CHAPTER II
THE FIRST HALF-HOUR
What had happened? What effect had this frightful shock produced?Had the ingenuity of the constructors of the projectile obtainedany happy result? Had the shock been deadened, thanks to thesprings, the four plugs, the water-cushions, and the partition-breaks?Had they been able to subdue the frightful pressure of the initiatoryspeed of more than 11,000 yards, which was enough to traverse Parisor New York in a second? This was evidently the question suggestedto the thousand spectators of this moving scene. They forgot theaim of the journey, and thought only of the travelers. And ifone of them-- Joseph T. Maston for example-- could have cast oneglimpse into the projectile, what would he have seen?
Nothing then. The darkness was profound. But its cylindro-conical partitions had resisted wonderfully. Not a rent or adent anywhere! The wonderful projectile was not even heatedunder the intense deflagration of the powder, nor liquefied,as they seemed to fear, in a shower of aluminum.
The interior showed but little disorder; indeed, only a fewobjects had been violently thrown toward the roof; but the mostimportant seemed not to have suffered from the shock at all;their fixtures were intact.
On the movable disc, sunk down to the bottom by the smashing ofthe partition-breaks and the escape of the water, three bodieslay apparently lifeless. Barbicane, Nicholl, and Michel Ardan--did they still breathe? or was the projectile nothing now but ametal coffin, bearing three corpses into space?
Some minutes after the departure of the projectile, one ofthe bodies moved, shook its arms, lifted its head, and finallysucceeded in getting on its knees. It was Michel Ardan. He felthimself all over, gave a sonorous "Hem!" and then said:
"Michel Ardan is whole. How about the others?"
The courageous Frenchman tried to rise, but could not stand.His head swam, from the rush of blood; he was blind; he was adrunken man.
"Bur-r!" said he. "It produces the same effect as two bottlesof Corton, though perhaps less agreeable to swallow."Then, passing his hand several times across his forehead andrubbing his temples, he called in a firm voice:
"Nicholl! Barbicane!"
He waited anxiously. No answer; not even a sigh to show thatthe hearts of his companions were still beating. He called again.The same silence.
"The devil!" he exclaimed. "They look as if they had fallenfrom a fifth story on their heads. Bah!" he added, with thatimperturbable confidence which nothing could check, "if aFrenchman can get on his knees, two Americans ought to be ableto get on their feet. But first let us light up."
Ardan felt the tide of life return by degrees. His blood becamecalm, and returned to its accustomed circulation. Another effortrestored his equilibrium. He succeeded in rising, drew a matchfrom his pocket, and approaching the burner lighted it.The receiver had not suffered at all. The gas had not escaped.Besides, the smell would have betrayed it; and in that caseMichel Ardan could not have carried a lighted match withimpunity through the space filled with hydrogen. The gas mixingwith the air would have produced a detonating mixture, and theexplosion would have finished what the shock had perhaps begun.When the burner was lit, Ardan leaned over the bodies of hiscompanions: they were lying one on the other, an inert mass,Nicholl above, Barbicane underneath.
Ardan lifted the captain, propped him up against the divan, andbegan to rub vigorously. This means, used with judgment,restored Nicholl, who opened his eyes, and instantly recoveringhis presence of mind, seized Ardan's hand and looked around him.
"And Barbicane?" said he.
"Each in turn," replied Michel Ardan. "I began with you,Nicholl, because you were on the top. Now let us lookto Barbicane." Saying which, Ardan and Nicholl raised thepresident of the Gun Club and laid him on the divan. He seemedto have suffered more than either of his companions; he wasbleeding, but Nicholl was reassured by finding that thehemorrhage came from a slight wound on the shoulder, a meregraze, which he bound up carefully.
Still, Barbicane was a long time coming to himself, whichfrightened his friends, who did not spare friction.
"He breathes though," said Nicholl, putting his ear to the chestof the wounded man.
"Yes," replied Ardan, "he breathes like a man who has somenotion of that daily operation. Rub, Nicholl; let us rub harder."And the two improvised practitioners worked so hard and so wellthat Barbicane recovered his senses. He opened his eyes, sat up,took his two friends by the hands, and his first words were--
"Nicholl, are we moving?"
Nicholl and Ardan looked at each other; they had not yettroubled themselves about the projectile; their first thoughthad been for the traveler, not for the car.
"Well, are we really moving?" repeated Michel Ardan.
"Or quietly resting on the soil of Florida?" asked Nicholl.
"Or at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico?" added Michel Ardan.
"What an idea!" exclaimed the president.
