orator. "Have you altered the plans of the projectile according to the
request of the telegram?"
"Not yet, gentlemen; but you are right! we must have better information
to go by. The telegraph must complete its information."
"To the telegraph!" roared the crowd.
Barbicane descended; and heading the immense assemblage, led the way to
the telegraph office. A few minutes later a telegram was despatched to
the secretary of the underwriters at Liverpool, requesting answers to
the following queries:--
"About the ship 'Atlanta'--when did she leave Europe? Had she on board
a Frenchman named Michel Ardan?"
Two hours afterwards Barbicane received information too exact to leave
room for the smallest remaining doubt.
"The steamer 'Atlanta' from Liverpool put to sea on the 2nd October,
bound for Tampa Town, having on board a Frenchman borne on the list of
passengers by the name of Michel Ardan."
That very evening he wrote to the house of Breadwill and Co., requesting
them to suspend the casting of the projectile until the receipt of
further orders. On the 20th October, at 9 a.m., the semaphores of the
Bahama Canal signalled a thick smoke on the horizon. Two hours later a
large steamer exchanged signals with them. The name of the Atlanta flew
at once over Tampa Town. At four o'clock the English vessel entered the
Bay of Espiritu Santo. At five it crossed the passage of Hillisborough
Bay at full steam. At six she cast anchor at Port Tampa. The anchor had
scarcely caught the sandy bottom when 500 boats surrounded the "Atlanta,"
and the steamer was taken by assault. Barbicane was the first to set foot
on deck, and in a voice of which he vainly tried to conceal the emotion,
called "Michel Ardan."
"Here!" replied an individual perched on the poop.
Barbicane, with arms crossed, looked fixedly at the passenger of the
"Atlanta."
He was a man of about 42 years of age, of large build, but slightly
round-shouldered. His massive head momentarily shook a shock of reddish
hair, which resembled a lion's mane. His face was short with a broad
forehead, and furnished with a moustache as bristly as a cat's, and little
patches of yellowish whisker upon full cheeks. Round, wildish eyes,
slightly near-sighted, completed a physiognomy essentially -feline.- His
nose was firmly shaped, his mouth particularly sweet in expression, high
forehead, intelligent and furrowed with wrinkles like a newly-ploughed
field. The body was powerfully developed and firmly fixed upon long legs.
Muscular arms, and a general air of decision gave him the appearance of
a hardy, jolly companion. He was dressed in a suit of ample dimensions,
loose neckerchief, open shirt-collar, disclosing a robust neck; his cuffs
were invariably unbuttoned, through which appeared a pair of red hands.
Illustration: MICHEL ARDEN.
On the bridge of the steamer, in the midst of the crowd, he bustled to
and fro, never still for a moment, "dragging his anchors," as the sailors
say, gesticulating, making free with everybody, biting his nails with
nervous avidity. He was one of those originals which nature sometimes
invents in the freak of a moment, and of which she then breaks the mould.
Amongst other peculiarities, this curiosity gave himself out for a
sublime ignoramus, "like Shakespeare," and professed supreme contempt
for all scientific men. Those "fellows," as he called them, "are only
fit to mark the points, while we play the game." He was, in fact, a
thorough Bohemian, adventurous, but not an adventurer; a hair-brained
fellow, a kind of Icarus, only possessing relays of wings. For the rest,
he was ever in scrapes, ending invariably by falling on his feet, like
those little pith figures which they sell for children's toys. In two
words, his motto was "I have my opinions," and the love of the impossible
constituted his ruling passion.
Such was the passenger of the "Atlanta," always excitable, as if boiling
under the action of some internal fire by the character of his physical
organization. If ever two individuals offered a striking contrast to each
other, these were certainly Michel Ardan and the Yankee Barbicane; both,
moreover, being equally enterprising and daring, each in his own way.
The scrutiny which the President of the Gun Club had instituted regarding
this new rival was quickly interrupted by the shouts and hurrahs of the
crowd. The cries became at last so uproarious, and the popular enthusiasm
assumed so personal a form, that Michel Ardan, after having shaken hands
some thousands of times, at the imminent risk of leaving his fingers
behind him, was fain at last to make a bolt for his cabin.
Barbicane followed him without uttering a word.
"You are Barbicane, I suppose?" said Michel Ardan in a tone of voice in
which he would have addressed a friend of twenty years' standing.
"Yes," replied the President of the G. C.
"All right! how d'ye do, Barbicane? how are you getting on--pretty well?
that's right."
"So," said Barbicane without further preliminary, "you are quite
determined to go."
"Quite decided."
"Nothing will stop you?"
"Nothing. Have you modified your projectile according to my telegram."
"I waited for your arrival. But," asked Barbicane again, "have you
carefully reflected?"
"Reflected? have I any time to spare? I find an opportunity of making a
tour in the moon, and I mean to profit by it. There is the whole gist of
the matter."
