All Around the Moon

by Jules Verne

  CHAPTER XV.

  GLIMPSES AT THE INVISIBLE.

  In spite of the dreadful condition in which the three friends now foundthemselves, and the still more dreadful future that awaited them, itmust be acknowledged that Ardan bravely kept up his spirits. And hiscompanions were just as cheerful. Their philosophy was quite simple andperfectly intelligible. What they could bear, they bore withoutmurmuring. When it became unbearable, they only complained, ifcomplaining would do any good. Imprisoned in an iron shroud, flyingthrough profound darkness into the infinite abysses of space, nearly aquarter million of miles distant from all human aid, freezing with theicy cold, their little stock not only of gas but of _air_ rapidlyrunning lower and lower, a near future of the most impenetrableobscurity looming up before them, they never once thought of wastingtime in asking such useless questions as where they were going, or whatfate was about to befall them. Knowing that no good could possiblyresult from inaction or despair, they carefully kept their wits aboutthem, making their experiments and recording their observations ascalmly and as deliberately as if they were working at home in the quietretirement of their own cabinets.

  Any other course of action, however, would have been perfectly absurdon their part, and this no one knew better than themselves. Even ifdesirous to act otherwise, what could they have done? As powerless overthe Projectile as a baby over a locomotive, they could neither clapbrakes to its movement nor switch off its direction. A sailor can turnhis ship's head at pleasure; an aeronaut has little trouble, by means ofhis ballast and his throttle-valve, in giving a vertical movement to hisballoon. But nothing of this kind could our travellers attempt. No helm,or ballast, or throttle-valve could avail them now. Nothing in the worldcould be done to prevent things from following their own course to thebitter end.

  If these three men would permit themselves to hazard an expression atall on the subject, which they didn't, each could have done it by hisown favorite motto, so admirably expressive of his individual nature."_Donnez tete baissee!_" (Go it baldheaded!) showed Ardan'suncalculating impetuosity and his Celtic blood. "_Fata quocunquevocant!_" (To its logical consequence!) revealed Barbican'simperturbable stoicism, culture hardening rather than loosening theoriginal British phlegm. Whilst M'Nicholl's "Screw down the valve andlet her rip!" betrayed at once his unconquerable Yankee coolness and hisold experiences as a Western steamboat captain.

  Where were they now, at eight o'clock in the morning of the day calledin America the sixth of December? Near the Moon, very certainly; nearenough, in fact, for them to perceive easily in the dark the great roundscreen which she formed between themselves and the Projectile on oneside, and the Earth, Sun, and stars on the other. But as to the exactdistance at which she lay from them--they had no possible means ofcalculating it. The Projectile, impelled and maintained by forcesinexplicable and even incomprehensible, had come within less than thirtymiles from the Moon's north pole. But during those two hours ofimmersion in the dark shadow, had this distance been increased ordiminished? There was evidently no stand-point whereby to estimateeither the Projectile's direction or its velocity. Perhaps, movingrapidly away from the Moon, it would be soon out of her shadowaltogether. Perhaps, on the contrary, gradually approaching her surface,it might come into contact at any moment with some sharp invisible peakof the Lunar mountains--a catastrophe sure to put a sudden end to thetrip, and the travellers too.

  An excited discussion on this subject soon sprang up, in which allnaturally took part. Ardan's imagination as usual getting the better ofhis reason, he maintained very warmly that the Projectile, caught andretained by the Moon's attraction, could not help falling on hersurface, just as an aerolite cannot help falling on our Earth.

  "Softly, dear boy, softly," replied Barbican; "aerolites _can_ helpfalling on the Earth, and the proof is, that few of them _do_ fall--mostof them don't. Therefore, even granting that we had already assumed thenature of an aerolite, it does not necessarily follow that we shouldfall on the Moon."

  "But," objected Ardan, "if we approach only near enough, I don't see howwe can help--"

  "You don't see, it may be," said Barbican, "but you can see, if you onlyreflect a moment. Have you not often seen the November meteors, forinstance, 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?" askedBarbican.

