Chapter 2

The First Half Hour

15 min

What had happened? What effect had this frightful shock produced? Had the ingenuity of the constructors of the projectile obtained any happy result? Had the shock been deadened, thanks to the springs, the four plugs, the water-cushions, and the partition-breaks? Had they been able to subdue the frightful pressure of the initiatory speed of more than 11,000 yards, which was enough to traverse Paris or New York in a second? This was evidently the question suggested to the thousand spectators of this moving scene. They forgot the aim of the journey, and thought only of the travelers. And if one of them—Joseph T. Maston for example—could have cast one glimpse into the projectile, what would he have seen?

What had happened? What effect had this terrifying shock had? Had the projectile’s builders succeeded in protecting it? Had the springs, four plugs, water cushions, and partition breaks softened the shock? Had they managed to reduce the tremendous pressure caused by the initial speed of more than 11,000 yards per second? That speed was enough to cross Paris or New York in a second. This was clearly the question on the minds of the thousand spectators watching the dramatic scene. They forgot the purpose of the journey and thought only of the travelers. And what would one of them, Joseph T. Maston for example, have seen if he could have glimpsed inside the projectile?

Nothing then. The darkness was profound. But its cylindro- conical partitions had resisted wonderfully. Not a rent or a dent anywhere! The wonderful projectile was not even heated under the intense deflagration of the powder, nor liquefied, as they seemed to fear, in a shower of aluminum.

Nothing, then. The darkness was deep. But its cylindrical and conical walls had held up wonderfully. Not a tear or a dent anywhere! The wonderful projectile had not even heated up in the intense burning of the powder. Nor had it melted into a shower of aluminum, as they seemed to fear.

The interior showed but little disorder; indeed, only a few objects had been violently thrown toward the roof; but the most important seemed not to have suffered from the shock at all; their fixtures were intact.

The interior was hardly disturbed. Only a few objects had been thrown violently toward the ceiling. But the most important objects seemed untouched by the impact. Their fastenings were intact.

On the movable disc, sunk down to the bottom by the smashing of the partition-breaks and the escape of the water, three bodies lay apparently lifeless. Barbicane, Nicholl, and Michel Ardan—did they still breathe? or was the projectile nothing now but a metal coffin, bearing three corpses into space?

Three bodies lay apparently lifeless on the movable disc. The disc had sunk to the bottom when the partition-brakes broke and the water escaped. Were Barbicane, Nicholl, and Michel Ardan still breathing? Or was the projectile now just a metal coffin carrying three corpses into space?

Some minutes after the departure of the projectile, one of the bodies moved, shook its arms, lifted its head, and finally succeeded in getting on its knees. It was Michel Ardan. He felt himself all over, gave a sonorous “Hem!” and then said:

A few minutes after the projectile left, one of the bodies moved. It shook its arms, raised its head, and finally managed to get on its knees. It was Michel Ardan. He felt himself all over, gave a loud “Hem!” and then said:

“Michel Ardan is whole. How about the others?”

“Michel Ardan is in one piece. How about the others?”

The courageous Frenchman tried to rise, but could not stand. His head swam, from the rush of blood; he was blind; he was a drunken man.

The brave Frenchman tried to get up, but he could not stand. The rush of blood made his head spin. He was blind, 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 several times across his forehead and rubbing his temples, he called in a firm voice:

“Bur-r!” he said. “It has the same effect as two bottles of Corton, though perhaps it’s less pleasant to swallow.” Then he ran his hand across his forehead several times and rubbed his temples. He called out in a firm voice:

“Nicholl! Barbicane!”

He waited anxiously. No answer; not even a sigh to show that the hearts of his companions were still beating. He called again. The same silence.

He waited anxiously. There was no answer, not even a sigh to show that his companions' hearts were still beating. He called again. The silence remained.

“The devil!” he exclaimed. “They look as if they had fallen from a fifth story on their heads. Bah!” he added, with that imperturbable confidence which nothing could check, “if a Frenchman can get on his knees, two Americans ought to be able to get on their feet. But first let us light up.”

“Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “They look as if they fell headfirst from the fifth floor. Bah!” he added, with the unshakable confidence nothing could stop. “If a Frenchman can get on his knees, two Americans ought to be able to get on their feet. But first, let's turn on the light.”

