the centrifugal still prevailed; and it was probable that its
rectilineal course would be changed to a curve of some sort,
the nature of which they could not at present determine.
Barbicane was still seeking the solution of his insoluble problem.
Hours passed without any result. The projectile was evidently
nearing the moon, but it was also evident that it would never
reach her. As to the nearest distance at which it would pass her,
that must be the result of two forces, attraction and repulsion,
affecting its motion.
“I ask but one thing,” said Michel; “that we may pass near
enough to penetrate her secrets.”
“Cursed be the thing that has caused our projectile to deviate
from its course,” cried Nicholl.
And, as if a light had suddenly broken in upon his mind, Barbicane
answered, “Then cursed be the meteor which crossed our path.”
“What?” said Michel Ardan.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Nicholl.
“I mean,” said Barbicane in a decided tone, “I mean that our
deviation is owing solely to our meeting with this erring body.”
“But it did not even brush us as it passed,” said Michel.
“What does that matter? Its mass, compared to that of our
projectile, was enormous, and its attraction was enough to
influence our course.”
“So little?” cried Nicholl.
“Yes, Nicholl; but however little it might be,” replied
Barbicane, “in a distance of 84,000 leagues, it wanted no more
to make us miss the moon.”
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