It was then ten at night. The eleventh day of the month of
December was drawing to a close in a magnificent night.
The Susquehanna, a corvette of 500 horse-power, of the United
States navy, was occupied in taking soundings in the Pacific
Ocean about 200 miles off the American coast, following that
long peninsula which stretches down the coast of Mexico.
The wind had dropped by degrees. There was no disturbance in
the air. The pennant hung motionless from the maintop-gallant-
mast truck.
Captain Jonathan Blomsberry (cousin-german of Colonel
Blomsberry, one of the most ardent supporters of the Gun Club,
who had married an aunt of the captain and daughter of an
honorable Kentucky merchant)– Captain Blomsberry could not have
wished for finer weather in which to bring to a close his
delicate operations of sounding. His corvette had not even felt
the great tempest, which by sweeping away the groups of clouds
on the Rocky Mountains, had allowed them to observe the course
of the famous projectile.
Everything went well, and with all the fervor of a Presbyterian,
he did not forget to thank heaven for it. The series of
soundings taken by the Susquehanna, had for its aim the finding
of a favorable spot for the laying of a submarine cable to
connect the Hawaiian Islands with the coast of America.
It was a great undertaking, due to the instigation of a
powerful company. Its managing director, the intelligent Cyrus
Field, purposed even covering all the islands of Oceanica with
a vast electrical network, an immense enterprise, and one worthy
of American genius.
To the corvette Susquehanna had been confided the first
operations of sounding. It was on the night of the 11th-12th of
December, she was in exactly 27@ 7′ north latitude, and 41@ 37′
west longitude, on the meridian of Washington.
The moon, then in her last quarter, was beginning to rise above
the horizon.
After the departure of Captain Blomsberry, the lieutenant and
some officers were standing together on the poop. On the
appearance of the moon, their thoughts turned to that orb which
the eyes of a whole hemisphere were contemplating. The best
naval glasses could not have discovered the projectile wandering
around its hemisphere, and yet all were pointed toward that
brilliant disc which millions of eyes were looking at at the
same moment.
“They have been gone ten days,” said Lieutenant Bronsfield
at last. “What has become of them?”
“They have arrived, lieutenant,” exclaimed a young midshipman,
“and they are doing what all travelers do when they arrive in a
new country, taking a walk!”
“Oh! I am sure of that, if you tell me so, my young friend,”
said Lieutenant Bronsfield, smiling.
“But,” continued another officer, “their arrival cannot
be doubted. The projectile was to reach the moon when full
on the 5th at midnight. We are now at the 11th of December, which
makes six days. And in six times twenty-four hours, without
darkness, one would have time to settle comfortably. I fancy I
see my brave countrymen encamped at the bottom of some valley,
on the borders of a Selenite stream, near a projectile half-buried
by its fall amid volcanic rubbish, Captain Nicholl beginning his
leveling operations, President Barbicane writing out his notes,
and Michel Ardan embalming the lunar solitudes with the perfume
of his—-”
“Yes! it must be so, it is so!” exclaimed the young midshipman,
worked up to a pitch of enthusiasm by this ideal description of
his superior officer.
“I should like to believe it,” replied the lieutenant, who was
quite unmoved. “Unfortunately direct news from the lunar world
is still wanting.”
“Beg pardon, lieutenant,” said the midshipman, “but cannot
President Barbicane write?”
A burst of laughter greeted this answer.
“No letters!” continued the young man quickly. “The postal
administration has something to see to there.”
“Might it not be the telegraphic service that is at fault?”
asked one of the officers ironically.
“Not necessarily,” replied the midshipman, not at all confused.
“But it is very easy to set up a graphic communication with
the earth.”
“And how?”
“By means of the telescope at Long’s Peak. You know it brings
the moon to within four miles of the Rocky Mountains, and that