The Cannonball's Hymn

The Observatory of Cambridge in its memorable letter had treated the question from a purely astronomical point of view. The mechanical part still remained.

In its memorable letter, the Observatory of Cambridge had considered the question purely from an astronomical point of view. The mechanical part still remained.

President Barbicane had, without loss of time, nominated a working committee of the Gun Club. The duty of this committee was to resolve the three grand questions of the cannon, the projectile, and the powder. It was composed of four members of great technical knowledge, Barbicane (with a casting vote in case of equality), General Morgan, Major Elphinstone, and J. T. Maston, to whom were confided the functions of secretary. On the 8th of October the committee met at the house of President Barbicane, 3 Republican Street. The meeting was opened by the president himself.

President Barbicane wasted no time in appointing a working committee of the Gun Club. Its task was to settle the three major questions of the cannon, the projectile, and the powder. The committee had four members, all with great technical knowledge: Barbicane, General Morgan, Major Elphinstone, and J. T. Maston. Barbicane had the deciding vote in case of a tie, and Maston was appointed secretary. On October 8, the committee met at President Barbicane’s house at 3 Republican Street. The president himself opened the meeting.

“Gentlemen,” said he, “we have to resolve one of the most important problems in the whole of the noble science of gunnery. It might appear, perhaps, the most logical course to devote our first meeting to the discussion of the engine to be employed. Nevertheless, after mature consideration, it has appeared to me that the question of the projectile must take precedence of that of the cannon, and that the dimensions of the latter must necessarily depend on those of the former.”

“Gentlemen,” he said, “we must solve one of the most important problems in the noble science of gunnery. It might seem most logical to discuss the weapon at our first meeting. But after careful thought, I believe we must consider the projectile before the cannon. The cannon’s dimensions must necessarily depend on the projectile’s dimensions.”

“Suffer me to say a word,” here broke in J. T. Maston. Permission having been granted, “Gentlemen,” said he with an inspired accent, “our president is right in placing the question of the projectile above all others. The ball we are about to discharge at the moon is our ambassador to her, and I wish to consider it from a moral point of view. The cannon-ball, gentlemen, to my mind, is the most magnificent manifestation of human power. If Providence has created the stars and the planets, man has called the cannon-ball into existence. Let Providence claim the swiftness of electricity and of light, of the stars, the comets, and the planets, of wind and sound—we claim to have invented the swiftness of the cannon-ball, a hundred times superior to that of the swiftest horses or railway train. How glorious will be the moment when, infinitely exceeding all hitherto attained velocities, we shall launch our new projectile with the rapidity of seven miles a second! Shall it not, gentlemen—shall it not be received up there with the honors due to a terrestrial ambassador?”

“Let me say a word,” J. T. Maston broke in. Permission was granted. “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice full of inspiration, “our president is right to place the projectile above all other questions. The ball we are about to fire at the moon is our ambassador to her. I want to consider it from a moral point of view. Gentlemen, I believe the cannonball is the most magnificent display of human power. If Providence created the stars and planets, man brought the cannonball into existence. Let Providence claim the speed of electricity and light, the stars, comets and planets, wind and sound. We claim to have invented the speed of the cannonball. It is a hundred times faster than the fastest horses or railway train. How glorious the moment will be when we launch our new projectile at seven miles a second! That speed will far surpass every speed reached until now. Gentlemen, surely it will be received up there with the honors due to an ambassador from Earth?”

Overcome with emotion the orator sat down and applied himself to a huge plate of sandwiches before him.

Overcome with emotion, the speaker sat down and dug into the huge plate of sandwiches in front of him.

“And now,” said Barbicane, “let us quit the domain of poetry and come direct to the question.”

“And now,” said Barbicane, “let’s leave poetry behind and get straight to the question.”

“By all means,” replied the members, each with his mouth full of sandwich.

“Of course,” replied the members, each with a mouthful of sandwich.

“The problem before us,” continued the president, “is how to communicate to a projectile a velocity of 12,000 yards per second. Let us at present examine the velocities hitherto attained. General Morgan will be able to enlighten us on this point.”

“The problem before us,” the president continued, “is how to make a projectile travel at 12,000 yards per second. Let us first examine the speeds reached so far. General Morgan can tell us about them.”

