From the Earth to the Moon, Direct in Ninety-Seven Hours and Twenty Minutes: and a Trip Round It

by Jules Verne

  CHAPTER I.

  FROM TWENTY MINUTES PAST TEN TO FORTY-SEVEN MINUTES PAST TEN P.M.

  As ten o'clock struck, Michel Ardan, Barbicane, and Nicholl, took leaveof the numerous friends they were leaving on the earth. The two dogs,destined to propagate the canine race on the lunar continents, werealready shut up in the projectile.

  The three travellers approached the orifice of the enormous cast-irontube, and a crane let them down to the conical top of the projectile.There, an opening made for the purpose gave them access to the aluminiumcar. The tackle belonging to the crane being hauled from outside, themouth of the Columbiad was instantly disencumbered of its last supports.

  Nicholl, once introduced with his companions inside the projectile,began to close the opening by means of a strong plate, held in positionby powerful screws. Other plates, closely fitted, covered the lenticularglasses, and the travellers, hermetically enclosed in their metal prison,were plunged in profound darkness.

  "And now, my dear companions," said Michel Ardan, "let us make ourselvesat home; I am a domesticated man and strong in housekeeping. We are boundto make the best of our new lodgings, and make ourselves comfortable.And first let us try and see a little. Gas was not invented for moles."

  So saying, the thoughtless fellow lit a match by striking it on thesole of his boot; and approached the burner fixed to the receptacle,in which the carbonized hydrogen, stored at high pressure, sufficed forthe lighting and warming of the projectile for a hundred and forty-fourhours, or six days and six nights. The gas caught fire, and thus lightedthe projectile looked like a comfortable room with thickly padded walls,furnished with a circular divan, and a roof rounded in the shape of adome.

  The objects it contained, arms, instruments, and utensils securelyfastened against the rounds of wadding, could bear the shock of departurewith impunity. Humanly speaking, every possible precaution had been takento bring this rash experiment to a successful termination.

  Michel Ardan examined everything, and declared himself satisfied withhis installation.

  "It is a prison," said he, "but a travelling prison; and, with the rightof putting my nose to the window, I could well stand a lease of a hundredyears. You smile, Barbicane. Have you any _arriere-pensee?_ Do you sayto yourself, 'This prison may be our tomb?' Tomb, perhaps; still I wouldnot change it for Mahomet's, which floats in space but never advances aninch!"

  Whilst Michel Ardan was speaking, Barbicane and Nicholl were making theirlast preparations.

  Nicholl's chronometer marked twenty minutes past ten p.m. when the threetravellers were finally enclosed in their projectile. This chronometerwas set within the tenth of a second by that of Murchison the engineer.Barbicane consulted it.

  "My friends," said he, "it is twenty minutes past ten. At forty-sevenminutes past ten Murchison will launch the electric spark on the wirewhich communicates with the charge of the Columbiad. At that precisemoment we shall leave our spheroid. Thus we have still twenty-sevenminutes to remain on the earth."

  "Twenty-six minutes thirteen seconds," replied the methodical Nicholl.

  "Well!" exclaimed Michel Ardan, in a good-humoured tone, "much may bedone in twenty-six minutes. The gravest questions of morals and politicsmay be discussed, and even solved. Twenty-six minutes well employed areworth more than twenty-six years in which nothing is done. Some_seconds_ of a Pascal or a Newton are more precious than the wholeexistence of a crowd of raw simpletons--"

  Illustration: THE GAS CAUGHT FIRE.

  "And you conclude, then, you everlasting talker?" asked Barbicane.

  "I conclude that we have twenty-six minutes left," replied Ardan.

  "Twenty-four only," said Nicholl.

  "Well, twenty-four, if you like, my noble captain," said Ardan;"twenty-four minutes in which to investigate--"

  "Michel," said Barbicane, "during the passage we shall have plenty oftime to investigate the most difficult questions. For the present we mustoccupy ourselves with our departure."

  "Are we not ready?"

  "Doubtless; but there are still some precautions to be taken, to deadenas much as possible the first shock."

  "Have we not the water-cushions placed between the partition-breaks,whose elasticity will sufficiently protect us?"

  "I hope so, Michel," replied Barbicane gently, "but I am not sure."

  "Ah, the joker!" exclaimed Michel Ardan. "He hopes!--He is notsure!--and he waits for the moment when we are encased to make thisdeplorable admission! I beg to be allowed to get out!"

  "And how?" asked Barbicane.

  "Humph!" said Michel Ardan, "it is not easy; we are in the train, andthe guard's whistle will sound before twenty-four minutes are over."

  "_Twenty_," said Nicholl.

  For some moments the three travellers looked at each other. Then theybegan to examine the objects imprisoned with them.

