at once. "why," said he, "it is seven o'clock in the morning, so we have been thirty-two hours on the road. we have come more than half way, and we are not falling yet that i know of!" barbicane did not answer, but after a rapid glance at the captain he took a compass, which he used to measure the angular distance of the terrestrial globe. then through the lower port-light he made a very exact observation from the apparent immobility of the projectile. then rising and wiping the perspiration from his brow, he put down some figures upon paper. nicholl saw that the president wished to find out from the length of the terrestrial diameter the distance of the bullet from the earth. he looked at him anxiously. "no!" cried barbicane in a few minutes' time, "we are not falling! we are already more than 50,000 leagues from the earth! we have passed the point the projectile ought to have stopped at if its speed had been only 11,000 metres at our departure! we are still ascending!" "that is evident," answered nicholl; "so we must conclude that our initial velocity, under the propulsion of the 400,000 lbs. of gun-cotton, was greater than the 11,000 metres. i can now explain to myself why we met with the second satellite, that gravitates at more than 2,000 leagues from the earth, in less than thirteen minutes." "that explanation is so much the more probable," added barbicane, "because by throwing out the water in our movable partitions the projectile was made considerably lighter all at once." "that is true," said nicholl. "ah, my brave nicholl," cried barbicane, "we are saved!" "very well then," answered michel ardan tranquilly, "as we are saved, let us have breakfast." nicholl was not mistaken. the initial speed had happily been greater than that indicated by the cambridge observatory, but the cambridge observatory had no less been mistaken. the travellers, recovered from their false alarm, sat down to table and breakfasted merrily. though they ate much they talked more. their confidence was greater after the "algebra incident." "why should we not succeed?" repeated michel ardan. "why should we not arrive? we are on the road; there are no obstacles before us, and no stones on our route. it is free--freer than that of a ship that has to struggle with the sea, or a balloon with the wind against it! now if a ship can go where it pleases, or a balloon ascend where it pleases, why should not our projectile reach the goal it was aimed at?" "it will reach it," said barbicane. "if only to honour the american nation," added michel ardan, "the only nation capable of making such an enterprise succeed--the only one that could have produced a president barbicane! ah! now i think of it, now that all our anxieties are over, what will become of us? we shall be as dull as stagnant water." barbicane and nicholl made gestures of repudiation. "but i foresaw this, my friends," resumed michel ardan. "you have only to say the word. i have chess, backgammon, cards, and dominoes at your disposition. we only want a billiard-table!" "what?" asked barbicane, "did you bring such trifles as those?" "certainly," answered michel; "not only for our amusement, but also in the praiseworthy intention of bestowing them upon selenite inns." "my friend," said barbicane, "if the moon is inhabited its inhabitants appeared some thousands of years before those of the earth, for it cannot be doubted that the moon is older than the earth. if, therefore, the selenites have existed for thousands of centuries--if their brains are organised like that of human beings--they have invented all that we have invented, already, and even what we shall only invent in the lapse of centuries. they will have nothing to learn from us, and we shall have everything to learn from them." "what!" answered michel, "do you think they have had artists like phidias, michael angelo, or raphael?" "yes." "poets like homer, virgil, milton, lamartine, and hugo?" "i am sure of it." "philosophers like plato, aristotle, descartes, and kant?" "i have no doubt of it." "_savants_ like archimedes, euclid, pascal, and newton?" "i could swear it." "clowns like arnal, and photographers like--nadar?" "i am certain of it." "then, friend barbicane, if these selenites are as learned as we, and even more so, why have they not hurled a lunar projectile as far as the terrestrial regions?" "who says they have not done it?" answered barbicane seriously. "in fact," added nicholl, "it would have been easier to them than to us, and that for two reasons--the first because the attraction is six times less on the surface of the moon than on the surface of the earth, which would allow a projectile to go up more easily; secondly the projectile would only have 8,000 leagues to travel instead of 80,000, which would require a force of propulsion ten times less." "then," resumed michel, "i repeat--why have they not done it?" "and i," replied barbicane, "i repeat--who says they have not done it?" "when?" "hundreds of centuries ago, before man's appearance upon earth." "and the bullet? where is the bullet? i ask to see the bullet!" "my friend," answered barbicane, "the sea covers five-sixths of our globe, hence there are five good reasons for supposing that the lunar projectile, if it has been fired, is now submerged at the bottom of the atlantic or pacific, unless it was buried down some abyss at the epoch when the earth's crust was not sufficiently formed." "old fellow," answered michel, "you have an answer to everything, and i bow before your wisdom. there is one hypothesis i would rather believe than the others, and that is that the selenites being older than we are wiser, and have not invented gunpowder at all." at that moment diana claimed her share in the conversation by a sonorous bark. she asked for her breakfast. "ah!" said michel ardan, "our arguments make us forget diana and satellite!" a good dish of food was immediately offered to the dog, who devoured it with great appetite. "do you know, barbicane," said michel, "we ought to have made this projectile a sort of noah's ark, and have taken a couple of all the domestic animals with us to the moon." "no doubt," answered barbicane, "but we should not have had room enough." "oh, we might have been packed a little tighter!" "the fact is," answered nicholl, "that oxen, cows, bulls, and horses, all those ruminants would be useful on the lunar continent. unfortunately we cannot make our projectile either a stable or a cowshed." "but at least," said michel ardan, "we might have brought an ass, nothing but a little ass, the courageous and patient animal old silenus loved to exhibit. i am fond of those poor asses! they are the least favoured animals in creation. they are not only beaten during their lifetime, but are still beaten after their death!" "what do you mean by that?" asked barbicane. "why, don't they use his skin to make drums of?" barbicane and nicholl could not help laughing at this absurd reflection. but a cry from their merry companion stopped them; he was bending over satellite's niche, and rose up saying-"good! satellite is no longer ill." "ah!" said nicholl. "no!" resumed michel, "he is dead. now," he added in a pitiful tone, "this will be embarrassing! i very much fear, poor diana, that you will not leave any of your race in the lunar regions!" the unfortunate satellite had not been able to survive his wounds. he was dead, stone dead. michel ardan, much put out of countenance, looked at his friends. "this makes another difficulty," said barbicane. "we can't keep the dead body of this dog with us for another eight-and-forty hours." "no, certainly not," answered nicholl, "but our port-lights are hung upon hinges. they can be let down. we will open one of them, and throw the body into space." the president reflected for a few minutes, and then said-"yes, that is what we must do, but we must take the most minute precautions." "why?" asked michel. "for two reasons that i will explain to you," answered barbicane. "the first has reference to the air in the projectile, of which we must lose as little as possible." "but we can renew the air!" "not entirely. we can only renew the oxygen, michel; and, by-the-bye, we must be careful that the apparatus do not furnish us with this oxygen in an immoderate quantity, for an excess of it would cause grave physiological consequences. but although we can renew the oxygen we cannot renew the azote, that medium which the lungs do not absorb, and which ought to remain intact. now the azote would rapidly escape if the port-lights were opened." "not just the time necessary to throw poor satellite out." "agreed; but we must do it quickly." "and what is the second reason?" asked michel. "the second reason is that we must not allow the exterior cold, which is excessive, to penetrate into our projectile lest we should be frozen alive." "still the sun--" "the sun warms our projectile because it absorbs its rays, but it does not warm the void we are in now. when there is no air there is no more heat than there is diffused light, and where the sun's rays do not reach directly it is both dark and cold. the temperature outside is only that produced by the radiation of the stars--that is to say, the same as the temperature of the terrestrial globe would be if one day the sun were to be extinguished." "no fear of that," answered nicholl. "who knows?" said michel ardan. "and even supposing that the sun be not extinguished, it might happen that the earth will move farther away from it." "good!" said nicholl; "that's one of michel's ideas!" "well," resumed michel, "it is well known that in 1861 the earth went through the tail of a comet. now suppose there was a comet with a power of attraction greater than that of the sun, the terrestrial globe might make a curve towards the wandering star, and the earth would become its satellite, and would be dragged away to such a distance that the rays of the sun would have no action on its surface." "that might happen certainly," answered barbicane, "but the consequences would not be so redoubtable as you would suppose." "how so?" "because heat and cold would still be pretty well balanced upon our globe. it has been calculated that if the earth had been carried away by the comet of 1861, it would only have felt, when at its greatest distance from the sun, a heat sixteen times greater than that sent to us by the moon--a heat which, when focussed by the strongest lens, produces no appreciable effect." "well?" said michel. "wait a little," answered barbicane. "it has been calculated that at its perihelion, when nearest to the sun, the earth would have borne a heat equal to 28,000 times that of summer. but this heat, capable of vitrifying terrestrial matters, and of evaporating water, would have formed a thick circle of clouds which would have lessened the excessive heat, hence there would be compensation between the cold of the aphelion and the heat of the perihelion, and an average probably supportable." "at what number of degrees do they estimate the temperature of the planetary space?" "formerly," answered barbicane, "it was believed that this temperature was exceedingly low. by calculating its thermometric diminution it was fixed at millions of degrees below zero. it was fourier, one of michel's countrymen, an illustrious _savant_ of the _académie des sciences_, who reduced these numbers to a juster estimation. according to him, the temperature of space does not get lower than 60° centigrade." michel whistled. "it is about the temperature of the polar regions," answered barbicane, "at melville island or fort reliance--about 56° centigrade below zero." "it remains to be proved," said nicholl, "that fourier was not mistaken in his calculations. if i am not mistaken, another frenchman, m. pouillet, estimates the temperature of space at 160° below zero. we shall be able to verify that." "not now," answered barbicane, "for the solar rays striking directly upon our thermometer would give us, on the contrary, a very elevated temperature. but when we get upon the moon, during the nights, a fortnight long, which each of its faces endures alternately, we shall have leisure to make the experiment, for our satellite moves in the void." "what do you mean by the void?" asked michel; "is it absolute void?" "it is absolutely void of air." "is there nothing in its place?" "yes, ether," answered barbicane. "ah! and what is ether?" "ether, my friend, is an agglomeration of imponderable particles, which, relatively to their dimensions, are as far removed from each other as the celestial bodies are in space, so say works on molecular physics. it is these atoms that by their vibrating movement produce light and heat by making four hundred and thirty billions of oscillations a second." "millions of millions!" exclaimed michel ardan; "then _savants_ have measured and counted these oscillations! all these figures, friend barbicane, are _savants'_ figures, which reach the ear but say nothing to the mind." "but they are obliged to have recourse to figures." "no. it would be much better to compare. a billion signifies nothing. an object of comparison explains everything. example--when you tell me that uranus is 76 times larger than the earth, saturn 900 times larger, jupiter 1,300 times larger, the sun 1,300,000 times larger, i am not much wiser. so i much prefer the old comparisons of the _double liégoise_ that simply tells you, 'the sun is a pumpkin two feet in diameter, jupiter an orange, saturn a blenheim apple, neptune a large cherry, uranus a smaller cherry, the earth a pea, venus a green pea, mars the head of a large pin, mercury a grain of mustard, and juno, ceres, vesta, and pallas fine grains of sand!' then i know what it means!" after this tirade of michel ardan's against _savants_ and their billions, which he delivered without stopping to take breath, they set about burying satellite. he was to be thrown into space like sailors throw a corpse into the sea. as president barbicane had recommended, they had to act quickly so as to lose as little air as possible. the bolts upon the right-hand port-hole were carefully unscrewed, and an opening of about half a yard made, whilst michel prepared to hurl his dog into space. the window, worked by a powerful lever, which conquered the pressure of air in the interior upon the sides of the projectile, moved upon its hinges, and satellite was thrown out. scarcely a particle of air escaped, and the operation succeeded so well that later on barbicane did not fear to get rid of all the useless rubbish that encumbered the vehicle in the same way. chapter vi. questions and answers. on the 4th of december, at 5 a.m. by terrestrial reckoning, the travellers awoke, having been fifty-four hours on their journey. they had only been five hours and forty minutes more than half the time assigned for the accomplishment of their journey, but they had come more than seven-tenths of the distance. this peculiarity was due to their regularly-decreasing speed. when they looked at the earth through the port-light at the bottom, it only looked like a black spot drowned in the sun's rays. no crescent or pale light was now to be seen. the next day at midnight the earth would be new at the precise moment when the moon would be full. above, the queen of night was nearing the line followed by the projectile, so as to meet it at the hour indicated. all around the dark vault was studded with brilliant specks which seemed to move slowly; but through the great distance they were at their relative size did not seem to alter much. the sun and the stars appeared exactly as they do from the earth. the moon was considerably enlarged; but the travellers' not very powerful telescopes did not as yet allow them to make very useful observations on her surface, or to reconnoitre the topographical or geological details. the time went by in interminable conversations. the talk was especially about the moon. each brought his contingent of particular knowledge. barbicane's and nicholl's were always serious, michel ardan's always fanciful. the projectile, its situation and direction, the incidents that might arise, the precautions necessitated by its fall upon the moon, all this afforded inexhaustible material for conjecture. whilst breakfasting a question of michel's relative to the projectile provoked a rather curious answer from barbicane, and one worthy of being recorded. michel, supposing the bullet to be suddenly stopped whilst still endowed with its formidable initial velocity, wished to know what the consequences would have been. "but," answered barbicane, "i don't see how the projectile could have been stopped." "but let us suppose it," answered nicholl. "it is an impossible supposition," replied the practical president, "unless the force of impulsion had failed. but in that case its speed would have gradually decreased, and would not have stopped abruptly." "admit that it had struck against some body in space." "what body?" "the enormous meteor we met." "then," said nicholl, "the projectile would have been broken into a thousand pieces, and we with it." "more than that," answered barbicane, "we should have been burnt alive." "burnt!" exclaimed michel. "i regret it did not happen for us just to see." "and you would have seen with a vengeance," answered barbicane. "it is now known that heat is only a modification of movement when water is heated--that is to say, when heat is added to it--that means the giving of movement to its particles." "that is an ingenious theory!" said michel. "and a correct one, my worthy friend, for it explains all the phenomena of caloric. heat is only molecular movement, a single oscillation of the particles of a body. when the break is put on a train it stops. but what becomes of the movement which animated it? why do they grease the axles of the wheels? in order to prevent them catching fire from the movement lost by transformation. do you understand?" "admirably," answered michel. "for example, when i have been running some time, and am covered with sweat, why am i forced to stop? simply because my movement has been transformed into heat." barbicane could not help laughing at this _répartie_ of michel's. then resuming his theory-"thus," said he, "in case of a collision, it would have happened to our projectile as it does to the metal cannon-ball after striking armour-plate; it would fall burning, because its movement had been transformed into heat. in consequence, i affirm that if our bullet had struck against the asteroid, its speed, suddenly annihilated, would have produced heat enough to turn it immediately into vapour." "then," asked nicholl, "what would happen if the earth were to be suddenly stopped in her movement of translation?" "her temperature would be carried to such a point," answered barbicane, "that she would be immediately reduced to vapour." "good," said michel; "that means of ending the world would simplify many things." "and suppose the earth were to fall upon the sun?" said nicholl. "according to calculations," answered barbicane, "that would develop a heat equal to that produced by 1,600 globes of coal, equal in volume to the terrestrial globe." "a good increase of temperature for the sun," replied michel ardan, "of which the inhabitants of uranus or neptune will probably not complain, for they must be dying of cold on their planet." "thus, then, my friends, any movement suddenly stopped produces heat. this theory makes it supposed that the sun is constantly fed by an incessant fall of bodies upon its surface. it has been calculated--" "now i shall be crushed," murmured michel, "for figures are coming." "it has been calculated," continued barbicane imperturbably, "that the shock of each asteroid upon the sun must produce heat equal to that of 4,000 masses of coal of equal volume." "and what is the heat of the sun?" asked michel. "it is equal to that which would be produced by a stratum of coal surrounding the sun to a depth of twenty-seven kilometres." "and that heat--" "could boil 2,900,000,000 of cubic myriametres of water an hour." (a myriametre is equal to rather more than 6.2138 miles, or 6 miles 1 furlong 28 poles.) "and we are not roasted by it?" cried michel. "no," answered barbicane, "because the terrestrial atmosphere absorbs four-tenths of the solar heat. besides, the quantity of heat intercepted by the earth is only two thousand millionth of the total." "i see that all is for the best," replied michel, "and that our atmosphere is a useful invention, for it not only allows us to breathe, but actually prevents us roasting." "yes," said nicholl, "but, unfortunately, it will not be the same on the moon." "bah!" said michel, always confident. "if there are any inhabitants they breathe. if there are no longer any they will surely have left enough oxygen for three people, if only at the bottom of those ravines where it will have accumulated by reason of its weight! well, we shall not climb the mountains! that is all." and michel, getting up, went to look at the lunar disc, which was shining with intolerable brilliancy. "faith!" said he, "it must be hot up there." "without reckoning," answered nicholl, "that daylight lasts 360 hours." "and by way of compensation night has the same duration," said barbicane, "and as heat is restored by radiation, their temperature must be that of planetary space." "a fine country truly!" said nicholl. "never mind! i should like to be there already! it will be comical to have the earth for a moon, to see it rise on the horizon, to recognise the configuration of its continents, to say to oneself, 'there's america and there's europe;' then to follow it till it is lost in the rays of the sun! by-the-bye, barbicane, have the selenites any eclipses?" "yes, eclipses of the sun," answered barbicane, "when the centres of the three stars are on the same line with the earth in the middle. but they are merely annular eclipses, during which the earth, thrown like a screen across the solar disc, allows the greater part to be seen." "why is there no total eclipse?" asked nicholl. "is it because the cone of shade thrown by the earth does not extend beyond the moon?" "yes, if you do not take into account the refraction produced by the terrestrial atmosphere, not if you do take that refraction into account. thus, let _delta_ be the horizontal parallax and _p_ the apparent semidiameter--" "ouf!" said michel, "half of _v_ zero square! do speak the vulgar tongue, man of algebra!" "well, then, in popular language," answered barbicane, "the mean distance between the moon and the earth being sixty terrestrial radii, the length of the cone of shadow, by dint of refraction, is reduced to less than forty-two radii. it follows, therefore, that during the eclipses the moon is beyond the cone of pure shade, and the sun sends it not only rays from its edges, but also rays from its centre." "then," said michel in a grumbling tone, "why is there any eclipse when there ought to be none?" "solely because the solar rays are weakened by the refraction, and the atmosphere which they traverse extinguishes the greater part of them." "that reason satisfies me," answered michel; "besides, we shall see for ourselves when we get there. now, barbicane, do you believe that the moon is an ancient comet?" "what an idea!" "yes," replied michel, with amiable conceit, "i have a few ideas of that kind." "but that idea does not originate with michel," answered nicholl. "then i am only a plagiarist." "without doubt," answered nicholl. "according to the testimony of the ancients, the arcadians pretended that their ancestors inhabited the earth before the moon became her satellite. starting from this fact, certain _savants_ think the moon was a comet which its orbit one day brought near enough to the earth to be retained by terrestrial attraction." "and what truth is there in that hypothesis?" asked michel. "none," answered barbicane, "and the proof is that the moon has not kept a trace of the gaseous envelope that always accompanies comets." "but," said nicholl, "might not the moon, before becoming the earth's satellite, have passed near enough to the sun to leave all her gaseous substances by evaporation?" "it might, friend nicholl, but it is not probable." "why?" "because--because, i really don't know." "ah, what hundreds of volumes we might fill with what we don't know!" exclaimed michel. "but i say," he continued, "what time is it?" "three o'clock," answered nicholl. "how the time goes," said michel, "in the conversation of _savants_ like us! decidedly i feel myself getting too learned! i feel that i am becoming a well of knowledge!" so saying, michel climbed to the roof of the projectile, "in order better to observe the moon," he pretended. in the meanwhile his companions watched the vault of space through the lower port-light. there was nothing fresh to signalise. when michel ardan came down again he approached the lateral port-light, and suddenly uttered an exclamation of surprise. "what is the matter now?" asked barbicane. the president approached the glass and saw a sort of flattened sack floating outside at some yards' distance from the projectile. this object seemed motionless like the bullet, and was consequently animated with the same ascensional movement. "whatever can that machine be?" said michel ardan. "is it one of the corpuscles of space which our projectile holds in its radius of attraction, and which will accompany it as far as the moon?" "what i am astonished at," answered nicholl, "is that the specific weight of this body, which is certainly superior to that of the bullet, allows it to maintain itself so rigorously on its level." "nicholl," said barbicane, after a moment's reflection, "i do not know what that object is, but i know perfectly why it keeps on a level with the projectile." "why, pray?" "because we are floating in the void where bodies fall or move--which is the same thing--with equal speed whatever their weight or form may be. it is the air which, by its resistance, creates differences in weight. when you pneumatically create void in a tube, the objects you throw down it, either lead or feathers, fall with the same rapidity. here in space you have the same cause and the same effect." "true," said nicholl, "and all we throw out of the projectile will accompany us to the moon." "ah! what fools we are!" cried michel. "why this qualification?" asked barbicane. "because we ought to have filled the projectile with useful objects, books, instruments, tools, &c. we could have thrown them all out, and they would all have followed in our wake! but, now i think of it, why can't we take a walk outside this? why can't we go into space through the port-light? what delight it would be to be thus suspended in ether, more favoured even than birds that are forced to flap their wings to sustain them!" "agreed," said barbicane, "but how are we to breathe?" "confounded air to fail so inopportunely!" "but if it did not fail, michel, your density being inferior to that of the projectile, you would soon remain behind." "then it is a vicious circle." "all that is most vicious." "and we must remain imprisoned in our vehicle." "yes, we must." "ah!" cried michel in a formidable voice. "what is the matter with you?" asked nicholl. "i know, i guess what this pretended asteroid is! it is not a broken piece of planet!" "what is it, then?" asked nicholl. "it is our unfortunate dog! it is diana's husband!" in fact, this deformed object, reduced to nothing, and quite unrecognisable, was the body of satellite flattened like a bagpipe without wind, and mounting, for ever mounting! chapter vii. a moment of intoxication. thus a curious but logical, strange yet logical phenomenon took place under these singular conditions. every object thrown out of the projectile would follow the same trajectory and only stop when it did. that furnished a text for conversation which the whole evening could not exhaust. the emotion of the three travellers increased as they approached the end of their journey. they expected unforeseen incidents, fresh phenomena, and nothing would have astonished them under present circumstances. their excited imagination outdistanced the projectile, the speed of which diminished notably without their feeling it. but the moon grew larger before their eyes, and they thought they had only to stretch out their hands to touch it. the next day, the 5th of december, they were all wide awake at 5 a.m. that day was to be the last of their journey if the calculations were exact. that same evening, at midnight, within eighteen hours, at the precise moment of full moon, they would reach her brilliant disc. the next midnight would bring them to the goal of their journey, the most extraordinary one of ancient or modern times. at early dawn, through the windows made silvery with her rays, they saluted the queen of night with a confident and joyful hurrah. the moon was sailing majestically across the starry firmament. a few more degrees and she would reach that precise point in space where the projectile was to meet her. according to his own observations, barbicane thought that he should accost her in her northern hemisphere, where vast plains extend and mountains are rare--a favourable circumstance if the lunar atmosphere was, according to received opinion, stored up in deep places only. "besides," observed michel ardan, "a plain is more suitable for landing upon than a mountain. a selenite landed in europe on the summit of mont blanc, or in asia on a peak of the himalayas, would not be precisely at his destination!" "what is more," added nicholl, "on a plain the projectile will remain motionless after it has touched the ground, whilst it would roll down a hill like an avalanche, and as we are not squirrels we should not come out safe and sound. therefore all is for the best." in fact, the success of the audacious enterprise no longer appeared doubtful. still one reflection occupied barbicane; but not wishing to make his two companions uneasy, he kept silence upon it. the direction of the projectile towards the northern hemisphere proved that its trajectory had been slightly modified. the aim, mathematically calculated, ought to have sent the bullet into the very centre of the lunar disc. if it did not arrive there it would be because it had deviated. what had caused it? barbicane could not imagine nor determine the importance of this deviation, for there was no datum to go upon. he hoped, however, that the only result would be to take them towards the upper edge of the moon, a more suitable region for landing. barbicane, therefore, without saying anything to his friends, contented himself with frequently observing the moon, trying to see if the direction of the projectile would not change. for the situation would have been so terrible had the bullet, missing its aim, been dragged beyond the lunar disc and fallen into interplanetary space. at that moment the moon, instead of appearing flat like a disc, already showed her convexity. if the sun's rays had reached her obliquely the shadow then thrown would have made the high mountains stand out. they could have seen the gaping craters and the capricious furrows that cut up the immense plains. but all relief was levelled in the intense brilliancy. those large spots that give the appearance of a human face to the moon were scarcely distinguishable. "it may be a face," said michel ardan, "but i am sorry for the amiable sister of apollo, her face is so freckled!" in the meantime the travellers so near their goal ceaselessly watched this