The Projectile Vehicle

On the completion of the Columbiad the public interest centered in the projectile itself, the vehicle which was destined to carry the three hardy adventurers into space.

Once the Columbiad was completed, public interest turned to the projectile. It was destined to carry the three brave adventurers into space.

The new plans had been sent to Breadwill and Co., of Albany, with the request for their speedy execution. The projectile was consequently cast on the 2nd of November, and immediately forwarded by the Eastern Railway to Stones Hill, which it reached without accident on the 10th of that month, where Michel Ardan, Barbicane, and Nicholl were waiting impatiently for it.

The new plans had been sent to Breadwill and Co. in Albany, with a request to carry them out quickly. The projectile was therefore cast on November 2 and sent immediately to Stones Hill by the Eastern Railway. It arrived safely on November 10, where Michel Ardan, Barbicane, and Nicholl were waiting impatiently for it.

The projectile had now to be filled to the depth of three feet with a bed of water, intended to support a water-tight wooden disc, which worked easily within the walls of the projectile. It was upon this kind of raft that the travelers were to take their place. This body of water was divided by horizontal partitions, which the shock of the departure would have to break in succession. Then each sheet of the water, from the lowest to the highest, running off into escape tubes toward the top of the projectile, constituted a kind of spring; and the wooden disc, supplied with extremely powerful plugs, could not strike the lowest plate except after breaking successively the different partitions. Undoubtedly the travelers would still have to encounter a violent recoil after the complete escapement of the water; but the first shock would be almost entirely destroyed by this powerful spring. The upper parts of the walls were lined with a thick padding of leather, fastened upon springs of the best steel, behind which the escape tubes were completely concealed; thus all imaginable precautions had been taken for averting the first shock; and if they did get crushed, they must, as Michel Ardan said, be made of very bad materials.

The projectile now had to be filled with water to a depth of three feet. The water would support a watertight wooden disc that could move freely inside the projectile. The travelers would sit on this kind of raft. Horizontal partitions divided the water into layers. The shock of departure would break these partitions one after another. Each layer of water, from the lowest to the highest, would then flow out through tubes toward the top of the projectile. This arrangement acted like a spring. The wooden disc was fitted with extremely powerful plugs. It could not strike the bottom plate until it had broken through each partition in turn. The travelers would undoubtedly still face a violent recoil once all the water had escaped. But this powerful spring would almost entirely absorb the initial shock. The upper walls were lined with thick leather padding, attached to springs made of the finest steel. The escape tubes were completely hidden behind the padding. Every imaginable precaution had thus been taken to protect the travelers from the initial shock. If they were crushed despite all this, then, as Michel Ardan said, they must be made of very poor materials.

The entrance into this metallic tower was by a narrow aperture contrived in the wall of the cone. This was hermetically closed by a plate of aluminum, fastened internally by powerful screw-pressure. The travelers could therefore quit their prison at pleasure, as soon as they should reach the moon.

The entrance to the metal tower was a narrow opening in the wall of the cone. An aluminum plate sealed the opening airtight, held firmly in place by screws tightened from the inside. Once they reached the moon, the travelers could therefore leave their prison whenever they wished.

Light and view were given by means of four thick lenticular glass scuttles, two pierced in the circular wall itself, the third in the bottom, the fourth in the top. These scuttles then were protected against the shock of departure by plates let into solid grooves, which could easily be opened outward by unscrewing them from the inside. Reservoirs firmly fixed contained water and the necessary provisions; and fire and light were procurable by means of gas, contained in a special reservoir under a pressure of several atmospheres. They had only to turn a tap, and for six hours the gas would light and warm this comfortable vehicle.

Four thick, lens-shaped glass windows provided light and a view. Two were set in the circular wall, one in the bottom, and one in the top. Plates fitted into sturdy grooves protected the windows from the shock of departure. The plates could easily be unscrewed from inside and opened outward. Securely fastened tanks held water and the necessary provisions. Gas provided heat and light. It was stored in a special tank under a pressure of several atmospheres. They only had to turn a tap, and the gas would light and heat the comfortable vehicle for six hours.

