Mountain Features

The course taken by the projectile, as we have before remarked, was bearing it toward the moon’s northern hemisphere. The travelers were far from the central point which they would have struck, had their course not been subject to an irremediable deviation. It was past midnight; and Barbicane then estimated the distance at seven hundred and fifty miles, which was a little greater than the length of the lunar radius, and which would diminish as it advanced nearer to the North Pole. The projectile was then not at the altitude of the equator; but across the tenth parallel, and from that latitude, carefully taken on the map to the pole, Barbicane and his two companions were able to observe the moon under the most favorable conditions. Indeed, by means of glasses, the above-named distance was reduced to little more than fourteen miles. The telescope of the Rocky Mountains brought the moon much nearer; but the terrestrial atmosphere singularly lessened its power. Thus Barbicane, posted in his projectile, with the glasses to his eyes, could seize upon details which were almost imperceptible to earthly observers.

As we have already noted, the projectile was heading toward the moon’s northern hemisphere. The travelers were far from the central point they would have struck without the unavoidable change in course. It was past midnight, and Barbicane estimated their distance from the moon at seven hundred and fifty miles. This was a little greater than the length of the lunar radius. The distance would decrease as the projectile approached the North Pole. The projectile was not level with the equator, but was crossing the tenth parallel. Barbicane carefully located that latitude on the map. From there to the pole, he and his two companions were able to observe the moon under the most favorable conditions. Their glasses made the distance seem little more than fourteen miles. The Rocky Mountains telescope brought the moon much nearer, but Earth’s atmosphere greatly reduced its power. So Barbicane, stationed in his projectile with his glasses to his eyes, could see details almost imperceptible to observers on Earth.

“My friends,” said the president, in a serious voice, “I do not know whither we are going; I do not know if we shall ever see the terrestrial globe again. Nevertheless, let us proceed as if our work would one day by useful to our fellow-men. Let us keep our minds free from every other consideration. We are astronomers; and this projectile is a room in the Cambridge University, carried into space. Let us make our observations!”

“My friends,” said the president in a serious voice, “I do not know where we are going. I do not know if we will ever see Earth again. Nevertheless, let us carry on as if our work might one day be useful to others. Let us put all other concerns out of our minds. We are astronomers, and this projectile is a room at Cambridge University, carried into space. Let us make our observations!”

This said, work was begun with great exactness; and they faithfully reproduced the different aspects of the moon, at the different distances which the projectile reached.

After this, they began working with great care. They faithfully reproduced the moon’s appearance at the different distances the projectile reached.

At the time that the projectile was as high as the tenth parallel, north latitude, it seemed rigidly to follow the twentieth degree, east longitude. We must here make one important remark with regard to the map by which they were taking observations. In the selenographical maps where, on account of the reversing of the objects by the glasses, the south is above and the north below, it would seem natural that, on account of that inversion, the east should be to the left hand, and the west to the right. But it is not so. If the map were turned upside down, showing the moon as we see her, the east would be to the left, and the west to the right, contrary to that which exists on terrestrial maps. The following is the reason of this anomaly. Observers in the northern hemisphere (say in Europe) see the moon in the south—according to them. When they take observations, they turn their backs to the north, the reverse position to that which they occupy when they study a terrestrial map. As they turn their backs to the north, the east is on their left, and the west to their right. To observers in the southern hemisphere (Patagonia for example), the moon’s west would be quite to their left, and the east to their right, as the south is behind them. Such is the reason of the apparent reversing of these two cardinal points, and we must bear it in mind in order to be able to follow President Barbicane’s observations.

