J. T. Maston Recalled

“It is ‘they’ come back again!” the young midshipman had said, and every one had understood him. No one doubted but that the meteor was the projectile of the Gun Club. As to the travelers which it enclosed, opinions were divided regarding their fate.

“They’re back again!” the young midshipman had said, and everyone understood him. No one doubted that the meteor was the Gun Club’s projectile. But opinions differed about the fate of the travelers inside it.

“They are dead!” said one.

“They're dead!” said one.

“They are alive!” said another; “the crater is deep, and the shock was deadened.”

“They are alive!” said another. “The crater is deep, and it softened the impact.”

“But they must have wanted air,” continued a third speaker; “they must have died of suffocation.”

“But they must have needed air,” a third speaker continued. “They must have suffocated.”

“Burned!” replied a fourth; “the projectile was nothing but an incandescent mass as it crossed the atmosphere.”

“Burned!” a fourth replied. “The projectile was just a glowing mass as it crossed the atmosphere.”

“What does it matter!” they exclaimed unanimously; “living or dead, we must pull them out!”

“What does it matter!” they all exclaimed. “Alive or dead, we have to pull them out!”

But Captain Blomsberry had assembled his officers, and “with their permission,” was holding a council. They must decide upon something to be done immediately. The more hasty ones were for fishing up the projectile. A difficult operation, though not an impossible one. But the corvette had no proper machinery, which must be both fixed and powerful; so it was resolved that they should put in at the nearest port, and give information to the Gun Club of the projectile’s fall.

But Captain Blomsberry had gathered his officers and, “with their permission,” was holding a council. They had to decide immediately what to do. The more impatient officers wanted to fish up the projectile. That would be difficult, though not impossible. But the corvette lacked the proper machinery, which had to be fixed in place and powerful. So they decided to put in at the nearest port and inform the Gun Club that the projectile had fallen.

This determination was unanimous. The choice of the port had to be discussed. The neighboring coast had no anchorage on 27° latitude. Higher up, above the peninsula of Monterey, stands the important town from which it takes its name; but, seated on the borders of a perfect desert, it was not connected with the interior by a network of telegraphic wires, and electricity alone could spread these important news fast enough.

The decision was unanimous. The choice of a port still had to be discussed. The nearby coast had no anchorage at 27° latitude. Farther north, above the Monterey peninsula, stood the important town that gave the peninsula its name. But the town lay on the edge of a vast desert. No network of telegraph wires connected it to the interior, and only electricity could spread this important news quickly enough.

Some degrees above opened the bay of San Francisco. Through the capital of the gold country communication would be easy with the heart of the Union. And in less than two days the Susquehanna, by putting on high pressure, could arrive in that port. She must therefore start at once.

A few degrees farther north was the bay of San Francisco. From the capital of the gold country, communication with the heart of the Union would be easy. By running at high pressure, the Susquehanna could reach that port in less than two days. So the ship had to leave at once.

The fires were made up; they could set off immediately. Two thousand fathoms of line were still out, which Captain Blomsberry, not wishing to lose precious time in hauling in, resolved to cut.

The fires were stoked, and they could set off immediately. Two thousand fathoms of line were still out. Captain Blomsberry decided to cut the line rather than waste precious time hauling it in.

“we will fasten the end to a buoy,” said he, “and that buoy will show us the exact spot where the projectile fell.”

“We’ll attach the end to a buoy,” he said, “and the buoy will show us exactly where the projectile fell.”

“Besides,” replied Lieutenant Bronsfield, “we have our situation exact—27° 7′ north latitude and 41° 37′ west longitude.”

“Besides,” replied Lieutenant Bronsfield, “we know our exact position: 27° 7′ north latitude and 41° 37′ west longitude.”

“Well, Mr. Bronsfield,” replied the captain, “now, with your permission, we will have the line cut.”

“Well, Mr. Bronsfield,” the captain replied, “with your permission, we’ll have the line cut now.”