  "I can't say I ever did," was the candid reply, "but--"

  "Well, these shooting stars," continued Barbican, "or rather thesewandering particles of matter, shine only from being inflamed by thefriction of the atmosphere. Therefore they can never be at a greaterdistance from the Earth than 30 or 40 miles at furthest, and yet theyseldom fall on it. So with our Projectile. It may go very close to theMoon 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 ourProjectile 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 twomathematical curves it has followed in describing its course. Accordingto the velocity with which it was endowed at a certain moment, it mustfollow either the one or the other; but this velocity I do not considermyself just now able to calculate."

  "Exactly so," chimed in M'Nicholl; "it must describe and keep ondescribing either a parabola or a hyperbola."

  "Precisely," said Barbican; "at a certain velocity it would take aparabolic curve; with a velocity considerably greater it should describea 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 youmean. Of course, I know all about the high--high--those high curves, andthose low curves. No matter. Explain them to me all the same. Considerme most deplorably ignorant on the nature of these curves."

  "Well," said the Captain, a little bumptiously, "a parabola is a curveof the second order, formed by the intersection of a cone by a planeparallel 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 havethought it? Now for the high--high--bully old curve!"

  "The hyperbola," continued the Captain, not minding Ardan's antics, "thehyperbola is a curve of the second order, formed from the intersectionof a cone by a plane parallel to its axis, or rather parallel to its two_generatrices_, constituting two separate branches, extendingindefinitely in both directions."

  "Oh, what an accomplished scientist I'm going to turn out, if only leftlong enough at your feet, illustrious _maestro_!" cried Ardan, witheffusion. "Only figure it to yourselves, boys; before the Captain'slucid explanations, I fully expected to hear something about the highcurves 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 withBarbican to notice that the Frenchman was only funning him. Which of thetwo curves had been the one most probably taken by the Projectile?Barbican maintained it was the parabolic; M'Nicholl insisted that it wasthe hyperbolic. Their tempers were not improved by the severe cold, andboth became rather excited in the dispute. They drew so many lines onthe table, and crossed them so often with others, that nothing was leftat 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 gesticulationso forcible and voice so loud that neither of the disputants could heara word that the other said. Possibly the very great difference intemperature between the external air in contact with their skin and theblood coursing t
hrough their veins, had given rise to magnetic currentsas potential in their effects as a superabundant supply of oxygen. Atall events, the language they soon began to employ in the enforcement oftheir arguments fairly made the Frenchman's hair stand on end.

  "You probably forget the important difference between a _directrix_ andan _axis_," hotly observed Barbican.

  "I know what an _abscissa_ is, any how!" cried the Captain. "Can you sayas much?"

  "Did you ever understand what is meant by a _double ordinate_?" askedBarbican, trying to keep cool.

  "More than you ever did about a _transverse_ and a _conjugate!_" repliedthe 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 hisordinary urbanity.

  "_Less_ than _unity_, you mean! If you want spectacles, here are mine!"shouted the Captain, angrily tearing them off and offering them to hisadversary.

  "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'squite as confident reply.

  "For gracious sake!--" resumed Ardan.

  "Then produce your _asymptote_!" exclaimed Barbican, with an angrysneer.

  "Let us see the _symmetrical point_!" roared the Captain, quitesavagely.

  "Dear boys! old fellows!--" cried Ardan, as loud as his lungs would lethim.

  "It's useless to argue with a Mississippi steamboat Captain," ejaculatedBarbican; "he never gives in till he blows up!"

  "Never try to convince a Yankee schoolmaster," replied M'Nicholl; "hehas 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 toconvince 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 himselfheard, and keeping a tight hold both on the cord and the ruler. "Thisthing has gone far enough! Come. Stop your talk, and answer me a fewquestions. 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 curvescontrols the Projectile?"

  "Not the slightest--except in the Eye of Science!"

  "Then let the Eye of Science and her parabolas and hyperbolas, andconjugates, and asymptotes, and the rest of the confounded nonsensicalfarrago, all go to pot! What's the use of bothering your heads aboutthem here! Have you not enough to trouble you otherwise? A nice pair ofscientists you are? 'Stanislow' scientists, probably. Do _real_scientists lose their tempers for a trifle? Am I ever to see my ideal ofa true scientific man in the flesh? Barbican came very near realizing myidea perfectly; but I see that Science just has as little effect asCulture in driving the Old Adam out of us! The idea of the onlysimpleton in the lot having to lecture the others on propriety ofdeportment! 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 heavyruler, Ardan! It's the only way to bring him to reason! Ho! Ho! Ho! It'stoo good! I shall never get over it!" and he laughed till his sidesached and his cheeks streamed.