When the projectile reached 10 degrees north latitude, it seemed to follow the 20th degree of east longitude exactly. Here we must make an important point about the map they were using for their observations. On selenographical maps, south is at the top and north at the bottom, because telescope lenses reverse the image. Given this reversal, it would seem natural for east to be on the left and west on the right. But that is not so. If the map were turned upside down to show the moon as we see her, east would be on the left and west on the right. This is the opposite of what we find on terrestrial maps. Here is the reason for this anomaly. Observers in the northern hemisphere, in Europe for example, see the moon to their south. When they observe it, they turn their backs to the north. This is the opposite of the position they take when studying a terrestrial map. With their backs to the north, east is on their left and west on their right. For observers in the southern hemisphere, in Patagonia for example, the moon’s west would be on their left and its east on their right, since south is behind them. This explains the apparent reversal of these two cardinal points. We must keep it in mind to follow President Barbicane’s observations.

With the help of Boeer and Moedler’s Mappa Selenographica, the travelers were able at once to recognize that portion of the disc enclosed within the field of their glasses.

With the help of Boeer and Moedler’s Mappa Selenographica, the travelers immediately recognized the part of the moon’s disc visible through their glasses.

“What are we looking at, at this moment?” asked Michel.

“What are we looking at right now?” asked Michel.

“At the northern part of the ‘Sea of Clouds,’” answered Barbicane. “We are too far off to recognize its nature. Are these plains composed of arid sand, as the first astronomer maintained? Or are they nothing but immense forests, according to M. Warren de la Rue’s opinion, who gives the moon an atmosphere, though a very low and a very dense one? That we shall know by and by. We must affirm nothing until we are in a position to do so.”

“At the northern part of the ‘Sea of Clouds,’” replied Barbicane. “We are too far away to tell what it is like. Are these plains made of dry sand, as the first astronomer claimed? Or are they nothing but vast forests, as M. Warren de la Rue believes? He believes the moon has an atmosphere, though a very low and very dense one. We shall know soon enough. We must not claim anything as fact until we are in a position to do so.”

This “Sea of Clouds” is rather doubtfully marked out upon the maps. It is supposed that these vast plains are strewn with blocks of lava from the neighboring volcanoes on its right, Ptolemy, Purbach, Arzachel. But the projectile was advancing, and sensibly nearing it. Soon there appeared the heights which bound this sea at this northern limit. Before them rose a mountain radiant with beauty, the top of which seemed lost in an eruption of solar rays.

The “Sea of Clouds” is marked rather uncertainly on maps. These vast plains are thought to be scattered with blocks of lava from neighboring volcanoes to the right: Ptolemy, Purbach, and Arzachel. But the projectile was moving forward and drawing noticeably closer to the sea. Soon the heights marking its northern boundary came into view. In front of them rose a radiant, beautiful mountain. Its peak seemed lost in a burst of sunlight.

“That is—?” asked Michel.

“What do you mean?” asked Michel.

“Copernicus,” replied Barbicane.

“Copernicus,” Barbicane replied.

“Let us see Copernicus.”

“Let's see Copernicus.”

This mount, situated in 9° north latitude and 20° east longitude, rose to a height of 10,600 feet above the surface of the moon. It is quite visible from the earth; and astronomers can study it with ease, particularly during the phase between the last quarter and the new moon, because then the shadows are thrown lengthways from east to west, allowing them to measure the heights.

This mountain, at 9° north latitude and 20° east longitude, rose 10,600 feet above the moon’s surface. It is clearly visible from Earth, and astronomers can study it easily. They can do this especially well between the last quarter and the new moon. During this phase, the shadows stretch from east to west, allowing astronomers to measure heights.

This Copernicus forms the most important of the radiating system, situated in the southern hemisphere, according to Tycho Brahé. It rises isolated like a gigantic lighthouse on that portion of the “Sea of Clouds,” which is bounded by the “Sea of Tempests,” thus lighting by its splendid rays two oceans at a time. It was a sight without an equal, those long luminous trains, so dazzling in the full moon, and which, passing the boundary chain on the north, extends to the “Sea of Rains.” At one o’clock of the terrestrial morning, the projectile, like a balloon borne into space, overlooked the top of this superb mount. Barbicane could recognize perfectly its chief features. Copernicus is comprised in the series of ringed mountains of the first order, in the division of great circles. Like Kepler and Aristarchus, which overlook the “Ocean of Tempests,” sometimes it appeared like a brilliant point through the cloudy light, and was taken for a volcano in activity. But it is only an extinct one—like all on that side of the moon. Its circumference showed a diameter of about twenty-two leagues. The glasses discovered traces of stratification produced by successive eruptions, and the neighborhood was strewn with volcanic remains which still choked some of the craters.