A strong buoy, strengthened by a couple of spars, was thrown into the ocean. The end of the rope was carefully lashed to it; and, left solely to the rise and fall of the billows, the buoy would not sensibly deviate from the spot.

A sturdy buoy, reinforced with two spars, was thrown into the ocean. The end of the rope was carefully tied to it. Left to rise and fall with the waves, the buoy would not drift noticeably from its position.

At this moment the engineer sent to inform the captain that steam was up and they could start, for which agreeable communication the captain thanked him. The course was then given north-northeast, and the corvette, wearing, steered at full steam direct for San Francisco. It was three in the morning.

At that moment, the engineer sent word to the captain that steam was up and they could start. The captain thanked him for the welcome news. The course was set north-northeast, and the corvette turned and headed straight for San Francisco at full steam. It was three in the morning.

Four hundred and fifty miles to cross; it was nothing for a good vessel like the Susquehanna. In thirty-six hours she had covered that distance; and on the 14th of December, at twenty-seven minutes past one at night, she entered the bay of San Francisco.

There were 450 miles to cross, but that was nothing for a good ship like the Susquehanna. She covered the distance in 36 hours. At 1:27 a.m. on December 14, she entered the bay of San Francisco.

At the sight of a ship of the national navy arriving at full speed, with her bowsprit broken, public curiosity was greatly roused. A dense crowd soon assembled on the quay, waiting for them to disembark.

A navy ship arrived at full speed with its bowsprit broken, arousing great public curiosity. A large crowd soon gathered on the quay, waiting for those aboard to come ashore.

After casting anchor, Captain Blomsberry and Lieutenant Bronsfield entered an eight-pared cutter, which soon brought them to land.

After anchoring, Captain Blomsberry and Lieutenant Bronsfield boarded an eight-oared cutter. It soon brought them ashore.

They jumped on to the quay.

They jumped onto the dock.

“The telegraph?” they asked, without answering one of the thousand questions addressed to them.

“The telegraph?” they asked, without answering any of the thousand questions they had been asked.

The officer of the port conducted them to the telegraph office through a concourse of spectators. Blomsberry and Bronsfield entered, while the crowd crushed each other at the door.

The port officer led them through a crowd of spectators to the telegraph office. Blomsberry and Bronsfield went inside, while the crowd pressed against one another at the door.

Some minutes later a fourfold telegram was sent out—the first to the Naval Secretary at Washington; the second to the vice-president of the Gun Club, Baltimore; the third to the Hon. J. T. Maston, Long’s Peak, Rocky Mountains; and the fourth to the sub-director of the Cambridge Observatory, Massachusetts.

A few minutes later, four telegrams were sent. The first went to the Naval Secretary in Washington. The second went to the vice-president of the Gun Club in Baltimore. The third went to the Hon. J. T. Maston at Long’s Peak in the Rocky Mountains. The fourth went to the deputy director of the Cambridge Observatory in Massachusetts.

It was worded as follows:

It read as follows:

In 20° 7′ north latitude, and 41° 37′ west longitude, on the 12th of December, at seventeen minutes past one in the morning, the projectile of the Columbiad fell into the Pacific. Send instructions.—BLOMSBERRY, Commander Susquehanna.

At 1:17 a.m. on December 12, the Columbiad's projectile fell into the Pacific. It fell at 20° 7′ north latitude and 41° 37′ west longitude. Send instructions. BLOMSBERRY, Commander of the Susquehanna.

Five minutes afterward the whole town of San Francisco learned the news. Before six in the evening the different States of the Union had heard the great catastrophe; and after midnight, by the cable, the whole of Europe knew the result of the great American experiment. We will not attempt to picture the effect produced on the entire world by that unexpected denouement.

Five minutes later, the whole city of San Francisco knew the news. Before six that evening, the states of the Union had heard about the great disaster. After midnight, the news traveled by cable, and all of Europe knew the outcome of the great American experiment. We will not attempt to describe the effect this unexpected outcome had on the entire world.

On receipt of the telegram the Naval Secretary telegraphed to the Susquehanna to wait in the bay of San Francisco without extinguishing her fires. Day and night she must be ready to put to sea.

