A Struggle Against The Impossible
: From The Earth To The MoonFor a long time Barbicane and his companions looked silently and
sadly upon that world which they had only seen from a distance,
as Moses saw the land of Canaan, and which they were leaving
without a possibility of ever returning to it. The projectile's
position with regard to the moon had altered, and the base was
now turned to the earth.
This change, which Barbicane verified, did not fail to surprise t
If the projectile was to gravitate round the satellite in an
elliptical orbit, why was not its heaviest part turned toward it,
as the moon turns hers to the earth? That was a difficult point.
In watching the course of the projectile they could see that on
leaving the moon it followed a course analogous to that traced
in approaching her. It was describing a very long ellipse,
which would most likely extend to the point of equal attraction,
where the influences of the earth and its satellite are neutralized.
Such was the conclusion which Barbicane very justly drew from
facts already observed, a conviction which his two friends
shared with him.
"And when arrived at this dead point, what will become of us?"
asked Michel Ardan.
"We don't know," replied Barbicane.
"But one can draw some hypotheses, I suppose?"
"Two," answered Barbicane; "either the projectile's speed will
be insufficient, and it will remain forever immovable on this
line of double attraction----"
"I prefer the other hypothesis, whatever it may be," interrupted Michel.
"Or," continued Barbicane, "its speed will be sufficient, and it
will continue its elliptical course, to gravitate forever around
the orb of night."
"A revolution not at all consoling," said Michel, "to pass to
the state of humble servants to a moon whom we are accustomed to
look upon as our own handmaid. So that is the fate in store for us?"
Neither Barbicane nor Nicholl answered.
"You do not answer," continued Michel impatiently.
"There is nothing to answer," said Nicholl.
"Is there nothing to try?"
"No," answered Barbicane. "Do you pretend to fight against
the impossible?"
"Why not? Do one Frenchman and two Americans shrink from such
a word?"
"But what would you do?"
"Subdue this motion which is bearing us away."
"Subdue it?"
"Yes," continued Michel, getting animated, "or else alter it,
and employ it to the accomplishment of our own ends."
"And how?"
"That is your affair. If artillerymen are not masters of their
projectile they are not artillerymen. If the projectile is to
command the gunner, we had better ram the gunner into the gun.
My faith! fine savants! who do not know what is to become of us
after inducing me----"
"Inducing you!" cried Barbicane and Nicholl. "Inducing you!
What do you mean by that?"
"No recrimination," said Michel. "I do not complain, the trip
has pleased me, and the projectile agrees with me; but let us do
all that is humanly possible to do the fall somewhere, even if
only on the moon."
"We ask no better, my worthy Michel," replied Barbicane, "but
means fail us."
"We cannot alter the motion of the projectile?"
"No."
"Nor diminish its speed?"
"No."
"Not even by lightening it, as they lighten an overloaded vessel?"
"What would you throw out?" said Nicholl. "We have no ballast
on board; and indeed it seems to me that if lightened it would
go much quicker."
"Slower."
"Quicker."
"Neither slower nor quicker," said Barbicane, wishing to make
his two friends agree; "for we float is space, and must no
longer consider specific weight."
"Very well," cried Michel Ardan in a decided voice; "then their
remains but one thing to do."
"What is it?" asked Nicholl.
"Breakfast," answered the cool, audacious Frenchman, who always
brought up this solution at the most difficult juncture.
In any case, if this operation had no influence on the
projectile's course, it could at least be tried without
inconvenience, and even with success from a stomachic point
of view. Certainly Michel had none but good ideas.
They breakfasted then at two in the morning; the hour mattered little.
Michel served his usual repast, crowned by a glorious bottle drawn
from his private cellar. If ideas did not crowd on their brains,
we must despair of the Chambertin of 1853. The repast finished,
observation began again. Around the projectile, at an invariable
distance, were the objects which had been thrown out. Evidently, in
its translatory motion round the moon, it had not passed through
any atmosphere, for the specific weight of these different objects
would have checked their relative speed.
On the side of the terrestrial sphere nothing was to be seen.
The earth was but a day old, having been new the night before at
twelve; and two days must elapse before its crescent, freed from
the solar rays, would serve as a clock to the Selenites, as in
its rotary movement each of its points after twenty-four hours
repasses the same lunar meridian.
