The Neutral Point
:
All Around The Moon
What had taken place? Whence proceeded this strange intoxication whose
consequences might have proved so disastrous? A little forgetfulness on
Ardan's part had done the whole mischief, but fortunately M'Nicholl was
able to remedy it in time.
After a regular fainting spell several minutes long, the Captain was the
first man to return to consciousness and the full recovery of his
intellectual faculties. His
first feelings were far from pleasant. His
stomach gnawed him as if he had not eaten for a week, though he had
taken breakfast only a few hours before; his eyes were dim, his brain
throbbing, and his limbs shaking. In short, he presented every symptom
usually seen in a man dying of starvation. Picking himself up with much
care and difficulty, he roared out to Ardan for something to eat. Seeing
that the Frenchman was unable or unwilling to respond, he concluded to
help himself, by beginning first of all to prepare a little tea. To do
this, fire was necessary; so, to light his lamp, he struck a match.
But what was his surprise at seeing the sulphur tip of the match blazing
with a light so bright and dazzling that his eyes could hardly bear it!
Touching it to the gas burner, a stream of light flashed forth equal in
its intensity to the flame of an electric lamp. Then he understood it
all in an instant. The dazzling glare, his maddened brain, his gnawing
stomach--all were now clear as the noon-day Sun.
"The oxygen!" he cried, and, suddenly stooping down and examining the
tap of the air apparatus, he saw that it had been only half turned off.
Consequently the air was gradually getting more and more impregnated
with this powerful gas, colorless, odorless, tasteless, infinitely
precious, but, unless when strongly diluted with nitrogen, capable of
producing fatal disorders in the human system. Ardan, startled by
M'Nicholl's question about the means of returning from the Moon, had
turned the cock only half off.
The Captain instantly stopped the escape of the oxygen, but not one
moment too soon. It had completely saturated the atmosphere. A few
minutes more and it would have killed the travellers, not like carbonic
acid, by smothering them, but by burning them up, as a strong draught
burns up the coals in a stove.
It took nearly an hour for the air to become pure enough to allow the
lungs their natural play. Slowly and by degrees, the travellers
recovered from their intoxication; they had actually to sleep off the
fumes of the oxygen as a drunkard has to sleep off the effects of his
brandy. When Ardan learned that he was responsible for the whole
trouble, do you think the information disconcerted him? Not a bit of it.
On the contrary, he was rather proud of having done something
startling, to break the monotony of the journey; and to put a little
life, as he said, into old Barbican and the grim Captain, so as to get a
little fun out of such grave philosophers.
After laughing heartily at the comical figure cut by his two friends
capering like crazy students at the Closerie des Lilas, he went on
moralizing on the incident:
"For my part, I'm not a bit sorry for having partaken of this fuddling
gas. It gives me an idea, dear boys. Would it not be worth some
enterprising fellow's while to establish a sanatorium provided with
oxygen chambers, where people of a debilitated state of health could
enjoy a few hours of intensely active existence! There's money in it, as
you Americans say. Just suppose balls or parties given in halls where
the air would be provided with an extra supply of this enrapturing gas!
Or, theatres where the atmosphere would be maintained in a highly
oxygenated condition. What passion, what fire in the actors! What
enthusiasm in the spectators! And, carrying the idea a little further,
if, instead of an assembly or an audience, we should oxygenize towns,
cities, a whole country--what activity would be infused into the whole
people! What new life would electrify a stagnant community! Out of an
old used-up nation we could perhaps make a bran-new one, and, for my
part, I know more than one state in old Europe where this oxygen
experiment might be attended with a decided advantage, or where, at all
events, it could do no harm!"
The Frenchman spoke so glibly and gesticulated so earnestly that
M'Nicholl once more gravely examined the stop-cock; but Barbican damped
his enthusiasm by a single observation.
"Friend Michael," said he, "your new and interesting idea we shall
discuss at a more favorable opportunity. At present we want to know
where all these cocks and hens have come from."
"These cocks and hens?"
"Yes."