And this double hypothesis suggested by his companions had theeffect of recalling him to his senses. In any case they couldnot decide on the position of the projectile. Its apparentimmovability, and the want of communication with the outside,prevented them from solving the question. Perhaps the projectilewas unwinding its course through space. Perhaps after a shortrise it had fallen upon the earth, or even in the Gulf of Mexico--a fall which the narrowness of the peninsula of Florida wouldrender not impossible.
The case was serious, the problem interesting, and one that mustbe solved as soon as possible. Thus, highly excited, Barbicane'smoral energy triumphed over physical weakness, and he rose tohis feet. He listened. Outside was perfect silence; but thethick padding was enough to intercept all sounds coming fromthe earth. But one circumstance struck Barbicane, viz., thatthe temperature inside the projectile was singularly high.The president drew a thermometer from its case and consulted it.The instrument showed
[email protected] Fahr.
"Yes," he exclaimed, "yes, we are moving! This stifling heat,penetrating through the partitions of the projectile, isproduced by its friction on the atmospheric strata. It willsoon diminish, because we are already floating in space, andafter having nearly stifled, we shall have to suffer intense cold.
"What!" said Michel Ardan. "According to your showing, Barbicane,we are already beyond the limits of the terrestrial atmosphere?"
"Without a doubt, Michel. Listen to me. It is fifty-fiveminutes past ten; we have been gone about eight minutes; and ifour initiatory speed has not been checked by the friction, sixseconds would be enough for us to pass through the forty milesof atmosphere which surrounds the globe."
"Just so," replied Nicholl; "but in what proportion do youestimate the diminution of speed by friction?"
"In the proportion of one-third, Nicholl. This diminution isconsiderable, but according to my calculations it is nothing less.If, then, we had an initiatory speed of 12,000 yards, on leavingthe atmosphere this speed would be reduced to 9,165 yards. In anycase we have already passed through this interval, and----"
"And then," said Michel Ardan, "friend Nicholl has lost his twobets: four thousand dollars because the Columbiad did not burst;five thousand dollars because the projectile has risen more thansix miles. Now, Nicholl, pay up."
"Let us prove it first," said the captain, "and we willpay afterward. It is quite possible that Barbicane's reasoningis correct, and that I have lost my nine thousand dollars. But anew hypothesis presents itself to my mind, and it annuls the wager."
"What is that?" asked Barbicane quickly.
"The hypothesis that, for some reason or other, fire was neverset to the powder, and we have not started at all."
"My goodness, captain," exclaimed Michel Ardan, "that hypothesisis not worthy of my brain! It cannot be a serious one. For havewe not been half annihilated by the shock? Did I not recall youto life? Is not the president's shoulder still bleeding from theblow it has received?"
"Granted," replied Nicholl; "but one question."
"Well, captain?"
"Did y
ou hear the detonation, which certainly ought to be loud?"
"No," replied Ardan, much surprised; "certainly I did not hearthe detonation."
"And you, Barbicane?"
"Nor I, either."
"Very well," said Nicholl.
"Well now," murmured the president "why did we not hear the detonation?"
The three friends looked at each other with a disconcerted air.It was quite an inexplicable phenomenon. The projectile hadstarted, and consequently there must have been a detonation.
"Let us first find out where we are," said Barbicane, "and letdown this panel."
This very simple operation was soon accomplished.
The nuts which held the bolts to the outer plates of theright-hand scuttle gave way under the pressure of theEnglish wrench. These bolts were pushed outside, and thebuffers covered with India-rubber stopped up the holes which letthem through. Immediately the outer plate fell back upon itshinges like a porthole, and the lenticular glass which closedthe scuttle appeared. A similar one was let into the thickpartition on the opposite side of the projectile, another in thetop of the dome, and finally a fourth in the middle of the base.They could, therefore, make observations in four differentdirections; the firmament by the side and most direct windows,the earth or the moon by the upper and under openings inthe projectile.
Barbicane and his two companions immediately rushed to theuncovered window. But it was lit by no ray of light.Profound darkness surrounded them, which, however, did notprevent the president from exclaiming:
"No, my friends, we have not fallen back upon the earth; no, norare we submerged in the Gulf of Mexico. Yes! we are mountinginto space. See those stars shining in the night, and thatimpenetrable darkness heaped up between the earth and us!"
"Hurrah! hurrah!" exclaimed Michel Ardan and Nicholl in one voice.
Indeed, this thick darkness proved that the projectile had leftthe earth, for the soil, brilliantly lit by the moon-beams wouldhave been visible to the travelers, if they had been lying onits surface. This darkness also showed that the projectile hadpassed the atmospheric strata, for the diffused light spread inthe air would have been reflected on the metal walls, whichreflection was wanting. This light would have lit the window,and the window was dark. Doubt was no longer possible; thetravelers had left the earth.