On the moon's side the sight was different; the orb shone in all
her splendor amid innumerable constellations, whose purity could
not be troubled by her rays. On the disc, the plains were
already returning to the dark tint which is seen from the earth.
The other part of the nimbus remained brilliant, and in the midst
of this general brilliancy Tycho shone prominently like a sun.
Barbicane had no means of estimating the projectile's speed, but
reasoning showed that it must uniformly decrease, according to
the laws of mechanical reasoning. Having admitted that the
projectile was describing an orbit around the moon, this orbit
must necessarily be elliptical; science proves that it must be so.
No motive body circulating round an attracting body fails in
this law. Every orbit described in space is elliptical. And why
should the projectile of the Gun Club escape this natural arrangement?
In elliptical orbits, the attracting body always occupies one of
the foci; so that at one moment the satellite is nearer, and at
another farther from the orb around which it gravitates. When the
earth is nearest the sun she is in her perihelion; and in her
aphelion at the farthest point. Speaking of the moon, she is
nearest to the earth in her perigee, and farthest from it in
her apogee. To use analogous expressions, with which the
astronomers' language is enriched, if the projectile remains
as a satellite of the moon, we must say that it is in its
"aposelene" at its farthest point, and in its "periselene" at
its nearest. In the latter case, the projectile would attain
its maximum of speed; and in the former its minimum. It was
evidently moving toward its aposelenitical point; and Barbicane
had reason to think that its speed would decrease up to this
point, and then increase by degrees as it neared the moon.
This speed would even become nil, if this point joined that of
equal attraction. Barbicane studied the consequences of these
different situations, and thinking what inference he could draw
from them, when he was roughly disturbed by a cry from Michel Ardan.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I must admit we are down-right simpletons!"
"I do not say we are not," replied Barbicane; "but why?"
"Because we have a very simple means of checking this speed
which is bearing us from the moon, and we do not use it!"
"And what is the means?"
"To use the recoil contained in our rockets."
"Done!" said Nicholl.
"We have not used this force yet," said Barbicane, "it is true,
but we will do so."
"When?" asked Michel.
"When the time comes. Observe, my friends, that in the position
occupied by the projectile, an oblique position with regard to
the lunar disc, our rockets, in slightly altering its direction,
might turn it from the moon instead of drawing it nearer?"
"Just so," replied Michel.
"Let us wait, then. By some inexplicable influence, the
projectile is turning its base toward the earth. It is probable
that at the point of equal attraction, its conical cap will be
directed rigidly toward the moon; at that moment we may hope
that its speed will be nil; then will be the moment to act,
and with the influence of our rockets we may perhaps
provoke a fall directly on the surface of the lunar disc."
"Bravo!" said Michel. "What we did not do, what we could not do
on our first passage at the dead point, because the projectile
was then endowed with too great a speed."
"Very well reasoned," said Nicholl.
"Let us wait patiently," continued Barbicane. "Putting every
chance on our side, and after having so much despaired, I may
say I think we shall gain our end."
This conclusion was a signal for Michel Ardan's hips and hurrahs.
And none of the audacious boobies remembered the question that
they themselves had solved in the negative. No! the moon is not
inhabited; no! the moon is probably not habitable. And yet they
were going to try everything to reach her.
One single question remained to be solved. At what precise
moment the projectile would reach the point of equal attraction,
on which the travelers must play their last card. In order to
calculate this to within a few seconds, Barbicane had only to
refer to his notes, and to reckon the different heights taken on
the lunar parallels. Thus the time necessary to travel over the
distance between the dead point and the south pole would be equal
to the distance separating the north pole from the dead point.
The hours representing the time traveled over were carefully
noted, and the calculation was easy. Barbicane found that this
point would be reached at one in the morning on the night of the
7th-8th of December. So that, if nothing interfered with its
course, it would reach the given point in twenty-two hours.
The rockets had primarily been placed to check the fall of the
projectile upon the moon, and now they were going to employ them
for a directly contrary purpose. In any case they were ready,
and they had only to wait for the moment to set fire to them.
"Since there is nothing else to be done," said Nicholl, "I make
a proposition."
"What is it?" asked Barbicane.