Barbicane looked hard at this man who spoke so lightly of his project
with such complete absence of anxiety. "But, at least," said he, "you
have some plans, some means of carrying your project into execution?"
"Excellent, my dear Barbicane; only permit me to offer one remark:--My
wish is to tell my story once for all, to everybody, and then to have
done with it; then there will be no need for recapitulation. So, if you
have no objection, assemble your friends, colleagues, the whole town,
all Florida, all America if you like, and to-morrow I shall be ready to
explain my plans and answer any objections whatever that may be advanced.
You may rest assured I shall wait without stirring. Will that suit you?"
"All right," replied Barbicane.
So saying, the President left the cabin and informed the crowd of the
proposal of Michel Ardan. His words were received with clappings of hands
and shouts of joy. They had removed all difficulties. To-morrow every
one would contemplate at his ease this European hero. However, some of
the spectators, more infatuated than the rest, would not leave the deck
of the "Atlanta." They passed the night on board. Amongst others, J.
T. Maston got his hook fixed in the combing of the poop, and it pretty
nearly required the capstan to get it out again.
"He is a hero! a hero!" he cried, a theme of which he was never tired of
ringing the changes; "and we are only like weak, silly women, compared
with this European!"
As to the president, after having suggested to the visitors it was time
to retire, he re-entered the passenger's cabin, and remained there till
the bell of the steamer made it midnight.
But then the two rivals in popularity shook hands heartily and parted on
terms of intimate friendship.
CHAPTER XIX.
A MONSTER MEETING.
On the following day Barbicane, fearing that indiscreet questions might
be put to Michel Ardan, was desirous of reducing the number of the
audience to a few of the initiated, his own colleagues for instance. He
might as well have tried to check the Falls of Niagara! He was compelled,
therefore, to give up the idea, and to let his new friend run the chances
of a public conference. The place chosen for this monster meeting was a
vast plain situated in the rear of the town. In a few hours, thanks to the
help of the shipping in port, an immense roofing of canvas was stretched
over the parched prairie, and protected it from the burning rays of the
sun. There 300,000 people braved for many hours the stifling heat while
awaiting the arrival of the Frenchman. Of this crowd of spectators a first
set could both see and hear; a second set saw badly and heard nothing
at all; and as for the third, it could neither see nor hear anything at
all. At three o'clock Michel Ardan made his appearance, accompanied by
the principal members of the Gun Club. He was supported on his right by
President Barbicane, and on his left by J. T. Maston, more radiant than
the midday sun and nearly as ruddy. Ardan mounted a platform, from the
top of which his view extended over a sea of black hats. He exhibited not
the slightest embarrassment; he was just as gay, familiar, and pleasant
as if he were at home. To the hurrahs which greeted him he replied by
a graceful bow; then, waving his hand to request silence, he spoke in
perfectly correct English as follows:--
Illustration: THE MEETING.
"Gentlemen, despite the very hot weather I request your patience for a
short time while I offer some explanations regarding the projects which
seem to have so interested you. I am neither an orator nor a man of
science, and I had no idea of addressing you in public; but my friend
Barbicane has told me that you would like to hear me, and I am quite at
your service. Listen to me, therefore, with your 600,000 ears, and please
to excuse the faults of the speaker. Now pray do not forget that you see
before you a perfect ignoramus whose ignorance goes so far that he cannot
even understand the difficulties! It seemed to him that it was a matter
quite simple, natural, and easy to take one's place in a projectile and
start for the moon! That journey must be undertaken sooner or later;
and, as for the mode of locomotion adopted, it follows simply the law of
progress. Man began by walking on all-fours; then, one fine day, on two
feet; then in a carriage; then in a stage-coach; and lastly by railway.
Well, the projectile is the vehicle of the future, and the planets
themselves are nothing else! Now some of you, gentlemen, may imagine that
the velocity we propose to impart to it is extravagant. It is nothing
of the kind. All the stars exceed it in rapidity, and the earth herself
is at this moment carrying us round the sun at three times as rapid a
rate, and yet she is a mere lounger on the way compared with many others
of the planets! And her velocity is constantly -decreasing.- Is it not
evident, then, I ask you, that there will some day appear velocities far
greater than these, of which light or electricity will probably be the
mechanical agent?
"Yes, gentlemen," continued the orator, "in spite of the opinions of
certain narrow-minded people, who would shut up the human race upon
this globe, as within some magic circle which it must never outstep, we
shall one day travel to the moon, the planets, and the stars, with the
same facility, rapidity, and certainty as we now make the voyage from
Liverpool to New York! Distance is but a relative expression, and must
end by being reduced to zero."
The assembly, strongly predisposed as they were in favour of the French
hero, were slightly staggered at this bold theory. Michel Ardan perceived
the fact.