According to Tycho Brahé, Copernicus is the most important feature of the radiating system in the southern hemisphere. It rises alone like a gigantic lighthouse on the part of the “Sea of Clouds” bounded by the “Sea of Tempests.” Its splendid rays light up two oceans at once. Those long, luminous trails were a sight without equal, dazzling in the full moon. They crossed the mountain chain to the north and reached the “Sea of Rains.” At one o’clock in the morning, Earth time, the projectile passed above this magnificent mountain, like a balloon carried into space. Barbicane could clearly make out its main features. Copernicus belongs to the first order of ringed mountains, in the division of great circles. Like Kepler and Aristarchus, which overlook the “Ocean of Tempests,” it sometimes appeared as a bright point through the hazy light. It was mistaken for an active volcano. But it is extinct, like all the volcanoes on that side of the moon. Its rim was about twenty-two leagues across. Through the glasses, they could see traces of layers formed by successive eruptions. Volcanic debris was scattered over the surrounding area and still clogged some of the craters.

“There exist,” said Barbicane, “several kinds of circles on the surface of the moon, and it is easy to see that Copernicus belongs to the radiating class. If we were nearer, we should see the cones bristling on the inside, which in former times were so many fiery mouths. A curious arrangement, and one without an exception on the lunar disc, is that the interior surface of these circles is the reverse of the exterior, and contrary to the form taken by terrestrial craters. It follows, then, that the general curve of the bottom of these circles gives a sphere of a smaller diameter than that of the moon.”

“There are several kinds of circles on the moon’s surface,” said Barbicane. “It is easy to see that Copernicus belongs to the radiating class. If we were closer, we would see cones bristling inside it. Each of these was once a fiery mouth. There is a curious feature found without exception across the moon’s surface. The inner surface of these circles curves the opposite way from the outer surface, unlike craters on Earth. As a result, the general curve of their bottoms forms part of a sphere smaller in diameter than the moon.”

“And why this peculiar disposition?” asked Nicholl.

“And why this unusual arrangement?” asked Nicholl.

“We do not know,” replied Barbicane.

“We don’t know,” Barbicane replied.

“What splendid radiation!” said Michel. “One could hardly see a finer spectacle, I think.”

“What a splendid glow!” said Michel. “I think you could hardly see a finer sight.”

“What would you say, then,” replied Barbicane, “if chance should bear us toward the southern hemisphere?”

“What would you say, then,” Barbicane replied, “if chance carried us toward the southern hemisphere?”

“Well, I should say that it was still more beautiful,” retorted Michel Ardan.

“Well, I would say it was even more beautiful,” replied Michel Ardan.

At this moment the projectile hung perpendicularly over the circle. The circumference of Copernicus formed almost a perfect circle, and its steep escarpments were clearly defined. They could even distinguish a second ringed enclosure. Around spread a grayish plain, of a wild aspect, on which every relief was marked in yellow. At the bottom of the circle, as if enclosed in a jewel case, sparkled for one instant two or three eruptive cones, like enormous dazzling gems. Toward the north the escarpments were lowered by a depression which would probably have given access to the interior of the crater.

At that moment, the projectile hung directly above the circle. The rim of Copernicus formed an almost perfect circle, and its steep cliffs stood out clearly. They could even make out a second circular wall. Around it stretched a wild-looking grayish plain, where every raised feature appeared yellow. At the bottom of the circle, two or three volcanic cones sparkled for an instant. They looked like enormous, dazzling gems enclosed in a jewel case. To the north, a dip in the cliffs would probably have provided a way into the crater.

