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Chapter X. The Observers of the Moon
Barbicane had evidently hit upon the only plausible reason of
this deviation. However slight it might have been, it had sufficed
to modify the course of the projectile. It was a fatality. The bold
attempt had miscarried by a fortuitous circumstance; and unless by
some exceptional event, they could now never reach the moon’s
disc.
Would they pass near enough to be able to solve certain physical
and geological questions until then insoluble? This was the
question, and the only one, which occupied the minds of these bold
travelers. As to the fate in store for themselves, they did not
even dream of it.
But what would become of them amid these infinite solitudes,
these who would soon want air? A few more days, and they would fall
stifled in this wandering projectile. But some days to these
intrepid fellows was a century; and they devoted all their time to
observe that moon which they no longer hoped to reach.
The distance which had then separated the projectile from the
satellite was estimated at about two hundred leagues. Under these
conditions, as regards the visibility of the details of the disc,
the travelers were farther from the moon than are the inhabitants
of earth with their powerful telescopes.
Indeed, we know that the instrument mounted by Lord Rosse at
Parsonstown, which magnifies 6,500 times, brings the moon to within
an apparent distance of sixteen leagues. And more than that, with
the powerful one set up at Long’s Peak, the orb of night,
magnified 48,000 times, is brought to within less than two leagues,
and objects having a diameter of thirty feet are seen very
distinctly. So that, at this distance, the topographical details of
the moon, observed without glasses, could not be determined with
precision. The eye caught the vast outline of those immense
depressions inappropriately called “seas,” but they
could not recognize their nature. The prominence of the mountains
disappeared under the splendid irradiation produced by the
reflection of the solar rays. The eye, dazzled as if it was leaning
over a bath of molten silver, turned from it involuntarily; but the
oblong form of the orb was quite clear. It appeared like a gigantic
egg, with the small end turned toward the earth. Indeed the moon,
liquid and pliable in the first days of its formation, was
originally a perfect sphere; but being soon drawn within the
attraction of the earth, it became elongated under the influence of
gravitation. In becoming a satellite, she lost her native purity of
form; her center of gravity was in advance of the center of her
figure; and from this fact some savants draw the conclusion that
the air and water had taken refuge on the opposite surface of the
moon, which is never seen from the earth. This alteration in the
primitive form of the satellite was only perceptible for a few
moments. The distance of the projectile from the moon diminished
very rapidly under its speed, though that was much less than its
initial velocity— but eight or nine times greater than that
which propels our express trains. The oblique course of the
projectile, from its very obliquity, gave Michel Ardan some hopes
of striking the lunar disc at some point or other. He could not
think that they would never reach it. No! he could not believe it;
and this opinion he often repeated. But Barbicane, who was a better
judge, always answered him with merciless logic.
“No, Michel, no! We can only reach the moon by a fall, and
we are not falling. The centripetal force keeps us under the
moon’s influence, but the centrifugal force draws us
irresistibly away from it.”
This was said in a tone which quenched Michel Ardan’s last
hope.
The portion of the moon which the projectile was nearing was the
northern hemisphere, that which the selenographic maps place below;
for these maps are generally drawn after the outline given by the
glasses, and we know that they reverse the objects. Such was the
Mappa Selenographica of Boeer and Moedler which Barbicane
consulted. This northern hemisphere presented vast plains, dotted
with isolated mountains.
At midnight the moon was full. At that precise moment the
travelers should have alighted upon it, if the mischievous meteor
had not diverted their course. The orb was exactly in the condition
determined by the Cambridge Observatory. It was mathematically at
its perigee, and at the zenith of the twenty-eighth parallel. An
observer placed at the bottom of the enormous Columbiad, pointed
perpendicularly to the horizon, would have framed the moon in the
mouth of the gun. A straight line drawn through the axis of the
piece would have passed through the center of the orb of night. It
is needless to say, that during the night of the 5th-6th of
December, the travelers took not an instant’s rest. Could
they close their eyes when so near this new world? No! All their
feelings were concentrated in one single thought:— See!
Representatives of the earth, of humanity, past and present, all
centered in them! It is through their eyes that the human race look
at these lunar regions, and penetrate the secrets of their
satellite! A strange emotion filled their hearts as they went from
one window to the other. Their observations, reproduced by
Barbicane, were rigidly determined. To take them, they had glasses;
to correct them, maps.
As regards the optical instruments at their disposal, they had
excellent marine glasses specially constructed for this journey.
They possessed magnifying powers of 100. They would thus have
brought the moon to within a distance (apparent) of less than 2,000
leagues from the earth. But then, at a distance which for three
hours in the morning did not exceed sixty-five miles, and in a
medium free from all atmospheric disturbances, these instruments
could reduce the lunar surface to within less than 1,500
yards!
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