There now remained only the question of air; for allowing for the consumption of air by Barbicane, his two companions, and two dogs which he proposed taking with him, it was necessary to renew the air of the projectile. Now air consists principally of twenty-one parts of oxygen and seventy-nine of nitrogen. The lungs absorb the oxygen, which is indispensable for the support of life, and reject the nitrogen. The air expired loses nearly five per cent. of the former and contains nearly an equal volume of carbonic acid, produced by the combustion of the elements of the blood. In an air-tight enclosure, then, after a certain time, all the oxygen of the air will be replaced by the carbonic acid—a gas fatal to life. There were two things to be done then—first, to replace the absorbed oxygen; secondly, to destroy the expired carbonic acid; both easy enough to do, by means of chlorate of potassium and caustic potash. The former is a salt which appears under the form of white crystals; when raised to a temperature of 400 degrees it is transformed into chlorure of potassium, and the oxygen which it contains is entirely liberated. Now twenty-eight pounds of chlorate of potassium produces seven pounds of oxygen, or 2,400 litres—the quantity necessary for the travelers during twenty-four hours.

Only the question of air remained. Barbicane, his two companions, and the two dogs he planned to take would all consume air. The air inside the projectile would therefore need to be replenished. Air consists mainly of twenty-one parts oxygen and seventy-nine parts nitrogen. The lungs absorb oxygen, which is essential to life, and expel nitrogen. Exhaled air contains nearly five percent less oxygen and nearly an equal volume of carbon dioxide. The carbon dioxide is produced by the combustion of elements in the blood. In an airtight enclosure, all the oxygen in the air will eventually be replaced by carbon dioxide, a gas fatal to life. Two things had to be done. First, the absorbed oxygen had to be replaced. Second, the exhaled carbon dioxide had to be removed. Both were easy enough to do with potassium chlorate and caustic potash. Potassium chlorate is a salt in the form of white crystals. When heated to 400 degrees, it changes into potassium chloride and releases all the oxygen it contains. Twenty-eight pounds of potassium chlorate produces seven pounds of oxygen, or 2,400 liters. That is the quantity the travelers need for twenty-four hours.

Caustic potash has a great affinity for carbonic acid; and it is sufficient to shake it in order for it to seize upon the acid and form bicarbonate of potassium. By these two means they would be enabled to restore to the vitiated air its life- supporting properties.

Caustic potash readily absorbs carbonic acid. Shaking it is enough to make it absorb the acid and form potassium bicarbonate. By these two methods, they could make the stale air capable of supporting life again.

It is necessary, however, to add that the experiments had hitherto been made in anima vili. Whatever its scientific accuracy was, they were at present ignorant how it would answer with human beings. The honor of putting it to the proof was energetically claimed by J. T. Maston.

However, it should be added that the experiments so far had been conducted in anima vili, on animals. Whatever its scientific accuracy, they did not yet know how it would work with humans. J. T. Maston eagerly claimed the honor of putting it to the test.

“Since I am not to go,” said the brave artillerist, “I may at least live for a week in the projectile.”

“Since I'm not going,” said the brave artilleryman, “I can at least live in the projectile for a week.”

It would have been hard to refuse him; so they consented to his wish. A sufficient quantity of chlorate of potassium and of caustic potash was placed at his disposal, together with provisions for eight days. And having shaken hands with his friends, on the 12th of November, at six o’clock A.M., after strictly informing them not to open his prison before the 20th, at six o’clock P.M., he slid down the projectile, the plate of which was at once hermetically sealed. What did he do with himself during that week? They could get no information. The thickness of the walls of the projectile prevented any sound reaching from the inside to the outside. On the 20th of November, at six P.M. exactly, the plate was opened. The friends of J. T. Maston had been all along in a state of much anxiety; but they were promptly reassured on hearing a jolly voice shouting a boisterous hurrah.

It would have been hard to refuse him, so they agreed to his wish. They gave him enough potassium chlorate and caustic potash, along with eight days’ provisions. He shook hands with his friends and strictly instructed them not to open his prison before November 20 at six P.M. Then, on November 12 at six A.M., he slid down into the projectile. Its plate was sealed airtight at once. What did he do during that week? His friends could find out nothing. The projectile’s walls were too thick for any sound from inside to reach them. On November 20, at exactly six P.M., the plate was opened. J. T. Maston’s friends had been very anxious all along. But they were quickly reassured when they heard a cheerful voice shout a loud hurrah.

Presently afterward the secretary of the Gun Club appeared at the top of the cone in a triumphant attitude. He had grown fat!

Soon afterward, the secretary of the Gun Club appeared at the top of the cone, looking triumphant. He had grown fat!