  His laughter was so contagious, and his merriment so genuine, that therewas really no resisting it, and the next few minutes witnessed nothingbut laughing, and handshaking and rib-punching in the Projectile--thoughHeaven knows there was very little for the poor fellows to be merryabout. As they could neither reach the Moon nor return to the Earth,what _was_ to befall them? The immediate outlook was the very reverse ofexhilarating. If they did not die of hunger, if they did not die ofthirst, the reason would simply be that, in a few days, as soon as theirgas was exhausted, they would die for want of air, unless indeed the icycold had killed them beforehand!

  By this time, in fact, the temperature had become so exceedingly coldthat a further encroachment on their little stock of gas could be putoff no longer. The light, of course, they could manage to do without;but a little heat was absolutely necessary to prevent them from freezingto death. Fortunately, however, the caloric developed by the Reiset andRegnault process for purifying the air, raised the internal temperatureof the Projectile a little, so that, with an expenditure of gas muchless than they had expected, our travellers were able to maintain it ata degree capable of sustaining human life.

  By this time, also, all observations through the windows had becomeexceedingly difficult. The internal moisture condensed so thick andcongealed so hard on the glass that nothing short of continued frictioncould keep up its transparency. But this friction, however laboriousthey might regard it at other times, they thought very little of justnow, when observation had become far more interesting and important thanever.

  If the Moon had any atmosphere, our travellers were near enough now tostrike any meteor that might be rushing through it. If the Projectileitself were floating in it, as was possible, would not such a goodconductor of sound convey to their ears the reflexion of some lunarecho, the roar of some storm raging among the mountains, the rattling ofsome plunging avalanche, or the detonations of some eructating volcano?And suppose some lunar Etna or Vesuvius was flashing out its fires, wasit not even possible that their eye could catch a glimpse of the luridgleam? One or two facts of this kind, well attested, would singularlyelucidate the vexatious question of a lunar atmosphere, which is stillso far from being decided. Full of such thoughts and intenselyinterested in them, Barbican, M'Nicholl and Ardan, patient asastronomers 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 naturalenough, for that matter, to a mind unaccustomed to long stretches ofcareful 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 bejust the time to start. The Moon herself, I grant, would be lost in thesolar rays and therefore invisible all the time of our trip, but incompensation, we should have the Full Earth in full view. Besides--andthis is your chief point, no doubt, Ardan--if we should happen to bedrawn round the Moon, just as we are at the present moment, we shouldenjoy the inestimable advantage of beholding her invisible sidemagnificently illuminated!"

  "My idea exactly, Captain," said Ardan. "What is your opinion on thispoint, Barbican?"

  "My opinion is as follows:" answered Barbican, gravely. "If we everrepeat this jour
ney, we shall start precisely at the same time and underprecisely the same circumstances. You forget that our only object is toreach the Moon. Now suppose we had really landed there, as we expectedto do yesterday, would it not have been much more agreeable to beholdthe lunar continents enjoying the full light of day than to find themplunged in the dismal obscurity of night? Would not our firstinstallation of discovery have been under circumstances decidedlyextremely favorable? Your silence shows that you agree with me. As tothe invisible side, once landed, we should have the power to visit itwhen we pleased, and therefore we could always choose whatever timewould best suit our purpose. Therefore, if we wanted to land in theMoon, the period of the Full Moon was the best period to select. Theperiod was well chosen, the time was well calculated, the force was wellapplied, the Projectile was well aimed, but missing our way spoiledeverything."

  "That's sound logic, no doubt," said Ardan; "still I can't help thinkingthat all for want of a little light we are losing, probably forever, asplendid opportunity of seeing the Moon's invisible side. How about theother planets, Barbican? Do you think that their inhabitants are asignorant regarding their satellites as we are regarding ours?"

