An Unknown World

by Pierre de Sélènes

  The Comte climbed the ladder first and greeted his guests: “Welcome aboard the Espérance, Messieurs.”

  “We accept your hospitality gratefully,” said Marcel, “And I’ve very glad, for my part, that the first hand I was given to shake on returning to Earth, was that of a compatriot.”

  The Comte took them into the sumptuous dining-room, where, on a dazzling white tablecloth, crystals and silverware were glittering.

  At the sight of that luxury, of which they had been deprived for such a long time, Marcel, Jacques and Lord Rodilan most of all, could not help feeling a profound satisfaction. They regained true possession of terrestrial life and got ready to do honor to the delicate dishes and generous wines with which the table as covered.

  Meanwhile, the Espérance, which had remained under pressure, raised anchor and set off at full steam to join Captain Francis Clayton. In conformity with the instructions received, the cannon was fired every quarter of an hour to advise any ships nearby that the search as over.

  In the dining room, the four companions became joyful.

  The Comte told his guests about the impression caused throughout the world by the announcement of their imminent return; he explained the measures taken to facilitate the search for the projectile as soon as it had fallen into the Pacific, and how, on the instructions of the Maryland’s commandant, each ship had received a share of the region to be explored.

  “I was cruising,” he said “at a hundred and thirty-five degrees west longitude and eight degrees south latitude when the necessity of renewing my provisions of water obliged me to approach the coast. After having dropped anchor a few cables from the shore, I put a launch to sea and was about to land when I perceived your shell, run aground, I understood immediately that Providence had brought me to you, and was about to approach the projectile when the sound of a fusillade attracted my attention…and you know the rest.”

  “What we know,” said Marcel, “is that you arrived just in time, for those savage brutes were beginning to become rather inconvenient.”

  “But what incompetents!” said Lord Rodilan. “There were a good two hundred, and not one of their shots hit the target.”

  “Except for the one that went through your hat,” said Jacques. “An inch or two lower and we wouldn’t be having the pleasure of savoring his exquisite French brandy with you.”

  It took the Espérance, whose progress was slowed down by the enormous weight she was towing, twelve days to reach the Maryland.

  The time seemed short to the Comte de Rochebrune and his guests. Avid to know what had happened on the surface of the Earth since they had left it. Marcel, Jacques and Lord Rodilan multiplied their questions, and the Comte did his best to answer them—but he too, since he was the first to interview them, wanted to collect abundant details relating to the strange world that they had just quit.

  Interrogations and responses succeeded one another relentlessly.

  On the beautiful tropical nights, they lost track of time chatting on the deck, and scarcely remembered to get a few moments’ sleep. There was so much to be said on both sides!

  While the sun remained over the horizon the cannon never ceased to make its great voice heard, announcing to anyone within earshot that the mission had been completed successfully. During the night, rockets launched at regular intervals seemed to carry the good news into the heavens, and all the vessels that perceived the signals repeated them in their turn, so that by the time the voyagers reached the point fixed for the concentration, they were followed by twenty vessels forming a triumphal escort.

  XVIII. Triumph and Good Works

  When Jacques set foot on the deck of the Maryland he fell into Mathieu-Rollère’s arms.

  The aged scientist was quivering with a profound emotion; he was laughing and crying at the same time.

  “Oh, my boy, my dear boy!” he stammered, squeezing the young man as if to stifle him.

  “Uncle! My dear uncle!” murmured Jacques.

  Soon, however, the old man, loosening his grip, turned to his daughter, whose was standing by his side, agitated by a nervous tremor.

  “Embrace your husband,” he said. “He’s earned you!”

  And Jacques deposited his betrothal kiss on his cousin’s cheek.

  Then it was the turn of Marcel and Lord Rodilan to receive the old astronomer’s enthusiastic accolade.

  “And me?” said Georges Dumesnil, advancing in his turn.

  “Oh, my friend,” said Marcel, embracing him, “What a joy it is to see you again!”

  Jacques and Lord Rodilan also hugged that devoted friend whose collaboration had been so precious to them.

  An indescribable enthusiasm reigned on the deck of the American cruiser. All the rules of discipline and hierarchy seemed to have been momentarily forgotten.

  Captain Clayton and his officers, and all those whose rank or notoriety had permitted them to come aboard, all confused in the same surge, pressed around the voyagers. Everyone wanted to see them, to hear them and to touch them; shouts and cheers were uttered; there was a veritable delirium. Their hands were shaken, they were embraced frenziedly; everyone wanted to hug then, and in at crowd of excited admirers they were intoxicated, and had all the trouble in the world maintaining their composure.

  “Oof!” said Lord Rodilan, finally freeing himself and mopping his brow. “What the Devil’s got into them? Have they never seen people who’ve come back from the Moon before? What would our friends up there think if they saw such fanatics?”

  The initial emotion had calmed down somewhat

  In response to the boatswain’s whistle, the crewmen had resumed their posts. Captain Clayton and his guests remained on the deck.

  “Gentlemen,” said the commander of the Maryland, “you’re at home here. My mission is to take you wherever you wish.”