  "Everything is in its place," said Barbicane. "We have now to decide howwe can best place ourselves to resist the shock. Position cannot be anindifferent matter; and we must, as much as possible, prevent the rushof blood to the head."

  "Just so," said Nicholl.

  "Then," replied Michel Ardan, ready to suit the action to the word, "letus put our heads down and our feet in the air, like the clowns in thegrand circus."

  "No," said Barbicane, "let us stretch ourselves on our sides; we shallresist the shock better that way. Remember that, when the projectilestarts, it matters little whether we are in it or before it; it amountsto much the same thing."

  "If it is only 'much the same thing,' I may cheer up," said Michel Ardan.

  "Do you approve of my idea, Nicholl?" asked Barbicane.

  "Entirely," replied the captain. "We've still thirteen minutes and ahalf."

  "That Nicholl is not a man," exclaimed Michel; "he is a chronometer withseconds, an escape, and eight holes."

  But his companions were not listening; they were taking up their lastpositions with the most perfect coolness. They were like two methodicaltravellers in a car, seeking to place themselves as comfortably aspossible.

  We might well ask ourselves of what materials are the hearts of theseAmericans made, to whom the approach of the most frightful danger addedno pulsation.

  Three thick and solidly-made couches had been placed in the projectile.Nicholl and Barbicane placed them in the centre of the disc forming thefloor. There the three travellers were to stretch themselves some momentsbefore their departure.

  During this time, Ardan, not being able to keep still, turned in hisnarrow prison like a wild beast in a cage, chatting with his friends,speaking to the dogs Diana and Satellite, to whom, as may be seen, hehad given significant names.

  "Ah, Diana! Ah, Satellite!" he exclaimed, teazing them; "so you are goingto show the moon-dogs the good habits of the dogs of the earth! Thatwill do honour to the canine race! If ever we do come down again, I willbring a cross type of 'moon-dogs,' which will make a stir!"

  Illustration: DIANA AND SATELLITE.

  "If there _are_ dogs in the moon," said Barbicane.

  "There are," said Michel Ardan, "just as there are horses, cows, donkeys,and chickens. I bet that we shall find chickens."

  "A hundred dollars we shall find none!" said Nicholl.

  "Done, my captain!" replied Ardan, clasping Nicholl's hand. "But, bythe bye, you have already lost three bets with our president, as thenecessary funds for the enterprise have been found, as the operation ofcasting has been successful, and lastly, as the Columbiad has been loadedwithout accident, six thousand dollars."

  "Yes," replied Nicholl. "Thirty-seven minutes six seconds past ten."

  "It is understood, captain. Well, before another quarter of an houryou will have to count 9000 dollars to the president; 4000 because theColumbiad will not burst, and 5000 because the projectile will rise morethan six miles in the air."

  "I have the dollars," replied Nicholl, slapping the pocket of his coat."I only ask to be allowed to pay."

  "Come, Nicholl, I see that you are a
man of method, which I could neverbe; but indeed you have made a series of bets of very little advantageto yourself, allow me to tell you."

  "And why?" asked Nicholl.

  "Because, if you gain the first, the Columbiad will have burst, and theprojectile with it; and Barbicane will no longer be there to reimburseyour dollars."

  "My stake is deposited at the bank in Baltimore," replied Barbicanesimply; "and if Nicholl is not there, it will go to his heirs."

  "Ah, you practical men!" exclaimed Michel Ardan; "I admire you the morefor not being able to understand you."

  "Forty-two minutes past ten!" said Nicholl.

  "Only five minutes more!" answered Barbicane.

  "Yes, five little minutes!" replied Michel Ardan; "and we are enclosedin a projectile, at the bottom of a gun 900 feet long! And under thisprojectile are rammed 400,000 lbs. of gun-cotton, which is equal to1,600,000 lbs. of ordinary powder! And friend Murchison, with hischronometer in hand, his eye fixed on the needle, his finger on theelectric apparatus, is counting the seconds preparatory to launching usinto interplanetary space."

  "Enough, Michel, enough!" said Barbicane, in a serious voice; "let usprepare. A few instants alone separate us from an eventful moment. Oneclasp of the hand, my friends."

  "Yes," exclaimed Michel Ardan, more moved than he wished to appear; andthe three bold companions were united in a last embrace.

  "God preserve us!" said the religious Barbicane.

  Michel Ardan and Nicholl stretched themselves on the couches placed inthe centre of the disc.

  "Forty seven minutes past ten!" murmured the captain.

  "Twenty seconds more!" Barbicane quickly put out the gas and lay down byhis companions, and the profound silence was only broken by the tickingof the chronometer marking the seconds.

  Suddenly a dreadful shock was felt, and the projectile, under the forceof six billions of litres of gas, developed by the combustion of thepyroxyle, mounted into space.

  Illustration: THE COURAGEOUS FRENCHMAN.