new world. their imagination made them take walks over these unknown countries. they climbed the elevated peaks. they descended to the bottom of the large amphitheatres. here and there they thought they saw vast seas scarcely kept together under an atmosphere so rarefied, and streams of water that poured them their tribute from the mountains. leaning over the abyss they hoped to catch the noise of this orb for ever mute in the solitudes of the void. this last day left them the liveliest remembrances. they noted down the least details. a vague uneasiness took possession of them as they approached their goal. this uneasiness would have been doubled if they had felt how slight their speed was. it appeared quite insufficient to take them to the end of their journey. this was because the projectile scarcely "weighed" anything. its weight constantly decreased, and would be entirely annihilated on that line where the lunar and terrestrial attractions neutralise each other, causing surprising effects. nevertheless, in spite of his preoccupations, michel ardan did not forget to prepare the morning meal with his habitual punctuality. they ate heartily. nothing was more excellent than their broth liquefied by the heat of the gas. nothing better than these preserved meats. a few glasses of good french wine crowned the repast, and caused michel ardan to remark that the lunar vines, warmed by this ardent sun, ought to distil the most generous wines--that is, if they existed. any way, the far-seeing frenchman had taken care not to forget in his collection some precious cuttings of the médoc and côte d'or, upon which he counted particularly. the reiset and regnault apparatus always worked with extreme precision. the air was kept in a state of perfect purity. not a particle of carbonic acid resisted the potash, and as to the oxygen, that, as captain nicholl said, was of "first quality." the small amount of humidity in the projectile mixed with this air and tempered its dryness, and many paris, london, or new york apartments and many theatres do not certainly fulfil hygienic conditions so well. but in order to work regularly this apparatus had to be kept going regularly. each morning michel inspected the escape regulators, tried the taps, and fixed by the pyrometer the heat of the gas. all had gone well so far, and the travellers, imitating the worthy j.t. maston, began to get so stout that they would not be recognisable if their imprisonment lasted several months. they behaved like chickens in a cage--they fattened. looking through the port lights barbicane saw the spectre of the dog, and the different objects thrown out of the projectile, which obstinately accompanied it. diana howled lamentably when she perceived the remains of satellite. all the things seemed as motionless as if they had rested upon solid ground. "do you know, my friends," said michel ardan, "that if one of us had succumbed to the recoil shock at departure we should have been much embarrassed as to how to get rid of him? you see the accusing corpse would have followed us in space like remorse!" "that would have been sad," said nicholl. "ah!" continued michel, "what i regret is our not being able to take a walk outside. what delight it would be to float in this radiant ether, to bathe in these pure rays of the sun! if barbicane had only thought of furnishing us with diving-dresses and air-pumps i should have ventured outside, and have assumed the attitude of a flying-horse on the summit of the projectile." "ah, old fellow!" answered barbicane, "you would not have stayed there long in spite of your diving-dress; you would have burst like an obus by the expansion of air inside you, or rather like a balloon that goes up too high. so regret nothing, and do not forget this: while we are moving in the void you must do without any sentimental promenade out of the projectile." michel ardan allowed himself to be convinced in a certain measure. he agreed that the thing was difficult, but not "impossible;" that was a word he never uttered. the conversation passed from this subject to another, and never languished an instant. it seemed to the three friends that under these conditions ideas came into their heads like leaves in the first warm days of spring. amidst the questions and answers that crossed each other during this morning, nicholl asked one that did not get an immediate solution. "i say," said he, "it is all very well to go to the moon, but how shall we get back again?" "what do you mean by that, nicholl?" asked barbicane gravely. "it seems to me very inopportune to ask about getting away from a country before you get to it," added michel. "i don't ask that question because i want to draw back, but i repeat my question, and ask, 'how shall we get back?'" "i have not the least idea," answered barbicane. "and as for me," said michel, "if i had known how to come back i should not have gone." "that is what you call answering," cried nicholl. "i approve of michel's words, and add that the question has no actual interest. we will think about that later on, when we want to return. though the columbiad will not be there, the projectile will." "much good that will be, a bullet without a gun!" "a gun can be made, and so can powder! neither metal, saltpetre, nor coal can be wanting in the bowels of the moon. besides, in order to return you have only the lunar attraction to conquer, and you will only have 8,000 leagues to go so as to fall on the terrestrial globe by the simple laws of weight." "that is enough," said michel, getting animated. "let us hear no more about returning. as to communicating with our ancient colleagues upon earth, that will not be difficult." "how are we to do that, pray?" "by means of meteors hurled by the lunar volcanoes." "a good idea, michel," answered barbicane. "laplace has calculated that a force five times superior to that of our cannons would suffice to send a meteor from the moon to the earth. now there is no volcano that has not a superior force of propulsion." "hurrah!" cried michel. "meteors will be convenient postmen and will not cost anything! and how we shall laugh at the postal service! but now i think--" "what do you think?" "a superb idea! why did we not fasten a telegraph wire to our bullet? we could have exchanged telegrams with the earth!" "and the weight of a wire 86,000 leagues long," answered nicholl, "does that go for nothing?" "yes, for nothing! we should have trebled the charge of the columbiad! we could have made it four times--five times--greater!" cried michel, whose voice became more and more violent. "there is a slight objection to make to your project," answered barbicane. "it is that during the movement of rotation of the globe our wire would have been rolled round it like a chain round a windlass, and it would inevitably have dragged us down to the earth again." "by the thirty-nine stars of the union!" said michel, "i have nothing but impracticable ideas to-day--ideas worthy of j.t. maston! but now i think of it, if we do not return to earth j.t. maston will certainly come to us!" "yes! he will come," replied barbicane; "he is a worthy and courageous comrade. besides, what could be easier? is not the columbiad still lying in floridian soil? is cotton and nitric acid wanting wherewith to manufacture the projectile? will not the moon again pass the zenith of florida? in another eighteen years will she not occupy exactly the same place that she occupies to-day?" "yes," repeated michel--"yes, maston will come, and with him our friends elphinstone, blomsberry, and all the members of the gun club, and they will be welcome! later on trains of projectiles will be established between the earth and the moon! hurrah for j.t. maston!" it is probable that if the honourable j.t. maston did not hear the hurrahs uttered in his honour his ears tingled at least. what was he doing then? he was no doubt stationed in the rocky mountains at long's peak, trying to discover the invisible bullet gravitating in space. if he was thinking of his dear companions it must be acknowledged that they were not behindhand with him, and that, under the influence of singular exaltation, they consecrated their best thoughts to him. but whence came the animation that grew visibly greater in the inhabitants of the projectile? their sobriety could not be questioned. must this strange erethismus of the brain be attributed to the exceptional circumstances of the time, to that proximity of the queen of night from which a few hours only separated them, or to some secret influence of the moon acting on their nervous system? their faces became as red as if exposed to the reverberation of a furnace; their respiration became more active, and their lungs played like forge-bellows; their eyes shone with extraordinary flame, and their voices became formidably loud, their words escaped like a champagne-cork driven forth by carbonic acid gas; their gestures became disquieting, they wanted so much room to perform them in. and, strange to say, they in no wise perceived this excessive tension of the mind. "now," said nicholl in a sharp tone--"now that i do not know whether we shall come back from the moon, i will know what we are going there for!" "what we are going there for!" answered barbicane, stamping as if he were in a fencing-room; "i don't know." "you don't know!" cried michel with a shout that provoked a sonorous echo in the projectile. "no, i have not the least idea!" answered barbicane, shouting in unison with his interlocutor. "well, then, i know," answered michel. "speak, then," said nicholl, who could no longer restrain the angry tones of his voice. "i shall speak if it suits me!" cried michel, violently seizing his companion's arm. "it must suit you!" said barbicane, with eyes on fire and threatening hands. "it was you who drew us into this terrible journey, and we wish to know why!" "yes," said the captain, "now i don't know where i am going, i will know why i am going." "why?" cried michel, jumping a yard high--"why? to take possession of the moon in the name of the united states! to add a fortieth state to the union! to colonise the lunar regions, to cultivate them, people them, to take them all the wonders of art, science, and industry! to civilise the selenites, unless they are more civilised than we are, and to make them into a republic if they have not already done it for themselves!" "if there are any selenites!" answered nicholl, who under the empire of this inexplicable intoxication became very contradictory. "who says there are no selenites?" cried michel in a threatening tone. "i do!" shouted nicholl. "captain," said michel, "do not repeat that insult or i will knock your teeth down your throat!" the two adversaries were about to rush upon one another, and this incoherent discussion was threatening to degenerate into a battle, when barbicane interfered. "stop, unhappy men," said he, putting his two companions back to back, "if there are no selenites, we will do without them!" "yes!" exclaimed michel, who did not care more about them than that. "we have nothing to do with the selenites! bother the selenites!" "the empire of the moon shall be ours," said nicholl. "let us found a republic of three!" "i shall be the congress," cried michel. "and i the senate," answered nicholl. "and barbicane the president," shouted michel. "no president elected by the nation!" answered barbicane. "well, then, a president elected by the congress," exclaimed michel; "and as i am the congress i elect you unanimously." "hurrah! hurrah! hurrah for president barbicane!" exclaimed nicholl. "hip--hip--hip! hurrah!" vociferated michel ardan. then the president and senate struck up "yankee doodle" as loudly as they could, whilst the congress shouted the virile "marseillaise." then began a frantic dance with maniacal gestures, mad stamping, and somersaults of boneless clowns. diana took part in the dance, howling too, and jumped to the very roof of the projectile. an inexplicable flapping of wings and cock-crows of singular sonority were heard. five or six fowls flew about striking the walls like mad bats. then the three travelling companions, whose lungs were disorganised under some incomprehensible influence, more than intoxicated, burnt by the air that had set their breathing apparatus on fire, fell motionless upon the bottom of the projectile. chapter viii. at seventy-eight thousand one hundred and fourteen leagues. what had happened? what was the cause of that singular intoxication, the consequences of which might prove so disastrous? simply carelessness on michel's part, which nicholl was able to remedy in time. after a veritable swoon, which lasted a few minutes, the captain, who was the first to regain consciousness, soon collected his intellectual faculties. although he had breakfasted two hours before, he began to feel as hungry as if he had not tasted food for several days. his whole being, his brain and stomach, were excited to the highest point. he rose, therefore, and demanded a supplementary collation from michel, who was still unconscious, and did not answer. nicholl, therefore, proceeded to prepare some cups of tea, in order to facilitate the absorption of a dozen sandwiches. he busied himself first with lighting a fire, and so struck a match. what was his surprise to see the sulphur burn with extraordinary and almost unbearable brilliancy! from the jet of gas he lighted rose a flame equal to floods of electric light. a revelation took place in nicholl's mind. this intensity of light, the physiological disturbance in himself, the extra excitement of all his moral and sensitive faculties--he understood it all. "the oxygen!" he exclaimed. and leaning over the air-apparatus, he saw that the tap was giving out a flood of colourless, savourless, and odourless gas, eminently vital, but which in a pure state produces the gravest disorders in the constitution. through carelessness michel had left the tap full on. nicholl made haste to turn off this flow of oxygen with which the atmosphere was saturated, and which would have caused the death of the travellers, not by suffocation, but by combustion. an hour afterwards the air was relieved, and gave their normal play to the lungs. by degrees the three friends recovered from their intoxication; but they were obliged to recover from their oxygen like a drunkard from his wine. when michel knew his share of responsibility in this incident he did not appear in the least disconcerted. this unexpected intoxication broke the monotony of the journey. many foolish things had been said under its influence, but they had been forgotten as soon as said. "then," added the merry frenchman, "i am not sorry for having experienced the effect of this captious gas. do you know, my friends, that there might be a curious establishment set up with oxygen-rooms, where people whose constitutions are weak might live a more active life during a few hours at least? suppose we had meetings where the air could be saturated with this heroic fluid, theatres where the managers would send it out in strong doses, what passion there would be in the souls of actors and spectators, what fire and what enthusiasm! and if, instead of a simple assembly, a whole nation could be saturated with it, what activity, what a supplement of life it would receive! of an exhausted nation it perhaps would make a great and strong nation, and i know more than one state in old europe that ought to put itself under the oxygen _régime_ in the interest of its health." michel spoke with as much animation as if the tap were still full on. but with one sentence barbicane damped his enthusiasm. "all that is very well, friend michel," he said, "but now perhaps you will tell us where those fowls that joined in our concert came from." "those fowls?" "yes." in fact, half-a-dozen hens and a superb cock were flying hither and thither. "ah, the stupids!" cried michel. "it was the oxygen that put them in revolt." "but what are you going to do with those fowls?" asked barbicane. "acclimatise them in the moon of course! for the sake of a joke, my worthy president; simply a joke that has unhappily come to nothing! i wanted to let them out on the lunar continent without telling you! how astounded you would have been to see these terrestrial poultry pecking the fields of the moon!" "ah, _gamin_, you eternal boy!" answered barbicane, "you don't want oxygen to make you out of your senses! you are always what we were under the influence of this gas! you are always insane!" "ah! how do we know we were not wiser then?" replied michel ardan. after this philosophical reflection the three friends repaired the disorder in the projectile. cock and hens were put back in their cage. but as they were doing this barbicane and his two companions distinctly perceived a fresh phenomenon. since the moment they had left the earth their own weight, that of the bullet and the objects it contained, had suffered progressive diminution. though they could not have any experience of this in the projectile, a moment must come when the effect upon themselves and the tools and instruments they used would be felt. of course scales would not have indicated this loss of weight, for the weights used would have lost precisely as much as the object itself; but a spring weighing-machine, the tension of which is independent of attraction, would have given the exact valuation of this diminution. it is well known that attraction, or weight, is in proportion to the bulk, and in inverse proportion to the square of distances. hence this consequence. if the earth had been alone in space, if the other heavenly bodies were to be suddenly annihilated, the projectile, according to newton's law, would have weighed less according to its distance from the earth, but without ever losing its weight entirely, for the terrestrial attraction would always have made itself felt, no matter at what distance. but in the case with which we are dealing, a moment must come when the projectile would not be at all under the law of gravitation, after allowing for the other celestial bodies, whose effect could not be set down as zero. in fact, the trajectory of the projectile was between the earth and the moon. as it went farther away from the earth terrestrial attraction would be diminished in inverse proportion to the square of distances, but the lunar attraction would be augmented in the same proportion. a point must, therefore, be reached where these two attractions would neutralise each other, and the bullet would have no weight at all. if the volumes of the moon and earth were equal, this point would have been reached at an equal distance between the two bodies. but by taking their difference of bulk into account it was easy to calculate that this point would be situated at 47/52 of the journey, or at 78,114 leagues from the earth. at this point a body that had no principle of velocity or movement in itself would remain eternally motionless, being equally attracted by the two heavenly bodies, and nothing drawing it more towards one than the other. now if the force of impulsion had been exactly calculated the projectile ought to reach that point with no velocity, having lost all weight like the objects it contained. what would happen then? three hypotheses presented themselves. either the projectile would have kept some velocity, and passing the point of equal attraction, would fall on the moon by virtue of the excess of lunar attraction over terrestrial attraction. or velocity sufficient to reach the neutral point being wanting, it would fall back on the earth by virtue of the excess of terrestrial attraction over lunar attraction. or lastly, endowed with sufficient velocity to reach the neutral point, but insufficient to pass it, it would remain eternally suspended in the same place, like the pretended coffin of mahomet, between the zenith and nadir. such was the situation, and barbicane clearly explained the consequences to his travelling companions. they were interested to the highest degree. how were they to know when they had reached this neutral point, situated at 78,114 leagues from the earth, at the precise moment when neither they nor the objects contained in the projectile should be in any way subject to the laws of weight? until now the travellers, though they had remarked that this action diminished little by little, had not yet perceived its total absence. but that day, about 11 a.m., nicholl having let a tumbler escape from his hand, instead of falling, it remained suspended in the air. "ah!" cried michel ardan, "this is a little amusing chemistry!" and immediately different objects, weapons, bottles, &c, left to themselves, hung suspended as if by miracle. diana, too, lifted up by michel into space, reproduced, but without trickery, the marvellous suspensions effected by robert-houdin and maskelyne and cook. the three adventurous companions, surprised and stupefied in spite of their scientific reasoning, carried into the domain of the marvellous, felt weight go out of their bodies. when they stretched out their arms they felt no inclination to drop them. their heads vacillated on their shoulders. their feet no longer kept at the bottom of the projectile. they were like staggering drunkards. imagination has created men deprived of their reflection, others deprived of their shadows! but here reality, by the neutrality of active forces, made men in whom nothing had any weight, and who weighed nothing themselves. suddenly michel, making a slight spring, left the floor and remained suspended in the air like the good monk in murillo's _cuisine des anges_. his two friends joined him in an instant, and all three, in the centre of the projectile, figured a miraculous ascension. "is it believable? is it likely? is it possible?" cried michel. "no. and yet it exists! ah! if raphael could have seen us like this what an assumption he could have put upon canvas!" "the assumption cannot last," answered barbicane. "if the projectile passes the neutral point, the lunar attraction will draw us to the moon." "then our feet will rest upon the roof of the projectile,' answered michel. "no," said barbicane, "because the centre of gravity in the projectile is very low, and it will turn over gradually." "then all our things will be turned upside down for certain!" "do not alarm yourself, michel," answered nicholl. "there is nothing of the kind to be feared. not an object will move; the projectile will turn insensibly." "in fact," resumed barbicane, "when it has cleared the point of equal attraction, its bottom, relatively heavier, will drag it perpendicularly down to the moon. but in order that such a phenomenon should take place we must pass the neutral line." "passing the neutral line!" cried michel. "then let us do like the sailors who pass the equator--let us water our passage!" a slight side movement took michel to the padded wall. thence he took a bottle and glasses, placed them "in space" before his companions, and merrily touching glasses, they saluted the line with a triple hurrah. this influence of the attractions lasted scarcely an hour. the travellers saw themselves insensibly lowered towards the bottom, and barbicane thought he remarked that the conical end of the projectile deviated slightly from the normal direction towards the moon. by an inverse movement the bottom side approached it. lunar attraction was therefore gaining over terrestrial attraction. the fall towards the moon began, insensibly as yet; it could only be that of a millimetre (0.03937 inch), and a third in the first second. but the attractive force would gradually increase, the fall would be more accentuated, the projectile, dragged down by its bottom side, would present its cone to the earth, and would fall with increasing velocity until it reached the selenite surface. now nothing could prevent the success of the enterprise, and nicholl and michel ardan shared barbicane's joy. then they chatted about all the phenomena that had astounded them one after another, especially about the neutralisation of the laws of weight. michel ardan, always full of enthusiasm, wished to deduce consequences which were only pure imagination. "ah! my worthy friends," he cried, "what progress we should make could we but get rid upon earth of this weight, this chain that rivets us to her! it would be the prisoner restored to liberty! there would be no more weariness either in arms or legs. and if it is true that, in order to fly upon the surface of the earth, to sustain yourself in the air by a simple action of the muscles, it would take a force 150 times superior to that we possess, a simple act of will, a caprice, would transport us into space, and attraction would not exist." "in fact," said nicholl, laughing, "if they succeeded in suppressing gravitation, like pain is suppressed by anaesthesia, it would change the face of modern society!" "yes," cried michel, full of his subject, "let us destroy weight and have no more burdens! no more cranes, screw-jacks, windlasses, cranks, or other machines will be wanted." "well said," replied barbicane; "but if nothing had any weight nothing would keep in its place, not even the hat on your head, worthy michel; nor your house, the stones of which only adhere by their weight! not even ships, whose stability upon the water is only a consequence of weight. not even the ocean, whose waves would no longer be held in equilibrium by terrestrial attraction. lastly, not even the atmosphere, the molecules of which, being no longer held together, would disperse into space!" "that is a pity," replied michel. "there is nothing like positive people for recalling you brutally to reality!" "nevertheless, console yourself, michel," resumed barbicane, "for if no star could exist from which the laws of weight were banished, you are at least going to pay a visit where gravity is much less than upon earth." "the moon?" "yes, the moon, on the surface of which objects weigh six times less than upon the surface of the earth, a phenomenon very easy to demonstrate." "and shall we perceive it?" asked michel. "evidently, for 400 lbs. only weigh 60 lbs. on the surface of the moon." "will not our muscular strength be diminished?" "not at all. instead of jumping one yard you will be able to rise six." "then we shall be hercules in the moon," cried michel. "yes," replied nicholl, "and the more so because if the height of the selenites is in proportion to the bulk of their globe they will be hardly a foot high." "liliputians!" replied michel. "then i am going to play the _rôle_ of gulliver! we shall realise the fable of the giants! that is the advantage of leaving one's own planet to visit the solar world!" "but if you want to play gulliver," answered barbicane, "only visit the inferior planets, such as mercury, venus, or mars, whose bulk is rather less than that of the earth. but do not venture into the big planets, jupiter, saturn, uranus, neptune, for there the _rôles_ would be inverted, and you would become liliputian." "and in the sun?" "in the sun, though its density is four times less than that of the earth, its volume is thirteen hundred and twenty-four thousand times greater, and gravitation there is twenty-seven times greater than upon the surface of our globe. every proportion kept, the inhabitants ought on an average to be two hundred feet high." "the devil!" exclaimed michel. "i should only be a pigmy!" "gulliver amongst the giants," said nicholl. "just so," answered barbicane. "it would not have been a bad thing to carry some pieces of artillery to defend oneself with." "good," replied barbicane; "your bullets would have no effect on the sun, and they would fall to the ground in a few minutes." "that's saying a great deal!" "it is a fact," answered barbicane. "gravitation is so great on that enormous planet that an object weighing 70 lbs. on the earth would weigh 1,930 lbs. on the surface of the sun. your hat would weigh 20 lbs.! your cigar 1/2 lb.! lastly, if you fell on the solar continent your weight would be so great--about 5,000 lbs.