"Gentlemen," he continued with a pleasant smile, "you do not seem quite
convinced. Very good! Let us reason the matter out. Do you know how long
it would take for an -express train- to reach the moon? Three hundred
days; no more! And what is that? The distance is no more than nine times
the circumference of the earth; and there are no sailors or travellers,
of even moderate activity, who have not made longer journeys than that
in their lifetime. And now consider that I shall be only ninety-seven
hours on my journey. Ah! I see you are reckoning that the moon is a long
way off from the earth, and that one must think twice before making the
experiment. What would you say, then, if we were talking of going to
Neptune, which revolves at a distance of more than two thousand seven
hundred and twenty millions of miles from the sun! And yet what is that
compared with the distance of the fixed stars, some of which, such as
Arcturus, are at billions of miles distant from us? And then you talk
of the -distance- which separates the planets from the sun! And there
are people who affirm that such a thing as distance exists. Absurdity,
folly, idiotic nonsense! Would you know what I think of our own solar
universe? Shall I tell you my theory? It is very simple! In my opinion
the solar system is a solid, homogeneous body; the planets which compose
it are in -actual contact- with each other; and whatever space exists
between them is nothing more than the space which separates the molecules
of the densest metal, such as silver, iron, or platinum! I have the
right, therefore, to affirm, and I repeat, with the conviction which must
penetrate all your minds, 'Distance is but an empty name; distance does
not really exist!'"
"Hurrah!" cried one voice (need it be said it was that of J. T. Maston?).
"Distance does not exist!" And overcome by the energy of his movements,
he nearly fell from the platform to the ground. He just escaped a severe
fall, which would have proved to him that distance was by no means -an
empty name.-
Illustration: PROJECTILE TRAINS FOR THE MOON.
"Gentlemen," resumed the orator, "I repeat that the distance between the
earth and her satellite is a mere trifle, and undeserving of serious
consideration. I am convinced that before twenty years are over one half
of our earth will have paid a visit to the moon. Now, my worthy friends,
if you have any question to put to me, you will, I fear, sadly embarrass
a poor man like myself; still I will do my best to answer you."
Up to this point the President of the Gun Club had been satisfied with the
turn which the discussion had assumed. It became now, however, desirable
to divert Ardan from questions of a practical nature, with which he was
doubtless far less conversant. Barbicane, therefore, hastened to get in
a word, and began by asking his new friend whether he thought that the
moon and the planets were inhabited.
"You put before me a great problem, my worthy President," replied the
orator, smiling. "Still, men of great intelligence, such as Plutarch,
Swedenborg, Bernardin de St. Pierre, and others have, if I mistake not,
pronounced in the affirmative. Looking at the question from the natural
philosopher's point of view, I should say that -nothing useless- existed
in the world; and, replying to your question by another, I should venture
to assert, that if these worlds are -habitable-, they either are, have
been, or will be inhabited."
"No one could answer more logically or fairly," replied the president.
"The question then reverts to this: -Are- these worlds habitable? For my
own part I believe they are."
"For myself, I feel certain of it," said Michel Ardan.
"Nevertheless," retorted one of the audience, "there are many arguments
-against- the habitability of the worlds. The conditions of life must
evidently be greatly modified upon the majority of them. To mention
only the planets, we should be either broiled alive in some, or frozen
to death in others, according as they are more or less removed from the
sun."
"I regret," replied Michel Ardan, "that I have not the honour of personally
knowing my contradictor, for I would have attempted to answer him. His
objection has its merits, I admit; but I think we may successfully combat
it, as well as all others which affect the habitability of the other
worlds. If I were a -natural philosopher,- I would tell him that if less
of caloric were -set in motion- upon the planets which are nearest to
the sun, and more, on the contrary, upon those which are farthest removed
from it, this simple fact would alone suffice to equalize the heat, and
to render the temperature of those worlds supportable by beings organized
like ourselves. If I were a -naturalist-, I would tell him that, according
to some illustrious men of science, nature has furnished us with instances
upon the earth of animals existing under very varying conditions of life;
that fish respire in a medium fatal to other animals; that amphibious
creatures possess a double existence very difficult of explanation; that
certain denizens of the seas maintain life at enormous depths, and there
support a pressure equal to that of fifty or sixty atmospheres without
being crushed; that several aquatic insects, insensible to temperature,
are met with equally among boiling springs and in the frozen plains
of the Polar Sea; in fine, that we cannot help recognizing in nature a
diversity of means of operation oftentimes incomprehensible, but not the
less real. If I were a -chemist-, I would tell him that the aerolites,
bodies evidently formed exteriorly of our terrestrial globe, have, upon
analysis, revealed indisputable traces of carbon, a substance which
owes its origin solely to organized beings, and which, according to the
experiments of Reichenbach, must necessarily itself have been -endued
with animation.- And lastly, were I a theologian, I would tell him that
the scheme of the Divine Redemption, according to St. Paul, seems to be
applicable, not merely to the earth, but to all the celestial worlds.
