by Jules Verne
CHAPTER XXVI
FIRE!
The first of December had arrived! the fatal day! for, if theprojectile were not discharged that very night at 10h. 48m. 40s.P.M., more than eighteen years must roll by before the moonwould again present herself under the same conditions of zenithand perigee.
The weather was magnificent. Despite the approach of winter,the sun shone brightly, and bathed in its radiant light thatearth which three of its denizens were about to abandon for anew world.
How many persons lost their rest on the night which precededthis long-expected day! All hearts beat with disquietude, saveonly the heart of Michel Ardan. That imperturbable personagecame and went with his habitual business-like air, while nothingwhatever denoted that any unusual matter preoccupied his mind.
After dawn, an innumerable multitude covered the prairie whichextends, as far as the eye can reach, round Stones Hill. Everyquarter of an hour the railway brought fresh accessions ofsightseers; and, according to the statement of the Tampa Town_Observer_, not less than five millions of spectators throngedthe soil of Florida.
For a whole month previously, the mass of these persons hadbivouacked round the enclosure, and laid the foundations for atown which was afterward called "Ardan's Town." The whole plainwas covered with huts, cottages, and tents. Every nation underthe sun was represented there; and every language might be heardspoken at the same time. It was a perfect Babel re-enacted.All the various classes of American society were mingledtogether in terms of absolute equality. Bankers, farmers,sailors, cotton-planters, brokers, merchants, watermen,magistrates, elbowed each other in the most free-and-easy way.Louisiana Creoles fraternized with farmers from Indiana;Kentucky and Tennessee gentlemen and haughty Virginiansconversed with trappers and the half-savages of the lakes andbutchers from Cincinnati. Broad-brimmed white hats and Panamas,blue-cotton trousers, light-colored stockings, cambric frills,were all here displayed; while upon shirt-fronts, wristbands,and neckties, upon every finger, even upon the very ears, theywore an assortment of rings, shirt-pins, brooches, and trinkets,of which the value only equaled the execrable taste. Women, children,and servants, in equally expensive dress, surrounded their husbands,fathers, or masters, who resembled the patriarchs of tribes in themidst of their immense households.
At meal-times all fell to work upon the dishes peculiar to theSouthern States, and consumed with an appetite that threatenedspeedy exhaustion of the victualing powers of Florida,fricasseed frogs, stuffed monkey, fish chowder, underdone'possum, and raccoon steaks. And as for the liquors whichaccompanied this indigestible repast! The shouts, thevociferations that resounded through the bars and tavernsdecorated with glasses, tankards, and bottles of marvelousshape, mortars for pounding sugar, and bundles of straws!"Mint-julep" roars one of the barmen; "Claret sangaree!"shouts another; "Cocktail!" "Brandy-smash!" "Real mint-julepin the new style!" All these cries intermingled produced abewildering and deafening hubbub.
But on this day, 1st of December, such sounds were rare. No onethought of eating or drinking, and at four P.M. there were vastnumbers of spectators who had not even taken their customarylunch! And, a still more significant fact, even the nationalpassion for play seemed quelled for the time under the generalexcitement of the hour.
Up till nightfall, a dull, noiseless agitation, such asprecedes great catastrophes, ran through the anxious multitude.An indescribable uneasiness pervaded all minds, an indefinablesensation which oppressed the heart. Every one wished it was over.
However, about seven o'clock, the heavy silence was dissipated.The moon rose above the horizon. Millions of hurrahs hailedher appearance. She was punctual to the rendezvous, and shoutsof welcome greeted her on all sides, as her pale beams shonegracefully in the clear heavens. At this moment the threeintrepid travelers appeared. This was the signal for renewedcries of still greater intensity. Instantly the vastassemblage, as with one accord, struck up the national hymn ofthe United States, and "Yankee Doodle," sung by five million ofhearty throats, rose like a roaring tempest to the farthestlimits of the atmosphere. Then a profound silence reignedthroughout the crowd.
The Frenchman and the two Americans had by this time entered theenclosure reserved in the center of the multitude. They wereaccompanied by the members of the Gun Club, and by deputationssent from all the European Observatories. Barbicane, cool andcollected, was giving his final directions. Nicholl, withcompressed lips, his arms crossed behind his back, walked witha firm and measured step. Michel Ardan, always easy, dressed inthorough traveler's costume, leathern gaiters on his legs, pouchby his side, in loose velvet suit, cigar in mouth, was full ofinexhaustible gayety, laughing, joking, playing pranks with J.T. Maston. In one word, he was the thorough "Frenchman" (andworse, a "Parisian") to the last moment.
Ten o'clock struck! The moment had arrived for taking theirplaces in the projectile! The necessary operations for thedescent, and the subsequent removal of the cranes andscaffolding that inclined over the mouth of the Columbiad,required a certain period of time.
Barbicane had regulated his chronometer to the tenth part of asecond by that of Murchison the engineer, who was charged withthe duty of firing the gun by means of an electric spark.Thus the travelers enclosed within the projectile were enabledto follow with their eyes the impassive needle which marked theprecise moment of their departure.
The moment had arrived for saying "good-by!" The scene was atouching one. Despite his feverish gayety, even Michel Ardanwas touched. J. T. Maston had found in his own dry eyes oneancient tear, which he had doubtless reserved for the occasion.He dropped it on the forehead of his dear president.
"Can I not go?" he said, "there is still time!"
"Impossible, old fellow!" replied Barbicane. A few momentslater, the three fellow-travelers had ensconced themselves inthe projectile, and screwed down the plate which covered theentrance-aperture. The mouth of the Columbiad, now completelydisencumbered, was open entirely to the sky.
The moon advanced upward in a heaven of the purest clearness,outshining in her passage the twinkling light of the stars.She passed over the constellation of the Twins, and was nownearing the halfway point between the horizon and the zenith.A terrible silence weighed upon the entire scene! Not a breath ofwind upon the earth! not a sound of breathing from the countlesschests of the spectators! Their hearts seemed afraid to beat!All eyes were fixed upon the yawning mouth of the Columbiad.
Murchison followed with his eye the hand of his chronometer.It wanted scarce forty seconds to the moment of departure, buteach second seemed to last an age! At the twentieth there wasa general shudder, as it occurred to the minds of that vastassemblage that the bold travelers shut up within the projectilewere also counting those terrible seconds. Some few cries hereand there escaped the crowd.
"Thirty-five!-- thirty-six!-- thirty-seven!-- thirty-eight!--thirty-nine!-- forty! FIRE!!!"
Instantly Murchison pressed with his finger the key of theelectric battery, restored the current of the fluid, anddischarged the spark into the breech of the Columbiad.
An appalling unearthly report followed instantly, such as can becompared to nothing whatever known, not even to the roar ofthunder, or the blast of volcanic explosions! No words canconvey the slightest idea of the terrific sound! An immensespout of fire shot up from the bowels of the earth as from a crater.The earth heaved up, and with great difficulty some few spectatorsobtained a momentary glimpse of the projectile victoriouslycleaving the air in the midst of the fiery vapors!
