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Updated: June 12, 2025
What effect had been produced by the frightful concussion? Had Barbican's ingenuity been attended with a fortunate result? Had the shock been sufficiently deadened by the springs, the buffers, the water layers, and the partitions so readily ruptured?
With this surmise of Barbican's, his companions appeared rather disposed to agree, though, of course, it gave rise to new questions. "Suppose we reach this dead point," asked Ardan; "what then is to become of us?" "Can't tell!" was Barbican's unsatisfactory reply. "But you can form a few hypotheses?" "Yes, two!" "Let us have them."
M'Nicholl's growls were more savage than usual, and even Barbican's patience was decidedly giving way. The loss of the other face they could have easily borne with most of its details they had been already familiar. But, no, it must be the dark face that now escaped their observation! The very one that for numberless reasons they were actually dying to see!
Did not the truth of one incident render the other an absolute impossibility? If Bloomsbury was right, was not Belfast an ass? Hurrah! The new revelation did not improve poor Barbican's fate a bit no matter for that! Did not the party gain by it? What would the Belfasters say now? Would not they hold down their heads in confusion and disgrace?
The best arrangement of the first kind was certainly Barbican's water-contrivance for counteracting the shock at starting, which has been so fully described in our former volume. Even if the partitions were in working order, the water two thousand pounds in weight had been required was no longer to be had. The little still left in the tanks was of no account for such a purpose.
"Which is the highest in the lot?" asked Ardan, keenly relishing Barbican's earnestness. "Doerfel in the southern hemisphere, the peak of which I have just pointed out, is the highest of the lunar mountains so far measured," replied Barbican. "It is nearly 25,000 feet high." "Indeed! Five thousand feet lower than Mount Everest still for a lunar mountain, it is quite a respectable altitude."
Their motto was ever "onward!" and what they lost in one hour by some mishap they endeavored to recover on the next by redoubled speed. They felt that they would be no friends of Barbican's if they were discouraged by impossibilities. Besides, what would have been real impossibilities at another time, several concurrent circumstances now rendered comparatively easy.
Therefore, the great majority of the ladies and gentlemen that regularly attend the scientific lectures of the Peabody Institute, pronounced Barbican's fate and that of his companions to be sealed. Next morning's newspapers contained lengthy obituary notices of the Great Balloon-attics as the witty man of the New York Herald phrased it, some of which might be considered quite complimentary.
"Yes, dear Captain," he continued, "that pointed arrow of yours has by no means missed its mark, but I can't deny that my faith is beginning to be what you call a little 'shaky' in the existence of my friends the Selenites. However, I should like to have your square opinion on the matter. Barbican's also.
The problem was certainly simple enough, but for that very reason the more inexplicable. If they were moving the explosion must have taken place; but if the explosion had taken place, why had they not heard the report? Barbican's decision soon put an end to speculation. "Conjecture being useless," said he, "let us have recourse to facts. First, let us see where we are. Drop the deadlights!"
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