When the Naval Secretary received the telegram, he telegraphed the Susquehanna. He told her to wait in San Francisco Bay and keep her fires burning. She had to be ready to put to sea at any time, day or night.

The Cambridge observatory called a special meeting; and, with that composure which distinguishes learned bodies in general, peacefully discussed the scientific bearings of the question. At the Gun Club there was an explosion. All the gunners were assembled. Vice-President the Hon. Wilcome was in the act of reading the premature dispatch, in which J. T. Maston and Belfast announced that the projectile had just been seen in the gigantic reflector of Long’s Peak, and also that it was held by lunar attraction, and was playing the part of under satellite to the lunar world.

The Cambridge observatory called a special meeting. With the composure typical of learned bodies, it calmly discussed the scientific implications of the question. At the Gun Club, there was an explosion. All the gunners had gathered. Vice-President the Hon. Wilcome was reading the premature dispatch from J. T. Maston and Belfast. They reported that the projectile had just been seen through the giant reflector on Long’s Peak. They also reported that lunar gravity held the projectile, making it a satellite of the Moon.

We know the truth on that point.

We know the truth about that.

But on the arrival of Blomsberry’s dispatch, so decidely contradicting J. T. Maston’s telegram, two parties were formed in the bosom of the Gun Club. On one side were those who admitted the fall of the projectile, and consequently the return of the travelers; on the other, those who believed in the observations of Long’s Peak, concluded that the commander of the Susquehanna had made a mistake. To the latter the pretended projectile was nothing but a meteor! nothing but a meteor, a shooting globe, which in its fall had smashed the bows of the corvette. It was difficult to answer this argument, for the speed with which it was animated must have made observation very difficult. The commander of the Susquehanna and her officers might have made a mistake in all good faith; one argument however, was in their favor, namely, that if the projectile had fallen on the earth, its place of meeting with the terrestrial globe could only take place on this 27° north latitude, and (taking into consideration the time that had elapsed, and the rotary motion of the earth) between the 41° and the 42° of west longitude. In any case, it was decided in the Gun Club that Blomsberry brothers, Bilsby, and Major Elphinstone should go straight to San Francisco, and consult as to the means of raising the projectile from the depths of the ocean.

When Blomsberry’s dispatch arrived, it directly contradicted J. T. Maston’s telegram. Two groups formed within the Gun Club. One accepted that the projectile had fallen and the travelers had returned. The other believed the Long’s Peak observations and concluded that the commander of the Susquehanna had made a mistake. To them, the supposed projectile was nothing but a meteor! Nothing but a meteor, a fiery globe that had smashed the corvette’s bow as it fell. This argument was hard to answer, because the object’s speed must have made it very difficult to observe. The commander of the Susquehanna and his officers might have made an honest mistake. But one argument supported their account. If the projectile had fallen to Earth, it could only have struck at 27° north latitude. Given the time that had passed and the Earth’s rotation, it could only have landed between 41° and 42° west longitude. In any case, the Gun Club decided that the Blomsberry brothers, Bilsby, and Major Elphinstone should go straight to San Francisco. There, they would discuss how to raise the projectile from the depths of the ocean.

These devoted men set off at once; and the railroad, which will soon cross the whole of Central America, took them as far as St. Louis, where the swift mail-coaches awaited them. Almost at the same moment in which the Secretary of Marine, the vice-president of the Gun Club, and the sub-director of the Observatory received the dispatch from San Francisco, the Honorable J. T. Maston was undergoing the greatest excitement he had ever experienced in his life, an excitement which even the bursting of his pet gun, which had more than once nearly cost him his life, had not caused him. We may remember that the secretary of the Gun Club had started soon after the projectile (and almost as quickly) for the station on Long’s Peak, in the Rocky Mountains, J. Belfast, director of the Cambridge Observatory, accompanying him. Arrived there, the two friends had installed themselves at once, never quitting the summit of their enormous telescope. We know that this gigantic instrument had been set up according to the reflecting system, called by the English “front view.” This arrangement subjected all objects to but one reflection, making the view consequently much clearer; the result was that, when they were taking observation, J. T. Maston and Belfast were placed in the upper part of the instrument and not in the lower, which they reached by a circular staircase, a masterpiece of lightness, while below them opened a metal well terminated by the metallic mirror, which measured two hundred and eighty feet in depth.