Ardan felt the tide of life return by degrees. His blood became calm, and returned to its accustomed circulation. Another effort restored his equilibrium. He succeeded in rising, drew a match from his pocket, and approaching the burner lighted it. The receiver had not suffered at all. The gas had not escaped. Besides, the smell would have betrayed it; and in that case Michel Ardan could not have carried a lighted match with impunity through the space filled with hydrogen. The gas mixing with the air would have produced a detonating mixture, and the explosion would have finished what the shock had perhaps begun. When the burner was lit, Ardan leaned over the bodies of his companions: they were lying one on the other, an inert mass, Nicholl above, Barbicane underneath.

Ardan gradually felt life returning to him. His blood calmed and began to circulate normally again. With another effort, he regained his balance. He managed to get up, take a match from his pocket, and light the burner. The receiver had not been damaged at all. No gas had escaped. Besides, the smell would have given it away. If gas had escaped, Michel Ardan could not have carried a lit match safely through the hydrogen-filled space. The gas would have mixed with the air to form an explosive mixture. The explosion would have finished what the impact had perhaps begun. Once the burner was lit, Ardan leaned over his companions' bodies. They lay motionless, one on top of the other, with Nicholl above and Barbicane underneath.

Ardan lifted the captain, propped him up against the divan, and began to rub vigorously. This means, used with judgment, restored Nicholl, who opened his eyes, and instantly recovering his presence of mind, seized Ardan’s hand and looked around him.

Ardan lifted the captain, propped him against the sofa, and began rubbing him vigorously. Ardan’s careful efforts revived Nicholl. He opened his eyes, immediately regained his composure, grabbed Ardan’s hand, and looked around.

“And Barbicane?” said he.

“And Barbicane?” he said.

“Each in turn,” replied Michel Ardan. “I began with you, Nicholl, because you were on the top. Now let us look to Barbicane.” Saying which, Ardan and Nicholl raised the president of the Gun Club and laid him on the divan. He seemed to have suffered more than either of his companions; he was bleeding, but Nicholl was reassured by finding that the hemorrhage came from a slight wound on the shoulder, a mere graze, which he bound up carefully.

“One at a time,” replied Michel Ardan. “I started with you, Nicholl, because you were on top. Now let us look at Barbicane.” Ardan and Nicholl lifted the president of the Gun Club and laid him on the couch. He seemed to have suffered more than either of his companions. He was bleeding, but Nicholl was relieved to find that the blood came from a slight wound on his shoulder. It was only a graze, which Nicholl carefully bandaged.

Still, Barbicane was a long time coming to himself, which frightened his friends, who did not spare friction.

Still, Barbicane took a long time to regain consciousness. His friends were frightened and rubbed him vigorously.

“He breathes though,” said Nicholl, putting his ear to the chest of the wounded man.

“He’s breathing, though,” said Nicholl, putting his ear to the wounded man’s chest.

“Yes,” replied Ardan, “he breathes like a man who has some notion of that daily operation. Rub, Nicholl; let us rub harder.” And the two improvised practitioners worked so hard and so well that Barbicane recovered his senses. He opened his eyes, sat up, took his two friends by the hands, and his first words were—

“Yes,” replied Ardan, “he breathes like a man who knows something about that daily activity. Rub, Nicholl. Let’s rub harder.” The two makeshift doctors worked so hard and so well that Barbicane regained consciousness. He opened his eyes, sat up, and took his two friends by the hands. His first words were:

“Nicholl, are we moving?”

Nicholl and Ardan looked at each other; they had not yet troubled themselves about the projectile; their first thought had been for the traveler, not for the car.

Nicholl and Ardan looked at each other. They had not yet worried about the projectile. They had thought first of the traveler, not the vehicle.

“Well, are we really moving?” repeated Michel Ardan.

“Well, are we really moving?” Michel Ardan repeated.

“Or quietly resting on the soil of Florida?” asked Nicholl.

“Or lying quietly on the ground in Florida?” asked Nicholl.

“Or at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico?” added Michel Ardan.

“What an idea!” exclaimed the president.

“What an idea!” the president exclaimed.

And this double hypothesis suggested by his companions had the effect of recalling him to his senses. In any case they could not decide on the position of the projectile. Its apparent immovability, and the want of communication with the outside, prevented them from solving the question. Perhaps the projectile was unwinding its course through space. Perhaps after a short rise it had fallen upon the earth, or even in the Gulf of Mexico—a fall which the narrowness of the peninsula of Florida would render not impossible.