Ardan threw a glance of comical bewilderment on half a dozen or so of
splendid barn-yard fowls that were now beginning to recover from the
effects of the oxygen. For an instant he could not utter a word; then,
shrugging his shoulders, he muttered in a low voice:
"Catastrophe prematurely exploded!"
"What are you going to do with these chickens?" persisted Barbican.
"Acclimatize them in the Moon, by Jove! what else?" was the ready reply.
"Why conceal them then?"
"A hoax, a poor hoax, dear President, which proves a miserable failure!
I intended to let them loose on the Lunar Continent at the first
favorable opportunity. I often had a good laugh to myself, thinking of
your astonishment and the Captain's at seeing a lot of American poultry
scratching for worms on a Lunar dunghill!"
"Ah! wag, jester, incorrigible farceur!" cried Barbican with a smile;
"you want no nitrous oxide to put a bee in your bonnet! He is always as
bad as you and I were for a short time, M'Nicholl, under the laughing
gas! He's never had a sensible moment in his life!"
"I can't say the same of you," replied Ardan; "you had at least one
sensible moment in all your lives, and that was about an hour ago!"
Their incessant chattering did not prevent the friends from at once
repairing the disorder of the interior of the Projectile. Cocks and hens
were put back in their cages. But while doing so, the friends were
astonished to find that the birds, though good sized creatures, and now
pretty fat and plump, hardly felt heavier in their hands than if they
had been so many sparrows. This drew their interested attention to a new
phenomenon.
From the moment they had left the Earth, their own weight, and that of
the Projectile and the objects therein contained, had been undergoing a
progressive diminution. They might never be able to ascertain this fact
with regard to the Projectile, but the moment was now rapidly
approaching when the loss of weight would become perfectly sensible,
both regarding themselves and the tools and instruments surrounding
them. Of course, it is quite clear, that this decrease could not be
indicated by an ordinary scales, as the weight to balance the object
would have lost precisely as much as the object itself. But a spring
balance, for instance, in which the tension of the coil is independent
of attraction, would have readily given the exact equivalent of the
loss.
Attraction or weight, according to Newton's well known law, acting in
direct proportion to the mass of the attracting body and in inverse
proportion to the square of the distance, this consequence clearly
follows: Had the Earth been alone in space, or had the other heavenly
bodies been suddenly annihilated, the further from the Earth the
Projectile would be, the less weight it would have. However, it would
never entirely lose its weight, as the terrestrial attraction would
have always made itself felt at no matter what distance. But as the
Earth is not the only celestial body possessing attraction, it is
evident that there may be a point in space where the respective
attractions may be entirely annihilated by mutual counteraction. Of this
phenomenon the present instance was a case in point. In a short time,
the Projectile and its contents would for a few moments be absolutely
and completely deprived of all weight whatsoever.
The path described by the Projectile was evidently a line from the Earth
to the Moon averaging somewhat less than 240,000 miles in length.
According as the distance between the Projectile and the Earth was
increasing, the terrestrial attraction was diminishing in the ratio of
the square of the distance, and the lunar attraction was augmenting in
the same proportion.
As before observed, the point was not now far off where, the two
attractions counteracting each other, the bullet would actually weigh
nothing at all. If the masses of the Earth and the Moon had been equal,
this should evidently be found half way between the two bodies. But by
making allowance for the difference of the respective masses, it was
easy to calculate that this point would be situated at the 9/10 of the
total distance, or, in round numbers, at something less than 216,000
miles from the Earth.
At this point, a body that possessed no energy or principle of movement
within itself, would remain forever, relatively motionless, suspended
like Mahomet's coffin, being equally attracted by the two orbs and
nothing impelling it in one direction rather than in the other.
Now the Projectile at this moment was nearing this point; if it reached
it, what would be the consequence?
To this question three answers presented themselves, all possible under
the circumstances, but very different in their results.
1. Suppose the Projectile to possess velocity enough to pass the neutral
point. In such case, it would undoubtedly proceed onward to the Moon,
being drawn thither by Lunar attraction.
2. Suppose it lacked the requisite velocity for reaching the neutral
point. In such a case it would just as certainly fall back to the Earth,
in obedience to the law of Terrestrial attraction.