"I have lost," said Nicholl.
"I congratulate you," replied Ardan.
"Here are the nine thousand dollars," said the captain, drawinga roll of paper dollars from his pocket.
"Will you have a receipt for it?" asked Barbicane, taking the sum.
"If you do not mind," answered Nicholl; "it is more business-like."
And coolly and seriously, as if he had been at his strong-box,the president drew forth his notebook, tore out a blank leaf,wrote a proper receipt in pencil, dated and signed it with theusual flourish, [1] and gave it to the captain, who carefully placedit in his pocketbook. Michel Ardan, taking off his hat, bowed tohis two companions without speaking. So much formality under suchcircumstances left him speechless. He had never before seenanything so "American."
[1] This is a purely French habit.
This affair settled, Barbicane and Nicholl had returned to thewindow, and were watching the constellations. The stars lookedlike bright points on the black sky. But from that side theycould not see the orb of night, which, traveling from east towest, would rise by degrees toward the zenith. Its absence drewthe following remark from Ardan:
"And the moon; will she perchance fail at our rendezvous?"
"Do not alarm yourself," said Barbicane; "our future globe is atits post, but we cannot see her from this side; let us open the other."
"As Barbicane was about leaving the window to open the oppositescuttle, his attention was attracted by the approach of abrilliant object. It was an enormous disc, whose colossaldimension could not be estimated. Its face, which was turned tothe earth, was very bright. One might have thought it a smallmoon reflecting the light of the large one. She advanced withgreat speed, and seemed to describe an orbit round the earth,which would intersect the passage of the projectile. This bodyrevolved upon its axis, and exhibited the phenomena of allcelestial bodies abandoned in space.
"Ah!" exclaimed Michel Ardan, "What is that? another projectile?"
Barbicane did not answer. The appearance of this enormous bodysurprised and troubled him. A collision was possible, and mightbe attended with deplorable results; either the projectile woulddeviate from its path, or a shock, breaking its impetus, mightprecipitate it to earth; or, lastly, it might be irresistiblydrawn away by the powerful asteroid. The president caught at aglance the consequences of these three hypotheses, either ofwhich would, one way or the other, bring their experiment to anunsuccessful and fatal termination. His companions stoodsilently looking into space. The object grew rapidly as itapproached them, and by an optical illusion the projectileseemed to be throwing itself before it.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Michel Ardan, "we shall run into one another!"
Instinctively the travelers drew back. Their dread was great,but it did not last many seconds. The asteroid passed severalhundred yards from the projectile and disappeared, not so muchfrom the rapidity of its course, as that its face being oppositethe moon, it was suddenly merged into the perfect darkness of space.
"A happy journey to you," exclaimed Michel Ardan, with a sighof relief. "Surely infinity of space is large enough for a poorlittle projectile to walk through without fear. Now, what isthis portentous globe which nearly struck us?"
"I know," replied Barbicane.
"Oh, indeed! you know everything."
"It is," said Barbicane, "a simple meteorite, but an enormous one,which the attraction of the earth has retained as a satellite."
"Is it possible!" exclaimed Michel Ardan; "the earth then hastwo moons like Neptune?"
"Yes, my friends, two moons, though it passes generally forhaving only one; but this second moon is so small, and itsspeed so great, that the inhabitants of the earth cannot see it.It was by noticing disturbances that a French astronomer, M. Petit,was able to determine the existence of this second satellite andcalculate its elements. According to his observations, thismeteorite will accomplish its revolution around the earth inthree hours and twenty minutes, which implies a wonderful rateof speed."
"Do all astronomers admit the existence of this satellite?"asked Nicholl.
"No," replied Barbicane; "but if, like us, they had met it, theycould no longer doubt it. Indeed, I think that this meteorite,which, had it struck the projectile, would have much embarrassedus, will give us the means of deciding what our position inspace is."
"How?" said Ardan.
"Because its distance is known, and when we met it, we wereexactly four thousand six hundred and fifty miles from thesurface of the terrestrial globe."
"More than two thousand French leagues," exclaimed Michel Ardan."That beats the express trains of the pitiful globe called the earth."
"I should think so," replied Nicholl, consulting hischronometer; "it is eleven o'clock, and it is only thirteenminutes since we left the American continent."
"Only thirteen minutes?" said Barbicane.
"Yes," said Nicholl; "and if our initiatory speed of twelvethousand yards has been kept up, we shall have made about twentythousand miles in the hour."
"That is all very well, my friends," said the president, "butthe insoluble question still remains. Why did we not hear thedetonation of the Columbiad?"