--that you could not get up again." "the devil!" said michel, "i should have to carry about a portable crane! well, my friends, let us be content with the moon for to-day. there, at least, we shall cut a great figure! later on we shall see if we will go to the sun, where you can't drink without a crane to lift the glass to your mouth." chapter ix. the consequences of deviation. barbicane had now no fear, if not about the issue of the journey, at least about the projectile's force of impulsion. its own speed would carry it beyond the neutral line. therefore it would not return to the earth nor remain motionless upon the point of attraction. one hypothesis only remained to be realised, the arrival of the bullet at its goal under the action of lunar attraction. in reality it was a fall of 8,296 leagues upon a planet, it is true, where the gravity is six times less than upon the earth. nevertheless it would be a terrible fall, and one against which all precautions ought to be taken without delay. these precautions were of two sorts; some were for the purpose of deadening the shock at the moment the projectile would touch lunar ground; others were to retard the shock, and so make it less violent. in order to deaden the shock, it was a pity that barbicane was no longer able to employ the means that had so usefully weakened the shock at departure--that is to say, the water used as a spring and the movable partitions. the partitions still existed, but water was wanting, for they could not use the reserve for this purpose--that would be precious in case the liquid element should fail on the lunar soil. besides, this reserve would not have been sufficient for a spring. the layer of water stored in the projectile at their departure, and on which lay the waterproof disc, occupied no less than three feet in depth, and spread over a surface of not less than fifty-four feet square. now the receptacles did not contain the fifth part of that. they were therefore obliged to give up this effectual means of deadening the shock. fortunately barbicane, not content with employing water, had furnished the movable disc with strong spring buffers, destined to lessen the shock against the bottom, after breaking the horizontal partitions. these buffers were still in existence; they had only to be fitted on and the movable disc put in its place. all these pieces, easy to handle, as they weighed scarcely anything, could be rapidly mounted. this was done. the different pieces were adjusted without difficulty. it was only a matter of bolts and screws. there were plenty of tools. the disc was soon fixed on its steel buffers like a table on its legs. one inconvenience resulted from this arrangement. the lower port-hole was covered, and it would be impossible for the travellers to observe the moon through that opening whilst they were being precipitated perpendicularly upon her. but they were obliged to give it up. besides, through the lateral openings they could still perceive the vast lunar regions, like the earth is seen from the car of a balloon. this placing of the disc took an hour's work. it was more than noon when the preparations were completed. barbicane made fresh observations on the inclination of the projectile, but to his great vexation it had not turned sufficiently for a fall; it appeared to be describing a curve parallel with the lunar disc. the queen of night was shining splendidly in space, whilst opposite the orb of day was setting her on fire with his rays. this situation soon became an anxious one. "shall we get there?" said nicholl. "we must act as though we should," answered barbicane. "you are faint-hearted fellows," replied michel ardan. "we shall get there, and quicker than we want." this answer recalled barbicane to his preparations, and he occupied himself with placing the contrivances destined to retard the fall. it will be remembered that, at the meeting held in tampa town, florida, captain nicholl appeared as barbicane's enemy, and michel ardan's adversary. when captain nicholl said that the projectile would be broken like glass, michel answered that he would retard the fall by means of fusees properly arranged. in fact, powerful fusees, resting upon the bottom, and being fired outside, might, by producing a recoil action, lessen the speed of the bullet. these fusees were to burn in the void it is true, but oxygen would not fail them, for they would furnish that themselves like the lunar volcanoes, the deflagration of which has never been prevented by the want of atmosphere around the moon. barbicane had therefore provided himself with fireworks shut up in little cannons of bored steel, which could be screwed on to the bottom of the projectile. inside these cannons were level with the bottom; outside they went half a foot beyond it. there were twenty of them. an opening in the disc allowed them to light the match with which each was provided. all the effect took place outside. the exploding mixture had been already rammed into each gun. all they had to do, therefore, was to take up the metallic buffers fixed in the base, and to put these cannons in their place, where they fitted exactly. this fresh work was ended about 3 p.m., and all precaution taken they had now nothing to do but to wait. in the meantime the projectile visibly drew nearer the moon. it was, therefore, submitted in some proportion to its influence; but its own velocity also inclined it in an oblique line. perhaps the result of these two influences would be a line that would become a tangent. but it was certain that the projectile was not falling normally upon the surface of the moon, for its base, by reason of its weight, ought to have been turned towards her. barbicane's anxiety was increased on seeing that his bullet resisted the influence of gravitation. it was the unknown that was before him--the unknown of the interstellar regions. he, the _savant_, believed that he had foreseen the only three hypotheses that were possible--the return to the earth, the fall upon the moon, or stagnation upon the neutral line! and here a fourth hypothesis, full of all the terrors of the infinite, cropped up inopportunely. to face it without flinching took a resolute _savant_ like barbicane, a phlegmatic being like nicholl, or an audacious adventurer like michel ardan. conversation was started on this subject. other men would have considered the question from a practical point of view. they would have wondered where the projectile would take them to. not they, however. they sought the cause that had produced this effect. "so we are off the line," said michel. "but how is that?" "i am very much afraid," answered nicholl, "that notwithstanding all the precautions that were taken, the columbiad was not aimed correctly. the slightest error would suffice to throw us outside the pale of lunar attraction." "then the cannon was pointed badly?" said michel. "i do not think so," answered barbicane. "the cannon was rigorously perpendicular, and its direction towards the zenith of the place was incontestable. the moon passing the zenith, we ought to have reached her at the full. there is another reason, but it escapes me." "perhaps we have arrived too late," suggested nicholl. "too late?" said barbicane. "yes," resumed nicholl. "the notice from the cambridge observatory said that the transit ought to be accomplished in ninety-seven hours thirteen minutes and twenty seconds. that means that before that time the moon would not have reached the point indicated, and after she would have passed it." "agreed," answered barbicane. "but we started on the 1st of december at 11h. 13m. 25s. p.m., and we ought to arrive at midnight on the 5th, precisely as the moon is full. now this is the 5th of december. it is half-past three, and eight hours and a half ought to be sufficient to take us to our goal. why are we not going towards it?" "perhaps the velocity was greater than it ought to have been," answered nicholl, "for we know now that the initial velocity was greater than it was supposed to be." "no! a hundred times no!" replied barbicane. "an excess of velocity, supposing the direction of the projectile to have been correct, would not have prevented us reaching the moon. no! there has been a deviation. we have deviated!" "through whom? through what?" asked nicholl. "i cannot tell," answered barbicane. "well, barbicane," then said michel, "should you like to know what i think about why we have deviated?" "say what you think." "i would not give half a dollar to know! we have deviated, that is a fact. it does not matter much where we are going. we shall soon find out. as we are being carried along into space we shall end by falling into some centre of attraction or another." barbicane could not be contented with this indifference of michel ardan's. not that he was anxious about the future. but what he wanted to know, at any price, was why his projectile had deviated. in the meantime the projectile kept on its course sideways to the moon, and the objects thrown out along with it. barbicane could even prove by the landmarks upon the moon, which was only at 2,000 leagues' distance, that its speed was becoming uniform--a fresh proof that they were not falling. its force of impulsion was prevailing over the lunar attraction, but the trajectory of the projectile was certainly taking them nearer the lunar disc, and it might be hoped that at a nearer point the weight would predominate and provoke a fall. the three friends, having nothing better to do, went on with their observations. they could not, however, yet determine the topography of the satellite. every relief was levelled under the action of the solar rays. they watched thus through the lateral windows until 8 p.m. the moon then looked so large that she hid half the firmament from them. the sun on one side, and the queen of night on the other, inundated the projectile with light. at that moment barbicane thought he could estimate at 700 leagues only the distance that separated them from their goal. the velocity of the projectile appeared to him to be 200 yards a second, or about 170 leagues an hour. the base of the bullet had a tendency to turn towards the moon under the influence of the centripetal force; but the centrifugal force still predominated, and it became probable that the rectilinear trajectory would change to some curve the nature of which could not be determined. barbicane still sought the solution of his insoluble problem. the hours went by without result. the projectile visibly drew nearer to the moon, but it was plain that it would not reach her. the short distance at which it would pass her would be the result of two forces, attractive and repulsive, which acted upon the projectile. "i only pray for one thing," repeated michel, "and that is to pass near enough to the moon to penetrate her secrets." "confound the cause that made our projectile deviate!" cried nicholl. "then," said barbicane, as if he had been suddenly struck with an idea, "confound that asteroid that crossed our path!" "eh?" said michel ardan. "what do you mean?" exclaimed nicholl. "i mean," resumed barbicane, who appeared convinced, "i mean that our deviation is solely due to the influence of that wandering body." "but it did not even graze us," continued michel. "what does that matter? its bulk, compared with that of our projectile, was enormous, and its attraction was sufficient to have an influence upon our direction." "that influence must have been very slight," said nicholl. "yes, nicholl, but slight as it was," answered barbicane, "upon a distance of 84,000 leagues it was enough to make us miss the moon!" chapter x. the observers of the moon. barbicane had evidently found the only plausible reason for the deviation. however slight it had been, it had been sufficient to modify the trajectory of the projectile. it was a fatality. the audacious attempt had miscarried by a fortuitous circumstance, and unless anything unexpected happened, the lunar disc could no longer be reached. would they pass it near enough to resolve certain problems in physics and geology until then unsolved? this was the only question that occupied the minds of these bold travellers. as to the fate the future held in store for them, they would not even think about it. yet what was to become of them amidst these infinite solitudes when air failed them? a few more days and they would fall suffocated in this bullet wandering at hazard. but a few days were centuries to these intrepid men, and they consecrated every moment to observing the moon they no longer hoped to reach. the distance which then separated the projectile from the satellite was estimated at about 200 leagues. under these conditions, as far as regards the visibility of the details of the disc, the travellers were farther from the moon than are the inhabitants of the earth with their powerful telescopes. it is, in fact, known that the instrument set up by lord rosse at parsonstown, which magnifies 6,500 times, brings the moon to within sixteen leagues; and the powerful telescope set up at long's peak magnifies 48,000 times, and brings the moon to within less than two leagues, so that objects twelve yards in diameter were sufficiently distinct. thus, then, at that distance the topographical details of the moon, seen without a telescope, were not distinctly determined. the eye caught the outline of those vast depressions inappropriately called "seas," but they could not determine their nature. the prominence of the mountains disappeared under the splendid irradiation produced by the reflection of the solar rays. the eye, dazzled as if leaning over a furnace of molten silver, turned from it involuntarily. however, the oblong form of the orb was already clearly seen. it appeared like a gigantic egg, with the small end turned towards the earth. the moon, liquid and pliable in the first days of her formation, was originally a perfect sphere. but soon, drawn within the pale of the earth's gravitation, she became elongated under its influence. by becoming a satellite she lost her native purity of form; her centre of gravity was in advance of the centre of her figure, and from this fact some _savants_ draw the conclusion that air and water might have taken refuge on the opposite side of the moon, which is never seen from the earth. this alteration in the primitive forms of the satellite was only visible for a few moments. the distance between the projectile and the moon diminished visibly; its velocity was considerably less than its initial velocity, but eight or nine times greater than that of our express trains. the oblique direction of the bullet, from its very obliquity, left michel ardan some hope of touching the lunar disc at some point or other. he could not believe that he should not get to it. no, he could not believe it, and this he often repeated. but barbicane, who was a better judge, always answered him with pitiless logic. "no, michel, no. we can only reach the moon by a fall, and we are not falling. the centripetal force keeps us under the moon's influence, but the centrifugal force sends us irresistibly away from it." this was said in a tone that deprived michel ardan of his last hopes. the portion of the moon the projectile was approaching was the northern hemisphere. the selenographic maps make it the lower one, because they are generally drawn up according to the image given by the telescopes, and we know that they reverse the objects. such was the _mappa selenographica_ of boeer and moedler which barbicane consulted. this northern hemisphere presented vast plains, relieved by isolated mountains. at midnight the moon was full. at that precise moment the travellers ought to have set foot upon her if the unlucky asteroid had not made them deviate from their direction. the orb was exactly in the condition rigorously determined by the cambridge observatory. she was mathematically at her perigee, and at the zenith of the twenty-eighth parallel. an observer placed at the bottom of the enormous columbiad while it is pointed perpendicularly at the horizon would have framed the moon in the mouth of the cannon. a straight line drawn through the axis of the piece would have passed through the centre of the moon. it need hardly be stated that during the night between the 5th and 6th of december the travellers did not take a minute's rest. could they have closed their eyes so near to a new world? no. all their feelings were concentrated in one thought--to see! representatives of the earth, of humanity past and present, all concentrated in themselves, it was through their eyes that the human race looked at these lunar regions and penetrated the secrets of its satellite! a strange emotion filled their hearts, and they went silently from one window to another. their observations were noted down by barbicane, and were made rigorously exact. to make them they had telescopes. to control them they had maps. the first observer of the moon was galileo. his poor telescope only magnified thirty times. nevertheless, in the spots that pitted the lunar disc "like eyes in a peacock's tail," he was the first to recognise mountains, and measure some heights to which he attributed, exaggerating, an elevation equal to the 20th of the diameter of the disc, or 8,000 metres. galileo drew up no map of his observations. a few years later an astronomer of dantzig, hevelius--by operations which were only exact twice a month, at the first and second quadrature--reduced galileo's heights to one-twenty-sixth only of the lunar diameter. this was an exaggeration the other way. but it is to this _savant_ that the first map of the moon is due. the light round spots there form circular mountains, and the dark spots indicate vast seas which, in reality, are plains. to these mountains and extents of sea he gave terrestrial denominations. there is a sinai in the middle of an arabia, etna in the centre of sicily, the alps, apennines, carpathians, the mediterranean, the black sea, the caspian, &c.--names badly applied, for neither mountains nor seas recalled the configuration of their namesakes on the globe. that large white spot, joined on the south to vaster continents and terminated in a point, could hardly be recognised as the inverted image of the indian peninsula, the bay of bengal, and cochin-china. so these names were not kept. another chartographer, knowing human nature better, proposed a fresh nomenclature, which human vanity made haste to adopt. this observer was father riccioli, a contemporary of hevelius. he drew up a rough map full of errors. but he gave to the lunar mountains the names of great men of antiquity and _savants_ of his own epoch. a third map of the moon was executed in the seventeenth century by dominique cassini; superior to that of riccioli in the execution, it is inexact in the measurements. several smaller copies were published, but the plate long kept in the _imprimerie nationale_ was sold by weight as old brass. la hire, a celebrated mathematician and designer, drew up a map of the moon four and a half yards high, which was never engraved. after him, a german astronomer, tobie marger, about the middle of the eighteenth century, began the publication of a magnificent selenographic map, according to lunar measures, which he rigorously verified; but his death, which took place in 1762, prevented the termination of this beautiful work. it was in 1830 that messrs. boeer and moedler composed their celebrated _mappa selenographica_, according to an orthographical projection. this map reproduces the exact lunar disc, such as it appears, only the configurations of the mountains and plains are only correct in the central part; everywhere else--in the northern or southern portions, eastern or western--the configurations foreshortened cannot be compared with those of the centre. this topographical map, one yard high and divided into four parts, is a masterpiece of lunar chartography. after these _savants_ may be cited the selenographic reliefs of the german astronomer julius schmidt, the topographical works of father secchi, the magnificent sheets of the english amateur, waren de la rue, and lastly a map on orthographical projection of messrs. lecouturier and chapuis, a fine model set up in 1860, of very correct design and clear outlines. such is the nomenclature of the different maps relating to the lunar world. barbicane possessed two, that of messrs. boeer and moedler and that of messrs. chapuis and lecouturier. they were to make his work of observer easier. they had excellent marine glasses specially constructed for this journey. they magnified objects a hundred times; they would therefore have reduced the distance between the earth and the moon to less than 1,000 leagues. but then at a distance which towards 3 a.m. did not exceed a hundred miles, and in a medium which no atmosphere obstructed, these instruments brought the lunar level to less than fifteen hundred metres. chapter xi. imagination and reality. "have you ever seen the moon?" a professor asked one of his pupils ironically. "no, sir," answered the pupil more ironically still, "but i have heard it spoken of." in one sense the jocose answer of the pupil might have been made by the immense majority of sublunary beings. how many people there are who have heard the moon spoken of and have never seen it--at least through a telescope! how many even have never examined the map of their satellite! looking at a comprehensive selenographic map, one peculiarity strikes us at once. in contrast to the geographical arrangements of the earth and mars, the continents occupy the more southern hemisphere of the lunar globe. these continents have not such clear and regular boundary-lines as those of south america, africa, and the indian peninsula. their angular, capricious, and deeply-indented coasts are rich in gulfs and peninsulas. they recall the confusion in the islands of the sound, where the earth is excessively cut up. if navigation has ever existed upon the surface of the moon it must have been exceedingly difficult and dangerous, and the selenite mariners and hydrographers were greatly to be pitied, the former when they came upon these perilous coasts, the latter when they were marine surveying on the stormy banks. it may also be noticed that upon the lunar spheroid the south pole is much more continental than the north pole. on the latter there is only a slight strip of land capping it, separated from the other continents by vast seas. (when the word "seas" is used the vast plains probably covered by the sea formerly must be understood.) on the south the land covers nearly the whole hemisphere. it is, therefore, possible that the selenites have already planted their flag on one of their poles, whilst franklin, ross, kane, dumont d'urville, and lambert have been unable to reach this unknown point on the terrestrial globe. islands are numerous on the surface of the moon. they are almost all oblong or circular, as though traced with a compass, and seem to form a vast archipelago, like that charming group lying between greece and asia minor which mythology formerly animated with its most graceful legends. involuntarily the names of naxos, tenedos, milo, and carpathos come into the mind, and you seek the ship of ulysses or the "clipper" of the argonauts. that was what it appeared to michel ardan; it was a grecian archipelago that he saw on the map. in the eyes of his less imaginative companions the aspect of these shores recalled rather the cut-up lands of new brunswick and nova scotia; and where the frenchman looked for traces of the heroes of fable, these americans were noting favourable points for the establishment of mercantile houses in the interest of lunar commerce and industry. some remarks on the orographical disposition of the moon must conclude the description of its continents, chains of mountains, isolated mountains, amphitheatres, and watercourses. the moon is like an immense switzerland--a continual norway, where plutonic influence has done everything. this surface, so profoundly rugged, is the result of the successive contractions of the crust while the orb was being formed. the lunar disc is propitious for the study of great geological phenomena. according to the remarks of some astronomers, its surface, although more ancient than the surface of the earth, has remained newer. there there is no water to deteriorate the primitive relief, the continuous action of which produces a sort of general levelling. no air, the decomposing influence of which modifies orographical profiles. there pluto's work, unaltered by neptune's, is in all its native purity. it is the earth as she was before tides and currents covered her with layers of soil. after having wandered over these vast continents the eye is attracted by still vaster seas. not only does their formation, situation, and aspect recall the terrestrial oceans, but, as upon earth, these seas occupy the largest part of the globe. and yet these are not liquid tracts, but plains, the nature of which the travellers hoped soon to determine. astronomers, it must be owned, have decorated these pretended seas with at least odd names which science has respected at present. michel ardan was right when he compared this map to a "map of tenderness," drawn up by scudery or cyrano de bergerac. "only," added he, "it is no longer the map of sentiment like that of the 18th century; it is the map of life, clearly divided into two parts, the one feminine, the other masculine. to the women, the right hemisphere; to the men, the left!" when he spoke thus michel made his prosaic companions shrug their shoulders. barbicane and nicholl looked at the lunar map from another point of view to that of their imaginative friend. however, their imaginative friend had some reason on his side. judge if he had not. in the left hemisphere stretches the "sea of clouds," where human reason is so often drowned. not far off appears the "sea of rains," fed by all the worries of existence. near lies the "sea of tempests," where man struggles incessantly against his too-often victorious passions. then, exhausted by deceptions, treasons, infidelities, and all the procession of terrestrial miseries, what does he find at the end of his career? the vast "sea of humours," scarcely softened by some drops from the waters of the "gulf of dew!" clouds, rain, tempests, humours, does the life of man contain aught but these? and is it not summed up in these four words? the right-hand hemisphere dedicated to "the women" contains smaller seas, the significant names of which agree with every incident of feminine existence. there is the "sea of serenity," over which bends the young maiden, and the "lake of dreams," which reflects her back a happy future. the "sea of nectar," with its waves of tenderness and breezes of love! the "sea of fecundity," the "sea of crises," and the "sea of vapours," the dimensions of which are, perhaps, too restricted, and lastly, that vast "sea of tranquillity" where all false passions, all useless dreams, all unassuaged desires are absorbed, and the waves of which flow peacefully into the "lake of death!" what a strange succession of names! what a singular division of these two hemispheres of the moon, united to one another like man and woman, and forming a sphere of life, carried through space. and was not the imaginative michel right in thus interpreting the fancies of the old astronomers? but whilst his imagination thus ran riot on the "seas," his grave companions were looking at things more geographically. they were learning this new world by heart. they were measuring its angles and diameters. to barbicane and nicholl the "sea of clouds" was an immense depression of ground, with circular mountains scattered about on it; covering a great part of the western side of the southern hemisphere, it covered 184,800 square leagues, and its centre was in south latitude 15°, and west longitude 20°. the ocean of tempests, _oceanus procellarum_, the largest plain on the lunar disc, covered a surface of 328,300 square leagues, its centre being in north latitude 10°, and east longitude 45°. from its bosom emerge the admirable shining mountains of kepler and aristarchus. more to the north, and separated from the sea of clouds by high chains of mountains, extends the sea of rains, _mare imbrium_, having its central point in north latitude 35° and east longitude 20°; it is of a nearly circular form, and covers a space of 193,000 leagues. not far distant the sea of humours, _mare humorum_, a little basin of 44,200 square leagues only, was situated in south latitude 25°, and east longitude 40°. lastly, three gulfs lie on the coast of this hemisphere--the torrid gulf, the gulf of dew, and the gulf of iris, little plains inclosed by high chains of mountains. the "feminine" hemisphere, naturally more capricious, was distinguished by smaller and more numerous seas. these were, towards the north, the _mare frigoris_, in north latitude 55° and longitude 0°, with 76,000 square leagues of surface, which joined the lake of death and lake of dreams; the sea of serenity, _mare serenitatis_, by north latitude 25° and west longitude 20°, comprising a surface of 80,000 square leagues; the sea of crises, _mare crisium_, round and very compact, in north latitude 17° and west longitude 55°, a surface of 40,000 square leagues, a veritable caspian buried in a girdle of mountains. then on the equator, in north latitude 5° and west longitude 25°, appeared the sea of tranquillity, _mare tranquillitatis_, occupying 121,509 square leagues of surface; this sea communicated on the south with the sea of nectar, _mare nectaris_, an extent of 28,800 square leagues, in south latitude 15° and west longitude 35°, and on the east with the sea of fecundity, _mare fecunditatis_, the vastest in this hemisphere, occupying 219,300 square leagues, in south latitude 3° and west longitude 50°. lastly, quite to the north and quite to the south lie two more seas, the sea of humboldt, _mare humboldtianum_, with a surface of 6,500 square leagues, and the southern sea, _mare australe_, with a surface of 26,000. in the centre of the lunar disc, across the equator and on the zero meridian, lies the centre gulf, _sinus medii_, a sort of hyphen between the two hemispheres. thus appeared to the eyes of nicholl and barbicane the surface always visible of the earth's satellite. when they added up these different figures they found that the surface of this hemisphere measured 4,738,160 square leagues, 3,317,600 of which go for volcanoes, chains of mountains, amphitheatres, islands--in a word, all that seems to form the solid portion of the globe--and 1,410,400 leagues for the seas, lake, marshes, and all that seems to form the liquid portion, all of which was perfectly indifferent to the worthy michel. it will be noticed that this hemisphere is thirteen and a-half times smaller than the terrestrial hemisphere. and yet upon it selenographers have already counted 50,000 craters. it is a rugged surface worthy of the unpoetical qualification of "green cheese" which the english have given it. when barbicane pronounced this disobliging name michel ardan gave a bound. "that is how the anglo-saxons of the 19th century treat the beautiful diana, the blonde phoebe, the amiable isis, the charming astarte, the queen of night, the daughter of latona and jupiter, the younger sister of the radiant apollo!" chapter xii. orographical details. it has already been pointed out that the direction followed by the projectile was taking us towards the northern hemisphere of the moon. the travellers were far from that central point which they ought to have touched if their trajectory had not suffered an irremediable deviation. it was half-past twelve at night. barbicane then estimated his distance at 1,400 kilometres, a distance rather greater than the length of the lunar radius, and which must diminish as he drew nearer the north pole. the projectile was then not at the altitude of the equator, but on the tenth parallel, and from that latitude carefully observed on the map as far as the pole, barbicane and his two companions were able to watch the moon under the most favourable circumstances. in fact, by using telescopes, this distance of 1,400 kilometres was reduced to fourteen miles, or four and a-half leagues. the telescope of the rocky mountains brought the moon still nearer, but the terrestrial atmosphere singularly lessened its optical power. thus barbicane, in his projectile, by looking through his glass, could already perceive certain details almost imperceptible to observers on the earth. "my friends," then said the president in a grave voice, "i do not know where we are going, nor whether we shall ever see the terrestrial globe again. nevertheless, let us do our work as if one day it would be of use to our fellow-creatures. let us keep our minds free from all preoccupation. we are astronomers. this bullet is the cambridge observatory transported into space. let us make our observations." that said, the work was begun with extreme precision, and it faithfully reproduced the different aspects of the moon at the variable distances which the projectile reached in relation to that orb. whilst the bullet was at the altitude of the 10th north parallel it seemed to follow the 20th degree of east longitude. here may be placed an important remark on the subject of the map which they used for their observations. in the selenographic maps, where, on account of the reversal of objects by the telescope, the south is at the top and the north at the bottom, it seems natural that the east should be on the left and the west on the right. however, it is not so. if the map were turned upside down, and showed the moon as she appears, the east would be left and the west right, the inverse of the terrestrial maps. the reason of this anomaly is the following:--observers situated in the northern hemisphere--in europe, for example--perceive the moon in the south from them. when they look at her they turn their backs to the north, the opposite position they take when looking at a terrestrial map. their backs being turned to the north, they have the east to the left and the west to the right. for observers in the southern hemisphere--in patagonia, for example--the west of the moon would be on their left and the east on their right, for the south would be behind them. such is the reason for the apparent reversal of these two cardinal points, and this must be remembered whilst following the observations of president barbicane. helped by the _mappa selenographica_ of boeer and moedler, the travellers could, without hesitating, survey that portion of the disc in the field of their telescopes. "what are we looking at now?" asked michel. "at the northern portion of the sea of clouds," answered barbicane. "we are too far off to make out its nature. are those plains composed of dry sand, as the first astronomers believed? or are they only immense forests, according to the opinion of