These devoted men set off at once. The railroad, which will soon cross all of Central America, took them as far as St. Louis. Swift mail coaches awaited them there. Almost at the same moment, the Secretary of Marine, the vice-president of the Gun Club, and the sub-director of the Observatory received the dispatch from San Francisco. The Honorable J. T. Maston was then more excited than he had ever been in his life. Even the bursting of his favorite gun had not caused him such excitement, though it had nearly cost him his life more than once. As we may remember, the secretary of the Gun Club had set out soon after the projectile, and almost as quickly. He was bound for the station on Long’s Peak in the Rocky Mountains. J. Belfast, director of the Cambridge Observatory, accompanied him. Once there, the two friends settled in at the top of their enormous telescope and never left it. As we know, this gigantic instrument had been built using a reflecting system that the English called “front view.” This arrangement reflected all objects only once, making the view much clearer. As a result, J. T. Maston and Belfast made their observations from the upper part of the instrument, not the lower part. They reached it by a spiral staircase, a masterpiece of lightness. Below them opened a metal well, two hundred and eighty feet deep, with the metal mirror at the bottom.

It was on a narrow platform placed above the telescope that the two savants passed their existence, execrating the day which hid the moon from their eyes, and the clouds which obstinately veiled her during the night.

The two scientists spent their lives on a narrow platform above the telescope. They cursed the daylight that hid the moon from view and the clouds that stubbornly veiled it at night.

What, then, was their delight when, after some days of waiting, on the night of the 5th of December, they saw the vehicle which was bearing their friends into space! To this delight succeeded a great deception, when, trusting to a cursory observation, they launched their first telegram to the world, erroneously affirming that the projectile had become a satellite of the moon, gravitating in an immutable orbit.

After waiting for several days, they were delighted to see the vehicle carrying their friends into space. It appeared on the night of December 5. But their delight was followed by great disappointment. Based on a quick observation, they sent their first telegram to the world. It mistakenly declared that the projectile had become a satellite of the moon, moving in an unchanging orbit.

From that moment it had never shown itself to their eyes—a disappearance all the more easily explained, as it was then passing behind the moon’s invisible disc; but when it was time for it to reappear on the visible disc, one may imagine the impatience of the fuming J. T. Maston and his not less impatient companion. Each minute of the night they thought they saw the projectile once more, and they did not see it. Hence constant discussions and violent disputes between them, Belfast affirming that the projectile could not be seen, J. T. Maston maintaining that “it had put his eyes out.”

From that moment on, the projectile had not appeared again. Its disappearance was easy enough to explain, since it was passing behind the moon’s invisible disc. But when it was time for the projectile to reappear on the visible disc, one can imagine the impatience of the fuming J. T. Maston and his equally impatient companion. Every minute of the night, they thought they saw the projectile again, but they did not. This led to constant arguments and violent disputes between them. Belfast insisted that the projectile could not be seen, while J. T. Maston maintained that “it had put his eyes out.”

“It is the projectile!” repeated J. T. Maston.

“It’s the projectile!” repeated J. T. Maston.

“No,” answered Belfast; “it is an avalanche detached from a lunar mountain.”

“No,” Belfast answered. “It is an avalanche that broke away from a mountain on the moon.”

“Well, we shall see it to-morrow.”

“Well, we’ll see it tomorrow.”

“No, we shall not see it any more. It is carried into space.”

“No, we won't see it anymore. It's being carried into space.”

“Yes!”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“No!”

And at these moments, when contradictions rained like hail, the well-known irritability of the secretary of the Gun Club constituted a permanent danger for the Honorable Belfast. The existence of these two together would soon have become impossible; but an unforseen event cut short their everlasting discussions.

