The three friends looked at each other with a disconcerted air.
It was quite an inexplicable phenomenon. The projectile had
started, and consequently there must have been a detonation.
“Let us first find out where we are,” said Barbicane, “and let
down this panel.”
This very simple operation was soon accomplished.
The nuts which held the bolts to the outer plates of the
right-hand scuttle gave way under the pressure of the
English wrench. These bolts were pushed outside, and the
buffers covered with India-rubber stopped up the holes which let
them through. Immediately the outer plate fell back upon its
hinges like a porthole, and the lenticular glass which closed
the scuttle appeared. A similar one was let into the thick
partition on the opposite side of the projectile, another in the
top of the dome, and finally a fourth in the middle of the base.
They could, therefore, make observations in four different
directions; the firmament by the side and most direct windows,
the earth or the moon by the upper and under openings in
the projectile.
Barbicane and his two companions immediately rushed to the
uncovered window. But it was lit by no ray of light.
Profound darkness surrounded them, which, however, did not
prevent the president from exclaiming:
“No, my friends, we have not fallen back upon the earth; no, nor
are we submerged in the Gulf of Mexico. Yes! we are mounting
into space. See those stars shining in the night, and that
impenetrable darkness heaped up between the earth and us!”
“Hurrah! hurrah!” exclaimed Michel Ardan and Nicholl in one voice.
Indeed, this thick darkness proved that the projectile had left
the earth, for the soil, brilliantly lit by the moon-beams would
have been visible to the travelers, if they had been lying on
its surface. This darkness also showed that the projectile had
passed the atmospheric strata, for the diffused light spread in
the air would have been reflected on the metal walls, which
reflection was wanting. This light would have lit the window,
and the window was dark. Doubt was no longer possible; the
travelers had left the earth.
“I have lost,” said Nicholl.
“I congratulate you,” replied Ardan.
“Here are the nine thousand dollars,” said the captain, drawing
a roll of paper dollars from his pocket.
“Will you have a receipt for it?” asked Barbicane, taking the sum.
“If you do not mind,” answered Nicholl; “it is more business-like.”
And coolly and seriously, as if he had been at his strong-box,
the president drew forth his notebook, tore out a blank leaf,
wrote a proper receipt in pencil, dated and signed it with the
usual flourish, [1] and gave it to the captain, who carefully placed
it in his pocketbook. Michel Ardan, taking off his hat, bowed to
his two companions without speaking. So much formality under such
circumstances left him speechless. He had never before seen
anything so “American.”
[1] This is a purely French habit.
This affair settled, Barbicane and Nicholl had returned to the
window, and were watching the constellations. The stars looked
like bright points on the black sky. But from that side they
could not see the orb of night, which, traveling from east to
west, would rise by degrees toward the zenith. Its absence drew
the following remark from Ardan:
“And the moon; will she perchance fail at our rendezvous?”
“Do not alarm yourself,” said Barbicane; “our future globe is at
its post, but we cannot see her from this side; let us open the other.”
“As Barbicane was about leaving the window to open the opposite
scuttle, his attention was attracted by the approach of a
brilliant object. It was an enormous disc, whose colossal
dimension could not be estimated. Its face, which was turned to
the earth, was very bright. One might have thought it a small
moon reflecting the light of the large one. She advanced with
great speed, and seemed to describe an orbit round the earth,
which would intersect the passage of the projectile. This body
revolved upon its axis, and exhibited the phenomena of all
celestial bodies abandoned in space.
“Ah!” exclaimed Michel Ardan, “What is that? another projectile?”
Barbicane did not answer. The appearance of this enormous body