But, unfortunately I am neither theologian, nor chemist, nor naturalist,
nor philosopher; therefore, in my absolute ignorance of the great laws
which govern the universe, I confine myself to saying in reply, 'I do not
know whether the worlds are inhabited or not; and since I do not know,
-I am going to see!-"
Whether Michel Ardan's antagonist hazarded any further arguments or
not it is impossible to say, for the uproarious shouts of the crowd
would not allow any expression of opinion to gain a hearing. On silence
being restored, the triumphant orator contented himself with adding the
following remarks:--
"Gentlemen, you will observe that I have but slightly touched upon
this great question. There is another altogether different line of
arguments in favour of the habitability of the stars, which I omit for
the present. I only desire to call attention to one point. To those who
maintain that the planets are -not- inhabited one may reply:--You might
be perfectly in the right, if you could only show that the earth is the
-best possible world,- spite of what Voltaire has said. She has but -one-
satellite, while Jupiter, Uranus, Saturn, Neptune have each several,
an advantage by no means to be despised. But that which renders our own
globe so uncomfortable is the inclination of its axis to the plane of its
orbit. Hence the inequality of days and nights; hence the disagreeable
diversity of the seasons. On the surface of our unhappy spheroid we
are always either too hot or too cold; we are frozen in winter, broiled
in summer; it is the planet of rheumatism, coughs, bronchitis; while
on the surface of Jupiter, for example, where the axis is but slightly
inclined, the inhabitants may enjoy uniform temperatures. It possesses
zones of perpetual springs, summers, autumns, and winters; every Jovian
may choose for himself what climate he likes, and there spend the whole
of his life in security from all variations of temperature. You will, I
am sure, readily admit this superiority of Jupiter over our own planet,
to say nothing of his years, which each equal twelve of ours! Under
such auspices, and such marvellous conditions of existence, it appears
to me that the inhabitants of so fortunate a world must be in every
respect superior to ourselves. All we require, in order to attain to
such perfection, is the mere trifle of having an axis of rotation less
inclined to the plane of its orbit!"
"Hurrah!" roared an energetic voice, "let us unite our efforts, invent
the necessary machines, and rectify the earth's axis!"
A thunder of applause followed this proposal, the author of which was, of
course, no other than J. T. Maston. And, in all probability, if the truth
must be told, if the Yankees could only have found a point of application
for it, they would have constructed a lever capable of raising the earth
and rectifying its axis. It was just this deficiency which baffled these
daring mechanicians.
CHAPTER XX.
ATTACK AND RIPOSTE.
As soon as the excitement had subsided, the following words were heard
uttered in a strong and determined voice:--
"Now that the speaker has favoured us with so much imagination, would he
be so good as to return to his subject, and give us a little practical
view of the question?"
All eyes were directed towards the person who spoke. He was a little
dried-up man, of an active figure, with an American "goatee" beard.
Profiting by the different movements in the crowd, he had managed by
degrees to gain the front row of spectators. There, with arms crossed
and stern gaze, he watched the hero of the meeting. After having put
his question he remained silent, and appeared to take no notice of
the thousands of looks directed towards himself, nor of the murmur of
disapprobation excited by his words. Meeting at first with no reply, he
repeated his question with marked emphasis, adding, "We are here to talk
about the -moon- and not about the -earth-."
"You are right, sir," replied Michel Ardan; "the discussion has become
irregular. We will return to the moon."
"Sir," said the unknown, "you pretend that our satellite is inhabited.
Very good; but if Selenites do exist, that race of beings assuredly must
live without breathing, for--I warn you for your own sake--there is
not the smallest particle of air on the surface of the moon."
At this remark Ardan pushed up his shock of red hair; he saw that he was
on the point of being involved in a struggle with this person upon the
very gist of the whole question. He looked sternly at him in his turn
and said,--
"Oh! so there is no air in the moon? And pray, if you are so good, who
ventures to affirm that?"
"The men of science."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Sir," replied Michel, "pleasantry apart, I have a profound respect for
men of science who do possess science, but a profound contempt for men
of science who do not."
"Do you know any who belong to the latter category?"
"Decidedly. In France there are some who maintain that, mathematically,
a bird cannot possibly fly; and others who demonstrate theoretically that
fishes were never made to live in water."
"I have nothing to do with persons of that description, and I can quote,
in support of my statement, names which you cannot refuse deference to."
"Then, sir, you will sadly embarrass a poor ignorant, who, besides, asks
nothing better than to learn."
"Why, then, do you introduce scientific questions if you have never
studied them?" asked the unknown somewhat coarsely.
"For the reason that 'he is always brave who never suspects danger.' I
know nothing, it is true; but it is precisely my very weakness which
constitutes my strength."
"Your weakness amounts to folly," retorted the unknown in a passion.
"All the better," replied our Frenchman, "if it carries me up to the
-moon.-"
Barbicane and his colleagues devoured with their eyes the intruder who had
so boldly placed himself in antagonism to their enterprise. Nobody knew
him, and the president, uneasy as to the result of so free a discussion,
watched his new friend with some anxiety. The meeting began to be somewhat
fidgety also, for the contest directed their attention to the dangers,
if not the actual impossibilities, of the proposed expedition.