At such moments, contradictions rained down like hail. The Gun Club secretary’s well-known temper posed a constant danger to the Honorable Belfast. The two would soon have found it impossible to live together. But an unexpected event cut their endless arguments short.

During the night, from the 14th to the 15th of December, the two irreconcilable friends were busy observing the lunar disc, J. T. Maston abusing the learned Belfast as usual, who was by his side; the secretary of the Gun Club maintaining for the thousandth time that he had just seen the projectile, and adding that he could see Michel Ardan’s face looking through one of the scuttles, at the same time enforcing his argument by a series of gestures which his formidable hook rendered very unpleasant.

During the night of December 14 to 15, the two friends, who could never agree, were busy observing the moon’s disc. As usual, J. T. Maston was insulting the learned Belfast, who stood beside him. For the thousandth time, the Gun Club’s secretary insisted that he had just seen the projectile. He added that he could see Michel Ardan’s face looking through one of the portholes. As he argued, he made a series of gestures that his formidable hook made very unpleasant.

At this moment Belfast’s servant appeared on the platform (it was ten at night) and gave him a dispatch. It was the commander of the Susquehanna’s telegram.

At that moment, Belfast’s servant came onto the platform and gave him a telegram. It was ten at night. The telegram was from the commander of the Susquehanna.

Belfast tore the envelope and read, and uttered a cry.

Belfast tore open the envelope and read it. He cried out.

“What!” said J. T. Maston.

“What!” said J. T. Maston.

“The projectile!”

“The projectile!”

“Well!”

“Well!”

“Has fallen to the earth!”

“Has fallen to Earth!”

Another cry, this time a perfect howl, answered him. He turned toward J. T. Maston. The unfortunate man, imprudently leaning over the metal tube, had disappeared in the immense telescope. A fall of two hundred and eighty feet! Belfast, dismayed, rushed to the orifice of the reflector.

Another cry answered him, this time a full howl. He turned toward J. T. Maston. The unfortunate man had leaned too far over the metal tube and disappeared into the immense telescope. A fall of 280 feet! Dismayed, Belfast rushed to the opening of the reflector.

He breathed. J. T. Maston, caught by his metal hook, was holding on by one of the rings which bound the telescope together, uttering fearful cries.

He was breathing. J. T. Maston was hanging by his metal hook from one of the rings holding the telescope together. He was screaming in terror.

Belfast called. Help was brought, tackle was let down, and they hoisted up, not without some trouble, the imprudent secretary of the Gun Club.

Belfast called for help. Help arrived, and the crew lowered the tackle. With some difficulty, they hoisted up the reckless secretary of the Gun Club.

He reappeared at the upper orifice without hurt.

He reappeared at the upper opening, unhurt.

“Ah!” said he, “if I had broken the mirror?”

“Ah!” he said. “What if I had broken the mirror?”

“You would have paid for it,” replied Belfast severely.

“You would have paid for it,” Belfast replied sternly.

“And that cursed projectile has fallen?” asked J. T. Maston.

“And that damned projectile has fallen?” asked J. T. Maston.

“Into the Pacific!”

“Into the Pacific!”

“Let us go!”

“Let’s go!”

A quarter of an hour after the two savants were descending the declivity of the Rocky Mountains; and two days after, at the same time as their friends of the Gun Club, they arrived at San Francisco, having killed five horses on the road.

Fifteen minutes later, the two scientists were descending the slopes of the Rocky Mountains. Two days later, they arrived in San Francisco at the same time as their friends from the Gun Club. They had killed five horses on the way.

Elphinstone, the brothers Blomsberry, and Bilsby rushed toward them on their arrival.

Elphinstone, the Blomsberry brothers, and Bilsby rushed toward them when they arrived.

“What shall we do?” they exclaimed.

“What should we do?” they exclaimed.

“Fish up the projectile,” replied J. T. Maston, “and the sooner the better.”

“Pull the projectile out of the water,” replied J. T. Maston, “and the sooner the better.”