The two possibilities his companions suggested brought him back to his senses. In any case, they could not determine the projectile's position. It seemed motionless, and they had no contact with the outside world. These conditions kept them from settling the question. Perhaps the projectile was traveling through space. Perhaps, after rising a short distance, it had fallen back to earth, or even into the Gulf of Mexico. A fall into the gulf was not impossible, given how narrow the Florida peninsula was.

The case was serious, the problem interesting, and one that must be solved as soon as possible. Thus, highly excited, Barbicane’s moral energy triumphed over physical weakness, and he rose to his feet. He listened. Outside was perfect silence; but the thick padding was enough to intercept all sounds coming from the earth. But one circumstance struck Barbicane, viz., that the temperature inside the projectile was singularly high. The president drew a thermometer from its case and consulted it. The instrument showed 81° Fahr.

The situation was serious, and the problem was interesting. It had to be solved as soon as possible. Barbicane was so excited that his determination overcame his physical weakness, and he stood up. He listened. It was perfectly silent outside, but the thick padding was enough to block all sounds from the earth. One thing struck Barbicane: the temperature inside the projectile was unusually high. The president took a thermometer from its case and checked it. It read 81° Fahrenheit.

“Yes,” he exclaimed, “yes, we are moving! This stifling heat, penetrating through the partitions of the projectile, is produced by its friction on the atmospheric strata. It will soon diminish, because we are already floating in space, and after having nearly stifled, we shall have to suffer intense cold.

“Yes,” he exclaimed, “yes, we’re moving! The projectile’s friction against the layers of the atmosphere is causing this stifling heat to penetrate its walls. The heat will soon fade because we are already floating in space. After nearly suffocating, we will have to endure intense cold.

“What!” said Michel Ardan. “According to your showing, Barbicane, we are already beyond the limits of the terrestrial atmosphere?”

“What!” said Michel Ardan. “Barbicane, do you mean we are already beyond Earth’s atmosphere?”

“Without a doubt, Michel. Listen to me. It is fifty-five minutes past ten; we have been gone about eight minutes; and if our initiatory speed has not been checked by the friction, six seconds would be enough for us to pass through the forty miles of atmosphere which surrounds the globe.”

“Without a doubt, Michel. Listen to me. It is 10:55, and we have been gone for about eight minutes. If friction has not slowed our initial speed, six seconds would be enough to cross the forty miles of atmosphere surrounding the Earth.”

“Just so,” replied Nicholl; “but in what proportion do you estimate the diminution of speed by friction?”

“Exactly,” replied Nicholl. “But how much do you estimate friction will reduce the speed?”

“In the proportion of one-third, Nicholl. This diminution is considerable, but according to my calculations it is nothing less. If, then, we had an initiatory speed of 12,000 yards, on leaving the atmosphere this speed would be reduced to 9,165 yards. In any case we have already passed through this interval, and—”

“By one-third, Nicholl. That is a considerable reduction, but according to my calculations, it is no less than that. So, if our initial speed was 12,000 yards, it would fall to 9,165 yards upon leaving the atmosphere. In any case, we have already passed through 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 thousand dollars because the projectile has risen more than six miles. Now, Nicholl, pay up.”

“And then,” said Michel Ardan, “our friend Nicholl has lost both his bets. He owes four thousand dollars because the Columbiad did not burst. He owes five thousand dollars 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 afterward. It is quite possible that Barbicane’s reasoning is correct, and that I have lost my nine thousand dollars. But a new hypothesis presents itself to my mind, and it annuls the wager.”

“Let’s prove it first,” said the captain, “and we’ll pay afterward. Barbicane’s reasoning could be right, and I may have lost my nine thousand dollars. But I’ve thought of a new possibility that cancels the bet.”

“What is that?” asked Barbicane quickly.

“The hypothesis that, for some reason or other, fire was never set to the powder, and we have not started at all.”

“The possibility that, for some reason, the powder was never lit and we never started at all.”

“My goodness, captain,” exclaimed Michel Ardan, “that hypothesis is not worthy of my brain! It cannot be a serious one. For have we not been half annihilated by the shock? Did I not recall you to life? Is not the president’s shoulder still bleeding from the blow it has received?”