  "On that subject," observed M'Nicholl, "I could venture an answermyself, though, of course, without pretending to speak dogmatically onany such open question. The satellites of the other planets, by theircomparative proximity, must be much easier to study than our Moon. TheSaturnians, the Uranians, the Jovians, cannot have had very seriousdifficulty in effecting some communication with their satellites.Jupiter's four moons, for instance, though on an average actually 2-1/2times farther from their planet's centre than the Moon is from us, arecomparatively four times nearer to him on account of his radius beingeleven times greater than the Earth's. With Saturn's eight moons, thecase is almost precisely similar. Their average distance is nearly threetimes greater than that of our Moon; but as Saturn's diameter is about 9times greater than the Earth's, his bodyguards are really between 3 and4 times nearer to their principal than ours is to us. As to Uranus, hisfirst satellite, _Ariel_, half as far from him as our Moon is from theEarth, is comparatively, though not actually, eight times nearer."

  "Therefore," said Barbican, now taking up the subject, "an experimentanalogous to ours, starting from either of these three planets, wouldhave encountered fewer difficulties. But the whole question resolvesitself into this. _If_ the Jovians and the rest have been able to quittheir planets, they have probably succeeded in discovering the invisiblesides 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 withthe Projectile? It's certainly shifting!"

  Shifting it certainly was. While the path it described as it swungblindly through the darkness, could not be laid down by any chart forwant of a starting point, Barbican and his companions soon became awareof a decided modification of its relative position with regard to theMoon's surface. Instead of its side, as heretofore, it now presented itsbase to the Moon's disc, and its axis had become rigidly vertical to thelunar horizon. Of this new feature in their journey, Barbican hadassured himself by the most undoubted proof towards four o'clock in themorning. What was the cause? Gravity, of course. The heavier portion ofthe Projectile gravitated towards the Moon's centre exactly as if theywere falling towards her surface.

  But _were_ they falling? Were they at last, contrary to allexpectations, about to reach the goal that they had been so ardentlywishing for? No! A sight-point, just discovered by M'Nicholl, very soonconvinced Barbican that the Projectile was as far as ever fromapproaching the Moon, but was moving around it in a curve pretty nearconcentric.

  M'Nicholl's discovery, a luminous gleam flickering on the distant vergeof the black disc, at once engrossed the complete attention of ourtravellers and set them to divining its course. It could not possibly beconfounded with a star. Its glare was reddish, like that of a distantfurnace on a dark night; it kept steadily increasing in size andbrightness, thus showing beyond a doubt how the Projectile wasmoving--in the direction of the luminous point, and _not_ verticallyfalling towards the Moon's surface.

  "It's a volcano!" cried the Captain, in great excitement; "a volcano infull blast! An outlet of the Moon's internal fires! Therefore she can'tbe a burnt out cinder!"

  "It certainly looks like a volcano," replied Barbican, carefullyinvestigating this new and puzzling phenomenon with his night-glass. "Ifit is not one, in fact, what can it be?"

  "To maintain combustion," commenced Ardan syllogistically andsententiously, "air is necessary. An undoubted case of combustion liesbefore 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 ableto furnish its own oxygen, and thus explode in a vacuum. That blaze, infact, seems to me to possess the intensity and the blinding glare ofobjects burning in pure oxygen. Let us therefore be not over hasty injumping at the conclusion of the existence of a lunar atmosphere."

  This fire mountain was situated, according to the most plausibleconjecture, somewhere in the neighborhood of the 45th degree, southlatitude, of the Moon's invisible side. For a little while thetravellers indulged the fond hope that they were directly approachingit, but, to their great disappointment, the path described by theProjectile lay in a different direction. Its nature therefore they hadno opportunity of ascertaining. It began to disappear behind the darkhorizon within less than half an hour after the time that M'Nicholl hadsignalled it. Still, the fact of the uncontested existence of such aphenomenon was a grand one, and of considerable importance inselenographic investigations. It proved that heat had not altogetherdisappeared from the lunar world; and the existence of heat oncesettled, who can say positively that the vegetable kingdom and even theanimal kingdom have not likewise resisted so far every influence tendingto destroy them? If terrestrial astronomers could only be convinced, byundoubted evidence, of the existence of this active volcano on theMoon's surface, they would certainly admit of very considerablemodifications in the present doubts regarding her inhabitability.