In passing over the surrounding plains, Barbicane noticed a great number of less important mountains; and among others a little ringed one called Guy Lussac, the breadth of which measured twelve miles.

As they passed over the surrounding plains, Barbicane noticed many smaller mountains. One was a small ringed mountain called Guy Lussac, which was twelve miles across.

Toward the south, the plain was very flat, without one elevation, without one projection. Toward the north, on the contrary, till where it was bounded by the “Sea of Storms,” it resembled a liquid surface agitated by a storm, of which the hills and hollows formed a succession of waves suddenly congealed. Over the whole of this, and in all directions, lay the luminous lines, all converging to the summit of Copernicus.

To the south, the plain was completely flat, without a single rise or projection. To the north, however, the landscape stretched to the “Sea of Storms.” It resembled a storm-tossed sea, with hills and hollows like a succession of waves suddenly frozen in place. Luminous lines ran across the whole landscape in every direction, all converging at the summit of Copernicus.

The travelers discussed the origin of these strange rays; but they could not determine their nature any more than terrestrial observers.

The travelers discussed where these strange rays came from. But they could no more determine what the rays were than observers on Earth could.

“But why,” said Nicholl, “should not these rays be simply spurs of mountains which reflect more vividly the light of the sun?”

“But why,” Nicholl said, “couldn’t these rays simply be mountain spurs that reflect sunlight more brightly?”

“No,” replied Barbicane; “if it was so, under certain conditions of the moon, these ridges would cast shadows, and they do not cast any.”

“No,” Barbicane replied. “If that were true, these ridges would cast shadows under certain conditions on the moon. But they don’t cast any.”

And indeed, these rays only appeared when the orb of day was in opposition to the moon, and disappeared as soon as its rays became oblique.

Indeed, these rays appeared only when the sun was opposite the moon. They disappeared as soon as the sunlight struck at an angle.

“But how have they endeavored to explain these lines of light?” asked Michel; “for I cannot believe that savants would ever be stranded for want of an explanation.”

“But how have they tried to explain these lines of light?” asked Michel. “I can't believe scientists would ever be at a loss for an explanation.”

“Yes,” replied Barbicane; “Herschel has put forward an opinion, but he did not venture to affirm it.”

“Yes,” Barbicane replied. “Herschel offered an opinion, but he did not dare state it as fact.”

“Never mind. What was the opinion?”

“Never mind. What was the opinion?”

“He thought that these rays might be streams of cooled lava which shone when the sun beat straight upon them. It may be so; but nothing can be less certain. Besides, if we pass nearer to Tycho, we shall be in a better position to find out the cause of this radiation.”

“He thought these rays might be streams of cooled lava that shone when the sun shone directly on them. That may be true, but it is far from certain. Besides, if we pass closer to Tycho, we will be better able to find out what causes these rays.”

“Do you know, my friends, what that plain, seen from the height we are at, resembles?” said Michel.

“Do you know what that plain looks like from up here, my friends?” said Michel.

“No,” replied Nicholl.

“No,” said Nicholl.

“Very well; with all those pieces of lava lengthened like rockets, it resembles an immense game of spelikans thrown pellmell. There wants but the hook to pull them out one by one.”

“Very well. All those pieces of lava, stretched out like rockets, look like a huge pile of pick-up sticks. All we need is a hook to pull them out one by one.”

“Do be serious,” said Barbicane.

“Please be serious,” said Barbicane.

“Well, let us be serious,” replied Michel quietly; “and instead of spelikans, let us put bones. This plain, would then be nothing but an immense cemetery, on which would repose the mortal remains of thousands of extinct generations. Do you prefer that high-flown comparison?”

“Well, let’s be serious,” Michel replied quietly. “Instead of spelikans, let’s put bones there. Then this plain would be nothing but a huge cemetery, holding the remains of thousands of generations that have died out. Do you prefer that grand comparison?”

“One is as good as the other,” retorted Barbicane.

“One is as good as the other,” Barbicane shot back.

“My word, you are difficult to please,” answered Michel.