“My goodness, captain,” exclaimed Michel Ardan, “that hypothesis is beneath my intelligence! You cannot be serious. Weren’t we nearly killed by the shock? Didn’t I bring you back to life? Isn’t the president’s shoulder still bleeding from the blow?”

“Granted,” replied Nicholl; “but one question.”

“Agreed,” replied Nicholl, “but I have one question.”

“Well, captain?”

“Did you hear the detonation, which certainly ought to be loud?”

“Did you hear the explosion? It should certainly have been loud.”

“No,” replied Ardan, much surprised; “certainly I did not hear the detonation.”

“No,” Ardan replied, very surprised. “I certainly didn't hear the explosion.”

“And you, Barbicane?”

“Nor I, either.”

“Me neither.”

“Very well,” said Nicholl.

“All right,” said Nicholl.

“Well now,” murmured the president “why did we not hear the detonation?”

“Well now,” murmured the president, “why didn't we hear the explosion?”

The three friends looked at each other with a disconcerted air. It was quite an inexplicable phenomenon. The projectile had started, and consequently there must have been a detonation.

The three friends looked at each other in bewilderment. The phenomenon was completely inexplicable. The projectile had launched, so there must have been an explosion.

“Let us first find out where we are,” said Barbicane, “and let down this panel.”

“Let’s first find out where we are,” said Barbicane, “and lower this panel.”

This very simple operation was soon accomplished.

This very simple operation was soon completed.

The nuts which held the bolts to the outer plates of the right-hand scuttle gave way under the pressure of the English wrench. These bolts were pushed outside, and the buffers covered with India-rubber stopped up the holes which let them through. Immediately the outer plate fell back upon its hinges like a porthole, and the lenticular glass which closed the scuttle appeared. A similar one was let into the thick partition on the opposite side of the projectile, another in the top of the dome, and finally a fourth in the middle of the base. They could, therefore, make observations in four different directions; the firmament by the side and most direct windows, the earth or the moon by the upper and under openings in the projectile.

The nuts holding the bolts to the outer plate of the right-hand hatch came loose under the wrench. The bolts were pushed outward, and rubber-covered plugs sealed the holes they had passed through. The outer plate immediately swung back on its hinges like a porthole, revealing the lens-shaped glass that closed the hatch. A similar glass window was set into the thick wall on the opposite side of the projectile. Another was in the top of the dome, and a fourth was in the middle of the base. They could therefore observe in four directions. They could watch the sky through the side and forward-facing windows, and the earth or moon through the upper and lower openings.

Barbicane and his two companions immediately rushed to the uncovered window. But it was lit by no ray of light. Profound darkness surrounded them, which, however, did not prevent the president from exclaiming:

Barbicane and his two companions immediately rushed to the uncovered window. But no light shone through it. Deep darkness surrounded them. Even so, the president exclaimed:

“No, my friends, we have not fallen back upon the earth; no, nor are we submerged in the Gulf of Mexico. Yes! we are mounting into space. See those stars shining in the night, and that impenetrable darkness heaped up between the earth and us!”

“No, my friends, we have not fallen back to Earth. No, we are not underwater in the Gulf of Mexico either. Yes! We are rising into space. Look at those stars shining in the night, and the impenetrable darkness piled up between Earth and us!”

“Hurrah! hurrah!” exclaimed Michel Ardan and Nicholl in one voice.

“Hurrah! Hurrah!” shouted Michel Ardan and Nicholl together.

Indeed, this thick darkness proved that the projectile had left the earth, for the soil, brilliantly lit by the moon-beams would have been visible to the travelers, if they had been lying on its surface. This darkness also showed that the projectile had passed the atmospheric strata, for the diffused light spread in the air would have been reflected on the metal walls, which reflection was wanting. This light would have lit the window, and the window was dark. Doubt was no longer possible; the travelers had left the earth.

Indeed, the deep darkness proved that the projectile had left the earth. If the travelers had been lying on its surface, they would have seen the ground, brightly lit by moonlight. The darkness also showed that the projectile had passed beyond the layers of the atmosphere. The light scattered through the air would have reflected off the metal walls, but there was no such reflection. The light would have lit the window, but the window was dark. There could be no doubt. The travelers had left the earth.