3. Suppose it to be animated by just sufficient velocity to reach the
neutral point, but not to pass it. In that case, the Projectile would
remain forever in the same spot, perfectly motionless as far as regards
the Earth and the Moon, though of course following them both in their
annual orbits round the Sun.
Such was now the state of things, which Barbican tried to explain to his
friends, who, it need hardly be said, listened to his remarks with the
most intense interest. How were they to know, they asked him, the
precise instant at which the Projectile would reach the neutral point?
That would be an easy matter, he assured them. It would be at the very
moment when both themselves and all the other objects contained in the
Projectile would be completely free from every operation of the law of
gravity; in other words, when everything would cease to have weight.
This gradual diminution of the action of gravity, the travellers had
been for some time noticing, but they had not yet witnessed its total
cessation. But that very morning, about an hour before noon, as the
Captain was making some little experiment in Chemistry, he happened by
accident to overturn a glass full of water. What was his surprise at
seeing that neither the glass nor the water fell to the floor! Both
remained suspended in the air almost completely motionless.
"The prettiest experiment I ever saw!" cried Ardan; "let us have more of
it!"
And seizing the bottles, the arms, and the other objects in the
Projectile, he arranged them around each other in the air with some
regard to symmetry and proportion. The different articles, keeping
strictly each in its own place, formed a very attractive group wonderful
to behold. Diana, placed in the apex of the pyramid, would remind you of
those marvellous suspensions in the air performed by Houdin, Herman, and
a few other first class wizards. Only being kept in her place without
being hampered by invisible strings, the animal rather seemed to enjoy
the exhibition, though in all probability she was hardly conscious of
any thing unusual in her appearance.
Our travellers had been fully prepared for such a phenomenon, yet it
struck them with as much surprise as if they had never uttered a
scientific reason to account for it. They saw that, no longer subject to
the ordinary laws of nature, they were now entering the realms of the
marvellous. They felt that their bodies were absolutely without weight.
Their arms, fully extended, no longer sought their sides. Their heads
oscillated unsteadily on their shoulders. Their feet no longer rested on
the floor. In their efforts to hold themselves straight, they looked
like drunken men trying to maintain the perpendicular. We have all read
stories of some men deprived of the power of reflecting light and of
others who could not cast a shadow. But here reality, no fantastic
story, showed you men who, through the counteraction of attractive
forces, could tell no difference between light substances and heavy
substances, and who absolutely had no weight whatever themselves!
"Let us take graceful attitudes!" cried Ardan, "and imagine we are
playing tableaux! Let us, for instance, form a grand historical group
of the three great goddesses of the nineteenth century. Barbican will
represent Minerva or Science; the Captain, Bellona or War; while I,
as Madre Natura, the newly born goddess of Progress, floating
gracefully over you both, extend my hands so, fondly patronizing the
one, but grandly ordering off the other, to the regions of eternal
night! More on your toe, Captain! Your right foot a little higher! Look
at Barbican's admirable pose! Now then, prepare to receive orders for a
new tableau! Form group a la Jardin Mabille! Presto! Change!"
In an instant, our travellers, changing attitudes, formed the new group
with tolerable success. Even Barbican, who had been to Paris in his
youth, yielding for a moment to the humor of the thing, acted the naif
Anglais to the life. The Captain was frisky enough to remind you of a
middle-aged Frenchman from the provinces, on a hasty visit to the
capital for a few days' fun. Ardan was in raptures.
"Oh! if Raphael could only see us!" he exclaimed in a kind of ecstasy.
"He would paint such a picture as would throw all his other masterpieces
in the shade!"
"Knock spots out of the best of them by fifty per cent!" cried the
Captain, gesticulating well enough a l'etudiant, but rather mixing his
metaphors.
"He should be pretty quick in getting through the job," observed
Barbican, the first as usual to recover tranquillity. "As soon as the
Projectile will have passed the neutral point--in half an hour at
longest--lunar attraction will draw us to the Moon."