  Thoughts of this kind continued to occupy the minds of our travellerseven for some time after the little spark of light had been extinguishedin the black gloom. But they said very little; even Ardan was silent,and continued to look out of the window. Barbican surrendered himself upto a reverie regarding the mysterious destinies of the lunar world. Wasits present condition a foreshadowing of what our Earth is to become?M'Nicholl, too, was lost in speculation. Was the Moon older or youngerthan the Earth in the order of Creation? Had she ever been a beautifulworld of life, and color, and magnificent variety? If so, had herinhabitants--

  Great Mercy, what a cry from Ardan! It sounded human, so seldom do wehear a shriek so expressive at once of surprise and horror and eventerror! It brought back his startled companions to their senses in asecond. Nor did they ask him for the cause of his alarm. It was only tooclear. Right in their very path, a blazing ball of fire had suddenlyrisen up before their eyes, the pitchy darkness all round it renderingits glare still more blinding. Its phosphoric coruscation filled theProjectile with white streams of lurid light, tinging the contents witha 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.

  "_Sacre!_" cried Ardan who always spoke his own language when muchexcited. "What a pair of beauties you are! Say, Barbican! Whatthundering thing is coming at us now?"

  "Another bolide," answered Barbican, his eye as calm as ever, though afaint 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 helooked 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 br
ighterthan the Full Moon, but here in the midst of the black ether andunsoftened by the veil of the atmosphere, it was absolutely blinding.These wandering bodies carry in themselves the principle of theirincandescence. Oxygen is by no means necessary for their combustion.Some of them indeed often take fire as they rush through the layers ofour atmosphere, and generally burn out before they strike the Earth. Butothers, on the contrary, and the greater number too, follow a trackthrough space far more distant from the Earth than the fifty milessupposed to limit our atmosphere. In October, 1844, one of these meteorshad appeared in the sky at an altitude calculated to be at least 320miles; and in August, 1841, another had vanished when it had reached theheight of 450 miles. A few even of those seen from the Earth must havebeen several miles in diameter. The velocity with which some of themhave been calculated to move, from east to west, in a direction contraryto that of the Earth, is astounding enough to exceed belief--about fiftymiles 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.

  THEY COULD UTTER NO WORD.]

  Barbican calculated like lightning that the present object of theiralarm was only about 250 miles distant from them, and could not beless than a mile and a quarter in diameter. It was coming on at the rateof more than a mile a second or about 75 miles a minute. It lay right inthe path of the Projectile, and in a very few seconds indeed a terriblecollision 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 sightof this frightful apparition. I shall certainly not attempt to describeit. In spite of their singular courage, wonderful coolness,extraordinary fortitude, they were now breathless, motionless, almosthelpless; their muscles were tightened to their utmost tension; theireyes stared out of their sockets; their faces were petrified withhorror. No wonder. Their Projectile, whose course they were powerless aschildren to guide, was making straight for this fiery mass, whose glarein a few seconds had become more blinding than the open vent of areverberating furnace. Their own Projectile was carrying them headlonginto a bottomless abyss of fire!

  Still, even in this moment of horror, their presence of mind, or atleast their consciousness, never abandoned them. Barbican had graspedeach of his friends by the hand, and all three tried as well as theycould to watch through half-closed eyelids the white-hot asteroid'srapid approach. They could utter no word, they could breathe no prayer.They gave themselves up for lost--in the agony of terror that partiallyinterrupted the ordinary functions of their brains, this was absolutelyall they could do! Hardly three minutes had elapsed since Ardan hadcaught 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 likea shell! Thousands of glittering fragments were flying around them inall directions--but with no more noise than is made by so many lightflakes of thistle-down floating about some warm afternoon in summer. Theblinding, blasting steely white glare of the explosion almost bereft thetravellers of the use of their eyesight forever, but no more reportreached their ears than if it had taken place at the bottom of the Gulfof Mexico. In an atmosphere like ours, such a crash would have burst theear-membranes of ten thousand elephants!

