by Jules Verne
CHAPTER II.
THE FIRST HALF-HOUR.
What had happened? What effect had this frightful shock produced? Hadthe ingenuity of the constructors of the projectile obtained any happyresult? Had the shock been deadened, thanks to the springs, the fourplugs, the water-cushions, and the partition-breaks? Had they been ableto subdue the frightful pressure of the initiatory speed of more than11,000 yards, which was enough to traverse Paris or New York in a second?This was evidently the question suggested to the thousand spectatorsof this moving scene. They forgot the aim of the journey, and thoughtonly of the travellers. And if one amongst them--Joseph T. Maston forexample--could have cast one glimpse into the projectile, what would hehave seen?
Nothing then. The darkness was profound. But its cylindro-conicalpartitions had resisted wonderfully. Not a rent or a dent anywhere! Thewonderful projectile was not even heated under the intense deflagrationof the powder, nor liquefied, as they seemed to fear, in a shower ofaluminium.
The interior showed but little disorder; indeed, only a few objects hadbeen violently thrown towards the roof; but the most important seemednot to have suffered from the shock at all; their fixtures were intact.
On the movable disc, sunk down to the bottom by the smashing of thepartition-breaks and the escape of the water, three bodies lay apparentlylifeless. Barbicane, Nicholl, and Michel Ardan-- did they still breathe?or was the projectile nothing now but a metal coffin, bearing threecorpses into space?
Some minutes after the departure of the projectile, one of the bodiesmoved, shook its arms, lifted its head, and finally succeeded in gettingon its knees. It was Michel Ardan. He felt himself all over, gave asonorous "Hem!" and then said,--
"Michel Ardan is whole. How about the others?"
The courageous Frenchman tried to rise, but could not stand. His headswam, from the rush of blood; he was blind; he was like a drunken man.
"Bur-r!" said he. "It produces the same effect as two bottles of Corton,though perhaps less agreeable to swallow." Then, passing his hand severaltimes across his forehead and rubbing his temples, he called in a firmvoice,--
"Nicholl! Barbicane!"
He waited anxiously. No answer; not even a sigh to show that the heartsof his companions were still beating. He called again. The same silence.
"The devil!" he exclaimed. They look as if they had fallen from a fifthstory on their heads. "Bah!" he added, with that imperturbable confidencewhich nothing could check, "if a Frenchman can get on his knees, twoAmericans ought to be able to get on their feet. But first let us lightup."
Ardan felt the tide of life return by degrees. His blood became calm,and returned to its accustomed circulation. Another effort restored hisequilibrium. He succeeded in rising, drew a match from his pocket, andapproaching the burner lighted it. The receiver had not suffered at all.The gas had not escaped. Besides, the smell would have betrayed it; andin that case Michel Ardan could not have carried a lighted match withimpunity through the space filled with hydrogen. The gas mixing with theair would have produced a detonating mixture, and the explosion wouldhave finished what the shock had perhaps begun. When the burner was lit,Ardan leaned over the bodies of his companions: they were lying one onthe other, an inert mass, Nicholl above, Barbicane underneath.
Illustration: THEY RAISED BARBICANE.
Ardan lifted the captain, propped him up against the divan, and began torub vigorously. This means, used with judgment, restored Nicholl, whoopened his eyes, and instantly recovering his presence of mind, seizedArdan's hand and looked around him.
"And Barbicane?" said he.
"Each in turn," replied Michel Ardan. "I began with you, Nicholl, becauseyou were on the top. Now let us look to Barbicane." Saying which, Ardanand Nicholl raised the president of the Gun Club and laid him on thedivan. He seemed to have suffered more than either of his companions; hewas bleeding, but Nicholl was reassured by finding that the hemorrhagecame from a slight wound on the shoulder, a mere graze, which he boundup carefully.
Still, Barbicane was a long time coming to himself, which frightened hisfriends, who did not spare friction.
"He breathes though," said Nicholl, putting his ear to the chest of thewounded man.
"Yes," replied Ardan, "he breathes like a man who has some notion of thatdaily operation. Rub, Nicholl; let us rub harder." And the two improvisedpractitioners worked so hard and so well that Barbicane recovered hissenses. He opened his eyes, sat up, took his two friends by the hands,and his first words were--
"Nicholl, are we moving?"