"We shall have to crawl on the ceiling then like flies," said Ardan.
"Not at all," said the Captain; "the Projectile, having its centre of
gravity very low, will turn upside down by degrees."
"Upside down!" cried Ardan. "That will be a nice mess! everything
higgledy-piggledy!"
"No danger, friend Michael," said M'Nicholl; "there shall be no disorder
whatever; nothing will quit its place; the movement of the Projectile
will be effected by such slow degrees as to be imperceptible."
"Yes," added Barbican, "as soon as we shall have passed the neutral
point, the base of the Projectile, its heaviest part, will swing around
gradually until it faces the Moon. Before this phenomenon, however, can
take place, we must of course cross the line."
"Cross the line!" cried the Frenchman; "then let us imitate the sailors
when they do the same thing in the Atlantic Ocean! Splice the main
brace!"
A slight effort carried him sailing over to the side of the Projectile.
Opening a cupboard and taking out a bottle and a few glasses, he placed
them on a tray. Then setting the tray itself in the air as on a table in
front of his companions, he filled the glasses, passed them around, and,
in a lively speech interrupted with many a joyous hurrah, congratulated
his companions on their glorious achievement in being the first that
ever crossed the lunar line.
This counteracting influence of the attractions lasted nearly an hour.
By that time the travellers could keep themselves on the floor without
much effort. Barbican also made his companions remark that the conical
point of the Projectile diverged a little from the direct line to the
Moon, while by an inverse movement, as they could notice through the
window of the floor, the base was gradually turning away from the Earth.
The Lunar attraction was evidently getting the better of the
Terrestrial. The fall towards the Moon, though still almost insensible,
was certainly beginning.
It could not be more than the eightieth part of an inch in the first
second. But by degrees, as the attractive force would increase, the fall
would be more decided, and the Projectile, overbalanced by its base, and
presenting its cone to the Earth, would descend with accelerated
velocity to the Lunar surface. The object of their daring attempt would
then be successfully attained. No further obstacle, therefore, being
likely to stand in the way of the complete success of the enterprise,
the Captain and the Frenchman cordially shook hands with Barbican, all
kept congratulating each other on their good fortune as long as the
bottle lasted.
They could not talk enough about the wonderful phenomenon lately
witnessed; the chief point, the neutralization of the law of gravity,
particularly, supplied them with an inexhaustible subject. The
Frenchman, as usual, as enthusiastic in his fancy, as he was fanciful in
his enthusiasm, got off some characteristic remarks.
"What a fine thing it would be, my boys," he exclaimed, "if on Earth we
could be so fortunate as we have been here, and get rid of that weight
that keeps us down like lead, that rivets us to it like an adamantine
chain! Then should we prisoners become free! Adieu forever to all
weariness of arms or feet! At present, in order to fly over the surface
of the Earth by the simple exertion of our muscles or even to sustain
ourselves in the air, we require a muscular force fifty times greater
than we possess; but if attraction did not exist, the simplest act of
the will, our slightest whim even, would be sufficient to transport us
to whatever part of space we wished to visit."
"Ardan, you had better invent something to kill attraction," observed
M'Nicholl drily; "you can do it if you try. Jackson and Morton have
killed pain by sulphuric ether. Suppose you try your hand on
attraction!"
"It would be worth a trial!" cried Ardan, so full of his subject as not
to notice the Captain's jeering tone; "attraction once destroyed, there
is an end forever to all loads, packs and burdens! How the poor omnibus
horses would rejoice! Adieu forever to all cranes, derricks, capstans,
jack-screws, and even hotel-elevators! We could dispense with all
ladders, door steps, and even stair-cases!"
"And with all houses too," interrupted Barbican; "or, at least, we
should dispense with them because we could not have them. If there was
no weight, you could neither make a wall of bricks nor cover your house
with a roof. Even your hat would not stay on your head. The cars would
not stay on the railway nor the boats on the water. What do I say? We
could not have any water. Even the Ocean would leave its bed and float
away into space. Nay, the atmosphere itself would leave us, being
detained in its place by terrestrial attraction and by nothing else."