mr. waren de la rue, who grants a very low but very dense atmosphere to the moon? we shall find that out later on. we will affirm nothing till we are quite certain." "this sea of clouds is rather doubtfully traced upon the maps. it is supposed that this vast plain is strewn with blocks of lava vomited by the neighbouring volcanoes on its right side, ptolemy, purbach, and arzachel. the projectile was drawing sensibly nearer, and the summits which close in this sea on the north were distinctly visible. in front rose a mountain shining gloriously, the top of which seemed drowned in the solar rays." "that mountain is--?" asked michel. "copernicus," answered barbicane. "let us have a look at copernicus," said michel. this mountain, situated in north latitude 9°, and east longitude 20°, rises to a height of nearly 11,000 feet above the surface of the moon. it is quite visible from the earth, and astronomers can study it with ease, especially during the phase between the last quarter and the new moon, because then shadows are thrown lengthways from east to west, and allow the altitudes to be taken. copernicus forms the most important radiating system in the southern hemisphere, according to tycho brahe. it rises isolated like a gigantic lighthouse over that of the sea of clouds bordering on the sea of tempests, and it lights two oceans at once with its splendid rays. those long luminous trails, so dazzling at full moon, made a spectacle without an equal; they pass the boundary chains on the north, and stretch as far as the sea of rains. at 1 a.m., terrestrial time, the projectile, like a balloon carried into space, hung over this superb mountain. barbicane could perfectly distinguish its chief features. copernicus is comprehended in the series of annular mountains of the first order in the division of the large amphitheatres. like the mountains of kepler and aristarchus, which overlook the ocean of tempests, it appears sometimes like a brilliant point through the pale light, and used to be taken for a volcano in activity. but it is only an extinct volcano, like those on that side of the moon. its circumference presented a diameter of about twenty-two leagues. the glasses showed traces of stratifications in it produced by successive eruptions, and its neighbourhood appeared strewn with volcanic remains, which were still seen in the crater. "there exist," said barbicane, "several sorts of amphitheatres an the surface of the moon, and it is easy to see that copernicus belongs to the radiating class. if we were nearer it we should perceive the cones which bristle in the interior, and which were formerly so many fiery mouths. a curious arrangement, and one without exception on the lunar disc, is presented on the interior surface of these amphitheatres, being notably downward from the exterior plane, a contrary form to that which terrestrial craters present. it follows, therefore, that the general curvature at the bottom of these amphitheatres gives us fear of an inferior diameter to that of the moon." "what is the reason of this special arrangement?" asked nicholl. "it is not known," answered barbicane. "how splendidly it shines!" said michel. "i think it would be difficult to see a more beautiful spectacle!" "what should you say, then," answered barbicane, "if the chances of our journey should take us towards the southern hemisphere?" "well, i should say it is finer still," replied michel ardan. at that moment the projectile hung right over the amphitheatre. the circumference of copernicus formed an almost perfect circle, and its steep ramparts were clearly defined. a second circular inclosure could even be distinguished. a grey plain of wild aspect spread around on which every relief appeared yellow. at the bottom of the amphitheatre, as if in a jewel-case, sparkled for one instant two or three eruptive cones like enormous dazzling gems. towards the north the sides of the crater were lowered into a depression which would probably have given access to the interior of the crater. as they passed above the surrounding plain barbicane was able to note a large number of mountains of slight importance, amongst others a little circular mountain called "gay-lussac," more than twenty-three kilometres wide. towards the south the plain was very flat, without one elevation or projection of the soil. towards the north, on the contrary, as far as the place where it borders on the ocean of tempests, it was like a liquid surface agitated by a storm, of which the hills and hollows formed a succession of waves suddenly coagulated. over the whole of this, and in all directions, ran the luminous trails which converged to the summit of copernicus. some had a width of thirty kilometres over a length that could not be estimated. the travellers discussed the origin of these strange rays, but they could not determine their nature any better than terrestrial observers. "why," said nicholl, "may not these rays be simply the spurs of the mountains reflecting the light of the sun more vividly?" "no," answered barbicane, "if it were so in certain conditions of the moon they would throw shadows, which they do not." in fact, these rays only appear when the sun is in opposition with the moon, and they disappear as soon as its rays become oblique. "but what explanation of these trails of light have been imagined?" asked michel, "for i cannot believe that _savants_ would ever stop short for want of explanation." "yes," answered barbicane, "herschel has uttered an opinion, but he does not affirm it." "never mind; what is his opinion?" "he thought that these rays must be streams of cold lava which shone when the sun struck them normally." "that may be true, but nothing is less certain. however, if we pass nearer to tycho we shall be in a better position to find out the cause of this radiation." "what do you think that plain is like, seen from the height we are at?" asked michel. "i don't know," answered nicholl. "well, with all these pieces of lava, sharpened like spindles, it looks like 'an immense game of spilikins,' thrown down pell-mell. we only want a hook to draw them up." "be serious for once in your life," said barbicane. "i will be serious," replied michel tranquilly, "and instead of spilikins let us say they are bones. this plain would then be only an immense cemetery upon which would repose the immortal remains of a thousand distinct generations. do you like that comparison better?" "one is as good as the other," answered barbicane. "the devil! you are difficult to please," replied michel. "my worthy friend," resumed the prosaic barbicane, "it does not matter what it looks like when we don't know what it is." "a good answer," exclaimed michel; "that will teach me to argue with _savants_." in the meantime the projectile went with almost uniform speed round the lunar disc. it may be easily imagined that the travellers did not dream of taking a minute's rest. a fresh landscape lay before their eyes every instant. about half-past one in the morning they caught a glimpse of the summit of another mountain. barbicane consulted his map, and recognised eratosthenes. it was a circular mountain 4,500 metres high, one of those amphitheatres so numerous upon the satellite. barbicane informed his friends of kepler's singular opinion upon the formation of these circles. according to the celebrated mathematician, these crateriform cavities had been dug out by the hand of man. "what for?" asked nicholl. "in order to preserve themselves from the ardour of the solar rays, which strike the moon during fifteen consecutive days." "the selenites were not fools!" said michel. "it was a singular idea!" answered nicholl. "but it is probable that kepler did not know the real dimensions of these circles, for digging them would have been giants' labour, impracticable for selenites." "why so, if the weight on the surface of the moon is six times less than upon the surface of the earth?" said michel. "but if the selenites are six times smaller?" replied nicholl. "and if there are no selenites?" added barbicane, which terminated the discussion. eratosthenes soon disappeared from the horizon without the projectile having been sufficiently near it to allow a rigorous observation. this mountain separated the apennines from the carpathians. in lunar orography, several chains of mountains have been distinguished which are principally distributed over the northern hemisphere. some, however, occupy certain portions of the southern hemisphere. the following is a list of these different chains, with their latitudes and the height of their highest summits:- deg. deg. metres. mounts doerfel 84 to 0 s. lat. 7,603 " leibnitz 65 " 0 " 7,600 " rook 20 " 30 " 1,600 " altai 17 " 28 " 4,047 " cordilleras 10 " 20 " 3,898 " pyrenees 8 " 18 " 3,631 " oural 5 " 13 " 838 " alembert 4 " 10 " 5,847 " hoemus 8 " 21 n. lat. 2,021 " carpathians 15 " 19 " 1,939 " apennines 14 " 27 " 5,501 " taurus 21 " 28 " 2,746 " riphees 25 " 33 " 4,171 " hercynians 17 " 29 " 1,170 " caucasia 32 " 41 " 5,567 " alps 42 " 49 " 3,617 the most important of these different chains is that of the apennines, the development of which extends 150 leagues, and is yet inferior to that of the great orographical movements of the earth. the apennines run along the eastern border of the sea of rains, and are continued on the north by the carpathians, the profile of which measures about 100 leagues. the travellers could only catch a glimpse of the summit of these apennines which lie between west long. 10° and east long. 16°; but the chain of the carpathians was visible from 18° to 30° east long., and they could see how they were distributed. one hypothesis seemed to them very justifiable. seeing that this chain of the carpathians was here and there circular in form and with high peaks, they concluded that it anciently formed important amphitheatres. these mountainous circles must have been broken up by the vast cataclysm to which the sea of rains was due. these carpathians looked then what the amphitheatres of purbach, arzachel, and ptolemy would if some cataclysm were to throw down their left ramparts and transform them into continuous chains. they present an average height of 3,200 metres, a height comparable to certain of the pyrenees. their southern slopes fall straight into the immense sea of rains. about 2 a.m. barbicane was at the altitude of the 20th lunar parallel, not far from that little mountain, 1,559 metres high, which bears the name of pythias. the distance from the projectile to the moon was only 1,200 kilometres, brought by means of telescopes to two and a half leagues. the "mare imbrium" lay before the eyes of the travellers like an immense depression of which the details were not very distinct. near them on the left rose mount lambert, the altitude of which is estimated at 1,813 metres, and farther on, upon the borders of the ocean of tempests, in north lat. 23° and east long. 29°, rose the shining mountain of euler. this mountain, which rises only 1,815 metres above the lunar surface, has been the object of an interesting work by the astronomer schroeter. this _savant_, trying to find out the origin of the lunar mountains, asked himself whether the volume of the crater always looked equal to the volume of the ramparts that formed it. now this he found to be generally the case, and he hence concluded that a single eruption of volcanic matter had sufficed to form these ramparts, for successive eruptions would have destroyed the connection. mount euler alone was an exception to this general law, and it must have taken several successive eruptions to form it, for the volume of its cavity is double that of its inclosure. all these hypotheses were allowable to terrestrial observers whose instruments were incomplete; but barbicane was no longer contented to accept them, and seeing that his projectile drew regularly nearer the lunar disc he did not despair of ultimately reaching it, or at least of finding out the secrets of its formation. chapter xiii. lunar landscapes. at half-past two in the morning the bullet was over the 30th lunar parallel at an effective distance of 1,000 kilometres, reduced by the optical instruments to ten. it still seemed impossible that it could reach any point on the disc. its movement of translation, relatively slow, was inexplicable to president barbicane. at that distance from the moon it ought to have been fast in order to maintain it against the power of attraction. the reason of that phenomenon was also inexplicable; besides, time was wanting to seek for the cause. the reliefs on the lunar surface flew beneath their eyes, and they did not want to lose a single detail. the disc appeared through the telescopes at a distance of two and a half leagues. if an aëronaut were taken up that distance from the earth, what would he distinguish upon its surface? no one can tell, as the highest ascensions have not exceeded 8,000 metres. the following, however, is an exact description of what barbicane and his companions saw from that height:-large patches of different colours appeared on the disc. selenographers do not agree about their nature. they are quite distinct from each other. julius schmidt is of opinion that if the terrestrial oceans were dried up, a selenite observer could only tell the difference between the terrestrial oceans and continental plains by patches of colour as distinctly varied as those which a terrestrial observer sees upon the moon. according to him, the colour common to the vast plains, known under the name of "seas," is dark grey, intermingled with green and brown. some of the large craters are coloured in the same way. barbicane knew this opinion of the german selenographer; it is shared by messrs. boeer and moedler. he noticed that they were right, whilst certain astronomers, who only allow grey colouring on the surface of the moon, are wrong. in certain places the green colour was very vivid; according to julius schmidt, it is so in the seas of serenity and humours. barbicane likewise remarked the wide craters with no interior cones, which are of a bluish colour, analogous to that of fresh-polished sheets of steel. these colours really belonged to the lunar disc, and did not result, as certain astronomers think, either from some imperfection in the object-glasses of the telescopes or the interposition of the terrestrial atmosphere. barbicane had no longer any doubt about it. he was looking at it through the void, and could not commit any optical error. he considered that the existence of this different colouring was proved to science. now were the green shades owing to tropical vegetation, kept up by a low and dense atmosphere? he could not yet be certain. farther on he noticed a reddish tinge, quite sufficiently distinct. a similar colour had already been observed upon the bottom of an isolated inclosure, known under the name of the lichtenberg amphitheatre, which is situated near the hercynian mountains, on the border of the moon. but he could not make out its nature. he was not more fortunate about another peculiarity of the disc, for he could not find out its cause. the peculiarity was the following one:-michel ardan was watching near the president when he remarked some long white lines brilliantly lighted up by the direct rays of the sun. it was a succession of luminous furrows, very different from the radiation that copernicus had presented. they ran in parallel lines. michel, with his usual readiness, exclaimed-"why, there are cultivated fields!" "cultivated fields!" repeated nicholl, shrugging his shoulders. "ploughed fields, at all events," replied michel ardan. "but what ploughmen these selenites must be, and what gigantic oxen they must harness to their ploughs, to make such furrows!" "they are not furrows, they are crevices!" "crevices let them be," answered michel with docility. "only what do you mean by crevices in the world of science?" barbicane soon told his companions all he knew about lunar crevices. he knew that they were furrows observed upon all the non-mountainous parts of the lunar disc; that these furrows, generally isolated, were from four to five leagues only; that their width varies from 1,000 to 1,500 metres, and their edges are rigorously parallel. but he knew nothing more about their formation or their nature. barbicane watched these furrows through his telescope very attentively. he noticed that their banks were exceedingly steep. they were long parallel ramparts; with a little imagination they might be taken for long lines of fortifications raised by selenite engineers. some of these furrows were as straight as if they had been cut by line, others were slightly curved through with edges still parallel. some crossed each other. some crossed craters. some furrowed the circular cavities, such as posidonius or petavius. some crossed the seas, notably the sea of serenity. these accidents of nature had naturally exercised the imagination of terrestrial astronomers. the earliest observations did not discover these furrows. neither hevelius, cassini, la hire, nor herschel seems to have known them. it was schroeter who in 1789 first attracted the attention of _savants_ to them. others followed who studied them, such as pastorff, gruithuysen, boeer, and moedler. at present there are seventy-six; but though they have been counted, their nature has not yet been determined. they are not fortifications certainly, anymore than they are beds of dried-up rivers, for water so light on the surface of the moon could not have dug such ditches, and there furrows often cross craters at a great elevation. it must, however, be acknowledged that michel ardan had an idea, and that, without knowing it, he shared it with julius schmidt. "why," said he, "may not these inexplicable appearances be simply phenomena of vegetation?" "in what way do you mean?" asked barbicane. "now do not be angry, worthy president," answered michel, "but may not these black lines be regular rows of trees?" "do you want to find some vegetation?" said barbicane. "i want to explain what you scientific men do not explain! my hypothesis will at least explain why these furrows disappear, or seem to disappear, at regular epochs." "why should they?" "because trees might become invisible when they lose their leaves, and visible when they grow again." "your explanation is ingenious, old fellow," answered barbicane, "but it cannot be admitted." "why?" "because it cannot be said to be any season on the surface of the moon, and, consequently, the phenomena of vegetation on the surface of the moon cannot be produced." in fact, the slight obliquity of the lunar axis keeps the sun there at an almost equal altitude under every latitude. above the equatorial regions the radiant orb almost invariably occupies the zenith, and hardly passes the limit of the horizon in the polar regions. therefore, in each region, according to its position, there reigns perpetual spring, summer, autumn, or winter, as in the planet jupiter, whose axis is also slightly inclined upon its orbit. the origin of these furrows is a difficult question to solve. they are certainly posterior to the formation of the craters and amphitheatres, for several have crossed them, and broken their circular ramparts. it may be that they are contemporary with the latest geographical epochs, and are only owing to the expansion of natural forces. in the meantime the projectile had reached the altitude of the 40th degree of lunar latitude at a distance that could not be greater than 800 kilometres. objects appeared through the telescopes at two leagues only. at this point rose under their feet the helicon, 505 metres high, and on the left were the mediocre heights, which inclose a small portion of the sea of rains under the name of the gulf of iris. the terrestrial atmosphere ought to be 170 times more transparent than it is in order to allow astronomers to make complete observations on the surface of the moon. but in the void the projectile was moving in no fluid lay between the eye of the observer and the object observed. what is more, barbicane was at a less distance than the most powerful telescopes, even that of lord rosse or the one on the rocky mountains, could give. it was, therefore, in circumstances highly favourable for solving the great question of the habitability of the moon. yet the solution of this question escaped him still. he could only distinguish the deserted beds of the immense plains, and, towards the north, arid mountains. no labour betrayed the hand of man. no ruin indicated his passage. no agglomeration of animals indicated that life was developed there, even in an inferior degree. there was no movement anywhere, no appearance of vegetation anywhere. of the three kingdoms represented on the terrestrial globe, one only was represented on that of the moon--viz., the mineral kingdom. "so," said michel ardan, looking rather put out, "there is nobody after all." "no," answered nicholl; "we have seen neither man, animal, nor tree as yet. after all, if the atmosphere has taken refuge at the bottom of cavities, in the interior of the amphitheatres, or even on the opposite face of the moon, we cannot decide the question." "besides," added barbicane, "even for the most piercing sight a man is not visible at a distance of more than four miles. therefore if there are any selenites they can see our projectile, but we cannot see them." about 11 a.m., at the altitude of the 50th parallel, the distance was reduced to 300 miles. on the left rose the capricious outlines of a chain of mountains, outlined in full light. towards the right, on the contrary, was a large black hole like a vast dark and bottomless well bored in the lunar soil. that hole was the black lake, or pluto, a deep circle from which the earth could be conveniently studied between the last quarter and the new moon, when the shadows are thrown from west to east. this black colour is rarely met with on the surface of the satellite. it has, as yet, only been seen in the depths of the circle of endymion, to the east of the cold sea, in the northern hemisphere, and at the bottom of the circle of grimaldi upon the equator towards the eastern border of the orb. pluto is a circular mountain, situated in north lat. 51° and east long. 9°. its circle is fifty miles long and thirty wide. barbicane regretted not passing perpendicularly over this vast opening. there was an abyss to see, perhaps some mysterious phenomenon to become acquainted with. but the course of the projectile could not be guided. there was nothing to do but submit. a balloon could not be guided, much less a projectile when you are inside. about 5 a.m. the northern limit of the sea of rains was at last passed. mounts la condamine and fontenelle remained, the one on the left, the other on the right. that part of the disc, starting from the 60th degree, became absolutely mountainous. the telescopes brought it to within one league, an inferior distance to that between the summit of mont blanc and the sea level. all this region was bristling with peaks and amphitheatres. mount philolaus rose about the 70th degree to a height of 3,700 metres, opening an elliptical crater sixteen leagues long and four wide. then the disc, seen from that distance, presented an exceedingly strange aspect. the landscapes were very different to earthly ones, and also very inferior. the moon having no atmosphere, this absence of vaporous covering had consequences already pointed out. there is no twilight on its surface, night following day and day following night, with the suddenness of a lamp extinguished or lighted in profound darkness. there is no transition from cold to heat: the temperature falls in one instant from boiling water heat to the cold of space. another consequence of this absence of air is the following:--absolute darkness reigns where the sun's rays do not penetrate. what is called diffused light upon the earth, the luminous matter that the air holds in suspension, which creates twilights and dawns, which produces shadows, penumbrae, and all the magic of the chiaro-oscuro, does not exist upon the moon. hence the harshness of contrasts that only admit two colours, black and white. if a selenite shades his eyes from the solar rays the sky appears absolutely dark, and the stars shine as in the darkest nights. the impression produced on barbicane and his two friends by this strange state of things may well be imagined. they did not know how to use their eyes. they could no longer seize the respective distances in perspective. a lunar landscape, which does not soften the phenomenon of the chiaro-oscuro, could not be painted by a landscape-painter of the earth. it would be nothing but blots of ink upon white paper. this aspect of things did not alter even when the projectile, then at the altitude of the 80th degree, was only separated from the moon by a distance of fifty miles, not even when, at 5 a.m., it passed at less than twenty-five miles from the mountain of gioja, a distance which the telescopes reduced to half-a-mile. it seemed as if they could have touched the moon. it appeared impossible that before long the projectile should not knock against it, if only at the north pole, where the brilliant mountains were clearly outlined against the dark background of the sky. michel ardan wanted to open one of the port-lights and jump upon the lunar surface. what was a fall of twelve leagues? he thought nothing of that. it would, however, have been a useless attempt, for if the projectile was not going to reach any point on the satellite, michel would have been hurled along by its movement, and not have reached it either. at that moment, 6 a.m., the lunar pole appeared. only half the disc, brilliantly lighted, appeared to the travellers, whilst the other half disappeared in the darkness. the projectile suddenly passed the line of demarcation between intense light and absolute darkness, and was suddenly plunged into the profoundest night. chapter xiv. a night of three hundred and fifty-four hours and a half. at the moment this phenomenon took place the projectile was grazing the moon's north pole, at less that twenty-five miles' distance. a few seconds had, therefore, sufficed to plunge it into the absolute darkness of space. the transition had taken place so rapidly, without gradations of light or attenuation of the luminous undulations, that the orb seemed to have been blown out by a powerful gust. "the moon has melted, disappeared!" cried michel ardan, wonder-stricken. in fact, no ray of light or shade had appeared on the disc, formerly so brilliant. the obscurity was complete, and rendered deeper still by the shining of the stars. it was the darkness of lunar night, which lasts 354 hours and a half on each point of the disc--a long night, the result of the equality of the movements of translation and rotation of the moon, the one upon herself, the other round the earth. the projectile in the satellite's cone of shadow was no longer under the action of the solar rays. in the interior darkness was, therefore, complete. the travellers could no longer see one another. hence came the necessity to lighten this darkness. however desirous barbicane might be to economise the gas, of which he had so small a reserve, he was obliged to have recourse to it for artificial light--an expensive brilliancy which the sun then refused. "the devil take the radiant orb!" cried michel ardan; "he is going to force us to spend our gas instead of giving us his rays for nothing." "we must not accuse the sun," said nicholl. "it is not his fault, it is the moon's fault for coming and putting herself like a screen between us and him." "it's the sun!" said michel again. "it's the moon!" retorted nicholl. an idle dispute began, which barbicane put an end to by saying-"my friends, it is neither the fault of the sun nor the moon. it is the projectile's fault for deviating from its course instead of rigorously following it. or, to be juster still, it is the fault of that unfortunate asteroid which so deplorably altered our first direction." "good!" answered michel ardan; "as that business is settled let us have our breakfast. after a night entirely passed in making observations, we want something to set us to rights a little." this proposition met with no contradiction. michel prepared the repast in a few minutes. but they ate for the sake of eating. they drank without toasts or hurrahs. the bold travellers, borne away into the darkness of space without their accustomed escort of rays, felt a vague uneasiness invade their hearts. the "farouche" darkness, so dear to the pen of victor hugo, surrounded them on all sides. in the meantime they talked about this interminable night, 354 hours, or nearly 15 days, long, which physical laws have imposed upon the inhabitants of the moon. barbicane gave his friends some explanation of the causes and consequences of this curious phenomenon. "curious it certainly is," said he, "for if each hemisphere of the moon is deprived of solar light for fifteen days, the one over which we are moving at this moment does not even enjoy, during its long night, a sight of the brilliantly-lighted earth. in a word, there is no moon, applying that qualification to our spheroid, except for one side of the disc. now, if it was the same upon earth--if, for example, europe never saw the moon, and she was only visible at the antipodes--you can figure to yourselves the astonishment of a european on arriving in australia." "they would make the voyage for nothing but to go and see the moon," answered michel. "well," resumed barbicane, "that astonishment is reserved to the selenite who inhabits the opposite side of the moon to the earth, a side for ever invisible to our fellow-beings of the terrestrial globe." "and which we should have seen," added nicholl, "if we had arrived here at the epoch when the moon is new--that is to say, a fortnight later." "to make amends," resumed barbicane, "an inhabitant of the visible face is singularly favoured by nature to the detriment on the invisible face. the latter, as you see, has dark nights of 354 hours long, without a ray of light to penetrate the obscurity. the other, on the contrary, when the sun, which has lighted him for a fortnight, sets under the horizon, sees on the opposite horizon a splendid orb rise. it is the earth, thirteen times larger than that moon which we know--the earth, which is developed to a diameter of two degrees, and which sheds a light thirteen times greater, which no atmosphere qualifies; the earth, which only disappears when the sun reappears." "a fine sentence," said michel ardan; "rather academical perhaps." "it follows," resumed barbicane, nowise put out, "that the visible face of the disc must be very agreeable to inhabit, as it is always lighted by the sun or the moon." "but," said nicholl, "this advantage must be quite compensated by the unbearable heat which this light must cause." "this inconvenience is the same under two faces, for the light reflected by the earth is evidently deprived of heat. however, this invisible face is still more deprived of heat than the visible face. i say that for you, nicholl; michel would probably not understand." "thank you," said michel. "in fact," resumed barbicane, "when the invisible face receives the solar light and heat the moon is new--that is to say, that she is in conjunction, that she is situated between the sun and the earth. she is then, on account of the situation which she occupies in opposition when she is full, nearer the sun by