Nicholl and Barbicane looked at each other; they had not yet troubledthemselves about the projectile; their first thought had been for thetraveller, 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 the effectof recalling him to his senses. In any case they could not yet decideon the position of the projectile. Its apparent immovability, and thewant of communication with the outside, prevented them from solving thequestion. Perhaps the projectile was unwinding its course through space.Perhaps after a short rise it had fallen upon the earth, or even in theGulf of Mexico--a fall which the narrowness of the peninsula of Floridawould render not impossible.
The case was serious, the problem interesting, and one that must besolved as soon as possible. Thus, highly excited, Barbicane's moralenergy triumphed over physical weakness, and he rose to his feet. Helistened. Outside was perfect silence; but the thick padding was enoughto intercept all sounds coming from the earth. But one circumstancestruck Barbicane, viz., that the temperature inside the projectile wassingularly high. The president drew a thermometer from its case andconsulted it. The instrument showed 81 deg. Fahr.
"Yes," he exclaimed, "yes, we are moving! This stifling heat, penetratingthrough the partitions of the projectile, is produced by its friction onthe atmospheric strata. It will soon diminish, because we are alreadyfloating in space, and after having been nearly stifled, we shall haveto suffer intense cold."
"What!" said Michel Ardan. "According to your showing, Barbicane, we arealready beyond the limits of the terrestrial atmosphere?"
"Without a doubt, Michel. Listen to me. It is fifty-five minutes pastten; we have been gone about eight minutes; and if our initiatory speedhas not been checked by the friction, six seconds would be enough for usto pass through the forty miles of atmosphere which surrounds the globe."
"Just so," replied Nicholl; "but in what proportion do you estimate thediminution of speed by friction?"
"In the proportion of one-third, Nicholl. This diminution is considerable,but according to my calculations it is nothing less. If, then, we hadan initiatory speed of 12,000 yards, on leaving the atmosphere thisspeed would be reduced to 9165 yards. In any case we have already passedthrough this interval, and--"
"And then," said Michel Ardan, "friend Nicholl has lost his two bets:four thousand dollars because the Columbiad did not burst; five thousanddollars because the projectile has risen more than six miles. Now,Nicholl, pay up."
"Let us prove it first," said the captain, "and we will pay afterwards.It is quite possible that Barbicane's reasoning is correct, and that Ihave lost my nine thousand dollars. But a new hypothesis presents itselfto my mind, and it annuls the wager."
"What is that?" asked Barbicane quickly.
"The hypothesis that, for some reason or other, fire was never set tothe powder, we have not started at all."
"My goodness, captain," exclaimed Michel Ardan, "that hypothesis isworthy of my brain! It cannot be a serious one. For have we not beenhalf annihilated by the shock? Did I not recall you to life? Is not thepresident's shoulder still bleeding from the blow it has received?"
"Granted," replied Nicholl; "but one question."
"W
ell, captain?"
"Did you hear the detonation, which certainly ought to be loud?"
"No," replied Ardan, much surprised; "certainly I did not hear thedetonation."
"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. Itwas quite an inexplicable phenomenon. The projectile had started, andconsequently there must have been a detonation.
"Let us first find out where we are," said Barbicane, "and let down thepanel."
This very simple operation was soon accomplished.
The nuts which held the bolts to the outer plates of the right-handscuttle gave way under the pressure of the English wrench. These boltswere pushed outside, and buffers covered with india-rubber stopped upthe holes which let them through. Immediately the outer plate fell backupon its hinges like a porthole, and the lenticular glass which closedthe scuttle appeared. A similar one was let into the thick partition onthe opposite side of the projectile, another in the top of the dome, andfinally a fourth in the middle of the base. They could, therefore, makeobservations in four different directions: the firmament by the sideand most direct windows, the earth or the moon by the upper and underopenings in the projectile.
Barbicane and his two companions immediately rushed to the uncoveredwindow. But it was lit by no ray of light. Profound darkness surroundedthem, which, however, did not prevent the president from exclaiming,--
"No, my friends, we have not fallen back upon the earth; no, nor are wesubmerged in the Gulf of Mexico. Yes! we are mounting into space. Seethose stars shining in the night, and that impenetrable darkness heapedup between the earth and us!"
"Hurrah! hurrah!" exclaimed Michel Ardan and Nicholl in one voice.