  In the middle of the commotion another loud cry was suddenly heard. Itwas the Captain who called this time. His companions rushed to hiswindow and all looked out together in the same direction.

  What a sight met their eyes! What pen can describe it? What pencil canreproduce the magnificence of its coloring? It was a Vesuvius at hisbest and wildest, at the moment just after the old cone has fallen in.Millions of luminous fragments streaked the sky with their blazingfires. All sizes and shapes of light, all colors and shades of colors,were inextricably mingled together. Irradiations in gold, scintillationsin crimson, splendors in emerald, lucidities in ultramarine--a dazzlinggirandola of every tint and of every hue. Of the enormous fireball, aninstant ago such an object of dread, nothing now remained but theseglittering pieces, shooting about in all directions, each one anasteroid in its turn. Some flew out straight and gleaming like a steelsword; others rushed here and there irregularly like chips struck off ared-hot rock; and others left long trails of glittering cosmical dustbehind them like the nebulous tail of Donati's comet.

  These incandescent blocks crossed each other, struck each other, crushedeach other into still smaller fragments, one of which, grazing theProjectile, jarred it so violently that the very window at which thetravellers were standing, was cracked by the shock. Our friends felt, infact, as if they were the objective point at which endless volleys ofblazing shells were aimed, any of them powerful enough, if it only hitthem fair, to make as short work of the Projectile as you could of anegg-shell. They had many hairbreadth escapes, but fortunately thecracking of the glass proved to be the only serious damage of which theycould complain.

  This extraordinary illumination lasted altogether only a few seconds;every one of its details was of a most singular and exciting nature--butone of its greatest wonders was yet to come. The ether, saturated withluminous matter, developed an intensity of blazing brightness unequalledby the lime light, the magnesium light, the electric light, or any otherdazzling source of illumination with which we are acquainted on earth.It flashed out of these asteroids in all directions, and downwards, ofcourse, as well as elsewhere. At one particular instant, it was so veryvivid that Ardan, who happened to be looking downwards, cried out, as ifin transport:

  "Oh!! The Moon! Visible at last!"

  And the three companions, thrilling with indescribable emotion, shot ahasty glance through the openings of the coruscating field beneath them.Did they really catch a glimpse of the mysterious invisible disc thatthe eye of man had never before lit upon? For a second or so they gazedwith enraptured fascination at all they could see. What did they see,what could they see at a distance so uncertain that Barbican has neverbeen able even to guess at it? Not much. Ardan was reminded of the nighthe had stood on the battlements of Dover Castle, a few years before,when the fitful flashes of a thunder storm gave him occasional and veryuncertain glimpses of the French coast at the opposite side of thestrait. Misty strips long and narrow, extending over one portion of thedisc--probably cloud-scuds sustained by a highly rarefiedatmosphere--permitted only a very dreamy idea of lofty mountainsstretching beneath them in shapeless proportions, of smaller reliefs,circuses, yawning craters, and the other capricious, sponge-likeformations so common on the visible side. Elsewhere the watchers becameaware for an instant of immense spaces, certainly not arid plains, butseas, real oceans, vast and calm, reflecting from their placid depthsthe dazzling fireworks of the weird and wildly flashing meteors.Farther on, but very darkly as if behind a screen, shadowy continentsrevealed 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 pitchydarkness.

  But had the impression made on the travellers' eyes been a mere visionor the result of a reality? an optical delusion or the shadow of a solidfact? Could an observation so rapid, so fleeting, so superficial, bereally regarded as a genuine scientific affirmation? Could such a feebleglimmer of the invisible disc justify them in pronouncing a decidedopinion 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 longafterwards; 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 theykept their eyes and ears open, and, by observing the most perfectsilence, they sought to render their impressions too vivid to admit ofdeception.

  There was now, however, nothing to be heard, and very little more to beseen. The few coruscations that flashed over the sky, gradually becamefewer and dimmer; the asteroids sought
paths further and further apart,and finally disappeared altogether. The ether resumed its originalblackness. The stars, eclipsed for a moment, blazed out again on thefirmament, and the invisible disc, that had flashed into view for aninstant, once more relapsed forever into the impenetrable depths ofnight.