the double of her distance from the earth. now this distance may be estimated at the two-hundredth part of that which separates the sun and the earth; or, in round numbers, at two hundred thousand leagues. therefore this visible face is nearer the sun by two hundred thousand leagues when it receives his rays." "quite right," replied nicholl. "whilst--" resumed barbicane. "allow me," said michel, interrupting his grave companion. "what do you want?" "i want to go on with the explanation." "why?" "to prove that i have understood." "go on, then," said barbicane, smiling. "whilst," said michel, imitating the tone and gestures of president barbicane, "when the visible face of the moon is lighted by the sun the moon is full--that is to say, situated with regard to the earth the opposite to the sun. the distance which separates it from the radiant orb is then increased in round numbers by 200,000 leagues, and the heat which it receives must be rather less." "well done!" exclaimed barbicane. "do you know, michel, for an artist you are intelligent." "yes," answered michel carelessly, "we are all intelligent on the boulevard des italiens." barbicane shook hands gravely with his amiable companion, and went on enumerating the few advantages reserved to the inhabitants of the visible face. amongst others he quoted the observations of the sun's eclipses, which can only be seen from one side of the lunar disc, because the moon must be in opposition before they can take place. these eclipses, caused by the interposition of the earth between the sun and the moon, may last two hours, during which, on account of the rays refracted by its atmosphere, the terrestrial globe can only appear like a black spot upon the sun. "then," said nicholl, "the invisible hemisphere is very ill-treated by nature." "yes," answered barbicane, "but not the whole of it. by a certain movement of liberation, a sort of balancing on its centre, the moon presents more than the half of her disc to the earth. she is like a pendulum, the centre of gravity of which is towards the terrestrial globe, and which oscillates regularly. whence comes that oscillation? because her movement of rotation on her axis is animated with uniform velocity, whilst her movement of translation, following an elliptical orb round the earth, is not. at the perigee the velocity of translation is greater, and the moon shows a certain portion of her western border. at her apogee the velocity of rotation is greater, and a morsel of her eastern border appears. it is a strip of about eight degrees, which appears sometimes on the west, sometimes on the east. the result is, therefore, that of a thousand parts the moon shows five hundred and sixty-nine." "no matter," answered michel; "if we ever become selenites, we will inhabit the visible face. i like light." "unless," replied nicholl, "the atmosphere should be condensed on the other side, as certain astronomers pretend." "that is a consideration," answered michel simply. in the meantime breakfast was concluded, and the observers resumed their posts. they tried to see through the dark port-light by putting out all light in the projectile. but not one luminous atom penetrated the obscurity. one inexplicable fact preoccupied barbicane. how was it that though the projectile had been so near the moon, within a distance of twenty-five miles, it had not fallen upon her? if its speed had been enormous, he would have understood why it had not fallen. but with a relatively slight speed the resistance to lunar attraction could not be explained. was the projectile under the influence of some strange force? did some body maintain it in the ether? it was henceforth evident that it would not touch any point upon the moon. where was it going? was it going farther away from or nearer to the disc? was it carried along in the gloom across infinitude? how were they to know, how calculate in the dark? all these questions made barbicane anxious, but he could not solve them. in fact, the invisible orb was there, perhaps, at a distance of some leagues only, but neither his companions nor he could any longer see it. if any noise was made on its surface they could not hear it. the air, that vehicle of transmission, was wanting to convey to them the groans of that moon which the arabian legends make "a man already half-granite, but still palpitating." it will be agreed that it was enough to exasperate the most patient observers. it was precisely the unknown hemisphere that was hidden from their eyes. that face which a fortnight sooner or a fortnight later had been, or would be, splendidly lighted up by the solar rays, was then lost in absolute darkness. where would the projectile be in another fortnight? where would the hazards of attraction have taken it? who could say? it is generally admitted that the invisible hemisphere of the moon is, by its constitution, absolutely similar to the visible hemisphere. one-seventh of it is seen in those movements of libration barbicane spoke of. now upon the surface seen there were only plains and mountains, amphitheatres and craters, like those on the maps. they could there imagine the same arid and dead nature. and yet, supposing the atmosphere to have taken refuge upon that face? suppose that with the air water had given life to these regenerated continents? suppose that vegetation still persists there? suppose that animals people these continents and seas? suppose that man still lives under those conditions of habitability? how many questions there were it would have been interesting to solve! what solutions might have been drawn from the contemplation of that hemisphere! what delight it would have been to glance at that world which no human eye has seen! the disappointment of the travellers in the midst of this darkness may be imagined. all observation of the lunar disc was prevented. the constellations alone were visible, and it must be acknowledged that no astronomers, neither faye, chacornac, nor the secchi, had ever been in such favourable conditions to observe them. in fact, nothing could equal the splendour of this starry world, bathed in limpid ether. diamonds set in the celestial vault threw out superb flames. one look could take in the firmament from the southern cross to the north star, those two constellations which will in 12,000 years, on account of the succession of equinoxes, resign their _rôles_ of polar stars, the one to canopus in the southern hemisphere, the other to wega in the northern. imagination lost itself in this sublime infinitude, amidst which the projectile was moving like a new star created by the hand of man. from natural causes these constellations shone with a soft lustre; they did not twinkle because there was no atmosphere to intervene with its strata unequally dense, and of different degrees of humidity, which causes this scintillation. the travellers long watched the constellated firmament, upon which the vast screen of the moon made an enormous black hole. but a painful sensation at length drew them from their contemplation. this was an intense cold, which soon covered the glasses of the port-lights with a thick coating of ice. the sun no longer warmed the projectile with his rays, and it gradually lost the heat stored up in its walls. this heat was by radiation rapidly evaporated into space, and a considerable lowering of the temperature was the result. the interior humidity was changed into ice by contact with the window-panes, and prevented all observation. nicholl, consulting the thermometer, said that it had fallen to 17° (centigrade) below zero (1° fahr). therefore, notwithstanding every reason for being economical, barbicane was obliged to seek heat as well as light from gas. the low temperature of the bullet was no longer bearable. its occupants would have been frozen to death. "we will not complain about the monotony of the journey," said michel ardan. "what variety we have had, in temperature at all events! at times we have been blinded with light, and saturated with heat like the indians of the pampas! now we are plunged into profound darkness amidst boreal cold, like the esquimaux of the pole! no, indeed! we have no right to complain, and nature has done many things in our honour!" "but," asked nicholl, "what is the exterior temperature?" "precisely that of planetary space," answered barbicane. "then," resumed michel ardan, "would not this be an opportunity for making that experiment we could not attempt when we were bathed in the solar rays?" "now or never," answered barbicane, "for we are usefully situated in order to verify the temperature of space, and see whether the calculations of fourier or pouillet are correct." "any way it is cold enough," said michel. "look at the interior humidity condensing on the port-lights. if this fall continues the vapour of our respiration will fall around us in snow." "let us get a thermometer," said barbicane. it will be readily seen that an ordinary thermometer would have given no result under the circumstances in which it was going to be exposed. the mercury would have frozen in its cup, for it does not keep liquid below 44° below zero. but barbicane had provided himself with a spirit thermometer, on the walferdin system, which gives the minima of excessively low temperature. before beginning the experiment this instrument was compared with an ordinary thermometer, and barbicane prepared to employ it. "how shall we manage it?" asked nicholl. "nothing is easier," answered michel ardan, who was never at a loss. "open the port-light rapidly, throw out the instrument; it will follow the projectile with exemplary docility; a quarter of an hour after take it in." "with your hand?" asked barbicane. "with my hand," answered michel. "well, then, my friend, do not try it," said barbicane, "for the hand you draw back will be only a stump, frozen and deformed by the frightful cold." "really?" "you would feel the sensation of a terrible burn, like one made with a red-hot iron, for the same thing happens when heat is brutally abstracted from our body as when it is inserted. besides, i am not sure that objects thrown out still follow us." "why?" said nicholl. "because if we are passing through any atmosphere, however slightly dense, these objects will be delayed. now the darkness prevents us verifying whether they still float around us. therefore, in order not to risk our thermometer, we will tie something to it, and so easily pull it back into the interior." barbicane's advice was followed. nicholl threw the instrument out of the rapidly-opened port-light, holding it by a very short cord, so that it could be rapidly drawn in. the window was only open one second, and yet that one second was enough to allow the interior of the projectile to become frightfully cold. "_mille diables!_" cried michel ardan, "it is cold enough here to freeze white bears!" barbicane let half-an-hour go by, more than sufficient time to allow the instrument to descend to the level of the temperature of space. the thermometer was then rapidly drawn in. barbicane calculated the quantity of mercury spilt into the little phial soldered to the lower part of the instrument, and said-"one hundred and forty degrees centigrade below zero!" (218° fahr.) m. pouillet was right, not fourier. such was the frightful temperature of sidereal space! such perhaps that of the lunar continents when the orb of night loses by radiation all the heat which she absorbs during the fifteen days of sunshine. chapter xv. hyperbola or parabola. our readers will probably be astonished that barbicane and his companions were so little occupied with the future in store for them in their metal prison, carried along in the infinitude of ether. instead of asking themselves where they were going, they lost their time in making experiments, just as if they had been comfortably installed in their own studies. it might be answered that men so strong-minded were above such considerations, that such little things did not make them uneasy, and that they had something else to do than to think about their future. the truth is that they were not masters of their projectile--that they could neither stop it nor alter its direction. a seaman can direct the head of his ship as he pleases; an aëronaut can give his balloon vertical movement. they, on the contrary, had no authority over their vehicle. no manoeuvre was possible to them. hence their not troubling themselves, or "let things go" state of mind. where were they at that moment, 8 a.m. during that day called upon earth the sixth of december? certainly in the neighbourhood of the moon, and even near enough for her to appear like a vast black screen upon the firmament. as to the distance which separated them, it was impossible to estimate it. the projectile, kept up by inexplicable forces, has grazed the north pole of the satellite at less than twenty-five miles' distance. but had that distance increased or diminished since they had been in the cone of shadow? there was no landmark by which to estimate either the direction or the velocity of the projectile. perhaps it was going rapidly away from the disc and would soon leave the pure shadow. perhaps, on the contrary, it was approaching it, and would before long strike against some elevated peak in the invisible atmosphere, which would have terminated the journey, doubtless to the detriment of the travellers. a discussion began upon this subject, and michel ardan, always rich in explanations, gave out the opinion that the bullet, restrained by lunar attraction, would end by falling on the moon like an aërolite on to the surface of the terrestrial globe. "in the first place," answered barbicane, "all aërolites do not fall upon the surface of the earth; only a small proportion do so. therefore, if we are aërolites it does not necessarily follow that we shall fall upon the moon." "still," answered michel, "if we get near enough--" "error," replied barbicane. "have you not seen shooting stars by thousands in the sky at certain epochs?" "yes." "well, those stars, or rather corpuscles, only shine by rubbing against the atmospheric strata. now, if they pass through the atmosphere, they pass at less than 16 miles from our globe, and yet they rarely fall. it is the same with our projectile. it may approach very near the moon, and yet not fall upon it." "but then," asked michel, "i am curious to know how our vehicle would behave in space." "i only see two hypotheses," answered barbicane, after some minutes' reflection. "what are they?" "the projectile has the choice between two mathematical curves, and it will follow the one or the other according to the velocity with which it is animated, and which i cannot now estimate." "yes, it will either describe a parabola or an hyperbola." "yes," answered barbicane, "with some speed it will describe a parabola, and with greater speed an hyperbola." "i like those grand words!" exclaimed michel ardan. "i know at once what you mean. and what is your parabola, if you please?" "my friend," answered the captain, "a parabola is a conic section arising from cutting a cone by a plane parallel to one of its sides." "oh!" said michel in a satisfied tone. "it is about the same trajectory that the bomb of a howitzer describes." "just so. and an hyperbola?" asked michel. "it is a curve formed by a section of a cone when the cutting plane makes a greater angle with the base than the side of the cone makes." "is it possible?" exclaimed michel ardan in the most serious tone, as if he had been informed of a grave event. "then remember this, captain nicholl, what i like in your definition of the hyperbola--i was going to say of the hyperhumbug--is that it is still less easy to understand than the word you pretend to define." nicholl and barbicane paid no attention to michel ardan's jokes. they had launched into a scientific discussion. they were eager about what curve the projectile would take. one was for the hyperbola, the other for the parabola. they gave each other reasons bristling with _x_'s. their arguments were presented in a language which made michel ardan jump. the discussion was lively, and neither of the adversaries would sacrifice his curve of predilection. this scientific dispute was prolonged until michel ardan became impatient, and said-"i say, messrs. cosine, do leave off throwing your hyperbolas and parabolas at one's head. i want to know the only interesting thing about the business. we shall follow one or other of your curves. very well. but where will they take us to?" "nowhere," answered nicholl. "how nowhere?" "evidently they are unfinished curves, prolonged indefinitely!" "ah, _savants_! what does it matter about hyperbola or parabola if they both carry us indefinitely into space?" barbicane and nicholl could not help laughing. they cared for art for its own sake. never had more useless question been discussed at a more inopportune moment. the fatal truth was that the projectile, whether hyperbolically or parabolically carried along, would never strike against either the earth or the moon. what would become of these bold travellers in the most immediate future? if they did not die of hunger or thirst, they would in a few days, when gas failed them, die for want of air, if the cold had not killed them first! still, although it was so important to economise gas, the excessive lowness of the surrounding temperature forced them to consume a certain quantity. they could not do without either its light or heat. happily the caloric developed by the reiset and regnault apparatus slightly elevated the temperature of the projectile, and without spending much they could raise it to a bearable degree. in the meantime observation through the port-lights had become very difficult. the steam inside the bullet condensed upon the panes and froze immediately. they were obliged to destroy the opacity of the glass by constant rubbing. however, they could record several phenomena of the highest interest. in fact, if the invisible disc had any atmosphere, the shooting stars would be seen passing through it. if the projectile itself passed through the fluid strata, might it not hear some noise echoed--a storm, for instance, an avalanche, or a volcano in activity? should they not see the intense fulgurations of a burning mountain? such facts, carefully recorded, would have singularly elucidated the obscure question of the lunar constitution. thus barbicane and nicholl, standing like astronomers at their port-lights, watched with scrupulous patience. but until then the disc remained mute and dark. it did not answer the multifarious interrogations of these ardent minds. this provoked from michel a reflection that seemed correct enough. "if ever we recommence our journey, we shall do well to choose the epoch when the moon is new." "true," answered nicholl, "that circumstance would have been more favourable. i agree that the moon, bathed in sunlight, would not be visible during the passage, but on the other hand the earth would be full. and if we are dragged round the moon like we are now, we should at least have the advantage of seeing the invisible disc magnificently lighted up." "well said, nicholl," replied michel ardan. "what do you think about it, barbicane?" "i think this," answered the grave president: "if ever we recommence this journey, we shall start at the same epoch, and under the same circumstances. suppose we had reached our goal, would it not have been better to find the continents in full daylight instead of dark night? would not our first installation have been made under better circumstances? yes, evidently. as to the invisible side, we could have visited that in our exploring expeditions on the lunar globe. so, therefore, the time of the full moon was well chosen. but we ought to have reached our goal, and in order to have reached it we ought not to have deviated from our road." "there is no answer to make to that," said michel ardan. "yet we have passed a fine opportunity for seeing the moon! who knows whether the inhabitants of the other planets are not more advanced than the _savants_ of the earth on the subject of their satellites?" the following answer might easily have been given to michel ardan's remark:--yes, other satellites, on account of their greater proximity, have made the study of them easier. the inhabitants of saturn, jupiter, and uranus, if they exist, have been able to establish communication with their moons much more easily. the four satellites of jupiter gravitate at a distance of 108,260 leagues, 172,200 leagues, 274,700 leagues, and 480,130 leagues. but these distances are reckoned from the centre of the planet, and by taking away the radius, which is 17,000 to 18,000 leagues, it will be seen that the first satellite is at a much less distance from the surface of jupiter than the moon is from the centre of the earth. of the eight moons of saturn, four are near. diana is 84,600 leagues off; thetys, 62,966 leagues; enceladus, 48,191 leagues; and lastly, mimas is at an average distance of 34,500 leagues only. of the eighteen satellites of uranus, the first, ariel, is only 51,520 leagues from the planet. therefore, upon the surface of those three stars, an experiment analogous to that of president barbicane would have presented less difficulties. if, therefore, their inhabitants have attempted the enterprise, they have, perhaps, acquainted themselves with the constitution of the half of the disc which their satellite hides eternally from their eyes. but if they have never left their planet, they do not know more about them than the astronomers of the earth. in the meantime the bullet was describing in the darkness that incalculable trajectory which no landmark allowed them to find out. was its direction altered either under the influence of lunar attraction or under the action of some unknown orb? barbicane could not tell. but a change had taken place in the relative position of the vehicle, and barbicane became aware of it about 4 a.m. the change consisted in this, that the bottom of the projectile was turned towards the surface of the moon, and kept itself perpendicular with its axis. the attraction or gravitation had caused this modification. the heaviest part of the bullet inclined towards the invisible disc exactly as if it had fallen towards it. was it falling then? were the travellers at last about to reach their desired goal? no. and the observation of one landmark, inexplicable in itself, demonstrated to barbicane that his projectile was not nearing the moon, and that it was following an almost concentric curve. this was a flash of light which nicholl signalised all at once on the limit of the horizon formed by the black disc. this point could not be mistaken for a star. it was a reddish flame, which grew gradually larger--an incontestable proof that the projectile was getting nearer it, and not falling normally upon the surface of the satellite. "a volcano! it is a volcano in activity!" exclaimed nicholl--"an eruption of the interior fires of the moon. that world, then, is not quite extinguished." "yes, an eruption!" answered barbicane, who studied the phenomenon carefully through his night-glass. "what should it be if not a volcano?" "but then," said michel ardan, "air is necessary to feed that combustion, therefore there is some atmosphere on that part of the moon." "perhaps so," answered barbicane, "but not necessarily. a volcano, by the decomposition of certain matters, can furnish itself with oxygen, and so throw up flames into the void. it seems to me, too, that that deflagration has the intensity and brilliancy of objects the combustion of which is produced in pure oxygen. we must not be in a hurry to affirm the existence of a lunar atmosphere." the burning mountain was situated at the 45th degree of south latitude on the invisible part of the disc. but to the great disappointment of barbicane the curve that the projectile described dragged it away from the point signalised by the eruption, therefore he could not exactly determine its nature. half-an-hour after it had first been seen this luminous point disappeared on the horizon. still the authentication of this phenomenon was a considerable fact in selenographic studies. it proved that all heat had not yet disappeared from the interior of this globe, and where heat exists, who may affirm that the vegetable kingdom, or even the animal kingdom itself, has not until now resisted the destructive influences? the existence of this volcano in eruption, indisputably established by earthly _savants_, was favourable to the theory of the habitability of the moon. barbicane became absorbed in reflection. he forgot himself in a mute reverie, filled with the mysterious destinies of the lunar world. he was trying to connect the facts observed up till then, when a fresh incident recalled him suddenly to the reality. this incident was more than a cosmic phenomenon; it was a threatening danger, the consequences of which might be disastrous. suddenly in the midst of the ether, in the profound darkness, an enormous mass had appeared. it was like a moon, but a burning moon of almost unbearable brilliancy, outlined as it was on the total obscurity of space. this mass, of a circular form, threw such light that it filled the projectile. the faces of barbicane, nicholl, and michel ardan, bathed in its white waves, looked spectral, livid, _blafard_, like the appearance produced by the artificial light of alcohol impregnated with salt. "the devil!" cried michel ardan. "how hideous we are! whatever is that wretched moon?" "it is a bolis," answered barbicane. "a bolis, on fire, in the void?" "yes." this globe of fire was indeed a bolis. barbicane was not mistaken. but if these cosmic meteors, seen from the earth, present an inferior light to that of the moon, here, in the dark ether, they shone magnificently. these wandering bodies carry in themselves the principle of their own incandescence. the surrounding air is not necessary to the deflagration. and, indeed, if certain of these bodies pass through our atmosphere at two or three leagues from the earth, others describe their trajectory at a distance the atmosphere cannot reach. some of these meteors are from one to two miles wide, and move at a speed of forty miles a second, following an inverse direction from the movement of the earth. this shooting star suddenly appeared in the darkness at a distance of at least 100 leagues, and measured, according to barbicane's estimate, a diameter of 2,000 metres. it moved with the speed of about thirty leagues a minute. it cut across the route of the projectile, and would reach it in a few minutes. as it approached it grew larger in an enormous proportion. if possible, let the situation of the travellers be imagined! it is impossible to describe it. in spite of their courage, their _sang-froid_, their carelessness of danger, they were mute, motionless, with stiffened limbs, a prey to fearful terror. their projectile, the course of which they could not alter, was running straight on to this burning mass, more intense than the open mouth of a furnace. they seemed to be rushing towards an abyss of fire. barbicane seized the hands of his two companions, and all three looked through their half-closed eyelids at the red-hot asteroid. if they still thought at all, they must have given themselves up as lost! two minutes after the sudden appearance of the bolis, two centuries of agony, the projectile seemed about to strike against it, when the ball of fire burst like a bomb, but without making any noise in the void, where sound, which is only the agitation of the strata of air, could not be made. nicholl uttered a cry. his companions and he rushed to the port-lights. what a spectacle! what pen could describe it, what palette would be rich enough in colours to reproduce its magnificence? it was like the opening of a crater, or the spreading of an immense fire. thousands of luminous fragments lit up space with their fires. every size, colour, and shade were there. there were yellow, red, green, grey, a crown of multi-coloured fireworks. there only remained of the enormous and terrible globe pieces carried in all directions, each an asteroid in its turn, some shining like swords, some surrounded by white vapour, others leaving behind them a trail of cosmic dust. these incandescent blocks crossed each other, knocked against each other, and were scattered into smaller fragments, of which some struck the projectile. its left window was even cracked by the violent shock. it seemed to be floating in a shower of bullets, of which the least could annihilate it in an instant. the light which saturated the ether was of incomparable intensity, for these asteroids dispersed it in every direction. at a certain moment it was so bright that michel dragged barbicane and nicholl to the window, exclaiming-"the invisible moon is at last visible!" and all three, across the illumination, saw for a few seconds that mysterious disc which the eye of man perceived for the first time. what did they distinguish across that distance which they could not estimate? long bands across the disc, veritable clouds formed in a very restricted atmospheric medium, from which emerged not only all the mountains, but every relief of middling importance, amphitheatres, yawning craters, such as exist on the visible face. then immense tracts, no longer arid plains, but veritable seas, oceans which reflected in their liquid mirror all the dazzling magic of the fires of space. lastly, on the surface of the continents, vast dark masses, such as immense forests would resemble under the rapid illumination of a flash of lightning. was it an illusion, an error of the eyes, an optical deception? could they give a scientific affirmation to that observation so superficially obtained? dared they pronounce upon the question of its habitability after so slight a glimpse of the invisible disc? by degrees the fulgurations of space gradually died out, its accidental brilliancy lessened, the asteroids fled away by their different trajectories, and went out in the distance. the ether resumed its habitual darkness; the stars, for one moment eclipsed, shone in the firmament, and the disc, of which scarcely a glimpse had been caught, was lost in the impenetrable night. chapter xvi. the southern hemisphere. the projectile had just escaped a terrible danger, a danger quite unforeseen. who would have imagined such a meeting of asteroids? these wandering bodies might prove serious perils to the travellers. they were to them like so many rocks in the sea of ether, which, less fortunate than navigators, they could not avoid. but did these adventurers of space complain? no, as nature had given them the splendid spectacle of a cosmic meteor shining by formidable expansion, as this incomparable display of fireworks, which no ruggieri could imitate, had lighted for a few seconds the invisible nimbus of the moon. during that rapid peep, continents, seas, and forests had appeared to them. then the atmosphere did give there its life-giving particles? questions still not solved, eternally asked by american curiosity. it was then 3.30 p.m. the bullet was still describing its curve round the moon. had its route again been modified by the meteor? it was to be feared. the projectile ought, however to describe a curve imperturbably determined by the laws of mechanics. barbicane inclined to the opinion that this curve would be a parabola and not an hyperbola. however, if the parabola was admitted, the bullet ought soon to