“And the more easily,” replied the general, “that during the war I was a member of the committee of experiments. I may say, then, that the 100-pounder Dahlgrens, which carried a distance of 5,000 yards, impressed upon their projectile an initial velocity of 500 yards a second. The Rodman Columbiad threw a shot weighing half a ton a distance of six miles, with a velocity of 800 yards per second—a result which Armstrong and Palisser have never obtained in England.”

“And all the more easily,” replied the general, “because I served on the experiments committee during the war. So I can say that the 100-pounder Dahlgrens fired projectiles 5,000 yards, with an initial velocity of 500 yards per second. The Rodman Columbiad fired a half-ton shot six miles, with a velocity of 800 yards per second. Armstrong and Palisser have never achieved that result in England.”

“This,” replied Barbicane, “is, I believe, the maximum velocity ever attained?”

“This is the highest speed ever reached, I believe?” Barbicane replied.

“It is so,” replied the general.

“That’s right,” the general replied.

“Ah!” groaned J. T. Maston, “if my mortar had not burst—”

“Ah!” groaned J. T. Maston. “If only my mortar had not burst...”

“Yes,” quietly replied Barbicane, “but it did burst. We must take, then, for our starting point, this velocity of 800 yards. We must increase it twenty-fold. Now, reserving for another discussion the means of producing this velocity, I will call your attention to the dimensions which it will be proper to assign to the shot. You understand that we have nothing to do here with projectiles weighing at most but half a ton.”

“Yes,” Barbicane replied quietly, “but it did burst. So we must start with this velocity of 800 yards. We must increase it twentyfold. We can discuss how to reach that velocity later. For now, let us consider how large the shot should be. You understand that we are not dealing with projectiles that weigh half a ton at most.”

“Why not?” demanded the major.

“Why not?” the major demanded.

“Because the shot,” quickly replied J. T. Maston, “must be big enough to attract the attention of the inhabitants of the moon, if there are any?”

“Because the shot must be big enough to get the attention of anyone living on the moon, if anyone does?” J. T. Maston quickly replied.

“Yes,” replied Barbicane, “and for another reason more important still.”

“Yes,” Barbicane replied, “and for another, even more important reason.”

“What mean you?” asked the major.

“What do you mean?” asked the major.

“I mean that it is not enough to discharge a projectile, and then take no further notice of it; we must follow it throughout its course, up to the moment when it shall reach its goal.”

“I mean it is not enough to fire a projectile and then ignore it. We must follow it throughout its journey, until it reaches its goal.”

“What?” shouted the general and the major in great surprise.

“What?” shouted the general and the major, greatly surprised.

“Undoubtedly,” replied Barbicane composedly, “or our experiment would produce no result.”

“Of course,” Barbicane replied calmly, “or our experiment would achieve nothing.”

“But then,” replied the major, “you will have to give this projectile enormous dimensions.”

“But then,” the major replied, “you’ll have to make this projectile enormous.”

“No! Be so good as to listen. You know that optical instruments have acquired great perfection; with certain instruments we have succeeded in obtaining enlargements of 6,000 times and reducing the moon to within forty miles’ distance. Now, at this distance, any objects sixty feet square would be perfectly visible.

“No! Please listen. You know that optical instruments have become highly advanced. Some can magnify 6,000 times, making the moon appear only forty miles away. At that apparent distance, any object sixty feet square would be perfectly visible.

“If, then, the penetrative power of telescopes has not been further increased, it is because that power detracts from their light; and the moon, which is but a reflecting mirror, does not give back sufficient light to enable us to perceive objects of lesser magnitude.”

“If telescopes have not been made more powerful, it is because greater power reduces their light. And the moon is only a mirror. It does not reflect enough light for us to see smaller objects.”

“Well, then, what do you propose to do?” asked the general. “Would you give your projectile a diameter of sixty feet?”

“Well, then, what do you plan to do?” asked the general. “Would you make your projectile sixty feet wide?”

“Not so.”

“That's not true.”

“Do you intend, then, to increase the luminous power of the moon?”

“Then do you intend to make the moon brighter?”

“Exactly so. If I can succeed in diminishing the density of the atmosphere through which the moon’s light has to travel I shall have rendered her light more intense. To effect that object it will be enough to establish a telescope on some elevated mountain. That is what we will do.”

“Exactly. If I can reduce the density of the atmosphere the moon’s light travels through, the light will be more intense. To do that, we only need to put a telescope on a high mountain. That is what we will do.”