  After consulting one another, the three friends decided to head for Le Havre, and headed for the cabins that had been reserved for them on board.

  The only people now remaining on the cruiser were Captain Clayton’s guests. Among the visitors who had welcomed them were a considerable number of reporters, who had returned to their own ships, and we now heading for the nearest port at full steam, to telegraph the good and astonishing news to the waiting world.

  The Comte de Rochebrune, who had had the honor of picking them up, did not want to leave his new friends, and left his second in command in charge of his yacht, which was to accompany the Maryland to Le Havre.

  A French cruiser and an English cruiser, detached from their duties by their respective governments, were to form a kind of escort of honor for the American ship for the duration off its voyage. Before setting out en route, arrangements were made to bring the shell aboard the Maryland, because there could be now thought of towing it for such a long distance.

  In spite of the large size of the cruiser—some 6,000 tons—the enormous weight of the shell rendered its loading difficult. It was decided, for the sake of prudence, to lighten the ship, and two of its heaviest guns were transported to the vessels of the escort. With the aid of a powerful crane activated by on-board machined, the shell, surrounded by strong chains, was hoisted on to the deck. The hatch of the main hold had been widened to let it through, and it was solidly stowed slightly below the water-line so that its weight, considerable as it was, could not compromise the stability of the ship.

  Everything inside the projectile had been left in its original state. Marcel had decided some time ago to donate the specimens it contained to the Museum de Paris. There were numerous photographs, precious drawings and objects of all kinds fabricated by the inhabitants of the Moon, which could give an idea of their civilization as complete as possible.

  Nevertheless, he was careful to set aside the chest enclosing the precious stones, Orealis’ supreme gift, which, in accordance with the wishes of its generous donor, would be devoted to the relief of human misery.

  Six weeks later, on 29 April, the four ships, sailing in convoy, were
within sight of Le Havre. They were awaited.

  The telegraph that spread the news of their arrival everywhere, and for days, trains packed with passengers and overladen ferry-boats had been pouring crowds of people into the city who had come from all over the world to see the three heroes, whose names were henceforth unforgettable.

  The Minister of Public Education had come to meet them as they disembarked on French territory. The director of the Observatoire de Paris, the president of the Bureau des Longitudes and those of the astronomical and geographical societies had come, along with a large number of scientists, eager to collect from their own mouths the impressions they had brought back of the worlds so marvelously opened to science.

  The President of the Republic had also wanted to be represented at the ceremony, which had taken on a patriotic character.

  All the old oppositions previously raised by the spirit of routine and bureaucratic traditions were now forgotten. Before the reality of the accomplished fact, all resistance was disarmed, and an irresistible current of admiration and enthusiasm was carrying all hearts away. Those who, until recently, had been the most distrustful and rebellious were now the most prompt to proclaim the grandeur of a conquest unprecedented in the annals of science. How true is the saying that success overcomes all resistance, and that genius is only recognized when its light has blinded the most incredulous!

  Députés, senators, representatives of all the constituent bodies, all the scientific societies in France, and the Parisian, provincial and foreign press, had joined the cortege. The city of Le Havre had never seen within its walls such a collection of everything France holds of the most illustrious and the most authorized, and it was in the midst of an indescribable intoxication that the voyagers set for on the quay where the flag-decked American cruiser docked.

  After the inevitable speeches demanded by the circumstances, to which Lord Rodilan, for his part, only submitted with impatience, the three friends were obliged o resign themselves for a week to no longer belonging to themselves. Receptions, fêtes, banquets, illuminations and regattas succeeded one another without interruption, and more than once they came to regret the mental tranquility of the inhabitants of the Moon, of thoughtful and so reserved, in the midst of which they had lived for so long.

  Everything comes to an end, however, and Lord Rodilan took advantage of the calm that ordinarily follows the most exuberant manifestations to head for Portsmouth aboard the Maryland, where further ovations awaited him. His compatriots, impatient at not yet possessing him, were determined to give him a brilliant welcome themselves, to claim their share of the final success of the glorious enterprise.

  The train that took Marcel and Jacques to Paris also transported, on a wagon specially fitted out for that purpose, the shell in which they had accomplished their interplanetary journey.

  That authentic monument to the industry of the inhabitants of the Moon, along with the scientific treasures it contained, which furnished such a precise documentation of our satellite, were to remain on show in a special museum, an imperishable souvenir of an immortal voyage and a fecund aliment offered to the investigations of science.

  In Paris there was a further series of official receptions and popular fêtes.

  The Head of State, surrounded by his ministers, his military household, the staff of the Chambres and scientific bodies made it a point of honor to receive them in a solemn audience.

  Already, in response to the proposal of the President of the Council, the Senate and the Chambre des Députés had authorized the government to confer on Jacques and Marcel, by way of national recompense, the dignity of Grand-Officier de la Légion d’Honneur. For Lord Rodilan, a law was not necessary, for foreigners can be appointed immediately to the grade that their services have merited. Thus, the decrees bearing the nomination of the three explorers had appeared on the same date in the Journal Officiel.