“I have lost,” said Nicholl.

“I've lost,” said Nicholl.

“I congratulate you,” replied Ardan.

“Congratulations,” Ardan replied.

“Here are the nine thousand dollars,” said the captain, drawing a roll of paper dollars from his pocket.

“Here are the nine thousand dollars,” said the captain, pulling a roll of dollar bills from his pocket.

“Will you have a receipt for it?” asked Barbicane, taking the sum.

“Would you like a receipt?” Barbicane asked, taking the money.

“If you do not mind,” answered Nicholl; “it is more business-like.”

“If you don't mind,” Nicholl replied, “it's more businesslike.”

And coolly and seriously, as if he had been at his strong-box, the president drew forth his notebook, tore out a blank leaf, wrote a proper receipt in pencil, dated and signed it with the usual flourish, and gave it to the captain, who carefully placed it in his pocketbook. Michel Ardan, taking off his hat, bowed to his two companions without speaking. So much formality under such circumstances left him speechless. He had never before seen anything so “American.”

Calmly and seriously, as if he were at his safe, the president took out his notebook. He tore out a blank page, wrote a proper receipt in pencil, dated it, and signed it with his usual flourish. Then he gave it to the captain, who carefully put it in his wallet. Michel Ardan took off his hat and bowed to his two companions without speaking. So much formality under such circumstances left him speechless. He had never seen anything so “American” before.

This is an exclusively French habit.

This affair settled, Barbicane and Nicholl had returned to the window, and were watching the constellations. The stars looked like bright points on the black sky. But from that side they could not see the orb of night, which, traveling from east to west, would rise by degrees toward the zenith. Its absence drew the following remark from Ardan:

With the matter settled, Barbicane and Nicholl returned to the window and watched the constellations. The stars looked like bright points against the black sky. But from that side, they could not see the Moon. As it traveled from east to west, it would gradually rise toward the zenith. Its absence prompted Ardan to remark:

“And the moon; will she perchance fail at our rendezvous?”

“And the moon, could she perhaps miss our meeting?”

“Do not alarm yourself,” said Barbicane; “our future globe is at its post, but we cannot see her from this side; let us open the other.”

“Don't worry,” said Barbicane. “Our future globe is where it should be, but we can't see it from this side. Let's open the other side.”

“As Barbicane was about leaving the window to open the opposite scuttle, his attention was attracted by the approach of a brilliant object. It was an enormous disc, whose colossal dimension could not be estimated. Its face, which was turned to the earth, was very bright. One might have thought it a small moon reflecting the light of the large one. She advanced with great speed, and seemed to describe an orbit round the earth, which would intersect the passage of the projectile. This body revolved upon its axis, and exhibited the phenomena of all celestial bodies abandoned in space.

“As Barbicane was about to leave the window and open the opposite porthole, a brilliant object caught his attention. It was an enormous disc, so vast that its size could not be estimated. The side facing Earth was very bright. It might have been a small moon reflecting the light of the larger one. It moved very quickly and seemed to be orbiting Earth on a path that would cross the projectile’s. The object spun on its axis and displayed all the phenomena of celestial bodies left in space.

“Ah!” exclaimed Michel Ardan, “What is that? another projectile?”

“Ah!” exclaimed Michel Ardan. “What is that? Another projectile?”

Barbicane did not answer. The appearance of this enormous body surprised and troubled him. A collision was possible, and might be attended with deplorable results; either the projectile would deviate from its path, or a shock, breaking its impetus, might precipitate it to earth; or, lastly, it might be irresistibly drawn away by the powerful asteroid. The president caught at a glance the consequences of these three hypotheses, either of which would, one way or the other, bring their experiment to an unsuccessful and fatal termination. His companions stood silently looking into space. The object grew rapidly as it approached them, and by an optical illusion the projectile seemed to be throwing itself before it.

Barbicane did not answer. The sight of this enormous body surprised and troubled him. A collision was possible and could have disastrous results. The projectile might be knocked off course. The impact might stop its forward motion and send it crashing back to earth. Or the powerful asteroid might pull it away. The president saw at once what all three possibilities meant. Any one of them would bring their experiment to a fatal and unsuccessful end. His companions stood silently, looking into space. The object grew rapidly as it approached them. An optical illusion made the projectile seem to be rushing toward it.