Illustration: ATTACK AND RIPOSTE.
"Sir," replied Ardan's antagonist, "there are many and incontrovertible
reasons which prove the absence of an atmosphere in the moon. I might
say that, -à priori-, if one ever did exist, it must have been absorbed
by the earth; but I prefer to bring forward indisputable facts."
"Bring them forward then, sir, as many as you please."
"You know," said the stranger, "that when any luminous rays cross a
medium such as the air, they are deflected out of the straight line; in
other words, they undergo -refraction.- Well! When stars are occulted by
the moon, their rays, on grazing the edge of her disc, exhibit not the
least deviation, nor offer the slightest indication of refraction. It
follows, therefore, that the moon cannot be surrounded by an atmosphere."
"In point of fact," replied Ardan, "this is your chief, if not your -only-
argument; and a really scientific man might be puzzled to answer it. For
myself, I will simply say that it is defective, because it assumes that
the angular diameter of the moon has been completely determined, which
is not the case. But let us proceed. Tell me, my dear sir, do you admit
the existence of volcanoes on the moon's surface?"
"-Extinct-, yes! In activity, no!"
"These volcanoes, however, were at one time in a state of activity?"
"True! but, as they furnished themselves the oxygen necessary for
combustion, the mere fact of their eruption does not prove the presence
of an atmosphere."
"Proceed again, then; and let us set aside this class of arguments in
order to come to direct observations. In 1715 the astronomers Louville
and Halley, watching the eclipse of the 3rd May, remarked some very
extraordinary scintillations. These jets of light, rapid in nature, and
of frequent recurrence, they attributed to thunderstorms generated in
the lunar atmosphere."
"In 1715," replied the unknown, "the astronomers Louville and Halley
mistook for lunar phenomena some which were purely terrestrial, such as
meteoric or other bodies which are generated in our own atmosphere. This
was the scientific explanation at the time of the facts; and that is my
answer now."
"On again, then," replied Ardan; "Herschel, in 1787, observed a great
number of luminous points on the moon's surface, did he not?"
"Yes! but without offering any solution of them. Herschel himself never
inferred from them the necessity of a lunar atmosphere. And I may add
that Bœer and Moedler, the two great authorities upon the moon, are
quite agreed as to the entire absence of air on its surface."
A movement was here manifest among the assemblage, who appeared to be
growing excited by the arguments of this singular personage.
"Let us proceed," replied Ardan, with perfect coolness, "and come to one
important fact. A skilful French astronomer, M. Laussedat, in watching
the eclipse of July 18, 1860, proved that the horns of the solar crescent
were -rounded and truncated.- Now, this appearance could only have been
produced by a deviation of the solar rays in traversing the atmosphere
of the moon. There is no other possible explanation of the fact."
"But is this established as a fact?"
"Absolutely certain!"
A counter-movement here took place in favour of the hero of the meeting,
whose opponent was now reduced to silence. Ardan resumed the conversation;
and without exhibiting any exultation at the advantage he had gained,
simply said,--
"You see, then, my dear sir, we must not pronounce with absolute
positiveness against the existence of an atmosphere in the moon. That
atmosphere is, probably, of extreme rarity; nevertheless at the present
day science generally admits that it exists."
"Not in the mountains, at all events," returned the unknown, unwilling
to give in.
"No! but at the bottom of the valleys, and not exceeding a few hundred
feet in height."
"In any case you will do well to take every precaution, for the air will
be terribly rarified."
"My good sir, there will always be enough for a solitary individual;
besides, once arrived up there, I shall do my best to economize, and not
to breathe except on grand occasions!"
A tremendous roar of laughter rang in the ears of the mysterious
interlocutor, who glared fiercely round upon the assembly.
"Then," continued Ardan, with a careless air, "since we are in accord
regarding the presence of a certain atmosphere, we are forced to admit
the presence of a certain quantity of water. This is a happy consequence
for me. Moreover, my amiable contradictor, permit me to submit to you
one further observation. We only know one side of the moon's disc; and
if there is but little air on the face presented to us, it is possible
that there is plenty on the one turned away from us."
"And for what reason?"
"Because the moon, under the action of the earth's attraction, has
assumed the form of an egg, which we look at from the smaller end. Hence
it follows, by Hausen's calculations, that its centre of gravity is
situated in the other hemisphere. Hence it results that the great mass
of air and water must have been drawn away to the other face of our
satellite during the first days of its creation."
"Pure fancies!" cried the unknown.
"No! Pure theories! which are based upon the laws of mechanics, and it
seems difficult to me to refute them. I appeal then to this meeting, and
I put it to them whether life, such as exists upon the earth, is possible
on the surface of the moon?"
Three hundred thousand auditors at once applauded the proposition.
Ardan's opponent tried to get in another word, but he could not obtain
a hearing. Cries and menaces fell upon him like hail.
"Enough! enough!" cried some.
"Drive the intruder off!" shouted others.