"I propose to go to sleep."
"What a motion!" exclaimed Michel Ardan.
"It is forty hours since we closed our eyes," said Nicholl.
"Some hours of sleep will restore our strength."
"Never," interrupted Michel.
"Well," continued Nicholl, "every one to his taste; I shall go
to sleep." And stretching himself on the divan, he soon snored
like a forty-eight pounder.
"That Nicholl has a good deal of sense," said Barbicane;
"presently I shall follow his example." Some moments after his
continued bass supported the captain's baritone.
"Certainly," said Michel Ardan, finding himself alone, "these
practical people have sometimes most opportune ideas."
And with his long legs stretched out, and his great arms folded
under his head, Michel slept in his turn.
But this sleep could be neither peaceful nor lasting, the minds
of these three men were too much occupied, and some hours after,
about seven in the morning, all three were on foot at the same instant.
The projectile was still leaving the moon, and turning its
conical part more and more toward her.
An explicable phenomenon, but one which happily served
Barbicane's ends.
Seventeen hours more, and the moment for action would have arrived.
The day seemed long. However bold the travelers might be, they
were greatly impressed by the approach of that moment which
would decide all-- either precipitate their fall on to the moon,
or forever chain them in an immutable orbit. They counted the
hours as they passed too slow for their wish; Barbicane and
Nicholl were obstinately plunged in their calculations, Michel
going and coming between the narrow walls, and watching that
impassive moon with a longing eye.
At times recollections of the earth crossed their minds. They saw
once more their friends of the Gun Club, and the dearest of all,
J. T. Maston. At that moment, the honorable secretary must be
filling his post on the Rocky Mountains. If he could see the
projectile through the glass of his gigantic telescope, what
would he think? After seeing it disappear behind the moon's
south pole, he would see them reappear by the north pole!
They must therefore be a satellite of a satellite! Had J. T.
Maston given this unexpected news to the world? Was this the
denouement of this great enterprise?
But the day passed without incident. The terrestrial
midnight arrived. The 8th of December was beginning.
One hour more, and the point of equal attraction would
be reached. What speed would then animate the projectile?
They could not estimate it. But no error could vitiate
Barbicane's calculations. At one in the morning this speed
ought to be and would be nil.
Besides, another phenomenon would mark the projectile's
stopping-point on the neutral line. At that spot the two
attractions, lunar and terrestrial, would be annulled.
Objects would "weigh" no more. This singular fact, which had
surprised Barbicane and his companions so much in going, would
be repeated on their return under the very same conditions.
At this precise moment they must act.
Already the projectile's conical top was sensibly turned toward
the lunar disc, presented in such a way as to utilize the whole
of the recoil produced by the pressure of the rocket apparatus.
The chances were in favor of the travelers. If its speed was
utterly annulled on this dead point, a decided movement toward
the moon would suffice, however slight, to determine its fall.
"Five minutes to one," said Nicholl.
"All is ready," replied Michel Ardan, directing a lighted match
to the flame of the gas.
"Wait!" said Barbicane, holding his chronometer in his hand.
At that moment weight had no effect. The travelers felt in
themselves the entire disappearance of it. They were very near
the neutral point, if they did not touch it.
"One o'clock," said Barbicane.
Michel Ardan applied the lighted match to a train in
communication with the rockets. No detonation was heard in
the inside, for there was no air. But, through the scuttles,
Barbicane saw a prolonged smoke, the flames of which were
immediately extinguished.
The projectile sustained a certain shock, which was sensibly
felt in the interior.
The three friends looked and listened without speaking, and
scarcely breathing. One might have heard the beating of their
hearts amid this perfect silence.
"Are we falling?" asked Michel Ardan, at length.
"No," said Nicholl, "since the bottom of the projectile is not
turning to the lunar disc!"
At this moment, Barbicane, quitting his scuttle, turned to his
two companions. He was frightfully pale, his forehead wrinkled,
and his lips contracted.
"We are falling!" said he.
"Ah!" cried Michel Ardan, "on to the moon?"
"On to the earth!"
"The devil!" exclaimed Michel Ardan, adding philosophically,
"well, when we came into this projectile we were very doubtful
as to the ease with which we should get out of it!"