For want of an answer the conversation dropped, and Barbicanebegan thoughtfully to let down the shutter of the second side.He succeeded; and through the uncovered glass the moon filledthe projectile with a brilliant light. Nicholl, as aneconomical man, put out the gas, now useless, and whosebrilliancy prevented any observation of the inter-planetary space.
The lunar disc shone with wonderful purity. Her rays, no longerfiltered through the vapory atmosphere of the terrestrial globe,shone through the glass, fillin
g the air in the interior of theprojectile with silvery reflections. The black curtain of thefirmament in reality heightened the moon's brilliancy, which inthis void of ether unfavorable to diffusion did not eclipse theneighboring stars. The heavens, thus seen, presented quite anew aspect, and one which the human eye could never dream of.One may conceive the interest with which these bold men watchedthe orb of night, the great aim of their journey.
In its motion the earth's satellite was insensibly nearing thezenith, the mathematical point which it ought to attainninety-six hours later. Her mountains, her plains, everyprojection was as clearly discernible to their eyes as if theywere observing it from some spot upon the earth; but its lightwas developed through space with wonderful intensity. The discshone like a platinum mirror. Of the earth flying from undertheir feet, the travelers had lost all recollection.
It was captain Nicholl who first recalled their attention to thevanishing globe.
"Yes," said Michel Ardan, "do not let us be ungrateful to it.Since we are leaving our country, let our last looks be directedto it. I wish to see the earth once more before it is quitehidden from my eyes."
To satisfy his companions, Barbicane began to uncover the windowat the bottom of the projectile, which would allow them toobserve the earth direct. The disc, which the force of theprojection had beaten down to the base, was removed, notwithout difficulty. Its fragments, placed carefully against a wall,might serve again upon occasion. Then a circular gap appeared,nineteen inches in diameter, hollowed out of the lower part ofthe projectile. A glass cover, six inches thick and strengthenedwith upper fastenings, closed it tightly. Beneath was fixed analuminum plate, held in place by bolts. The screws being undone,and the bolts let go, the plate fell down, and visiblecommunication was established between the interior and the exterior.
Michel Ardan knelt by the glass. It was cloudy, seemingly opaque.
"Well!" he exclaimed, "and the earth?"
"The earth?" said Barbicane. "There it is."
"What! that little thread; that silver crescent?"
"Doubtless, Michel. In four days, when the moon will be full,at the very time we shall reach it, the earth will be new, andwill only appear to us as a slender crescent which will soondisappear, and for some days will be enveloped in utter darkness."
"That the earth?" repeated Michel Ardan, looking with all hiseyes at the thin slip of his native planet.
The explanation given by President Barbicane was correct.The earth, with respect to the projectile, was entering itslast phase. It was in its octant, and showed a crescent finelytraced on the dark background of the sky. Its light, renderedbluish by the thick strata of the atmosphere was less intensethan that of the crescent moon, but it was of considerabledimensions, and looked like an enormous arch stretched acrossthe firmament. Some parts brilliantly lighted, especially onits concave part, showed the presence of high mountains, oftendisappearing behind thick spots, which are never seen on thelunar disc. They were rings of clouds placed concentricallyround the terrestrial globe.
While the travelers were trying to pierce the profound darkness,a brilliant cluster of shooting stars burst upon their eyes.Hundreds of meteorites, ignited by the friction of theatmosphere, irradiated the shadow of the luminous train, andlined the cloudy parts of the disc with their fire. At thisperiod the earth was in its perihelion, and the month ofDecember is so propitious to these shooting stars, thatastronomers have counted as many as twenty-four thousand inan hour. But Michel Ardan, disdaining scientific reasonings,preferred thinking that the earth was thus saluting thedeparture of her three children with her most brilliant fireworks.
Indeed this was all they saw of the globe lost in the solarworld, rising and setting to the great planets like a simplemorning or evening star! This globe, where they had left alltheir affections, was nothing more than a fugitive crescent!
Long did the three friends look without speaking, though unitedin heart, while the projectile sped onward with anever-decreasing speed. Then an irresistible drowsiness creptover their brain. Was it weariness of body and mind? No doubt;for after the over-excitement of those last hours passed uponearth, reaction was inevitable.
"Well," said Nicholl, "since we must sleep, let us sleep."
And stretching themselves on their couches, they were all threesoon in a profound slumber.
But they had not forgotten themselves more than a quarter of anhour, when Barbicane sat up suddenly, and rousing his companionswith a loud voice, exclaimed----
"I have found it!"
"What have you found?" asked Michel Ardan, jumping from his bed.
"The reason why we did not hear the detonation of the Columbiad."
"And it is----?" said Nicholl.
"Because our projectile traveled faster than the sound!"