"Too true, Mr. President," replied Ardan after a pause. "It's a fact. I
acknowledge the corn, as Marston says. But how you positive fellows do
knock holes into our pretty little creations of fancy!"
"Don't feel so bad about it, Ardan;" observed M'Nicholl; "though there
may be no orb from which gravity is excluded altogether, we shall soon
land in one, where it is much less powerful than on the Earth."
"You mean the Moon!"
"Yes, the Moon. Her mass being 1/89 of the Earth's, her attractive power
should be in the same proportion; that is, a boy 10 years old, whose
weight on Earth is about 90 lbs., would weigh on the Moon only about 1
pound, if nothing else were to be taken into consideration. But when
standing on the surface of the Moon, he is relatively 4 times nearer to
the centre than when he is standing on the surface of the Earth. His
weight, therefore, having to be increased by the square of the distance,
must be sixteen times greater. Now 16 times 1/89 being less than 1/5, it
is clear that my weight of 150 pounds will be cut down to nearly 30 as
soon as we reach the Moon's surface."
"And mine?" asked Ardan.
"Yours will hardly reach 25 pounds, I should think," was the reply.
"Shall my muscular strength diminish in the same proportion?" was the
next question.
"On the contrary, it will be relatively so much the more increased that
you can take a stride 15 feet in width as easily as you can now take one
of ordinary length."
"We shall be all Samsons, then, in the Moon!" cried Ardan.
"Especially," replied M'Nicholl, "if the stature of the Selenites is in
proportion to the mass of their globe."
"If so, what should be their height?"
"A tall man would hardly be twelve inches in his boots!"
"They must be veritable Lilliputians then!" cried Ardan; "and we are all
to be Gullivers! The old myth of the Giants realized! Perhaps the Titans
that played such famous parts in the prehistoric period of our Earth,
were adventurers like ourselves, casually arrived from some great
planet!"
"Not from such planets as Mercury, Venus or Mars anyhow, friend
Michael," observed Barbican. "But the inhabitants of Jupiter,
Saturn, Uranus, or Neptune, if they bear the same proportion to
their planet that we do ours, must certainly be regular Brobdignagians."
"Let us keep severely away from all planets of the latter class then,"
said Ardan. "I never liked to play the part of Lilliputian myself. But
how about the Sun, Barbican? I always had a hankering after the Sun!"
"The Sun's volume is about 1-1/3 million times greater than that of the
Earth, but his density being only about 1/4, the attraction on his
surface is hardly 30 times greater than that of our globe. Still, every
proportion observed, the inhabitants of the Sun can't be much less than
150 or 160 feet in height."
"Mille tonnerres!" cried Ardan, "I should be there like Ulysses among
the Cyclops! I'll tell you what it is, Barbican; if we ever decide on
going to the Sun, we must provide ourselves before hand with a few of
your Rodman's Columbiads to frighten off the Solarians!"
"Your Columbiads would not do great execution there," observed
M'Nicholl; "your bullet would be hardly out of the barrel when it would
drop to the surface like a heavy stone pushed off the wall of a house."
"Oh! I like that!" laughed the incredulous Ardan.
"A little calculation, however, shows the Captain's remark to be
perfectly just," said Barbican. "Rodman's ordinary 15 inch Columbiad
requires a charge of 100 pounds of mammoth powder to throw a ball of
500 pounds weight. What could such a charge do with a ball weighing 30
times as much or 15,000 pounds? Reflect on the enormous weight
everything must have on the surface of the Sun! Your hat, for instance,
would weigh 20 or 30 pounds. Your cigar nearly a pound. In short, your
own weight on the Sun's surface would be so great, more than two tons,
that if you ever fell you should never be able to pick yourself up
again!"
"Yes," added the Captain, "and whenever you wanted to eat or drink you
should rig up a set of powerful machinery to hoist the eatables and
drinkables into your mouth."
"Enough of the Sun to-day, boys!" cried Ardan, shrugging his shoulders;
"I don't contemplate going there at present. Let us be satisfied with
the Moon! There, at least, we shall be of some account!"