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At that moment, the honorable secretary must be filling his post on the Rocky Mountains. If he could see the projectile through the glass of his gigantic telescope, what would he think? After seeing it disappear behind the moon's south pole, he would see them reappear by the north pole! They must therefore be a satellite of a satellite! Had J. T. Maston given this unexpected news to the world?
"You do not think of raising such a mass upon a gun-carriage?" asked the major. "That would be superb, however! said J.T. Maston. "But impracticable," answered Barbicane. "No, I think of casting this engine in the ground itself, binding it up with wrought-iron hoops, and then surrounding it with a thick mass of stone and cement masonry.
"Because," quickly answered J.T. Maston, "it must be large enough to attract the attention of the inhabitants of the moon, supposing there are any." "Yes," answered Barbicane, "and for another reason still more important." "What do you mean, Barbicane?" asked the major. "I mean that it is not enough to send up a projectile and then to think no more about it; we must follow it in its transit."
"I cannot pretend to make you agree; but I suggest this: Go with me, and so see whether we are stopped on our journey." "What?" exclaimed J. T. Maston, stupefied. The two rivals, on this sudden proposal, looked steadily at each other. Barbicane waited for the captain's answer. Nicholl watched for the decision of the president. "Well?" said Michel. "There is now no fear of the shock!"
He now simply said, "Well, my friends, what quantity of powder do you propose?" The three members looked at one another. "Two hundred thousand pounds." at last said Morgan. "Five hundred thousand," added the major. "Eight hundred thousand," screamed Maston. A moment of silence followed this triple proposal; it was at last broken by the president.
Let Providence claim the speed of electricity, light, the stars, comets, planets, satellites, sound, and wind! But ours is the speed of the cannon-ball a hundred times greater than that of trains and the fastest horses!" J.T. Maston was inspired; his accents became quite lyrical as he chanted the hymn consecrated to the projectile. "Would you like figures?" continued he; "here are eloquent ones.
"Do you intend giving a diameter of sixty feet to your projectile?" "No." "You are not going to take upon yourself the task of making the moon more luminous?" "I am, though." "That's rather strong!" exclaimed Maston. "Yes, but simple," answered Barbicane. "If I succeed in lessening the density of the atmosphere which the moon's light traverses, shall I not render that light more intense?"
J. T. Maston, by which, at its first trial, he had succeeded in killing three hundred and thirty-seven people. "Fact!" replied he. "Still, what is the use of so many studies worked out, so many difficulties vanquished? It's mere waste of time!
The handling of these engines is not without danger, for at 20,000 feet below the surface of the water and under such great pressure they are exposed to ruptures the consequences of which would be terrible. J.T. Maston, the commander's brother, and the engineer Murchison, without a thought of these dangers, took their places in the air-chambers.
They passed the night on board. Among others J. T. Maston got his hook fixed in the combing of the poop, and it pretty nearly required the capstan to get it out again. "He is a hero! a hero!" he cried, a theme of which he was never tired of ringing the changes; "and we are only like weak, silly women, compared with this European!"
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