Indeed, this thick darkness proved that the projectile had left the earth,for the soil, brilliantly lit by the moonbeams, would have been visibleto the travellers, if they had been lying on its surface. This darknessalso showed that the projectile had passed the atmospheric strata, forthe diffused light spread in the air would have been reflected on themetal walls, which reflection was wanting. This light would have litthe window, and the window was dark. Doubt was no longer possible; thetravellers had left the earth.
Illustration: IT WAS AN ENORMOUS DISC.
"I have lost," said Nicholl.
"I congratulate you," replied Ardan.
"Here are the nine thousand dollars," said the captain, drawing a rollof 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, thepresident drew forth his note-book, tore out a blank leaf, wrote a properreceipt in pencil, dated and signed it with the usual flourish,* and gaveit to the captain, who carefully placed it in his pocketbook. MichelArdan, taking off his hat, bowed to his two companions without speaking.So much formality under such circumstances left him speechless. He hadnever before seen anything so "American."
* This is a purely French habit.
This affair settled, Barbicane and Nicholl had returned to the window,and were watching the constellations. The stars looked like bright pointson the black sky. But from that side they could not see the orb of night,which, travelling from east to west, would rise by degrees towards thezenith. Its absence drew the following remark from Ardan.
"And the moon; will she perchance fail at our rendezvous?"
"Do not alarm yourself," said Barbicane; "our future globe is at itspost, but we cannot see her from this side; let us open the other."
As Barbicane was about leaving the window to open the opposite scuttle,his attention was attracted by the approach of a brilliant object. Itwas an enormous disc, whose colossal dimension could not be estimated.Its face, which was turned to the earth, was very bright. One might havethought it a small moon reflecting the light of the larger one. Sheadvanced with great speed, and seemed to describe an orbit round theearth, which would intersect the passage of the projectile. This bodyrevolved upon its axis, and exhibited the phenomena of all celestialbodies abandoned in space.
"Ah!" exclaimed Michel Ardan, "what is that? another projectile?"
Barbicane did not answer. The appearance of this enormous body surprisedand troubled him. A collision was possible, and might be attended withdeplorable results; either the projectile would deviate from its path,or a shock, breaking its impetus, might precipitate it to the earth; or,lastly, it might be irresistibly drawn away by the powerful asteroid. Thepresident caught at a glance the consequences of these three hypotheses,either of which would, one way or the other, bring their experiment toan unsuccessful and fatal termination. His companions stood silentlylooking into space. The object grew rapidly as it approached them, andby an optical illusion the projectile seemed to be throwing itself beforeit.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Michel Ardan, "we shall run into one another!"
Instinctively the travellers drew back. Their dread was great, but itdid not last many seconds. The asteroid passed several hundred yardsfrom the projectile and disappeared, not so much from the rapidity ofits course, as that its face being opposite the moon, it was suddenlymerged into the perfect darkness of space.
"A happy journey to you," exclaimed Michel Ardan, with a sigh of relief."Surely infinity of space is large enough for a poor little projectileto walk through without fear. Now, what is this portentous globe whichnearly struck us?"
"I know," replied Barbicane.
"Oh, indeed! you know everything."
"It is," said Barbicane, "a simple meteorite, but an enormous one, whichthe attraction of the earth has retained as a satellite."
"Is it possible!" exclaimed Michel Ardan; "the earth then has two moonslike Neptune?"
"Yes, my friend, two moons, though it passes generally for having onlyone; but this second moon is so small, and its speed so great, that theinhabitants of the earth cannot see it. It was by noticing disturbancesthat a French astronomer, M. Petit, was able to determine the existenceof this second satellite and calculate its elements. According to hisobservations, this meteorite will accomplish its revolution round theearth in three 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, they couldno longer doubt it. Indeed, I think that this meteorite, which, had itstruck the projectile, would have much embarrassed us, will give us themeans of deciding what our position in space is."
"How?" said Ardan.
"Because its distance is known, and when we met it, we were exactly 4650miles from the surface of the terrestrial globe."
"More than 2000 French leagues," exclaimed Michel Ardan. "That beats theexpress trains of the pitiful globe called the earth."
"I should think so," replied Nicholl, consulting his chronometer; "itis eleven o'clock, and it is only thirteen minutes since we left theAmerican Continent."
"Only thirteen minutes?" said Barbicane.
"Yes," said Nicholl; "and if our initiatory speed of 12,000 yards hasbeen kept up, we shall have made about 20,000 miles in the hour."