And now this fearful fall had begun. The speed retained had
borne the projectile beyond the dead point. The explosion of
the rockets could not divert its course. This speed in going
had carried it over the neutral line, and in returning had done
the same thing. The laws of physics condemned it to pass
through every point which it had already gone through. It was
a terrible fall, from a height of 160,000 miles, and no springs
to break it. According to the laws of gunnery, the projectile
must strike the earth with a speed equal to that with which it
left the mouth of the Columbiad, a speed of 16,000 yards in the
last second.
But to give some figures of comparison, it has been reckoned
that an object thrown from the top of the towers of Notre Dame,
the height of which is only 200 feet, will arrive on the
pavement at a speed of 240 miles per hour. Here the projectile
must strike the earth with a speed of 115,200 miles per hour.
"We are lost!" said Michel coolly.
"Very well! if we die," answered Barbicane, with a sort of
religious enthusiasm, "the results of our travels will be
magnificently spread. It is His own secret that God will
tell us! In the other life the soul will want to know nothing,
either of machines or engines! It will be identified with
eternal wisdom!"
"In fact," interrupted Michel Ardan, "the whole of the other
world may well console us for the loss of that inferior orb
called the moon!"
Barbicane crossed his arms on his breast, with a motion of
sublime resignation, saying at the same time:
"The will of heaven be done!"
More
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It was about this time that the warnings of coming events began to fall about us thick and fast. Ernest had already questioned father's policy of having socialists and labor leaders at his house, and of openly attending socialist meetings; and fat... Advanced Chemistry
There is a lot of entertainment and also a great deal of truth in this story. We recommend it highly. Professor Carbonic was diligently at work in his spacious laboratory, analyzing, mixing and experimenting. He had been employed for more th... Aegri Somnia
The following day 10th January, the Nautilus continued her course between two seas, but with such remarkable speed that I could not estimate it at less than thirty-five miles an hour. The rapidity of her screw was such that I could neither follow n... After A Few Words
This is a science-fiction story. History is a science; the other part is, as all Americans know, the most fictional field we have today. He settled himself comfortably in his seat, and carefully put the helmet on, pulli... After The Attack
It was now about three a.m., and, presently, the Eastern sky began to pale with the coming of dawn. Gradually, the day came, and, by its light, I scanned the gardens, earnestly; but nowhere could I see any signs of the brutes. I leant over, and glan... Alarm Clock
Most useful high explosives, like ammonium nitrate, are enormously violent ... once they're triggered. But they will remain seemingly inert when beaten, burned, variously punished--until the particular shock required comes alo... Albert Weener Begins
1. I always knew I should write a book. Something to help tired minds lay aside the cares of the day. But I always say you never can tell what's around the corner till you turn it, and everyone has become so accustomed to fantastic occurrences in ... Alien Offer
"You are General James Rothwell?" Rothwell sighed. "Yes, Commander Aku. We have met several times." "Ah, yes. I recognize your insignia. Humans are so alike." The alien strode importantly across the office, the resilient pads of his broad feet ... All By Electricity
"Sir," said Captain Nemo, showing me the instruments hanging on the walls of his room, "here are the contrivances required for the navigation of the Nautilus. Here, as in the drawing-room, I have them always under my eyes, and they indicate my posi... All Day September
Some men just haven't got good sense. They just can't seem to learn the most fundamental things. Like when there's no use trying--when it's time to give up because it's hopeless.... The meteor, a pebble, a litt... Alone
It must in all truth be confessed, things as yet had gone on well, and I should have acted in bad taste to have complained. If the true medium of our difficulties did not increase, it was within the range of possibility that we might ultimately re... Alone With The Beast Folk
I FACED these people, facing my fate in them, single-handed now,--literally single-handed, for I had a broken arm. In my pocket was a revolver with two empty chambers. Among the chips scattered about the beach lay the two axes that had been used... Along The Shores Of New England
At the time when the newspapers were filled with these reports, I was again in Washington. On my return I had presented myself at my chief's office, but had been unable to see him. Family affairs had suddenly called him away, to be absent some... Ambush
Back on the road, about an hour later, Cortin spotted a rider coming in their direction. He was apparently daydreaming, because it was a few seconds before he saw the group--and when he did, he reined around and galloped back the way he'd come....