“By Jove!” exclaimed Michel Ardan, “we shall run into one another!”

“My goodness!” exclaimed Michel Ardan. “We're going to run into each other!”

Instinctively the travelers drew back. Their dread was great, but it did not last many seconds. The asteroid passed several hundred yards from the projectile and disappeared, not so much from the rapidity of its course, as that its face being opposite the moon, it was suddenly merged into the perfect darkness of space.

The travelers instinctively drew back. They were terrified, but their fear lasted only a few seconds. The asteroid passed several hundred yards from the projectile and disappeared. This was not so much because of its speed as because its face was turned away from the moon. It suddenly vanished into the complete 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 projectile to walk through without fear. Now, what is this portentous globe which nearly struck us?”

“Have a good journey,” exclaimed Michel Ardan with a sigh of relief. “Surely the vastness of space is big enough for a poor little projectile to travel through without fear. Now, what is this alarming globe that nearly struck us?”

“I know,” replied Barbicane.

“I know,” Barbicane replied.

“Oh, indeed! you know everything.”

“Oh, really! You know everything.”

“It is,” said Barbicane, “a simple meteorite, but an enormous one, which the attraction of the earth has retained as a satellite.”

“It’s just a meteorite,” said Barbicane, “but an enormous one. Earth’s gravity has kept it as a satellite.”

“Is it possible!” exclaimed Michel Ardan; “the earth then has two moons like Neptune?”

“Is that possible!” exclaimed Michel Ardan. “So Earth has two moons, like Neptune?”

“Yes, my friends, two moons, though it passes generally for having only one; but this second moon is so small, and its speed so great, that the inhabitants of the earth cannot see it. It was by noticing disturbances that a French astronomer, M. Petit, was able to determine the existence of this second satellite and calculate its elements. According to his observations, this meteorite will accomplish its revolution around the earth in three hours and twenty minutes, which implies a wonderful rate of speed.”

“Yes, my friends, two moons, though Earth is generally believed to have only one. But this second moon is so small and moves so fast that people on Earth cannot see it. By noticing disturbances, a French astronomer, M. Petit, was able to determine that this second satellite existed and calculate its orbital elements. According to his observations, this meteorite circles Earth in three hours and twenty minutes. That means it travels at an astonishing speed.”

“Do all astronomers admit the existence of this satellite?” asked Nicholl.

“Do all astronomers agree that this satellite exists?” asked Nicholl.

“No,” replied Barbicane; “but if, like us, they had met it, they could no longer doubt it. Indeed, I think that this meteorite, which, had it struck the projectile, would have much embarrassed us, will give us the means of deciding what our position in space is.”

“No,” Barbicane replied, “but if they had encountered it as we did, they could no longer doubt it. In fact, I think this meteorite will help us determine our position in space. If it had struck the projectile, it would have caused us serious trouble.”

“How?” said Ardan.

“Because its distance is known, and when we met it, we were exactly four thousand six hundred and fifty miles from the surface of the terrestrial globe.”

“Because its distance is known, and when we met it, we were exactly 4,650 miles from Earth’s surface.”

“More than two thousand French leagues,” exclaimed Michel Ardan. “That beats the express trains of the pitiful globe called the earth.”

“More than two thousand French leagues!” exclaimed Michel Ardan. “That beats the express trains on the pitiful globe called Earth.”

“I should think so,” replied Nicholl, consulting his chronometer; “it is eleven o’clock, and it is only thirteen minutes since we left the American continent.”

“I should think so,” replied Nicholl, checking his watch. “It’s eleven o’clock, and we left the American continent only thirteen minutes ago.”

“Only thirteen minutes?” said Barbicane.

“Yes,” said Nicholl; “and if our initiatory speed of twelve thousand yards has been kept up, we shall have made about twenty thousand miles in the hour.”

“Yes,” said Nicholl, “and if we have kept up our initial speed of twelve thousand yards, we will have traveled about twenty thousand miles in an hour.”

“That is all very well, my friends,” said the president, “but the insoluble question still remains. Why did we not hear the detonation of the Columbiad?”

“That is all well and good, my friends,” said the president, “but the unanswered question remains. Why didn’t we hear the Columbiad fire?”