  The population of Paris, with its ardent spirit, quick to ignite, formed a cortege for them, and welcomed them with enthusiastic cheers. If ever they had dreamed of glory as a recompense for their efforts, they must have been fully satisfied; their names were on all lips, and the thousand voices of the press bore the story of the fantastic and triumphant adventure to every corner of the world.

  A few months later, Jacques, recently married to the woman he had so valiantly won, received Marcel and Lord Rodilan at his table.

  The latter, returned from London, where he too had been the object of the warmest welcome and the most flattering distinctions, had brought back for his two companions the diploma of Commander of the Order of the Bath, which, on the initiative of the Prince of Wales, Her Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria had hastened to grant them. Other governments and scientific societies, imitating that example, had spontaneously awarded them the most honorable and the most envied recompense.

  They chatted while drinking coffee and smoking excellent cigars.

  “Now that all the noise of our escapade is beginning to die down,” said Marcel, “We need to think about what we’re going to do with the treasures that have been confided to us and of which we’re merely the depositories. Have you thought about the best use we can make of them?”

  “Excuse me, my friend,” said Jacques, blushing slightly and looking at his wife tenderly, “but I’ve scarcely had time thus far to think about it. The cares of my new installation...”

  “Good, good,” said Marcel, “I understand. You owe yourself to your recent happiness before thinking about those disinherited by fate.” As Jacques made a gesture he added: “That’s not a reproach, friend—you’ve suffered enough to have the right to be happy. What about you, Milord—do you have some project to submit to us?”

  “In truth,” replied the Englishman, the occupation of philanthropist is too unfamiliar for me to give you any useful advice. Use me for the action; I’m completely at your disposal, as you know.”

  “Well,” said Marcel, “I haven’t had the same reasons as you to remain inactive; I’ve reflected at length on what we might do for the greater profit of those who are suffering, and if you like, I’ll tell you about the plan I’ve conceived.”

  “I hope,” said Hélène, “that you’ve kept a role for me on the good that you intend to accomplish. Jacques has told me a great deal about the charming Orealis; I love that noble young woman like a sister; I want to associate myself with her generous designs, and do what she would do herself if she were in our midst.”

  “I never doubted the nobility of your sentiments, Madame, and Jacques would not have forgiven me had I not reserved a part for you in the task with which we’re charged.”

  And he explained to them the vast project that he had conceived, and of which his practical mind had already traced out the broad outlines.

  The sum of the stones contained in the chest offered by Orealis represented, in the estimation of the competent experts consulted by Marcel, an approximate value between eight and nine million francs, but it was necessary not to expect to be able to realize such a sum rapidly; that enormous quantity of precious stones, abruptly thrown on to the market, would inevitably distort the market and lead to a considerable loss. It was necessary to release them slowly and gradually, in accordance with the needs of the enterprises for which they were to serve.

  As for their employment, Marcel had judged that, given the impossibility of soothing all human miseries—a task for which all the treasures in the world would not suffice, and against which the great law of inequality that weighs upon humankind loomed up—it was necessary to restrict himself to bringing some alleviation the most cruel and the most immediate. In the opinion of all economists and philanthropists, it was on the working population of cities that the present organization of society placed the heaviest burden of poverty. It was, therefore, in that direction that his efforts ought to be directed.

  Old men whom age or infirmity rendered incapable of any labor, women left widowed young women without guidance and support, children orphaned or abandoned by un
worthy parents, and all those afflicted by malady or unemployment, and whom in spite of their good will, could not find the means to sustain their lives, appeared to him to have incontestable rights to the benefits of which they were about to be the dispensers.

  It was therefore necessary that the endeavor they were undertaking to found would include retirement facilities for the elderly, refuges for young women devoid of a family, workshops for those left without resources by long unemployment, and establishments where the homeless children swarming in the streets of great cities, from which the armies of crime would later be recruited, would be taken in, raised and educated.

  Already, no doubt, public and private charity had multiplied institutions of those kinds, but thus far it had all been on a small scale. The tentative isolated attempts that often, instead of helping one another, harmed one another, routine, the bureaucratic mentality, the personal ambitions that made charity a means of renown, exaggerated regulation and dilapidation all made the results obtained meager in proportion to the efforts deployed and the good will expended.

  The three friends, with considerable resources at their disposal, free of any attachment, disengaged from any personal interest, eager to work uniquely for the welfare of their fellows, could operate with more co-ordination and unity, and could extract the full benefit from the sums they spent.

  They would establish in some of the most populous cities of the old world—Paris, London, Vienna, St. Petersburg, etc.—centers of action and model establishments in which everything would have been foreseen, equipped to provide for the immediate needs of the poor.

  Marcel, Jacques and Lord Rodilan, who would form the superior committee of the endeavor, would each have their individual role. Marcel would take responsibility for everything concerning building, technical work and various appropriations; Jacques would supervise everything concerning hygiene, alimentation and medical services; Lord Rodilan would take charge of regulation and education, and would supervise monitoring. As for Hélène, the part she would play was neither the least important nor the least valuable; she would take care of the small children, who needed to be surrounded with maternal affection, and also those unfortunates, girls, women or widows, whom misery and despair often lead to the worst resolutions.