"Turn him out!" roared the exasperated crowd.
But he, holding firmly on to the platform, did not budge an inch, and let
the storm pass on, which would soon have assumed formidable proportions,
if Michel Ardan had not quieted it by a gesture. He was too chivalrous
to abandon his opponent in an apparent extremity.
"You wished to say a few more words?" he asked, in a pleasant voice.
"Yes, a thousand; or rather, no, only one! If you persevere in your
enterprise, you must be a--"
"Very rash person! How can you treat me as such? me, who have demanded a
cylindro-conical projectile, in order to prevent turning round and round
on my way like a squirrel?"
"But, unhappy man, the dreadful recoil will smash you to pieces at your
starting."
"My dear contradictor, you have just put your finger upon the true and
the only difficulty; nevertheless, I have too good an opinion of the
industrial genius of the Americans not to believe that they will succeed
in overcoming it."
"But the heat developed by the rapidity of the projectile in crossing
the strata of air?"
"Oh! the walls are thick, and I shall soon have crossed the atmosphere."
"But victuals and water?"
"I have calculated for a twelvemonth's supply, and I shall be only four
days on the journey."
"But for air to breathe on the road?"
"I shall make it by chemical process."
"But your fall on the moon, supposing you ever reach it?"
"It will be six times less dangerous than a sudden fall upon the earth,
because the weight will be only one-sixth as great on the surface of the
moon."
"Still it will be enough to smash you like glass!"
"What is to prevent my retarding the shock by means of rockets conveniently
placed, and lighted at the right moment?"
"But after all, supposing all difficulties surmounted, all obstacles
removed, supposing everything combined to favour you, and granting that
you may arrive safe and sound in the moon, how will you come back?"
"I am not coming back!"
At this reply, almost sublime in its very simplicity, the assembly became
silent. But its silence was more eloquent than could have been its cries
of enthusiasm. The unknown profited by the opportunity and once more
protested,--
"You will inevitably kill yourself!" he cried; "and your death will be
that of a madman, useless even to science!"
"Go on, my dear unknown, for truly your prophecies are most agreeable!"
"It really is too much!" cried Michel Ardan's adversary. "I do not know
why I should continue so frivolous a discussion! Please yourself about
this insane expedition! We need not trouble ourselves about you!"
"Pray don't stand upon ceremony!"
"No! another person is responsible for your act."
"Who, may I ask?" demanded Michel Ardan in an imperious tone.
"The ignoramus who organized this equally absurd and impossible
experiment!"
The attack was direct. Barbicane, ever since the interference of the
unknown, had been making fearful efforts of self-control; now, however,
seeing himself directly attacked, he could restrain himself no longer.
He rose suddenly, and was rushing upon the enemy who thus braved him to
the face, when all at once he found himself separated from him.
The platform was lifted by a hundred strong arms, and the President of
the Gun Club shared with Michel Ardan triumphal honours. The shield was
heavy, but the bearers came in continuous relays, disputing, struggling,
even fighting among themselves in their eagerness to lend their shoulders
to this demonstration.
However, the unknown had not profited by the tumult to quit his post.
Besides he could not have done it in the midst of that compact crowd.
There he held on in the front row with crossed arms, glaring at President
Barbicane.
The shouts of the immense crowd continued at their highest pitch throughout
this triumphant march. Michel Ardan took it all with evident pleasure.
His face gleamed with delight. Several times the platform seemed seized
with pitching and rolling like a weather-beaten ship. But the two heroes
of the meeting had good sea-legs. They never stumbled; and their vessel
arrived without dues at the port of Tampa Town.
Michel Ardan managed fortunately to escape from the last embraces of
his vigorous admirers. He made for the Hotel Franklin, quickly gained
his chamber, and slid under the bedclothes, while an army of a hundred
thousand men kept watch under his windows.
During this time a scene, short, grave, and decisive, took place between
the mysterious personage and the President of the Gun Club.
Barbicane, free at last, had gone straight at his adversary.
"Come!" he said shortly.
The other followed him on to the quay; and the two presently found
themselves alone at the entrance of an open wharf on Jones' Fall.
The two enemies, still mutually unknown, gazed at each other.
"Who are you?" asked Barbicane.
Illustration: THE PLATFORM WAS SUDDENLY CARRIED AWAY.
"Captain Nicholl!"
"So I suspected. Hitherto chance has never thrown you in my way."
"I am come for that purpose."
"You have insulted me."
"Publicly!"
"And you will answer to me for this insult?"
"At this very moment."
"No! I desire that all that passes between us shall be secret. There is
a wood situated three miles from Tampa, the wood of Skersnaw. Do you know
it?"
"I know it."
"Will you be so good as to enter it to-morrow morning at five o'clock,
on one side?"
"Yes! if you will enter at the other side at the same hour."
"And you will not forget your rifle?" said Barbicane.
"No more than you will forget yours," replied Nicholl.
