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.