“Wow, you’re hard to please,” Michel replied.

“My worthy friend,” continued the matter-of-fact Barbicane, “it matters but little what it resembles, when we do not know what it is.”

“My good friend,” continued the matter-of-fact Barbicane, “it hardly matters what it resembles when we don't know what it is.”

“Well answered,” exclaimed Michel. “That will teach me to reason with savants.”

“Good answer!” exclaimed Michel. “That will teach me to argue with scientists.”

But the projectile continued to advance with almost uniform speed around the lunar disc. The travelers, we may easily imagine, did not dream of taking a moment’s rest. Every minute changed the landscape which fled from beneath their gaze. About half past one o’clock in the morning, they caught a glimpse of the tops of another mountain. Barbicane, consulting his map, recognized Eratosthenes.

But the projectile continued around the Moon’s disc at an almost steady speed. As we can imagine, the travelers did not dream of taking a moment’s rest. The landscape passing beneath them changed every minute. Around half past one in the morning, they glimpsed the peaks of another mountain. Barbicane checked his map and recognized Eratosthenes.

It was a ringed mountain nine thousand feet high, and one of those circles so numerous on this satellite. With regard to this, Barbicane related Kepler’s singular opinion on the formation of circles. According to that celebrated mathematician, these crater-like cavities had been dug by the hand of man.

It was a ringed mountain nine thousand feet high, one of the many such circles on the Moon. This led Barbicane to describe Kepler’s unusual opinion about how these circles formed. According to the famous mathematician, these crater-like hollows had been dug by human hands.

“For what purpose?” asked Nicholl.

“Why?” asked Nicholl.

“For a very natural one,” replied Barbicane. “The Selenites might have undertaken these immense works and dug these enormous holes for a refuge and shield from the solar rays which beat upon them during fifteen consecutive days.”

“For a very natural reason,” replied Barbicane. “The Selenites might have built these immense works and dug these enormous holes for shelter and protection from the sun’s rays. The rays beat down on them for fifteen days in a row.”

“The Selenites are not fools,” said Michel.

“The Selenites are not fools,” said Michel.

“A singular idea,” replied Nicholl; “but it is probable that Kepler did not know the true dimensions of these circles, for the digging of them would have been the work of giants quite impossible for the Selenites.”

“A strange idea,” replied Nicholl. “But Kepler probably did not know the true size of these circles. Digging them would have been a task for giants, quite impossible for the Selenites.”

“Why? if weight on the moon’s surface is six times less than on the earth?” said Michel.

“Why, if you weigh six times less on the moon’s surface than on Earth?” said Michel.

“But if the Selenites are six times smaller?” retorted Nicholl.

“But what if the Selenites are six times smaller?” Nicholl replied.

“And if there are no Selenites?” added Barbicane.

“And if there are no Selenites?” added Barbicane.

This put an end to the discussion.

This ended the discussion.

Soon Eratosthenes disappeared under the horizon without the projectile being sufficiently near to allow close observation. This mountain separated the Apennines from the Carpathians. In the lunar orography they have discerned some chains of mountains, which are chiefly distributed over the northern hemisphere. Some, however, occupy certain portions of the southern hemisphere also.

Soon Eratosthenes disappeared below the horizon before the projectile came close enough for a careful look. This mountain separated the Apennines from the Carpathians. Several mountain ranges have been identified on the Moon, mostly in the northern hemisphere. Some, however, also occupy parts of the southern hemisphere.

About two o’clock in the morning Barbicane found that they were above the twentieth lunar parallel. The distance of the projectile from the moon was not more than six hundred miles. Barbicane, now perceiving that the projectile was steadily approaching the lunar disc, did not despair; if not of reaching her, at least of discovering the secrets of her configuration.

Around two in the morning, Barbicane found that they were above the twentieth lunar parallel. The projectile was no more than six hundred miles from the moon. Barbicane could now see that the projectile was steadily approaching the moon’s disc. He had not given up hope. If they could not reach the moon, they might at least discover the secrets of its surface.