These words having been coldly spoken, the President of the Gun Club and
the captain parted. Barbicane returned to his lodging; but instead of
snatching a few hours of repose, he passed the night in endeavouring to
discover a means of evading the recoil of the projectile, and resolving
the difficult problem proposed by Michel Ardan during the discussion at
the meeting.
CHAPTER XXI.
HOW A FRENCHMAN MANAGES AN AFFAIR.
While the contract of this duel was being discussed by the president and
the captain--this dreadful, savage duel, in which each adversary became
a man-hunter--Michel Ardan was resting from the fatigues of his triumph.
-Resting- is hardly an appropriate expression, for American beds rival
marble or granite tables for hardness.
Ardan was sleeping, then, badly enough, tossing about between the cloths
which served him for sheets, and he was dreaming of making a more
comfortable couch in his projectile when a frightful noise disturbed his
dreams. Thundering blows shook his door. They seemed to be caused by some
iron instrument. A great deal of loud talking was distinguishable in this
racket, which was rather too early in the morning. "Open the door," some
one shrieked, "for Heaven's sake!" Ardan saw no reason for complying with
a demand so roughly expressed. However, he got up and opened the door
just as it was giving way before the blows of this determined visitor.
The secretary of the Gun Club burst into the room. A bomb could not have
made more noise or have entered the room with less ceremony.
"Last night," cried J. T. Maston, -ex abrupto-, "our president was
publicly insulted during the meeting. He provoked his adversary, who is
none other than Captain Nicholl! They are fighting this morning in the
wood of Skersnaw. I heard all particulars from the mouth of Barbicane
himself. If he is killed, then our scheme is at end. We must prevent this
duel; and one man alone has enough influence over Barbicane to stop him,
and that man is Michel Ardan."
Illustration: MASTON BURST INTO THE ROOM.
While J. T. Maston was speaking, Michel Ardan, without interrupting him,
had hastily put on his clothes; and, in less than two minutes, the two
friends were making for the suburbs of Tampa Town with rapid strides.
It was during this walk that Maston told Ardan the state of the case. He
told him the real causes of the hostility between Barbicane and Nicholl;
how it was of old date, and why, thanks to unknown friends, the president
and the captain had, as yet, never met face to face. He added that it
arose simply from a rivalry between iron plates and shot, and, finally,
that the scene at the meeting was only the long-wished-for opportunity
for Nicholl to pay off an old grudge.
Nothing is more dreadful than private duels in America. The two adversaries
attack each other like wild beasts. Then it is that they might well covet
those wonderful properties of the Indians of the prairies--their quick
intelligence, their ingenious cunning, their scent of the enemy. A single
mistake, a moment's hesitation, a single false step may cause death. On
these occasions Yankees are often accompanied by their dogs, and keep up
the struggle for hours.
"What demons you are!" cried Michel Ardan, when his companion had depicted
this scene to him with much energy.
"Yes we are," replied J. T. modestly; "but we had better make haste."
Though Michel Ardan and he had crossed the plain still wet with dew, and
had taken the shortest route over creeks and ricefields, they could not
reach Skersnaw under five hours and a half.
Barbicane must have passed the border half an hour ago.
There was an old bushman working there, occupied in selling faggots from
trees that had been levelled by his axe.
Maston ran towards him, saying, "Have you seen a man go into the wood,
armed with a rifle? Barbicane, the president, my best friend?"
The worthy secretary of the Gun Club thought that his president must be
known by all the world. But the bushman did not seem to understand him.
"A hunter?" said Ardan.
"A hunter? Yes," replied the bushman.
"Long ago?"
"About an hour."
"Too late!" cried Maston.
"Have you heard any gun-shots?" asked Ardan.
"No!"
"Not one?"
"Not one! that hunter did not look as if he knew how to hunt!"
"What is to be done?" said Maston.
"We must go into the wood, at the risk of getting a ball which is not
intended for us."
"Ah!" cried Maston, in a tone which could not be mistaken, "I would
rather have twenty balls in my own head than one in Barbicane's."
"Forward, then," said Ardan, pressing his companion's hand.
A few moments later the two friends had disappeared in the copse. It was
a dense thicket, in which rose huge cypresses, sycamores, tulip-trees,
olives, tamarinds, oaks, and magnolias. These different trees had
interwoven their branches into an inextricable maze, through which the
eye could not penetrate. Michel Ardan and Maston walked side by side in
silence through the tall grass, cutting themselves a path through the
strong creepers, casting curious glances on the bushes, and momentarily
expecting to hear the sound of rifles. As for the traces which Barbicane
ought to have left of his passage through the wood, there was not a
vestige of them visible: so they followed the barely perceptible paths
along which Indians had tracked some enemy, and which the dense foliage
darkly overshadowed.
After an hour spent in vain pursuit the two stopped in intensified
anxiety.
"It must be all over," said Maston, discouraged. "A man like Barbicane
would not dodge with his enemy, or ensnare him, would not even manœuvre!