“I give it up,” answered the major. “You have such a way of simplifying things. And what enlargement do you expect to obtain in this way?”

“I give up,” the major replied. “You have a way of making things sound so simple. How much magnification do you expect to get this way?”

“One of 48,000 times, which should bring the moon within an apparent distance of five miles; and, in order to be visible, objects need not have a diameter of more than nine feet.”

“One that magnifies 48,000 times, bringing the moon to an apparent distance of five miles. Objects only need to be nine feet across to be visible.”

“So, then,” cried J. T. Maston, “our projectile need not be more than nine feet in diameter.”

“So,” cried J. T. Maston, “our projectile doesn't need to be more than nine feet in diameter.”

“Let me observe, however,” interrupted Major Elphinstone, “this will involve a weight such as—”

“Let me point out, however,” interrupted Major Elphinstone, “this will involve a weight so great that...”

“My dear major,” replied Barbicane, “before discussing its weight permit me to enumerate some of the marvels which our ancestors have achieved in this respect. I don’t mean to pretend that the science of gunnery has not advanced, but it is as well to bear in mind that during the middle ages they obtained results more surprising, I will venture to say, than ours. For instance, during the siege of Constantinople by Mahomet II., in 1453, stone shot of 1,900 pounds weight were employed. At Malta, in the time of the knights, there was a gun of the fortress of St. Elmo which threw a projectile weighing 2,500 pounds. And, now, what is the extent of what we have seen ourselves? Armstrong guns discharging shot of 500 pounds, and the Rodman guns projectiles of half a ton! It seems, then, that if projectiles have gained in range, they have lost far more in weight. Now, if we turn our efforts in that direction, we ought to arrive, with the progress on science, at ten times the weight of the shot of Mahomet II. and the Knights of Malta.”

“My dear major,” replied Barbicane, “before discussing its weight, let me list some of the marvels our ancestors achieved in this field. I don’t mean to suggest that gunnery has not advanced. But we should remember the results achieved in the Middle Ages. I would venture to say they were more surprising than ours. For example, during Mahomet II.’s siege of Constantinople in 1453, stone shot weighing 1,900 pounds were used. In the days of the knights at Malta, a gun in the fortress of St. Elmo fired a projectile weighing 2,500 pounds. And what have we seen ourselves? Armstrong guns firing shot weighing 500 pounds, and Rodman guns firing projectiles weighing half a ton! It seems, then, that projectiles have gained in range but lost much more in weight. Now, if we focus our efforts on weight, scientific progress should help us achieve ten times the weight of the shot used by Mahomet II. and the Knights of Malta.”

“Clearly,” replied the major; “but what metal do you calculate upon employing?”

“Clearly,” replied the major, “but what metal do you plan to use?”

“Simply cast iron,” said General Morgan.

“Just cast iron,” said General Morgan.

“But,” interrupted the major, “since the weight of a shot is proportionate to its volume, an iron ball of nine feet in diameter would be of tremendous weight.”

“But,” the major interrupted, “a shot’s weight is proportional to its volume. An iron ball nine feet in diameter would be tremendously heavy.”

“Yes, if it were solid, not if it were hollow.”

“Yes, if it were solid, but not if it were hollow.”

“Hollow? then it would be a shell?”

“Hollow? Then it would be a shell?”

“Yes, a shell,” replied Barbicane; “decidely it must be. A solid shot of 108 inches would weigh more than 200,000 pounds, a weight evidently far too great. Still, as we must reserve a certain stability for our projectile, I propose to give it a weight of 20,000 pounds.”

“Yes, a shell,” replied Barbicane. “It definitely must be a shell. A solid shot 108 inches across would weigh more than 200,000 pounds, which is clearly far too heavy. Still, our projectile must have some stability, so I propose a weight of 20,000 pounds.”

“What, then, will be the thickness of the sides?” asked the major.

“How thick will the sides be, then?” asked the major.

“If we follow the usual proportion,” replied Morgan, “a diameter of 108 inches would require sides of two feet thickness, or less.”

“If we follow the usual proportions,” Morgan replied, “a diameter of 108 inches would require sides two feet thick or less.”

“That would be too much,” replied Barbicane; “for you will observe that the question is not that of a shot intended to pierce an iron plate; it will suffice to give it sides strong enough to resist the pressure of the gas. The problem, therefore, is this—What thickness ought a cast-iron shell to have in order not to weight more than 20,000 pounds? Our clever secretary will soon enlighten us upon this point.”