come out of the cone of shadow thrown into the space on the opposite side to the sun. this cone, in fact, is very narrow, the angular diameter of the moon is so small compared to the diameter of the orb of day. until now the projectile had moved in profound darkness. whatever its speed had been--and it could not have been slight--its period of occultation continued. that fact was evident, but perhaps that would not have been the case in a rigidly parabolical course. this was a fresh problem which tormented barbicane's brain, veritably imprisoned as it was in a web of the unknown which he could not disentangle. neither of the travellers thought of taking a minute's rest. each watched for some unexpected incident which should throw a new light on their uranographic studies. about five o'clock michel distributed to them, by way of dinner, some morsels of bread and cold meat, which were rapidly absorbed, whilst no one thought of leaving the port-light, the panes of which were becoming incrusted under the condensation of vapour. about 5.45 p.m., nicholl, armed with his telescope, signalised upon the southern border of the moon, and in the direction followed by the projectile, a few brilliant points outlined against the dark screen of the sky. they looked like a succession of sharp peaks with profiles in a tremulous line. they were rather brilliant. the terminal line of the moon looks the same when she is in one of her octants. they could not be mistaken. there was no longer any question of a simple meteor, of which that luminous line had neither the colour nor the mobility, nor of a volcano in eruption. barbicane did not hesitate to declare what it was. "the sun!" he exclaimed. "what! the sun!" answered nicholl and michel ardan. "yes, my friends, it is the radiant orb itself, lighting up the summit of the mountains situated on the southern border of the moon. we are evidently approaching the south pole!" "after having passed the north pole," answered michel. "then we have been all round our satellite." "yes, friend michel." "then we have no more hyperbolas, no more parabolas, no more open curves to fear!" "no, but a closed curve." "which is called--" "an ellipsis. instead of being lost in the interplanetary spaces it is possible that the projectile will describe an elliptical orbit round the moon." "really!" "and that it will become its satellite." "moon of the moon," exclaimed michel ardan. "only i must tell you, my worthy friend, that we are none the less lost men on that account!" "no, but in another and much pleasanter way!" answered the careless frenchman, with his most amiable smile. president barbicane was right. by describing this elliptical orbit the projectile was going to gravitate eternally round the moon like a sub-satellite. it was a new star added to the solar world, a microcosm peopled by three inhabitants, whom want of air would kill before long. barbicane, therefore, could not rejoice at the position imposed on the bullet by the double influence of the centripetal and centrifugal forces. his companions and he were again going to see the visible face of the disc. perhaps their existence would last long enough for them to perceive for the last time the full earth superbly lighted up by the rays of the sun! perhaps they might throw a last adieu to the globe they were never more to see again! then their projectile would be nothing but an extinct mass, dead like those inert asteroids which circulate in the ether. a single consolation remained to them: it was that of seeing the darkness and returning to light, it was that of again entering the zones bathed by solar irradiation! in the meantime the mountains recognised by barbicane stood out more and more from the dark mass. they were mounts doerfel and leibnitz, which stand on the southern circumpolar region of the moon. all the mountains of the visible hemisphere have been measured with perfect exactitude. this perfection will, no doubt, seem astonishing, and yet the hypsometric methods are rigorous. the altitude of the lunar mountains may be no less exactly determined than that of the mountains of the earth. the method generally employed is that of measuring the shadow thrown by the mountains, whilst taking into account the altitude of the sun at the moment of observation. this method also allows the calculating of the depth of craters and cavities on the moon. galileo used it, and since messrs. boeer and moedler have employed it with the greatest success. another method, called the tangent radii, may also be used for measuring lunar reliefs. it is applied at the moment when the mountains form luminous points on the line of separation between light and darkness which shine on the dark part of the disc. these luminous points are produced by the solar rays above those which determine the limit of the phase. therefore the measure of the dark interval which the luminous point and the luminous part of the phase leave between them gives exactly the height of the point. but it will be seen that this method can only be applied to the mountains near the line of separation of darkness and light. a third method consists in measuring the profile of the lunar mountains outlined on the background by means of a micrometer; but it is only applicable to the heights near the border of the orb. in any case it will be remarked that this measurement of shadows, intervals, or profiles can only be made when the solar rays strike the moon obliquely in relation to the observer. when they strike her directly--in a word, when she is full--all shadow is imperiously banished from her disc, and observation is no longer possible. galileo, after recognising the existence of the lunar mountains, was the first to employ the method of calculating their heights by the shadows they throw. he attributed to them, as it has already been shown, an average of 9,000 yards. hevelius singularly reduced these figures, which riccioli, on the contrary, doubled. all these measures were exaggerated. herschel, with his more perfect instruments, approached nearer the hypsometric truth. but it must be finally sought in the accounts of modern observers. messrs. boeer and moedler, the most perfect selenographers in the whole world, have measured 1,095 lunar mountains. it results from their calculations that 6 of these mountains rise above 5,800 metres, and 22 above 4,800. the highest summit of the moon measures 7,603 metres; it is, therefore, inferior to those of the earth, of which some are 1,000 yards higher. but one remark must be made. if the respective volumes of the two orbs are compared the lunar mountains are relatively higher than the terrestrial. the lunar ones form 1/70 of the diameter of the moon, and the terrestrial only form 1/140 of the diameter of the earth. for a terrestrial mountain to attain the relative proportions of a lunar mountain, its perpendicular height ought to be 6-1/2 leagues. now the highest is not four miles. thus, then, to proceed by comparison, the chain of the himalayas counts three peaks higher than the lunar ones, mount everest, kunchinjuga, and dwalagiri. mounts doerfel and leibnitz, on the moon, are as high as jewahir in the same chain. newton, casatus, curtius, short, tycho, clavius, blancanus, endymion, the principal summits of caucasus and the apennines, are higher than mont blanc. the mountains equal to mont blanc are moret, theophylus, and catharnia; to mount rosa, piccolomini, werner, and harpalus; to mount cervin, macrobus, eratosthenes, albateque, and delambre; to the peak of teneriffe, bacon, cysatus, philolaus, and the alps; to mount perdu, in the pyrenees, roemer and boguslawski; to etna, hercules, atlas, and furnerius. such are the points of comparison that allow the appreciation of the altitude of lunar mountains. now the trajectory followed by the projectile dragged it precisely towards that mountainous region of the southern hemisphere where rise the finest specimens of lunar orography. chapter xvii. tycho. at 6 p.m. the projectile passed the south pole at less than thirty miles, a distance equal to that already reached at the north pole. the elliptical curve was, therefore, being rigorously described. at that moment the travellers re-entered the beneficent sunshine. they saw once more the stars moving slowly from east to west. the radiant orb was saluted with a triple hurrah. with its light came also its heat, which soon pierced the middle walls. the windows resumed their accustomed transparency. their "layer of ice" melted as if by enchantment. the gas was immediately extinguished by way of economy. the air apparatus alone was to consume its habitual quantity. "ah!" said nicholl, "sunshine is good! how impatiently after their long nights the selenites must await the reappearance of the orb of day!" "yes," answered michel ardan, "imbibing, as it were, the brilliant ether, light and heat, all life is in them." at that moment the bottom of the projectile moved slightly from the lunar surface in order to describe a rather long elliptical orbit. from that point, if the earth had been full, barbicane and his friends could have seen it again. but, drowned in the sun's irradiation, it remained absolutely invisible. another spectacle attracted their eyes, presented by the southern region of the moon, brought by the telescopes to within half-a-mile. they left the port-lights no more, and noted all the details of the strange continent. mounts doerfel and leibnitz formed two separate groups stretching nearly to the south pole; the former group extends from the pole to the 84th parallel on the eastern part of the orb; the second, starting from the eastern border, stretches from the 65th degree of latitude to the pole. on their capriciously-formed ridge appeared dazzling sheets of light like those signalised by father secchi. with more certainty than the illustrious roman astronomer, barbicane was enabled to establish their nature. "it is snow," cried he. "snow?" echoed nicholl. "yes, nicholl, snow, the surface of which is profoundly frozen. look how it reflects the luminous rays. cooled lava would not give so intense a reflection. therefore there is water and air upon the moon, as little as you like, but the fact can no longer be contested." no, it could not be, and if ever barbicane saw the earth again his notes would testify to this fact, important in selenographic observations. these mounts doerfel and leibnitz arose in the midst of plains of moderate extent, bounded by an indefinite succession of amphitheatres and circular ramparts. these two chains are the only ones which are met with in the region of amphitheatres. relatively they are not very broken, and only throw out here and there some sharp peaks, the highest of which measures 7,603 metres. the projectile hung high above all this, and the relief disappeared in the intense brilliancy of the disc. then reappeared to the eyes of the travellers that original aspect of the lunar landscapes, raw in tone, without gradation of colours, only white and black, for diffused light was wanting. still the sight of this desolate world was very curious on account of its very strangeness. they were moving above this chaotic region as if carried along by the breath of a tempest, seeing the summits fly under their feet, looking down the cavities, climbing the ramparts, sounding the mysterious holes. but there was no trace of vegetation, no appearance of cities, nothing but stratifications, lava streams, polished like immense mirrors, which reflect the solar rays with unbearable brilliancy. there was no appearance of a living world, everything of a dead one, where the avalanches rolling from the summit of the mountains rushed noiselessly. they had plenty of movement, but noise was wanting still. barbicane established the fact, by reiterated observation, that the reliefs on the borders of the disc, although they had been acted upon by different forces to those of the central region, presented a uniform conformation. there was the same circular aggregation, the same accidents of ground. still it might be supposed that their arrangements were not completely analogous. in the centre the still malleable crust of the moon suffered the double attraction of the moon and the earth acting in inverse ways according to a radius prolonged from one to the other. on the borders of the disc, on the contrary, the lunar attraction has been, thus to say, perpendicular with the terrestrial attraction. it seems, therefore, that the reliefs on the soil produced under these conditions ought to have taken a different form. yet they had not, therefore the moon had found in herself alone the principle of her formation and constitution. she owed nothing to foreign influences, which justified the remarkable proposition of arago's, "no action exterior to the moon has contributed to the production of her relief." however that may be in its actual condition, this world was the image of death without it being possible to say that life had ever animated it. michel ardan, however, thought he recognised a heap of ruins, to which he drew barbicane's attention. it was situated in about the 80th parallel and 30° longitude. this heap of stones, pretty regularly made, was in the shape of a vast fortress, overlooking one of those long furrows which served as river-beds in ante-historical times. not far off rose to a height of 5,646 metres the circular mountain called short, equal to the asiatic caucasus. michel ardan, with his habitual ardour, maintained "the evidences" of his fortress. below he perceived the dismantled ramparts of a town; here the arch of a portico, still intact; there two or three columns lying on their side; farther on a succession of archpieces, which must have supported the conduct of an aqueduct; in another part the sunken pillars of a gigantic bridge run into the thickest part of the furrow. he distinguished all that, but with so much imagination in his eyes, through a telescope so fanciful, that his observation cannot be relied upon. and yet who would affirm, who would dare to say, that the amiable fellow had not really seen what his two companions would not see? the moments were too precious to be sacrificed to an idle discussion. the selenite city, whether real or pretended, had disappeared in the distance. the projectile began to get farther away from the lunar disc, and the details of the ground began to be lost in a confused jumble. the reliefs, amphitheatres, craters, and plains alone remained, and still showed their boundary-lines distinctly. at that moment there stretched to the left one of the finest amphitheatres in lunar orography. it was newton, which barbicane easily recognised by referring to the _mappa selenographica_. newton is situated in exactly 77° south lat. and 16° east long. it forms a circular crater, the ramparts of which, 7,264 metres high, seemed to be inaccessible. barbicane made his companions notice that the height of that mountain above the surrounding plain was far from being equal to the depth of its crater. this enormous hole was beyond all measurement, and made a gloomy abyss, the bottom of which the sun's rays could never reach. there, according to humboldt, utter darkness reigns, which the light of the sun and the earth could not break. the mythologists would have made it with justice hell's mouth. "newton," said barbicane, "is the most perfect type of the circular mountains, of which the earth possesses no specimen. they prove that the formation of the moon by cooling was due to violent causes, for whilst under the influence of interior fire the reliefs were thrown up to considerable heights, the bottom dropped in, and became lower than the lunar level." "i do not say no," answered michel ardan. a few minutes after having passed newton the projectile stood directly over the circular mountain of moret. it also passed rather high above the summits of blancanus, and about 7.30 p.m. it reached the amphitheatre of clavius. this circle, one of the most remarkable on the disc, is situated in south lat. 58° and east long. 15°. its height is estimated at 7,091 metres. the travellers at a distance of 200 miles, reduced to two by the telescopes, could admire the arrangement of this vast crater. "the terrestrial volcanoes," said barbicane, "are only molehills compared to the volcanoes of the moon. measuring the ancient craters formed by the first eruptions of vesuvius and etna, they are found to be scarcely 6,000 metres wide. in france the circle of the cantal measures five miles; at ceylon the circle of the island is forty miles, and is considered the largest on the globe. what are these diameters compared to that of clavius, which we are over in this moment?" "what is its width?" asked nicholl. "about seventy miles," answered barbicane. "this amphitheatre is certainly the largest on the moon, but many are fifty miles wide!" "ah, my friends," exclaimed michel ardan, "can you imagine what this peaceful orb of night was once like? when these craters vomited torrents of lava and stones, with clouds of smoke and sheets of flame? what a prodigious spectacle formerly, and now what a falling off! this moon is now only the meagre case of fireworks, of which the rockets, serpents, suns, and wheels, after going off magnificently, only leave torn pieces of cardboard. who can tell the cause, reason, or justification of such cataclysms?" barbicane did not listen to michel ardan. he was contemplating those ramparts of clavius, formed of wide mountains several leagues thick. at the bottom of its immense cavity lay hundreds of small extinct craters, making the soil like a sieve, and overlooked by a peak more than 15,000 feet high. the plain around had a desolate aspect. nothing so arid as these reliefs, nothing so sad as these ruins of mountains, if so they may be called, as those heaps of peaks and mountains encumbering the ground! the satellite seemed to have been blown up in this place. the projectile still went on, and the chaos was still the same. circles, craters, and mountains succeeded each other incessantly. no more plains or seas--an interminable switzerland or norway. lastly, in the centre of the creviced region at its culminating point, the most splendid mountain of the lunar disc, the dazzling tycho, to which posterity still gives the name of the illustrious danish astronomer. whilst observing the full moon in a cloudless sky, there is no one who has not remarked this brilliant point on the southern hemisphere. michel ardan, to qualify it, employed all the metaphors his imagination could furnish him with. to him tycho was an ardent focus of light, a centre of irradiation, a crater vomiting flames! it was the axle of a fiery wheel, a sea-star encircling the disc with its silver tentacles, an immense eye darting fire, a nimbo made for pluto's head! it was a star hurled by the hand of the creator, and fallen upon the lunar surface! tycho forms such a luminous concentration that the inhabitants of the earth can see it without a telescope, although they are at a distance of 100,000 leagues. it will, therefore, be readily imagined what its intensity must have been in the eyes of observers placed at fifty leagues only. across this pure ether its brilliancy was so unbearable that barbicane and his friends were obliged to blacken the object-glasses of their telescopes with gas-smoke in order to support it. then, mute, hardly emitting a few admirative interjections, they looked and contemplated. all their sentiments, all their impressions were concentrated in their eyes, as life, under violent emotion, is concentrated in the heart. tycho belongs to the system of radiating mountains, like aristarchus and copernicus. but it testified the most completely of all to the terrible volcanic action to which the formation of the moon is due. tycho is situated in south lat. 43° and east long. 12°. its centre is occupied by a crater more than forty miles wide. it affects a slightly elliptical form, and is inclosed by circular ramparts, which on the east and west overlook the exterior plain from a height of 5,000 metres. it is an aggregation of mont blancs, placed round a common centre, and crowned with shining rays. photography itself could never represent what this incomparable mountain, with all its projections converging to it and its interior excrescences, is really like. in fact, it is during the full moon that tycho is seen in all its splendour. then all shadows disappear, the foreshortenings of perspective disappear, and all proofs come out white--an unfortunate circumstance, for this strange region would have been curious to reproduce with photographic exactitude. it is only an agglomeration of holes, craters, circles, a vertiginous network of crests. it will be understood, therefore, that the bubblings of this central eruption have kept their first forms. crystallised by cooling, they have stereotyped the aspect which the moon formerly presented under the influence of plutonic forces. the distance which separated the travellers from the circular summits of tycho was not so great that the travellers could not survey its principal details. even upon the embankment which forms the ramparts of tycho, the mountains hanging to the interior and exterior slopes rose in stories like gigantic terraces. they appeared to be higher by 300 or 400 feet on the west than on the east. no system of terrestrial castrametation could equal these natural fortifications. a town built at the bottom of this circular cavity would have been utterly inaccessible. inaccessible and marvellously extended over this ground of picturesque relief! nature had not left the bottom of this crater flat and empty. it possessed a special orography, a mountain system which made it a world apart. the travellers clearly distinguished the cones, central hills, remarkable movements of the ground, naturally disposed for the reception of masterpieces of selenite architecture. there was the place for a temple, here for a forum, there the foundations of a palace, there the plateau of a citadel, the whole overlooked by a central mountain 1,500 feet high--a vast circuit which would have held ancient rome ten times over. "ah!" exclaimed michel ardan, made enthusiastic by the sight, "what grand towns could be built in this circle of mountains! a tranquil city, a peaceful refuge, away from all human cares! how all misanthropes could live there, all haters of humanity, all those disgusted with social life!" "all! it would be too small for them!" replied barbicane simply. chapter xviii. grave questions. in the meantime the projectile had passed the neighbourhood of tycho. barbicane and his two friends then observed, with the most scrupulous attention, those brilliant radii which the celebrated mountain disperses so curiously on every horizon. what was this radiating aureole? what geological phenomenon had caused those ardent beams? this question justly occupied barbicane. under his eyes, in every direction, ran luminous furrows, with raised banks and concave middle, some ten miles, others more than twenty miles wide. these shining trails ran in certain places at least 300 leagues from tycho, and seemed to cover, especially towards the east, north-east, and north, half the southern hemisphere. one of these furrows stretched as far as the amphitheatre of neander, situated on the 40th meridian. another went rounding off through the sea of nectar and broke against the chain of the pyrenees after a run of 400 leagues; others towards the west covered with a luminous network the sea of clouds and the sea of humours. what was the origin of these shining rays running equally over plains and reliefs, however high? they all started from a common centre, the crater of tycho. they emanated from it. herschel attributed their brilliant aspect to ancient streams of lava congealed by the cold, an opinion which has not been generally received. other astronomers have seen in these inexplicable rays a kind of _moraines_, ranges of erratic blocks thrown out at the epoch of the formation of tycho. "and why should it not be so?" asked nicholl of barbicane, who rejected these different opinions at the same time that he related them. "because the regularity of these luminous lines, and the violence necessary to send them to such a distance, are inexplicable. "_par bleu_!" replied michel ardan. "i can easily explain to myself the origin of these rays." "indeed," said barbicane. "yes," resumed michel. "why should they not be the cracks caused by the shock of a bullet or a stone upon a pane of glass?" "good," replied barbicane, smiling; "and what hand would be powerful enough to hurl the stone that would produce such a shock?" "a hand is not necessary," answered michel, who would not give in; "and as to the stone, let us say it is a comet." "ah! comets?" exclaimed barbicane; "those much-abused comets! my worthy michel, your explanation is not bad, but your comet is not wanted. the shock might have come from the interior of the planet. a violent contraction of the lunar crust whilst cooling was enough to make that gigantic crack." "contraction let it be--something like a lunar colic," answered michel ardan. "besides," added barbicane, "that is also the opinion of an english _savant_, nasmyth, and it seems to me to explain the radiation of these mountains sufficiently." "that nasmyth was no fool!" answered michel. the travellers, who could never weary of such a spectacle, long admired the splendours of tycho. their projectile, bathed in that double irradiation of the sun and moon, must have appeared like a globe of fire. they had, therefore, suddenly passed from considerable cold to intense heat. nature was thus preparing them to become selenites. to become selenites! that idea again brought up the question of the habitability of the moon. after what they had seen, could the travellers solve it? could they conclude for or against? michel ardan asked his two friends to give utterance to their opinion, and asked them outright if they thought that humanity and animality were represented in the lunar world. "i think we cannot answer," said barbicane, "but in my opinion the question ought not to be stated in that form. i ask to be allowed to state it differently." "state it as you like," answered michel. "this is it," resumed barbicane. "the problem is double, and requires a double solution. is the moon habitable? has it been inhabited?" "right," said nicholl. "let us first see if the moon is habitable." "to tell the truth, i know nothing about it," replied michel. "and i answer in the negative," said barbicane. "in her actual state, with her certainly very slight atmosphere, her seas mostly dried up, her insufficient water, her restricted vegetation, her abrupt alternations of heat and cold, her nights and days 354 hours long, the moon does not appear habitable to me, nor propitious to the development of the animal kingdom, nor sufficient for the needs of existence such as we understand it." "agreed," answered nicholl; "but is not the moon habitable for beings differently organised to us?" "that question is more difficult to answer," replied barbicane. "i will try to do it, however, but i ask nicholl if movement seems to him the necessary result of existence, under no matter what organisation?" "without the slightest doubt," answered nicholl. "well, then, my worthy companion, my answer will be that we have seen the lunar continent at a distance of 500 yards, and that nothing appeared to be moving on the surface of the moon. the presence of no matter what form of humanity would be betrayed by appropriations, different constructions, or even ruins. what did we see? everywhere the geological work of nature, never the work of man. if, therefore, representatives of the animal kingdom exist upon the moon, they have taken refuge in those bottomless cavities which the eye cannot reach. and i cannot admit that either, for they would have left traces of their passage upon the plains which the atmosphere, however slight, covers. now these traces are nowhere visible. therefore the only hypothesis that remains is one of living beings without movement or life." "you might just as well say living creatures who are not alive." "precisely," answered barbicane, "which for us has no meaning." "then now we may formulate our opinion," said michel. "yes," answered nicholl. "very well," resumed michel ardan; "the scientific commission, meeting in the projectile of the gun club, after having supported its arguments upon fresh facts lately observed, decides unanimously upon the question of the habitability of the moon--'no, the moon is not inhabited.'" this decision was taken down by barbicane in his notebook, where he had already written the _procès-verbal_ of the sitting of december 6th. "now," said nicholl, "let us attack the second question, depending on the first. i therefore ask the honourable commission if the moon is not habitable, has it been inhabited?" "answer, citizen barbicane," said michel ardan. "my friends," answered barbicane, "i did not undertake this journey to form an opinion upon the ancient habitability of our satellite. i may add that my personal observations only confirm me in this opinion. i believe, i even affirm, that the moon has been inhabited by a human race organised like ours, that it has produced animals anatomically formed like terrestrial animals; but i add that these races, human or animal, have had their day, and are for ever extinct." "then," asked michel, "the moon is an older world than the earth?" "no," answered barbicane with conviction, "but a world that has grown old more quickly, whose formation and deformation have been more rapid. relatively the organising forces of matter have been much more violent in the interior of the moon than in the interior of the celestial globe. the actual state of this disc, broken up, tormented, and swollen, proves this abundantly. in their origin the moon and the earth were only gases. these gases became liquids under different influences, and the solid mass was formed afterwards. but it is certain that our globe was gas or liquid still when the moon, already solidified by cooling, became habitable." "i believe that," said nicholl. "then," resumed barbicane, "it was surrounded by atmosphere. the water held in by the gassy element could not evaporate. under the influence of air, water, light, and heat, solar and central, vegetation took possession of these continents prepared for its reception, and certainly life manifested itself about that epoch, for nature does not spend itself in inutilities, and a world so marvellously habitable must have been inhabited." "still," answered nicholl, "many phenomena inherent to the movements of our satellite must have prevented the expansion of the vegetable and animal kingdoms. the days and nights 354 hours long, for example." "at the terrestrial poles," said michel, "they last six months." "that is not a valuable argument, as the poles are not inhabited." "in the actual state of the moon," resumed barbicane, "the long nights and days create differences of temperature insupportable to the constitution, but it was not so at that epoch of historical times. the atmosphere enveloped the disc with a fluid mantle. vapour deposited itself in the form of clouds. this natural screen tempered the ardour of the solar lays, and retained the nocturnal radiation. both light and heat could diffuse themselves in the air. hence there was equilibrium between the influences which no longer exists now that the atmosphere has almost entirely