He is too open, too brave. He has gone straight ahead, right into the
danger, and doubtless far enough from the bushman for the wind to prevent
his hearing the report of the rifles."
"But surely," replied Michel Ardan, "since we entered the wood we should
have heard!"
"And what if we came too late?" cried Maston in tones of despair.
For once Ardan had no reply to make, he and Maston resuming their walk
in silence. From time to time, indeed, they raised great shouts, calling
alternately Barbicane and Nicholl, neither of whom, however, answered
their cries. Only the birds, awakened by the sound, flew past them
and disappeared among the branches, while some frightened deer fled
precipitately before them.
For another hour their search was continued. The greater part of the
wood had been explored. There was nothing to reveal the presence of the
combatants. The information of the bushman was after all doubtful, and
Ardan was about to propose their abandoning this useless pursuit, when
all at once Maston stopped.
"Hush!" said he, "there is some one down there!"
"Some one?" repeated Michel Ardan.
"Yes; a man! He seems motionless. His rifle is not in his hands. What
can he be doing?"
"But can you recognize him?" asked Ardan, whose short sight was of little
use to him in such circumstances.
"Yes! yes! He is turning towards us," answered Maston.
"And it is?"
"Captain Nicholl!"
"Nicholl?" cried Michel Ardan, feeling a terrible pang of grief.
"Nicholl unarmed! He has, then, no longer any fear of his adversary!"
"Let us go to him," said Michel Ardan, "and find out the truth."
But he and his companion had barely taken fifty steps when they paused to
examine the captain more attentively. They expected to find a bloodthirsty
man, happy in his revenge!
On seeing him, they remained stupefied.
A net, composed of very fine meshes, hung between two enormous
tulip-trees, and in the midst of this snare, with its wings entangled,
was a poor little bird, uttering pitiful cries, while it vainly struggled
to escape. The bird-catcher who had laid this snare was no human being,
but a venomous spider, peculiar to that country, as large as a pigeon's
egg, and armed with enormous claws. The hideous creature, instead of
rushing on its prey, had beaten a sudden retreat and taken refuge in
the upper branches of the tulip-tree, for a formidable enemy menaced its
stronghold.
Here, then, was Nicholl, his gun on the ground, forgetful of danger,
trying if possible to save the victim from its cobweb prison. At last it
was accomplished, and the little bird flew joyfully away and disappeared.
Nicholl lovingly watched its flight, when he heard these words pronounced
by a voice full of emotion,--
"You are indeed a brave man!"
He turned. Michel Ardan was before him, repeating in a different tone,--
"And a kindhearted one!"
"Michel Ardan!" cried the captain. "Why are you here?"
"To press your hand, Nicholl, and to prevent you from either killing
Barbicane or being killed by him."
"Barbicane!" returned the captain. "I have been looking for him for the
last two hours in vain. Where is he hiding?"
Illustration: IN THE MIDST OF THIS SNARE WAS A POOR LITTLE BIRD.
"Nicholl!" said Michel Ardan, "this is not courteous! we ought always to
treat an adversary with respect; rest assured if Barbicane is still alive
we shall find him all the more easily; because if he has not, like you,
been amusing himself with freeing oppressed birds, he must be looking
for -you-. When we have found him, Michel Ardan tells you this, there
will be no duel between you."
"Between President Barbicane and myself," gravely replied Nicholl, "there
is a rivalry which the death of one of us--"
"Pooh, pooh!" said Ardan. "Brave fellows like you indeed! you shall not
fight!"
"I will fight, sir!"
"No!"
"Captain," said J. T. Maston, with much feeling, "I am a friend of the
president's, his -alter ego-, his second self; if you really must kill
some one, -shoot me!- it will do just as well!"
"Sir," Nicholl replied, seizing his rifle convulsively, "these jokes--"
"Our friend Maston is not joking," replied Ardan. "I fully understand
his idea of being killed himself in order to save his friend. But neither
he nor Barbicane will fall before the balls of Captain Nicholl. Indeed I
have so attractive a proposal to make to the two rivals, that both will
be eager to accept it."
"What is it?" asked Nicholl with manifest incredulity.
"Patience!" exclaimed Ardan. "I can only reveal it in the presence of
Barbicane."
"Let us go in search of him then!" cried the captain.
The three men started off at once; the captain having discharged his
rifle threw it over his shoulder, and advanced in silence.
Another half-hour passed, and the pursuit was still fruitless. Maston was
oppressed by sinister forebodings. He looked fiercely at Nicholl, asking
himself whether the captain's vengeance had been already satisfied, and
the unfortunate Barbicane, shot, was perhaps lying dead on some bloody
track. The same thought seemed to occur to Ardan; and both were casting
inquiring glances on Nicholl, when suddenly Maston paused.
The motionless figure of a man leaning against a gigantic catalpa twenty
feet off appeared, half-veiled by the foliage. "It is he!" said Maston.
Barbicane never moved. Ardan looked at the captain, but he did not wince.
Ardan went forward crying,--
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