“That would be too much,” replied Barbicane. “Remember, we are not talking about a projectile meant to pierce an iron plate. Its walls only need to be strong enough to withstand the pressure of the gas. So the question is: How thick should a cast-iron shell be to weigh no more than 20,000 pounds? Our clever secretary will soon give us the answer.”

“Nothing easier.” replied the worthy secretary of the committee; and, rapidly tracing a few algebraical formulae upon paper, among which _n_2 and _x_2 frequently appeared, he presently said:

“Nothing easier,” replied the committee’s worthy secretary. He quickly wrote a few algebraic formulas on paper, frequently using _n_2 and _x_2. Then he said:

“The sides will require a thickness of less than two inches.”

“The sides will need to be less than two inches thick.”

“Will that be enough?” asked the major doubtfully.

“Will that be enough?” the major asked doubtfully.

“Clearly not!” replied the president.

“Clearly not!” said the president.

“What is to be done, then?” said Elphinstone, with a puzzled air.

“What should we do, then?” Elphinstone asked, looking puzzled.

“Employ another metal instead of iron.”

“Use another metal instead of iron.”

“Copper?” said Morgan.

“Copper?” said Morgan.

“No! that would be too heavy. I have better than that to offer.”

“No! That would be too heavy. I have something better to offer.”

“What then?” asked the major.

“What then?” asked the major.

“Aluminum!” replied Barbicane.

“Aluminum!” Barbicane replied.

“Aluminum?” cried his three colleagues in chorus.

“Aluminum?” his three colleagues cried together.

“Unquestionably, my friends. This valuable metal possesses the whiteness of silver, the indestructibility of gold, the tenacity of iron, the fusibility of copper, the lightness of glass. It is easily wrought, is very widely distributed, forming the base of most of the rocks, is three times lighter than iron, and seems to have been created for the express purpose of furnishing us with the material for our projectile.”

“Without a doubt, my friends. This valuable metal is as white as silver, as indestructible as gold, and as strong as iron. It melts as easily as copper and is as light as glass. It is easy to work with and is found almost everywhere, forming the base of most rocks. It is three times lighter than iron. It seems to have been created specifically to provide the material for our projectile.”

“But, my dear president,” said the major, “is not the cost price of aluminum extremely high?”

“But, my dear president,” said the major, “isn’t aluminum extremely expensive?”

“It was so at its first discovery, but it has fallen now to nine dollars a pound.”

“It was when it was first discovered, but now the price has fallen to nine dollars a pound.”

“But still, nine dollars a pound!” replied the major, who was not willing readily to give in; “even that is an enormous price.”

“But still, nine dollars a pound!” replied the major, who was reluctant to give in. “Even that is a huge price.”

“Undoubtedly, my dear major; but not beyond our reach.”

“Certainly, my dear major, but not beyond our reach.”

“What will the projectile weigh then?” asked Morgan.

“How much will the projectile weigh then?” asked Morgan.

“Here is the result of my calculations,” replied Barbicane. “A shot of 108 inches in diameter, and twelve inches in thickness, would weigh, in cast-iron, 67,440 pounds; cast in aluminum, its weight will be reduced to 19,250 pounds.”

“Here are the results of my calculations,” replied Barbicane. “A shot 108 inches in diameter and twelve inches thick would weigh 67,440 pounds if made of cast iron. If made of aluminum, it would weigh only 19,250 pounds.”

“Capital!” cried the major; “but do you know that, at nine dollars a pound, this projectile will cost—”

“Great!” cried the major. “But do you know what this projectile will cost at nine dollars a pound...”

“One hundred and seventy-three thousand and fifty dollars ($173,050). I know it quite well. But fear not, my friends; the money will not be wanting for our enterprise. I will answer for it. Now what say you to aluminum, gentlemen?”

“One hundred and seventy-three thousand and fifty dollars ($173,050). I know that very well. But don't worry, my friends. We will have the money for our project. I guarantee it. Now, gentlemen, what do you say to aluminum?”

“Adopted!” replied the three members of the committee. So ended the first meeting. The question of the projectile was definitely settled.

“Adopted!” replied the three committee members. That ended the first meeting. The question of the projectile was settled.