disappeared. besides, i shall astonish you--" "astonish us?" said michel ardan. "but i believe that at the epoch when the moon was inhabited the nights and days did not last 354 hours!" "why so?" asked nicholl quickly. "because it is very probable that then the moon's movement of rotation on her axis was not equal to her movement of revolution, an equality which puts every point of the lunar disc under the action of the solar rays for fifteen days." "agreed," answered nicholl; "but why should not these movements have been equal, since they are so actually?" "because that equality has only been determined by terrestrial attraction. now, how do we know that this attraction was powerful enough to influence the movements of the moon at the epoch the earth was still fluid?" "true," replied nicholl; "and who can say that the moon has always been the earth's satellite?" "and who can say," exclaimed michel ardan, "that the moon did not exist before the earth?" imagination began to wander in the indefinite field of hypotheses. barbicane wished to hold them in. "those," said he, "are speculations too high, problems really insoluble. do not let us enter into them. let us only admit the insufficiency of primordial attraction, and then by the inequality of rotation and revolution days and nights could succeed each other upon the moon as they do upon the earth. besides, even under those conditions life was possible." "then," asked michel ardan, "humanity has quite disappeared from the moon?" "yes," answered barbicane, "after having, doubtless, existed for thousands of centuries. then gradually the atmosphere becoming rarefied, the disc will again be uninhabitable like the terrestrial globe will one day become by cooling." "by cooling?" "certainly," answered barbicane. "as the interior fires became extinguished the incandescent matter was concentrated and the lunar disc became cool. by degrees the consequences of this phenomenon came about--the disappearance of organic beings and the disappearance of vegetation. soon the atmosphere became rarefied, and was probably drawn away by terrestrial attraction; the breathable air disappeared, and so did water by evaporation. at that epoch the moon became uninhabitable, and was no longer inhabited. it was a dead world like it is to-day." "and you say that the like fate is reserved for the earth?" "very probably." "but when?" "when the cooling of its crust will have made it uninhabitable." "has the time it will take our unfortunate globe to melt been calculated?" "certainly." "and you know the reason?" "perfectly." "then tell us, sulky _savant_--you make me boil with impatience." "well, my worthy michel," answered barbicane tranquilly, "it is well known what diminution of temperature the earth suffers in the lapse of a century. now, according to certain calculations, that average temperature will be brought down to zero after a period of 400,000 years!" "four hundred thousand years!" exclaimed michel. "ah! i breathe again! i was really frightened. i imagined from listening to you that we had only fifty thousand years to live!" barbicane and nicholl could not help laughing at their companion's uneasiness. then nicholl, who wanted to have done with it, reminded them of the second question to be settled. "has the moon been inhabited?" he asked. the answer was unanimously in the affirmative. during this discussion, fruitful in somewhat hazardous theories, although it resumed the general ideas of science on the subject, the projectile had run rapidly towards the lunar equator, at the same time that it went farther away from the lunar disc. it had passed the circle of willem, and the 40th parallel, at a distance of 400 miles. then leaving pitatus to the right, on the 30th degree, it went along the south of the sea of clouds, of which it had already approached the north. different amphitheatres appeared confusedly under the white light of the full moon--bouillaud, purbach, almost square with a central crater, then arzachel, whose interior mountain shone with indefinable brilliancy. at last, as the projectile went farther and farther away, the details faded from the travellers' eyes, the mountains were confounded in the distance, and all that remained of the marvellous, fantastical, and wonderful satellite of the earth was the imperishable remembrance. chapter xix. a struggle with the impossible. for some time barbicane and his companions, mute and pensive, looked at this world, which they had only seen from a distance, like moses saw canaan, and from which they were going away for ever. the position of the projectile relatively to the moon was modified, and now its lower end was turned towards the earth. this change, verified by barbicane, surprised him greatly. if the bullet was going to gravitate round the satellite in an elliptical orbit, why was not its heaviest part turned towards it like the moon to the earth? there again was an obscure point. by watching the progress of the projectile they could see that it was following away from the moon an analogous curve to that by which it approached her. it was, therefore, describing a very long ellipsis which would probably extend to the point of equal attraction, where the influences of the earth and her satellite are neutralised. such was the conclusion which barbicane correctly drew from the facts observed, a conviction which his two friends shared with him. questions immediately began to shower upon him. "what will become of us after we have reached the neutral point?" asked michel ardan. "that is unknown!" answered barbicane. "but we can make suppositions, i suppose?" "we can make two," answered barbicane. "either the velocity of the projectile will then be insufficient, and it will remain entirely motionless on that line of double attraction--" "i would rather have the other supposition, whatever it is," replied michel. "or the velocity will be sufficient," resumed barbicane, "and it will continue its elliptical orbit, and gravitate eternally round the orb of night." "not very consoling that revolution," said michel, "to become the humble servants of a moon whom we are in the habit of considering our servant. and is that the future that awaits us?" neither barbicane nor nicholl answered. "why do you not answer?" asked the impatient michel. "there is nothing to answer," said nicholl. "can nothing be done?" "no," answered barbicane. "do you pretend to struggle with the impossible?" "why not? ought a frenchman and two americans to recoil at such a word?" "but what do you want to do?" "command the motion that is carrying us along!" "command it?" "yes," resumed michel, getting animated, "stop it or modify it; use it for the accomplishment of our plans." "and how, pray?" "that is your business! if artillerymen are not masters of their bullets they are no longer artillerymen. if the projectile commands the gunner, the gunner ought to be rammed instead into the cannon! fine _savants_, truly! who don't know now what to do after having induced me--" "induced!" cried barbicane and nicholl. "induced! what do you mean by that?" "no recriminations!" said michel. "i do not complain. the journey pleases me. the bullet suits me. but let us do all that is humanly possible to fall somewhere, if only upon the moon." "we should only be too glad, my worthy michel," answered barbicane, "but we have no means of doing it." "can we not modify the motion of the projectile?" "no." "nor diminish its speed?" "no." "not even by lightening it like they lighten an overloaded ship?" "what can we throw out?" answered nicholl. "we have no ballast on board. and besides, it seems to me that a lightened projectile would go on more quickly." "less quickly," said michel. "more quickly," replied nicholl. "neither more nor less quickly," answered barbicane, wishing to make his two friends agree, "for we are moving in the void where we cannot take specific weight into account." "very well," exclaimed michel ardan in a determined tone; "there is only one thing to do." "what is that?" asked nicholl. "have breakfast," imperturbably answered the audacious frenchman, who always brought that solution to the greatest difficulties. in fact, though that operation would have no influence on the direction of the projectile, it might be attempted without risk, and even successfully from the point of view of the stomach. decidedly the amiable michel had only good ideas. they breakfasted, therefore, at 2 a.m., but the hour was not of much consequence. michel served up his habitual _menu_, crowned by an amiable bottle out of his secret cellar. if ideas did not come into their heads the chambertin of 1863 must be despaired of. the meal over, observations began again. the objects they had thrown out of the projectile still followed it at the same invariable distance. it was evident that the bullet in its movement of translation round the moon had not passed through any atmosphere, for the specific weight of these objects would have modified their respective distances. there was nothing to see on the side of the terrestrial globe. the earth was only a day old, having been new at midnight the day before, and two days having to go by before her crescent, disengaged from the solar rays, could serve as a clock to the selenites, as in her movement of rotation each of her points always passes the same meridian of the moon every twenty-four hours. the spectacle was a different one on the side of the moon; the orb was shining in all its splendour amidst innumerable constellations, the rays of which could not trouble its purity. upon the disc the plains again wore the sombre tint which is seen from the earth. the rest of the nimbus was shining, and amidst the general blaze tycho stood out like a sun. barbicane could not manage any way to appreciate the velocity of the projectile, but reasoning demonstrated that this speed must be uniformly diminishing in conformity with the laws of rational mechanics. in fact, it being admitted that the bullet would describe an orbit round the moon, that orbit must necessarily be elliptical. science proves that it must be thus. no mobile circulation round any body is an exception to that law. all the orbits described in space are elliptical, those of satellites round their planets, those of planets around their sun, that of the sun round the unknown orb that serves as its central pivot. why should the projectile of the gun club escape that natural arrangement? now in elliptical orbits attracting bodies always occupy one of the foci of the ellipsis. the satellite is, therefore, nearer the body round which it gravitates at one moment than it is at another. when the earth is nearest the sun she is at her perihelion, and at her aphelion when most distant. the moon is nearest the earth at her perigee, and most distant at her apogee. to employ analogous expressions which enrich the language of astronomers, if the projectile remained a satellite of the moon, it ought to be said that it is in its "aposelene" at its most distant point, and at its "periselene" at its nearest. in the latter case the projectile ought to attain its maximum of speed, in the latter its minimum. now it was evidently going towards its "aposelene," and barbicane was right in thinking its speed would decrease up to that point, and gradually increase when it would again draw near the moon. that speed even would be absolutely _nil_ if the point was coexistent with that of attraction. barbicane studied the consequences of these different situations; he was trying what he could make of them when he was suddenly interrupted by a cry from michel ardan. "i'faith!" cried michel, "what fools we are!" "i don't say we are not," answered barbicane; "but why?" "because we have some very simple means of slackening the speed that is taking us away from the moon, and we do not use them." "and what are those means?" "that of utilising the force of recoil in our rockets." "ah, why not?" said nicholl. "we have not yet utilised that force, it is true," said barbicane, "but we shall do so." "when?" asked michel. "when the time comes. remark, my friends, that in the position now occupied by the projectile, a position still oblique to the lunar disc, our rockets, by altering its direction, might take it farther away instead of nearer to the moon. now i suppose it is the moon you want to reach?" "essentially," answered michel. "wait, then. through some inexplicable influence the projectile has a tendency to let its lower end fall towards the earth. it is probable that at the point of equal attraction its conical summit will be rigorously directed towards the moon. at that moment it may be hoped that its speed will be _nil_. that will be the time to act, and under the effort of our rockets we can, perhaps, provoke a direct fall upon the surface of the lunar disc." "bravo!" said michel. "we have not done it yet, and we could not do it as we passed the neutral point, because the projectile was still animated with too much velocity." "well reasoned out," said nicholl. "we must wait patiently," said barbicane, "and put every chance on our side; then, after having despaired so long, i again begin to think we shall reach our goal." this conclusion provoked hurrahs from michel ardan. no one of these daring madmen remembered the question they had all answered in the negative--no, the moon is not inhabited! no, the moon is probably not inhabitable! and yet they were going to do all they could to reach it. one question only now remained to be solved: at what precise moment would the projectile reach that point of equal attraction where the travellers would play their last card? in order to calculate that moment to within some seconds barbicane had only to have recourse to his travelling notes, and to take the different altitudes from lunar parallels. thus the time employed in going over the distance between the neutral point and the south pole must be equal to the distance which separates the south pole from the neutral point. the hours representing the time it took were carefully noted down, and the calculation became easy. barbicane found that this point would be reached by the projectile at 1 a.m. on the 8th of december. it was then 3 a.m. on the 7th of december. therefore, if nothing intervened, the projectile would reach the neutral point in twenty-two hours. the rockets had been put in their places to slacken the fall of the bullet upon the moon, and now the bold fellows were going to use them to provoke an exactly contrary effect. however that may be, they were ready, and there was nothing to do but await the moment for setting fire to them. "as there is nothing to do," said nicholl, "i have a proposition to make." "what is that?" asked barbicane. "i propose we go to sleep." "that is a nice idea!" exclaimed michel ardan. "it is forty hours since we have closed our eyes," said nicholl. "a few hours' sleep would set us up again." "never!" replied michel. "good," said nicholl; "every man to his humour--mine is to sleep." and lying down on a divan, nicholl was soon snoring like a forty-eight pound bullet. "nicholl is a sensible man," said barbicane soon. "i shall imitate him." a few minutes after he was joining his bass to the captain's baritone. "decidedly," said michel ardan, when he found himself alone, "these practical people sometimes do have opportune ideas." and stretching out his long legs, and folding his long arms under his head, michel went to sleep too. but this slumber could neither be durable nor peaceful. too many preoccupations filled the minds of these three men, and a few hours after, at about 7 a.m., they all three awoke at once. the projectile was still moving away from the moon, inclining its conical summit more and more towards her. this phenomenon was inexplicable at present, but it fortunately aided the designs of barbicane. another seventeen hours and the time for action would have come. that day seemed long. however bold they might be, the travellers felt much anxiety at the approach of the minute that was to decide everything, either their fall upon the moon or their imprisonment in an immutable orbit. they therefore counted the hours, which went too slowly for them, barbicane and nicholl obstinately plunged in calculations, michel walking up and down the narrow space between the walls contemplating with longing eye the impassible moon. sometimes thoughts of the earth passed through their minds. they saw again their friends of the gun club, and the dearest of them all, j.t. maston. at that moment the honourable secretary must have been occupying his post on the rocky mountains. if he should perceive the projectile upon the mirror of his gigantic telescope what would he think? after having seen it disappear behind the south pole of the moon, they would see it reappear at the north! it was, therefore, the satellite of a satellite! had j.t. maston sent that unexpected announcement into the world? was this to be the _dénouement_ of the great enterprise? meanwhile the day passed without incident. terrestrial midnight came. the 8th of december was about to commence. another hour and the point of equal attraction would be reached. what velocity then animated the projectile? they could form no estimate; but no error could vitiate barbicane's calculations. at 1 a.m. that velocity ought to be and would be _nil_. besides, another phenomenon would mark the stopping point of the projectile on the neutral line. in that spot the two attractions, terrestrial and lunar, would be annihilated. objects would not weigh anything. this singular fact, which had so curiously surprised barbicane and his companions before, must again come about under identical circumstances. it was at that precise moment they must act. the conical summit of the bullet had already sensibly turned towards the lunar disc. the projectile was just right for utilising all the recoil produced by setting fire to the apparatus. chance was therefore in the travellers' favour. if the velocity of the projectile were to be absolutely annihilated upon the neutral point, a given motion, however slight, towards the moon would determine its fall. "five minutes to one," said nicholl. "everything is ready," answered michel ardan, directing his match towards the flame of the gas. "wait!" said barbicane, chronometer in hand. at that moment weight had no effect. the travellers felt its complete disappearance in themselves. they were near the neutral point if they had not reached it. "one o'clock!" said barbicane. michel ardan put his match to a contrivance that put all the fuses into instantaneous communication. no detonation was heard outside, where air was wanting, but through the port-lights barbicane saw the prolonged flame, which was immediately extinguished. the projectile had a slight shock which was very sensibly felt in the interior. the three friends looked, listened, without speaking, hardly breathing. the beating of their hearts might have been heard in the absolute silence. "are we falling?" asked michel ardan at last. "no," answered nicholl; "for the bottom of the projectile has not turned towards the lunar disc!" at that moment barbicane left his window and turned towards his two companions. he was frightfully pale, his forehead wrinkled, his lips contracted. "we are falling!" said he. "ah!" cried michel ardan, "upon the moon?" "upon the earth!" answered barbicane. "the devil!" cried michel ardan; and he added philosophically, "when we entered the bullet we did not think it would be so difficult to get out of it again." in fact, the frightful fall had begun. the velocity kept by the projectile had sent it beyond the neutral point. the explosion of the fuses had not stopped it. that velocity which had carried the projectile beyond the neutral line as it went was destined to do the same upon its return. the law of physics condemned it, in its elliptical orbit, _to pass by every point it had already passed_. it was a terrible fall from a height of 78,000 leagues, and which no springs could deaden. according to the laws of ballistics the projectile would strike the earth with a velocity equal to that which animated it as it left the columbiad--a velocity of "16,000 metres in the last second!" and in order to give some figures for comparison it has been calculated that an object thrown from the towers of notre dame, the altitude of which is only 200 feet, would reach the pavement with a velocity of 120 leagues an hour. here the projectile would strike the earth with a velocity of 57,600 _leagues an hour_. "we are lost men," said nicholl coldly. "well, if we die," answered barbicane, with a sort of religious enthusiasm, "the result of our journey will be magnificently enlarged! god will tell us his own secret! in the other life the soul will need neither machines nor engines in order to know! it will be identified with eternal wisdom!" "true," replied michel ardan: "the other world may well console us for that trifling orb called the moon!" barbicane crossed his arms upon his chest with a movement of sublime resignation. "god's will be done!" he said. chapter xx. the soundings of the susquehanna. well, lieutenant, and what about those soundings?" "i think the operation is almost over, sir. but who would have expected to find such a depth so near land, at 100 leagues only from the american coast?" "yes, bronsfield, there is a great depression," said captain blomsberry. "there exists a submarine valley here, hollowed out by humboldt's current, which runs along the coasts of america to the straits of magellan." "those great depths," said the lieutenant, "are not favourable for the laying of telegraph cables. a smooth plateau is the best, like the one the american cable lies on between valentia and newfoundland." "i agree with you, bronsfield. and, may it please you, lieutenant, where are we now?" "sir," answered bronsfield, "we have at this moment 21,500 feet of line out, and the bullet at the end of the line has not yet touched the bottom, for the sounding-lead would have come up again." "brook's apparatus is an ingenious one," said captain blomsberry. "it allows us to obtain very correct soundings." "touched!" cried at that moment one of the forecastle-men who was superintending the operation. the captain and lieutenant went on to the forecastle-deck. "what depth are we in?" asked the captain. "twenty-one thousand seven hundred and sixty-two feet," answered the lieutenant, writing it down in his pocket-book. "very well, bronsfield," said the captain, "i will go and mark the result on my chart. now have the sounding-line brought in--that is a work of several hours. meanwhile the engineer shall have his fires lighted, and we shall be ready to start as soon as you have done. it is 10 p.m., and with your permission, lieutenant, i shall turn in." "certainly, sir, certainly!" answered lieutenant bronsfield amiably. the captain of the susquehanna, a worthy man if ever there was one, the very humble servant of his officers, went to his cabin, took his brandy-and-water with many expressions of satisfaction to the steward, got into bed, not before complimenting his servant on the way he made beds, and sank into peaceful slumber. it was then 10 p.m. the eleventh day of the month of december was going to end in a magnificent night. the susquehanna, a corvette of 500 horse power, of the united states navy, was taking soundings in the pacific at about a hundred leagues from the american coast, abreast of that long peninsula on the coast of new mexico. the wind had gradually fallen. there was not the slightest movement in the air. the colours of the corvette hung from the mast motionless and inert. the captain, jonathan blomsberry, cousin-german to colonel blomsberry, one of the gun club members who had married a horschbidden, the captain's aunt and daughter of an honourable kentucky merchant--captain blomsberry could not have wished for better weather to execute the delicate operation of sounding. his corvette had felt nothing of that great tempest which swept away the clouds heaped up on the rocky mountains, and allowed the course of the famous projectile to be observed. all was going on well, and he did not forget to thank heaven with all the fervour of a presbyterian. the series of soundings executed by the susquehanna were intended for finding out the most favourable bottoms for the establishment of a submarine cable between the hawaiian islands and the american coast. it was a vast project set on foot by a powerful company. its director, the intelligent cyrus field, meant even to cover all the islands of oceania with a vast electric network--an immense enterprise worthy of american genius. it was to the corvette susquehanna that the first operations of sounding had been entrusted. during the night from the 11th to the 12th of december she was exactly in north lat. 27° 7' and 41° 37' long., west from the washington meridian. the moon, then in her last quarter, began to show herself above the horizon. after captain blomsberry's departure, lieutenant bronsfield and a few officers were together on the poop. as the moon appeared their thoughts turned towards that orb which the eyes of a whole hemisphere were then contemplating. the best marine glasses could not have discovered the projectile wandering round the demi-globe, and yet they were all pointed at the shining disc which millions of eyes were looking at in the same moment. "they started ten days ago," then said lieutenant bronsfield. "what can have become of them?" "they have arrived, sir," exclaimed a young midshipman, "and they are doing what all travellers do in a new country, they are looking about them." "i am certain of it as you say so, my young friend," answered lieutenant bronsfield, smiling. "still," said another officer, "their arrival cannot be doubted. the projectile must have reached the moon at the moment she was full, at midnight on the 5th. we are now at the 11th of december; that makes six days. now in six times twenty-four hours, with no darkness, they have had time to get comfortably settled. it seems to me that i see our brave countrymen encamped at the bottom of a valley, on the borders of a selenite stream, near the projectile, half buried by its fall, amidst volcanic remains, captain nicholl beginning his levelling operations, president barbicane putting his travelling notes in order, michel ardan performing the lunar solitudes with his londrès cigar--" "oh, it must be so; it is so!" exclaimed the young midshipman, enthusiastic at the ideal description of his superior. "i should like to believe it," answered lieutenant bronsfield, who was seldom carried away. "unfortunately direct news from the lunar world will always be wanting." "excuse me, sir," said the midshipman, "but cannot president barbicane write?" a roar of laughter greeted this answer. "not letters," answered the young man quickly. "the post-office has nothing to do with that." "perhaps you mean the telegraph-office?" said one of the officers ironically. "nor that either," answered the midshipman, who would not give in. "but it is very easy to establish graphic communication with the earth." "and how, pray?" "by means of the telescope on long's peak. you know that it brings the moon to within two leagues only of the rocky mountains, and that it allows them to see objects having nine feet of diameter on her surface. well, our industrious friends will construct a gigantic alphabet! they will write words 600 feet long, and sentences a league long, and then they can send up news!" the young midshipman, who certainly had some imagination was loudly applauded. lieutenant bronsfield himself was convinced that the idea could have been carried out. he added that by sending luminous rays, grouped by means of parabolical mirrors, direct communications could also be established--in fact, these rays would be as visible on the surface of venus or mars as the planet neptune is from the earth. he ended by saying that the brilliant points already observed on the nearest planets might be signals made to the earth. but he said, that though by these means they could have news from the lunar world, they could not send any from the terrestrial world unless the selenites have at their disposition instruments with which to make distant observations. "that is evident," answered one of the officers, "but what has become of the travellers? what have they done? what have they seen? that is what interests us. besides, if the experiment has succeeded, which i do not doubt, it will be done again. the columbiad is still walled up in the soil of florida. it is, therefore, now only a question of powder and shot, and every time the moon passes the zenith we can send it a cargo of visitors." "it is evident," answered lieutenant bronsfield, "that j.t. maston will go and join his friends one of these days." "if he will have me," exclaimed the midshipman, "i am ready to go with him." "oh, there will be plenty of amateurs, and if they are allowed to go, half the inhabitants of the earth will soon have emigrated to the moon!" this conversation between the officers of the susquehanna was kept up till about 1 a.m. it would be impossible to transcribe the overwhelming systems and theories which were emitted by these audacious minds. since barbicane's attempt it seemed that nothing was impossible to americans. they had already formed the project of sending, not another commission of _savants_, but a whole colony, and a whole army of infantry, artillery, and cavalry to conquer the lunar world. at 1 a.m. the sounding-line was not all hauled in. ten thousand feet remained out, which would take several more hours to bring in. according to the commander's orders the fires had been lighted, and the pressure was going up already. the susquehanna might have started at once. at that very moment--it was 1.17 a.m.