For want of an answer the conversation dropped, and Barbicane began thoughtfully to let down the shutter of the second side. He succeeded; and through the uncovered glass the moon filled the projectile with a brilliant light. Nicholl, as an economical man, put out the gas, now useless, and whose brilliancy prevented any observation of the inter-planetary space.

With no answer forthcoming, the conversation stopped. Barbicane thoughtfully began lowering the shutter on the other side. He succeeded, and moonlight poured through the uncovered window, filling the projectile with brilliant light. Nicholl, a frugal man, put out the gas. It was no longer needed, and its brightness made it impossible to observe interplanetary space.

The lunar disc shone with wonderful purity. Her rays, no longer filtered through the vapory atmosphere of the terrestrial globe, shone through the glass, filling the air in the interior of the projectile with silvery reflections. The black curtain of the firmament in reality heightened the moon’s brilliancy, which in this void of ether unfavorable to diffusion did not eclipse the neighboring stars. The heavens, thus seen, presented quite 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 orb of night, the great aim of their journey.

The moon’s disc shone with remarkable clarity. Its rays were no longer filtered through Earth’s misty atmosphere. They shone through the glass, filling the air inside the projectile with silvery reflections. The black curtain of the sky made the moon appear even brighter. Yet its light did not eclipse the neighboring stars, since light could not spread through the empty ether. Seen this way, the heavens looked entirely new, unlike anything the human eye could ever imagine. One can imagine the interest with which these brave men watched the moon, the great goal 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 discernible to their eyes as if they were observing it from some spot upon the earth; but its light was developed through space with wonderful intensity. The disc shone like a platinum mirror. Of the earth flying from under their feet, the travelers had lost all recollection.

The moon was gradually approaching the zenith, the exact point it was supposed to reach ninety-six hours later. The travelers could see its mountains, plains, and every projection as clearly as if they were observing it from Earth. But its light shone through space with astonishing intensity. The disc shone like a platinum mirror. The travelers had completely forgotten Earth as it sped away beneath their feet.

It was captain Nicholl who first recalled their attention to the vanishing globe.

Captain Nicholl was the first to draw their attention back to the vanishing globe.

“Yes,” said Michel Ardan, “do not let us be ungrateful to it. Since we are leaving our country, let our last looks be directed to it. I wish to see the earth once more before it is quite hidden from my eyes.”

“Yes,” said Michel Ardan, “let us not be ungrateful to the earth. Since we are leaving our country, let us take one last look at it. I want to see the earth once more before it disappears from view.”

To satisfy his companions, Barbicane began to uncover the window at the bottom of the projectile, which would allow them to observe the earth direct. The disc, which the force of the projection had beaten down to the base, was removed, not without difficulty. Its fragments, placed carefully against a wall, might serve again upon occasion. Then a circular gap appeared, nineteen inches in diameter, hollowed out of the lower part of the projectile. A glass cover, six inches thick and strengthened with upper fastenings, closed it tightly. Beneath was fixed an aluminum plate, held in place by bolts. The screws being undone, and the bolts let go, the plate fell down, and visible communication was established between the interior and the exterior.

To satisfy his companions, Barbicane began uncovering the window at the bottom of the projectile. It would allow them to see the earth directly. The force of the launch had driven a disc down against the base. They removed it, though not without difficulty. They carefully placed its fragments against a wall, since they might be useful again. A circular opening, nineteen inches across, now appeared in the bottom of the projectile. It was tightly sealed by a six-inch-thick glass cover, reinforced with fastenings above it. An aluminum plate was fixed beneath the glass and held in place by bolts. They undid the screws and released the bolts, and the plate fell away. They could now see from inside the projectile to the outside.

Michel Ardan knelt by the glass. It was cloudy, seemingly opaque.

Michel Ardan knelt by the glass. It was cloudy and seemed opaque.

“Well!” he exclaimed, “and the earth?”

“Well!” he exclaimed, “and what about Earth?”

“The earth?” said Barbicane. “There it is.”

“What! that little thread; that silver crescent?”

“What! That little thread, that silver crescent?”

“Doubtless, Michel. In four days, when the moon will be full, at the very time we shall reach it, the earth will be new, and will only appear to us as a slender crescent which will soon disappear, and for some days will be enveloped in utter darkness.”

