The spectacle was a different one on the side of the moon; the orb was shining in all its splendour amidst innumerable constellations, the rays of which could not trouble its purity. Upon the disc the plains again wore the sombre tint which is seen from the earth. The rest of the nimbus was shining, and amidst the general blaze Tycho stood out like a sun.
Barbicane could not manage any way to appreciate the velocity of the projectile, but reasoning demonstrated that this speed must be uniformly diminishing in conformity with the laws of rational mechanics.
In fact, it being admitted that the bullet would describe an orbit round the moon, that orbit must necessarily be elliptical. Science proves that it must be thus. No mobile circulation round any body is an exception to that law. All the orbits described in space are elliptical, those of satellites round their planets, those of planets around their sun, that of the sun round the unknown orb that serves as its central pivot. Why should the projectile of the Gun Club escape that natural arrangement?
Now in elliptical orbits attracting bodies always occupy one of the foci of the ellipsis. The satellite is, therefore, nearer the body round which it gravitates at one moment than it is at another. When the earth is nearest the sun she is at her perihelion, and at her aphelion when most distant. The moon is nearest the earth at her perigee, and most distant at her apogee. To employ analogous expressions which enrich the language of astronomers, if the projectile remained a satellite of the moon, it ought to be said that it is in its “aposelene” at its most distant point, and at its “periselene” at its nearest.
In the latter case the projectile ought to attain its maximum of speed, in the latter its minimum. Now it was evidently going towards its “aposelene,” and Barbicane was right in thinking its speed would decrease up to that point, and gradually increase when it would again draw near the moon. That speed even would be absolutely nil if the point was coexistent with that of attraction.
Barbicane studied the consequences of these different situations; he was trying what he could make of them when he was suddenly interrupted by a cry from Michel Ardan.
“I’faith!” cried Michel, “what fools we are!”
“I don’t say we are not,” answered Barbicane; “but why?”
“Because we have some very simple means of slackening the speed that is taking us away from the moon, and we do not use them.”
“And what are those means?”
“That of utilising the force of recoil in our rockets.”
“Ah, why not?” said Nicholl.
“We have not yet utilised that force, it is true,” said Barbicane, “but we shall do so.”
“When?” asked Michel.
“When the time comes. Remark, my friends, that in the position now occupied by the projectile, a position still oblique to the lunar disc, our rockets, by altering its direction, might take it farther away instead of nearer to the moon. Now I suppose it is the moon you want to reach?”
“Essentially,” answered Michel.
“Wait, then. Through some inexplicable influence the projectile has a tendency to let its lower end fall towards the earth. It is probable that at the point of equal attraction its conical summit will be rigorously directed towards the moon. At that moment it may be hoped that its speed will be nil. That will be the time to act, and under the effort of our rockets we can, perhaps, provoke a direct fall upon the surface of the lunar disc.”
“Bravo!” said Michel.
“We have not done it yet, and we could not do it as we passed the neutral point, because the projectile was still animated with too much velocity.”
“Well reasoned out,” said Nicholl.
“We must wait patiently,” said Barbicane, “and put every chance on our side; then, after having despaired so long, I again begin to think we shall reach our goal.”
This conclusion provoked hurrahs from Michel Ardan. No one of these daring madmen remembered the question they had all answered in the negative—No, the moon is not inhabited! No, the moon is probably not inhabitable! And yet they were going to do all they could to reach it.
One question only now remained to be solved: at what precise moment would the projectile reach that point of equal attraction where the travellers would play their last card?
In order to calculate that moment to within some seconds Barbicane had only to have recourse to his travelling notes, and to take the different altitudes from lunar parallels. Thus the time employed in going over the distance between the neutral point and the South Pole must be equal to the distance which separates the South Pole from the neutral point. The hours representing the time it took were carefully noted down, and the calculation became easy.
Barbicane found that this point would be reached by the projectile at 1 a.m. on the 8th of December. It was then 3 a.m. on the 7th of December. Therefore, if nothing intervened, the projectile would reach the neutral point in twenty-two hours.
The rockets had been put in their places to slacken the fall of the bullet upon the moon, and now the bold fellows were going to use them to provoke an exactly contrary effect. However that may be, they were ready, and there was nothing to do but await the moment for setting fire to them.
“As there is nothing to do,” said Nicholl, “I have a proposition to make.”
“What is that?” asked Barbicane.
“I propose we go to sleep.”
“That is a nice idea!” exclaimed Michel Ardan.
“It is forty hours since we have closed our eyes,” said Nicholl. “A few hours’ sleep would set us up again.”
“Never!” replied Michel.
“Good,” said Nicholl; “every man to his humour—mine is to sleep.”
And lying down on a divan, Nicholl was soon snoring like a forty-eight pound bullet.
“Nicholl is a sensible man,”