--lieutenant bronsfield was about to leave his watch to turn in when his attention was attracted by a distant and quite unexpected hissing sound. his comrades and he at first thought that the hissing came from an escape of steam, but upon lifting up his head he found that it was high up in the air. they had not time to question each other before the hissing became of frightful intensity, and suddenly to their dazzled eyes appeared an enormous bolis, inflamed by the rapidity of its course, by its friction against the atmospheric strata. this ignited mass grew huger as it came nearer, and fell with the noise of thunder upon the bowsprit of the corvette, which it smashed off close to the stem, and vanished in the waves. a few feet nearer and the susquehanna would have gone down with all on board. at that moment captain blomsberry appeared half-clothed, and rushing in the forecastle, where his officers had preceded him-"with your permission, gentlemen, what has happened?" he asked. and the midshipman, making himself the mouthpiece of them all, cried out-"commander, it is 'they' come back again." chapter xxi. j.t. maston called in. emotion was great on board the susquehanna. officers and sailors forgot the terrible danger they had just been in--the danger of being crushed and sunk. they only thought of the catastrophe which terminated the journey. thus, therefore, the moat audacious enterprise of ancient and modern times lost the life of the bold adventurers who had attempted it. "it is 'they' come back," the young midshipman had said, and they had all understood. no one doubted that the bolis was the projectile of the gun club. opinions were divided about the fate of the travellers. "they are dead!" said one. "they are alive," answered the other. "the water is deep here, and the shock has been deadened." "but they will have no air, and will die suffocated!" "burnt!" answered the other. "their projectile was only an incandescent mass as it crossed the atmosphere." "what does it matter?" was answered unanimously, "living or dead they must be brought up from there." meanwhile captain blomsberry had called his officers together, and with their permission he held a council. something must be done immediately. the most immediate was to haul up the projectile--a difficult operation, but not an impossible one. but the corvette wanted the necessary engines, which would have to be powerful and precise. it was, therefore, resolved to put into the nearest port, and to send word to the gun club about the fall of the bullet. this determination was taken unanimously. the choice of a port was discussed. the neighbouring coast had no harbour on the 27th degree of latitude. higher up, above the peninsula of monterey, was the important town which has given its name to it. but, seated on the confines of a veritable desert, it had no telegraphic communication with the interior, and electricity alone could spread the important news quickly enough. some degrees above lay the bay of san francisco. through the capital of the gold country communication with the centre of the union would be easy. by putting all steam on, the susquehanna, in less than two days, could reach the port of san francisco. she must, therefore, start at once. the fires were heaped up, and they could set sail immediately. two thousand fathoms of sounding still remained in the water. captain blomsberry would not lose precious time in hauling it in, and resolved to cut the line. "we will fix the end to a buoy," said he, "and the buoy will indicate the exact point where the projectile fell." "besides," answered lieutenant bronsfield, "we have our exact bearings: north lat. 27° 7', and west long. 41° 37'." "very well, mr. bronsfield," answered the captain; "with your permission, have the line cut." a strong buoy, reinforced by a couple of spars, was thrown out on to the surface of the ocean. the end of the line was solidly struck beneath, and only submitted to the ebb and flow of the surges, so that it would not drift much. at that moment the engineer came to warn the captain that he had put the pressure on, and they could start. the captain thanked him for his excellent communication. then he gave n.n.e. as the route. the corvette was put about, and made for the bay of san francisco with all steam on. it was then 3 a.m. two hundred leagues to get over was not much for a quick vessel like the susquehanna. it got over that distance in thirty-six hours, and on the 14th of december, at 1.27 p.m., she would enter the bay of san francisco. at the sight of this vessel of the national navy arriving with all speed on, her bowsprit gone, and her mainmast propped up, public curiosity was singularly excited. a compact crowd was soon assembled on the quays awaiting the landing. after weighing anchor captain blomsberry and lieutenant bronsfield got down into an eight-oared boat which carried them rapidly to the land. they jumped out on the quay. "the telegraph-office?" they asked, without answering one of the thousand questions that were showered upon them. the port inspector guided them himself to the telegraph-office, amidst an immense crowd of curious people. blomsberry and bronsfield went into the office whilst the crowd crushed against the door. a few minutes later one message was sent in four different directions:--1st, to the secretary of the navy, washington; 2nd, to the vice-president of the gun club, baltimore; 3rd, to the honourable j.t. maston, long's peak, rocky mountains; 4th, to the sub-director of the cambridge observatory, massachusetts. it ran as follows:-"in north lat. 20° 7', and west long. 41° 37', the projectile of the columbiad fell into the pacific, on december 12th, at 1.17 am. send instructions.--blomsberry, commander susquehanna." five minutes afterwards the whole town of san francisco knew the tidings. before 6 p.m. the different states of the union had intelligence of the supreme catastrophe. after midnight, through the cable, the whole of europe knew the result of the great american enterprise. it would be impossible to describe the effect produced throughout the world by the unexpected news. on receipt of the telegram the secretary of the navy telegraphed to the susquehanna to keep under fire, and wait in the bay of san francisco. she was to be ready to set sail day or night. the observatory of cambridge had an extraordinary meeting, and, with the serenity which distinguishes scientific bodies, it peacefully discussed the scientific part of the question. at the gun club there was an explosion. all the artillerymen were assembled. the vice-president, the honourable wilcome, was just reading the premature telegram by which messrs. maston and belfast announced that the projectile had just been perceived in the gigantic reflector of long's peak. this communication informed them also that the bullet, retained by the attraction of the moon, was playing the part of sub-satellite in the solar world. the truth on this subject is now known. however, upon the arrival of blomsberry's message, which so formally contradicted j.t. maston's telegram, two parties were formed in the bosom of the gun club. on the one side were members who admitted the fall of the projectile, and consequently the return of the travellers. on the other were those who, holding by the observations at long's peak, concluded that the commander of the susquehanna was mistaken. according to the latter, the pretended projectile was only a bolis, nothing but a bolis, a shooting star, which in its fall had fractured the corvette. their argument could not very well be answered, because the velocity with which it was endowed had made its observation very difficult. the commander of the susquehanna and his officers might certainly have been mistaken in good faith. one argument certainly was in their favour: if the projectile had fallen on the earth it must have touched the terrestrial spheroid upon the 27th degree of north latitude, and, taking into account the time that had elapsed, and the earth's movement of rotation, between the 41st and 42nd degree of west longitude. however that might be, it was unanimously decided in the gun club that blomsberry's brother bilsby and major elphinstone should start at once for san francisco and give their advice about the means of dragging up the projectile from the depths of the ocean. these men started without losing an instant, and the railway which was soon to cross the whole of central america took them to st. louis, where rapid mail-coaches awaited them. almost at the same moment that the secretary of the navy, the vice-president of the gun club, and the sub-director of the observatory received the telegram from san francisco, the honourable j.t. maston felt the most violent emotion of his whole existence--an emotion not even equalled by that he had experienced when his celebrated cannon was blown up, and which, like it, nearly cost him his life. it will be remembered that the secretary of the gun club had started some minutes after the projectile--and almost as quickly--for the station of long's peak in the rocky mountains. the learned j. belfast, director of the cambridge observatory, accompanied him. arrived at the station the two friends had summarily installed themselves, and no longer left the summit of their enormous telescope. we know that this gigantic instrument had been set up on the reflecting system, called "front view" by the english. this arrangement only gave one reflection of objects, and consequently made the view much clearer. the result was that j.t. maston and belfast, whilst observing, were stationed in the upper part of the instrument instead of in the lower. they reached it by a twisted staircase, a masterpiece of lightness, and below them lay the metal, well terminated by the metallic mirror, 280 feet deep. now it was upon the narrow platform placed round the telescope that the two _savants_ passed their existence, cursing the daylight which hid the moon from their eyes, and the clouds which obstinately veiled her at night. who can depict their delight when, after waiting several days, during the night of december 5th they perceived the vehicle that was carrying their friends through space? to that delight succeeded deep disappointment when, trusting to incomplete observations, they sent out with their first telegram to the world the erroneous affirmation that the projectile had become a satellite of the moon gravitating in an immutable orbit. after that instant the bullet disappeared behind the invisible disc of the moon. but when it ought to have reappeared on the invisible disc the impatience of j.t. maston and his no less impatient companion may be imagined. at every minute of the night they thought they should see the projectile again, and they did not see it. hence between them arose endless discussions and violent disputes, belfast affirming that the projectile was not visible, j.t. maston affirming that any one but a blind man could see it. "it is the bullet!" repeated j.t. maston. "no!" answered belfast, "it is an avalanche falling from a lunar mountain!" "well, then, we shall see it to-morrow." "no, it will be seen no more. it is carried away into space." "we shall see it, i tell you." "no, we shall not." and while these interjections were being showered like hail, the well-known irritability of the secretary of the gun club constituted a permanent danger to the director, belfast. their existence together would soon have become impossible, but an unexpected event cut short these eternal discussions. during the night between the 14th and 15th of december the two irreconcilable friends were occupied in observing the lunar disc. j.t. maston was, as usual, saying strong things to the learned belfast, who was getting angry too. the secretary of the gun club declared for the thousandth time that he had just perceived the projectile, adding even that michel ardan's face had appeared at one of the port-lights. he was emphasising his arguments by a series of gestures which his redoubtable hook rendered dangerous. at that moment belfast's servant appeared upon the platform--it was 10 p.m.--and gave him a telegram. it was the message from the commander of the susquehanna. belfast tore the envelope, read the inclosure, and uttered a cry. "what is it?" said j.t. maston. "it's the bullet!" "what of that?" "it has fallen upon the earth!" another cry; this time a howl answered him. he turned towards j.t. maston. the unfortunate fellow, leaning imprudently over the metal tube, had disappeared down the immense telescope--a fall of 280 feet! belfast, distracted, rushed towards the orifice of the reflector. he breathed again. j.t. maston's steel hook had caught in one of the props which maintained the platform of the telescope. he was uttering formidable cries. belfast called. help came, and the imprudent secretary was hoisted up, not without trouble. he reappeared unhurt at the upper orifice. "suppose i had broken the mirror?" said he. "you would have paid for it," answered belfast severely. "and where has the infernal bullet fallen?" asked j.t. maston. "into the pacific." "let us start at once." a quarter of an hour afterwards the two learned friends were descending the slope of the rocky mountains, and two days afterwards they reached san francisco at the same time as their friends of the gun club, having killed five horses on the road. elphinstone, blomsberry, and bilsby rushed up to them upon their arrival. "what is to be done?" they exclaimed. "the bullet must be fished up," answered j.t. maston, "and as soon as possible!" chapter xxii. picked up. the very spot where the projectile had disappeared under the waves was exactly known. the instruments for seizing it and bringing it to the surface of the ocean were still wanting. they had to be invented and then manufactured. american engineers could not be embarrassed by such a trifle. the grappling-irons once established and steam helping, they were assured of raising the projectile, notwithstanding its weight, which diminished the density of the liquid amidst which it was plunged. but it was not enough to fish up the bullet. it was necessary to act promptly in the interest of the travellers. no one doubted that they were still living. "yes," repeated j.t. maston incessantly, whose confidence inspired everybody, "our friends are clever fellows, and they cannot have fallen like imbeciles. they are alive, alive and well, but we must make haste in order to find them so. he had no anxiety about provisions and water. they had enough for a long time! but air!--air would soon fail them. then they must make haste!" and they did make haste. they prepared the susquehanna for her new destination. her powerful engines were arranged to be used for the hauling machines. the aluminium projectile only weighed 19,250 lbs., a much less weight than that of the transatlantic cable, which was picked up under similar circumstances. the only difficulty lay in the smooth sides of the cylindro-conical bullet, which made it difficult to grapple. with that end in view the engineer murchison, summoned to san francisco, caused enormous grappling-irons to be fitted upon an automatical system which would not let the projectile go again if they succeeded in seizing it with their powerful pincers. he also had some diving-dresses prepared, which, by their impermeable and resisting texture, allowed divers to survey the bottom of the sea. he likewise embarked on board the susquehanna apparatuses for compressed air, very ingeniously contrived. they were veritable rooms, with port-lights in them, and which, by introducing the water into certain compartments, could be sunk to great depths. these apparatuses were already at san francisco, where they had been used in the construction of a submarine dyke. this was fortunate, for there would not have been time to make them. yet notwithstanding the perfection of the apparatus, notwithstanding the ingenuity of the _savants_ who were to use them, the success of the operation was anything but assured. fishing up a bullet from 20,000 feet under water must be an uncertain operation. and even if the bullet should again be brought to the surface, how had the travellers borne the terrible shock that even 20,000 feet of water would not sufficiently deaden? in short, everything must be done quickly. j.t. maston hurried on his workmen day and night. he was ready either to buckle on the diver's dress or to try the air-apparatus in order to find his courageous friends. still, notwithstanding the diligence with which the different machines were got ready, notwithstanding the considerable sums which were placed at the disposition of the gun club by the government of the union, five long days (five centuries) went by before the preparations were completed. during that time public opinion was excited to the highest point. telegrams were incessantly exchanged all over the world through the electric wires and cables. the saving of barbicane, nicholl, and michel ardan became an international business. all the nations that had subscribed to the enterprise of the gun club were equally interested in the safety of the travellers. at last the grappling-chains, air-chambers, and automatic grappling-irons were embarked on board the susquehanna. j.t. maston, the engineer murchison, and the gun club delegates already occupied their cabins. there was nothing to do but to start. on the 21st of december, at 8 p.m., the corvette set sail on a calm sea with a rather cold north-east wind blowing. all the population of san francisco crowded on to the quays, mute and anxious, reserving its hurrahs for the return. the steam was put on to its maximum of tension, and the screw of the susquehanna carried it rapidly out of the bay. it would be useless to relate the conversations on board amongst the officers, sailors, and passengers. all these men had but one thought. their hearts all beat with the same emotion. what were barbicane and his companions doing whilst they were hastening to their succour? what had become of them? had they been able to attempt some audacious manoeuvre to recover their liberty? no one could say. the truth is that any attempt would have failed. sunk to nearly two leagues under the ocean, their metal prison would defy any effort of its prisoners. on the 23rd of december, at 8 a.m., after a rapid passage, the susquehanna ought to be on the scene of the disaster. they were obliged to wait till twelve o'clock to take their exact bearings. the buoy fastened on to the sounding-line had not yet been seen. at noon captain blomsberry, helped by his officers, who controlled the observation, made his point in presence of the delegates of the gun club. that was an anxious moment. the susquehanna was found to be at some minutes west of the very spot where the projectile had disappeared under the waves. the direction of the corvette was therefore given in view of reaching the precise spot. at 12.47 p.m. the buoy was sighted. it was in perfect order, and did not seem to have drifted far. "at last!" exclaimed j.t. maston. "shall we begin?" asked captain blomsberry. "without losing a second," answered j.t. maston. every precaution was taken to keep the corvette perfectly motionless. before trying to grapple the projectile, the engineer, murchison, wished to find out its exact position on the sea-bottom. the submarine apparatus destined for this search received their provision of air. the handling of these engines is not without danger, for at 20,000 feet below the surface of the water and under such great pressure they are exposed to ruptures the consequences of which would be terrible. j.t. maston, the commander's brother, and the engineer murchison, without a thought of these dangers, took their places in the air-chambers. the commander, on his foot-bridge, presided over the operation, ready to stop or haul in his chains at the least signal. the screw had been taken off, and all the force of the machines upon the windlass would soon have brought up the apparatus on board. the descent began at 1.25 p.m., and the chamber, dragged down by its reservoirs filled with water, disappeared under the surface of the ocean. the emotion of the officers and sailors on board was now divided between the prisoners in the projectile and the prisoners of the submarine apparatus. these latter forgot themselves, and, glued to the panes of the port-lights, they attentively observed the liquid masses they were passing through. the descent was rapid. at 2.17 p.m. j.t. maston and his companions had reached the bottom of the pacific; but they saw nothing except the arid desert which neither marine flora nor fauna any longer animated. by the light of their lamps, furnished with powerful reflectors, they could observe the dark layers of water in a rather large radius, but the projectile remained invisible in their eyes. the impatience of these bold divers could hardly be described. their apparatus being in electric communication with the corvette, they made a signal agreed upon, and the susquehanna carried their chamber over a mile of space at one yard from the soil. they thus explored all the submarine plain, deceived at every instant by optical delusions which cut them to the heart. here a rock, there a swelling of the ground, looked to them like the much-sought-for projectile; then they would soon find out their error and despair again. "where are they? where can they be?" cried j.t. maston. and the poor man called aloud to nicholl, barbicane, and michel ardan, as if his unfortunate friends could have heard him through that impenetrable medium! the search went on under those conditions until the vitiated state of the air in the apparatus forced the divers to go up again. the hauling in was begun at 6 p.m., and was not terminated before midnight. "we will try again to-morrow," said j.t. maston as he stepped on to the deck of the corvette. "yes," answered captain blomsberry. "and in another place." "yes." j.t. maston did not yet doubt of his ultimate success, but his companions, who were no longer intoxicated with the animation of the first few hours, already took in all the difficulties of the enterprise. what seemed easy at san francisco in open ocean appeared almost impossible. the chances of success diminished in a large proportion, and it was to chance alone that the finding of the projectile had to be left. the next day, the 24th of december, notwithstanding the fatigues of the preceding day, operations were resumed. the corvette moved some minutes farther west, and the apparatus, provisioned with air again, took the same explorers to the depths of the ocean. all that day was passed in a fruitless search. the bed of the sea was a desert. the day of the 25th brought no result, neither did that of the 26th. it was disheartening. they thought of the unfortunate men shut up for twenty-six days in the projectile. perhaps they were all feeling the first symptoms of suffocation, even if they had escaped the dangers of their fall. the air was getting exhausted, and doubtless with the air their courage and spirits. "the air very likely, but their courage never," said j.t. maston. on the 28th, after two days' search, all hope was lost. this bullet was an atom in the immensity of the sea! they must give up the hope of finding it. still j.t. maston would not hear about leaving. he would not abandon the place without having at least found the tomb of his friends. but captain blomsberry could not stay on obstinately, and notwithstanding the opposition of the worthy secretary, he was obliged to give orders to set sail. on the 29th of december, at 9 a.m., the susquehanna, heading north-east, began to return to the bay of san francisco. it was 10 a.m. the corvette was leaving slowly and as if with regret the scene of the catastrophe, when the sailor at the masthead, who was on the look-out, called out all at once-"a buoy on the lee bow!" the officers looked in the direction indicated. they saw through their telescopes the object signalled, which did look like one of those buoys used for marking the openings of bays or rivers; but, unlike them, a flag floating in the wind surmounted a cone which emerged five or six feet. this buoy shone in the sunshine as if made of plates of silver. the commander, blomsberry, j.t. maston, and the delegates of the gun club ascended the foot-bridge and examined the object thus drifting on the waves. all looked with feverish anxiety, but in silence. none of them dared utter the thought that came into all their minds. the corvette approached to within two cables' length of the object. a shudder ran through the whole crew. the flag was an american one! at that moment a veritable roar was heard. it was the worthy j.t. maston, who had fallen in a heap; forgetting on the one hand that he had only an iron hook for one arm, and on the other that a simple gutta-percha cap covered his cranium-box, he had given himself a formidable blow. they rushed towards him and picked him up. they recalled him to life. and what were his first words? "ah! triple brutes! quadruple idiots! quintuple boobies that we are!" "what is the matter?" every one round him exclaimed. "what the matter is?" "speak, can't you?" "it is, imbeciles," shouted the terrible secretary, "it is the bullet only weighs 19,250 lbs!" "well?" "and it displaces 28 tons, or 56,000 lbs., consequently _it floats_!" ah! how that worthy man did underline the verb "to float!" and it was the truth! all, yes! all these _savants_ had forgotten this fundamental law, that in consequence of its specific lightness the projectile, after having been dragged by its fall to the greatest depths of the ocean, had naturally returned to the surface; and now it was floating tranquilly whichever way the wind carried them. the boats had been lowered. j.t. maston and his friends rushed into them. the excitement was at its highest point. all hearts palpitated whilst the boats rowed towards the projectile. what did it contain--the living or the dead? the living. yes! unless death had struck down barbicane and his companions since they had hoisted the flag! profound silence reigned in the boats. all hearts stopped beating. eyes no longer performed their office. one of the port-lights of the projectile was opened. some pieces of glass remaining in the frame proved that it had been broken. this port-light was situated actually five feet above water. a boat drew alongside--that of j.t. maston. he rushed to the broken window. at that moment the joyful and clear voice of michel ardan was heard exclaiming in the accents of victory--"double blank, barbicane, double blank!" barbicane, michel ardan, and nicholl were playing at dominoes. chapter xxiii. the end. it will be remembered that immense sympathy accompanied the three travellers upon their departure. if the beginning of their enterprise had caused such excitement in the old and new world, what enthusiasm must welcome their return! would not those millions of spectators who had invaded the floridian peninsula rush to meet the sublime adventurers? would those legions of foreigners from all points of the globe, now in america, leave the union without seeing barbicane, nicholl, and michel ardan once more? no, and the ardent passion of the public would worthily respond to the grandeur of the enterprise. human beings who had left the terrestrial spheroid, who had returned after their strange journey into celestial space, could not fail to be received like the prophet elijah when he returned to the earth. to see them first, to hear them afterwards, was the general desire. this desire was to be very promptly realised by almost all the inhabitants of the union. barbicane, michel ardan, nicholl, and the delegates of the gun club returned without delay to baltimore, and were there received with indescribable enthusiasm. the president's travelling notes were ready to be given up for publicity. the _new york herald_ bought this manuscript at a price which is not yet known, but which must have been enormous. in fact, during the publication of the _journey to the moon_ they printed 5,000,000 copies of that newspaper. three days after the travellers' return to the earth the least details of their expedition were known. the only thing remaining to be done was to see the heroes of this superhuman enterprise. the exploration of barbicane and his friends around the moon had allowed them to control the different theories about the terrestrial satellite. these _savants_ had observed it _de visu_ and under quite peculiar circumstances. it was now known which systems were to be rejected, which admitted, upon the formation of this orb, its origin, and its inhabitability. its past, present, and future had given up their secrets. what could be objected to conscientious observations made at less than forty miles from that curious mountain of tycho, the strangest mountain system of lunar orography? what answers could be made to _savants_ who had looked into the dark depths of the amphitheatre of pluto? who could contradict these audacious men whom the hazards of their enterprise had carried over the invisible disc of the moon, which no human eye had ever seen before? it was now their prerogative to impose the limits of that selenographic science which had built up the lunar world like cuvier did the skeleton of a fossil, and to say, "the moon was this, a world inhabitable and inhabited anterior to the earth! the moon is this, a world now uninhabitable and uninhabited!" in order to welcome the return of the most illustrious of its members and his two companions, the gun club thought of giving them a banquet; but a banquet worthy of them, worthy of the american people, and under such circumstances that all the inhabitants of the union could take a direct part in it. all the termini of the railroads in the state were joined together by movable rails. then, in all the stations hung with the same flags, decorated with the same ornaments, were spread tables uniformly dressed. at a certain time, severely calculated upon electric clocks which beat the seconds at the same instant, the inhabitants were invited to take their places at the same banquet. during four days, from the 5th to the 9th of january, the trains were suspended like they are on sundays upon the railways of the union, and all the lines were free. one locomotive alone, a very fast engine, dragging a state saloon, had the right of circulating, during these four days, upon the railways of the united states. this locomotive, conducted by a stoker and a mechanic, carried, by a great favour, the honourable j.t. maston, secretary of the gun club. the saloon was reserved for president barbicane, captain nicholl, and michel ardan. the train left the station of baltimore upon the whistle of the engine-driver amidst the hurrahs and all the admiring interjections of the american language. it went at the speed of eighty leagues an hour. but what was that speed compared to the one with which the three heroes had left the columbiad? thus they went from one town to another, finding the population in crowds upon their passage saluting them with the same acclamations, and showering upon them the same "bravoes." they thus travelled over the east of the union through pennsylvania, connecticut, massachusetts, vermont, maine, and new brunswick; north and west through new york, ohio, michigan, and wisconsin; south through illinois, missouri, arkansas, texas, and louisiana; south-east through alabama and florida, georgia, and the carolinas; they visited the centre through tennessee, kentucky, virginia, and indiana; then after the station of washington they re-entered baltimore, and during four days they could imagine that the united states of america, seated at one immense banquet, saluted them simultaneously with the same hurrahs. this apotheosis was worthy of these heroes, whom fable would have placed in the ranks of demigods. and now would this attempt, without precedent in the annals of travels, have any practical result? would direct communication ever be established with the moon? would a service of navigation ever be founded across space for the solar world? will people ever go from planet to planet, from jupiter to mercury, and later on from one star to another, from the polar star to sirius, would a method of locomotion allow of visiting the suns which swarm in the firmament? no answer can be given to these questions, but knowing the audacious ingenuity of the anglo-saxon race, no one will be astonished that the americans tried to turn president barbicane's experiment to account. thus some time after the return of the travellers the public received with marked favour the advertisement of a joint-stock company (limited), with a capital of a hundred million dollars, divided into a hundred thousand shares of a thousand dollars each, under the name of _national company for interstellar communication_--president, barbicane; vice-president, captain nicholl; secretary, j.t. maston; director, michel ardan--and as it is customary in america to foresee everything in business, even bankruptcy, the honourable harry trollope, commissary judge, and francis dayton were appointed beforehand assignees. the end. 