“Of course, Michel. In four days, the moon will be full, just as we reach it. The earth will be new and will appear to us as only a slender crescent. The crescent will soon disappear, and the earth will be wrapped in complete darkness for some days.”

“That the earth?” repeated Michel Ardan, looking with all his eyes at the thin slip of his native planet.

“That’s Earth?” repeated Michel Ardan, staring at the thin sliver of his home planet.

The explanation given by President Barbicane was correct. The earth, with respect to the projectile, was entering its last phase. It was in its octant, and showed a crescent finely traced on the dark background of the sky. Its light, rendered bluish by the thick strata of the atmosphere was less intense than that of the crescent moon, but it was of considerable dimensions, and looked like an enormous arch stretched across the firmament. Some parts brilliantly lighted, especially on its concave part, showed the presence of high mountains, often disappearing behind thick spots, which are never seen on the lunar disc. They were rings of clouds placed concentrically round the terrestrial globe.

President Barbicane's explanation was correct. As seen from the projectile, the earth was entering its last phase. It was in its octant, showing a crescent sharply outlined against the dark sky. Thick layers of atmosphere gave its light a bluish color. The light was less intense than that of the crescent moon. But the crescent earth was large, like an enormous arch stretching across the sky. Brightly lit areas, especially along its inner curve, showed the presence of high mountains. These mountains often disappeared behind thick patches never seen on the moon's disc. The patches were rings of clouds arranged around the earth.

While the travelers were trying to pierce the profound darkness, a brilliant cluster of shooting stars burst upon their eyes. Hundreds of meteorites, ignited by the friction of the atmosphere, irradiated the shadow of the luminous train, and lined the cloudy parts of the disc with their fire. At this period the earth was in its perihelion, and the month of December is so propitious to these shooting stars, that astronomers have counted as many as twenty-four thousand in an hour. But Michel Ardan, disdaining scientific reasonings, preferred thinking that the earth was thus saluting the departure of her three children with her most brilliant fireworks.

As the travelers tried to see through the deep darkness, a brilliant cluster of shooting stars burst into view. Hundreds of meteorites, set alight by friction with the atmosphere, lit up the shadow of the luminous trail. Their fire outlined the cloudy parts of the disc. At this time, the earth was at perihelion, its closest point to the sun. December is such a favorable month for shooting stars that astronomers have counted as many as twenty-four thousand in an hour. But Michel Ardan dismissed scientific explanations. He preferred to think that the earth was saluting the departure of her three children with her most brilliant fireworks.

Indeed this was all they saw of the globe lost in the solar world, rising and setting to the great planets like a simple morning or evening star! This globe, where they had left all their affections, was nothing more than a fugitive crescent!

Indeed, this was all they could see of the globe, lost in the solar system. To the great planets, it rose and set like a simple morning or evening star! The globe where they had left everyone they loved was nothing more than a fleeting crescent!

Long did the three friends look without speaking, though united in heart, while the projectile sped onward with an ever-decreasing speed. Then an irresistible drowsiness crept over their brain. Was it weariness of body and mind? No doubt; for after the over-excitement of those last hours passed upon earth, reaction was inevitable.

For a long time, the three friends looked on without speaking, though united in heart. The projectile sped onward, moving more and more slowly. Then an irresistible drowsiness came over them. Was it physical and mental exhaustion? No doubt. After the intense excitement of their last hours on Earth, a reaction was inevitable.

“Well,” said Nicholl, “since we must sleep, let us sleep.”

“Well,” said Nicholl, “since we have to sleep, let’s sleep.”

And stretching themselves on their couches, they were all three soon in a profound slumber.

They stretched out on their couches, and all three soon fell into a deep sleep.

But they had not forgotten themselves more than a quarter of an hour, when Barbicane sat up suddenly, and rousing his companions with a loud voice, exclaimed—

But they had been asleep for no more than fifteen minutes when Barbicane suddenly sat up. He woke his companions with a shout and exclaimed:

“I have found it!”

“I found it!”

“What have you found?” asked Michel Ardan, jumping from his bed.

“What have you found?” asked Michel Ardan, jumping out of bed.

“The reason why we did not hear the detonation of the Columbiad.”

“Why we did not hear the Columbiad explode.”

“And it is—?” said Nicholl.

“And it is?” said Nicholl.

“Because our projectile traveled faster than the sound!”

“Because our projectile traveled faster than sound!”