"That is all very well, my friends," said the president, "but theinsoluble question still remains. Why did we not hear the detonation ofthe Columbiad?"
For want of an answer the conversation dropped, and Barbicane beganthoughtfully to let down the shutter of the second side. He succeeded;and through the uncovered glass the moon filled the projectile witha brilliant light. Nicholl, as an economical man, put out the gas,now useless, and whose brilliancy prevented any observation of theinterplanetary space.
The lunar disc shone with wonderful purity. Her rays, no longer filteredthrough the vapoury atmosphere of the terrestrial globe, shone throu
ghthe glass, filling the air in the interior of the projectile with silveryreflections. The black curtain of the firmament in reality heightened themoon's brilliancy, which in this void of ether unfavourable to diffusiondid not eclipse the neighbouring stars. The heavens, thus seen, presentedquite a new aspect, and one which the human eye could never dream of.One may conceive the interest with which these bold men watched the orbof night, the great aim of their journey.
In its motion the earth's satellite was insensibly nearing the zenith,the mathematical point which it ought to attain ninety-six hours later.Her mountains, her plains, every projection was as clearly discernibleto their eyes as if they were observing it from some spot upon the earth;but its light was developed through space with wonderful intensity. Thedisc shone like a platinum mirror. Of the earth flying from under theirfeet, the travellers had lost all recollection.
It was Captain Nicholl who first recalled their attention to the vanishingglobe.
"Yes," said Michel Ardan, "do not let us be ungrateful to it. Since weare leaving our country, let our last looks be directed to it. I wish tosee the earth once more before it is quite hidden from my eyes."
To satisfy his companions, Barbicane began to uncover the window at thebottom of the projectile, which would allow them to observe the earthdirect. The disc, which the force of the projection had beaten down tothe base, was removed, not without difficulty. Its fragments, placedcarefully against the wall, might serve again upon occasion. Then acircular gap appeared, nineteen inches in diameter, hollowed out ofthe lower part of the projectile. A glass cover, six inches thick andstrengthened with upper fastenings, closed it tightly. Beneath was fixedan aluminium plate, held in place by bolts. The screws being undone,and the bolts let go, the plate fell down, and visible communication wasestablished 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 thevery time we shall reach it, the earth will be new, and will only appearto us as a slender crescent which will soon disappear, and for some dayswill be enveloped in utter darkness."
"That the earth?" repeated Michel Ardan, looking with all his eyes atthe thin slip of his native planet.
The explanation given by President Barbicane was correct. The earth,with respect to the projectile, was entering its last phase. It was inits octant, and showed a crescent finely traced on the dark backgroundof the sky. Its light, rendered bluish by the thick strata of theatmosphere was less intense than that of the crescent moon, but it wasof considerable dimensions, and looked like an enormous arch stretchedacross the firmament. Some parts brilliantly lighted, especially on itsconcave part, showed the presence of high mountains, often disappearingbehind thick spots, which are never seen on the lunar disc. They wererings of clouds placed concentrically round the terrestrial globe.
Whilst the travellers were trying to pierce the profound darkness, abrilliant cluster of shooting stars burst upon their eyes. Hundreds ofmeteorites, ignited by the friction of the atmosphere, irradiated theshadow of the luminous train, and lined the cloudy parts of the discwith their fire. At this period the earth was in its perihelium, andthe month of December is so propitious to these shooting stars, thatastronomers have counted as many as twenty-four thousand in an hour. ButMichel Ardan, disdaining scientific reasonings, preferred thinking thatthe earth was thus saluting the departure of her three children with hermost brilliant fireworks.
Indeed this was all they saw of the globe lost in the shadow, an inferiororb of the solar world, rising and setting to the great planets like asimple morning or evening star! This globe, where they had left all theiraffections, was nothing more than a fugitive crescent!
Long did the three friends look without speaking, though united in heart,whilst the projectile sped onward with an ever-decreasing speed. Thenan irresistible drowsiness crept over their brain. Was it weariness bothof body and mind? No doubt; for after the over-excitement of those lasthours passed upon earth, reaction was inevitable.
"Well," said Nicholl, "since we must sleep, let us sleep."
And stretching themselves on their couches, they were all three soon ina profound slumber.
But they had not forgotten themselves more than a quarter of an hour,when Barbicane sat up suddenly, and rousing his companions with a loudvoice, 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 travelled _faster than the sound!_"
