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Chapter VIII. At Seventy-Eight Thousand Five Hundred and Fourteen Leagues
What had happened? Whence the cause of this singular
intoxication, the consequences of which might have been very
disastrous? A simple blunder of Michel’s, which, fortunately,
Nicholl was able to correct in time.
After a perfect swoon, which lasted some minutes, the captain,
recovering first, soon collected his scattered senses. Although he
had breakfasted only two hours before, he felt a gnawing hunger, as
if he had not eaten anything for several days. Everything about
him, stomach and brain, were overexcited to the highest degree. He
got up and demanded from Michel a supplementary repast. Michel,
utterly done up, did not answer.
Nicholl then tried to prepare some tea destined to help the
absorption of a dozen sandwiches. He first tried to get some fire,
and struck a match sharply. What was his surprise to see the
sulphur shine with so extraordinary a brilliancy as to be almost
unbearable to the eye. From the gas-burner which he lit rose a
flame equal to a jet of electric light.
A revelation dawned on Nicholl’s mind. That intensity of
light, the physiological troubles which had arisen in him, the
overexcitement of all his moral and quarrelsome faculties— he
understood all.
“The oxygen!” he exclaimed.
And leaning over the air apparatus, he saw that the tap was
allowing the colorless gas to escape freely, life-giving, but in
its pure state producing the gravest disorders in the system.
Michel had blunderingly opened the tap of the apparatus to the
full.
Nicholl hastened to stop the escape of oxygen with which the
atmosphere was saturated, which would have been the death of the
travelers, not by suffocation, but by combustion1. An hour later,
the air less charged with it restored the lungs to their normal
condition. By degrees the three friends recovered from their
intoxication; but they were obliged to sleep themselves sober over
their oxygen as a drunkard does over his wine.
When Michel learned his share of the responsibility of this
incident, he was not much disconcerted. This unexpected drunkenness
broke the monotony of the journey. Many foolish things had been
said while under its influence, but also quickly forgotten.
“And then,” added the merry Frenchman, “I am
not sorry to have tasted a little of this heady gas. Do you know,
my friends, that a curious establishment might be founded with
rooms of oxygen, where people whose system is weakened could for a
few hours live a more active life. Fancy parties where the room was
saturated with this heroic fluid, theaters where it should be kept
at high pressure; what passion in the souls of the actors and
spectators! what fire, what enthusiasm! And if, instead of an
assembly only a whole people could be saturated, what activity in
its functions, what a supplement to life it would derive. From an
exhausted nation they might make a great and strong one, and I know
more than one state in old Europe which ought to put itself under
the regime of oxygen for the sake of its health!”
Michel spoke with so much animation that one might have fancied
that the tap was still too open. But a few words from Barbicane
soon shattered his enthusiasm.
“That is all very well, friend Michel,” said he,
“but will you inform us where these chickens came from which
have mixed themselves up in our concert?”
“Those chickens?”
“Yes.”
Indeed, half a dozen chickens and a fine cock were walking
about, flapping their wings and chattering.
“Ah, the awkward things!” exclaimed Michel.
“The oxygen has made them revolt.”
“But what do you want to do with these chickens?”
asked Barbicane.
“To acclimatize them in the moon, by Jove!”
“Then why did you hide them?”
“A joke, my worthy president, a simple joke, which has
proved a miserable failure. I wanted to set them free on the lunar
continent, without saying anything. Oh, what would have been your
amazement on seeing these earthly-winged animals pecking in your
lunar fields!”
“You rascal, you unmitigated rascal,” replied
Barbicane, “you do not want oxygen to mount to the head. You
are always what we were under the influence of the gas; you are
always foolish!”
“Ah, who says that we were not wise then?” replied
Michel Ardan.
After this philosophical reflection, the three friends set about
restoring the order of the projectile. Chickens and cock were
reinstated in their coop. But while proceeding with this operation,
Barbicane and his two companions had a most desired perception of a
new phenomenon. From the moment of leaving the earth, their own
weight, that of the projectile, and the objects it enclosed, had
been subject to an increasing diminution. If they could not prove
this loss of the projectile, a moment would arrive when it would be
sensibly felt upon themselves and the utensils and instruments they
used.
It is needless to say that a scale would not show this loss; for
the weight destined to weight the object would have lost exactly as
much as the object itself; but a spring steelyard for example, the
tension of which was independent of the attraction, would have
given a just estimate of this loss.
We know that the attraction, otherwise called the weight, is in
proportion to the densities of the bodies, and inversely as the
squares of the distances. Hence this effect: If the earth had been
alone in space, if the other celestial bodies had been suddenly
annihilated, the projectile, according to Newton’s laws,
would weigh less as it got farther from the earth, but without ever
losing its weight entirely, for the terrestrial attraction would
always have made itself felt, at whatever distance.
But, in reality, a time must come when the projectile would no
longer be subject to the law of weight, after allowing for the
other celestial bodies whose effect could not be set down as zero.
Indeed, the projectile’s course was being traced between the
earth and the moon. As it distanced the earth, the terrestrial
attraction diminished: but the lunar attraction rose in proportion.
There must come a point where these two attractions would
neutralize each other: the projectile would possess weight no
longer. If the moon’s and the earth’s densities had
been equal, this point would have been at an equal distance between
the two orbs. But taking the different densities into
consideration, it was easy to reckon that this point would be
situated at 4760ths of the whole journey, i.e., at 78,514
leagues from the earth. At this point, a body having no principle
of speed or displacement in itself, would remain immovable forever,
being attracted equally by both orbs, and not being drawn more
toward one than toward the other.
Now if the projectile’s impulsive force had been correctly
calculated, it would attain this point without speed, having lost
all trace of weight, as well as all the objects within it. What
would happen then? Three hypotheses presented themselves.
- Either it would retain a certain amount of motion, and pass
the point of equal attraction, and fall upon the moon by virtue of
the excess of the lunar attraction over the terrestrial.
- Or, its speed failing, and unable to reach the point of equal
attraction, it would fall upon the moon by virtue of the excess of
the lunar attraction over the terrestrial.
- Or, lastly, animated with sufficient speed to enable it to
reach the neutral point, but not sufficient to pass it, it would
remain forever suspended in that spot like the pretended tomb of
Mahomet, between the zenith and the nadir.
Such was their situation; and Barbicane clearly explained the
consequences to his traveling companions, which greatly interested
them. But how should they know when the projectile had reached this
neutral point situated at that distance, especially when neither
themselves, nor the objects enclosed in the projectile, would be
any longer subject to the laws of weight?
Up to this time, the travelers, while admitting that this action
was constantly decreasing, had not yet become sensible to its total
absence.
But that day, about eleven o’clock in the morning, Nicholl
having accidentally let a glass slip from his hand, the glass,
instead of falling, remained suspended in the air.
“Ah!” exclaimed Michel Ardan, “that is rather
an amusing piece of natural philosophy.”
And immediately divers other objects, firearms and bottles,
abandoned to themselves, held themselves up as by enchantment.
Diana too, placed in space by Michel, reproduced, but without any
trick, the wonderful suspension practiced by Caston and Robert
Houdin. Indeed the dog did not seem to know that she was floating
in air.
The three adventurous companions were surprised and stupefied,
despite their scientific reasonings. They felt themselves being
carried into the domain of wonders! they felt that weight was
really wanting to their bodies. If they stretched out their arms,
they did not attempt to fall. Their heads shook on their shoulders.
Their feet no longer clung to the floor of the projectile. They
were like drunken men having no stability in themselves.
Fancy has depicted men without reflection, others without
shadow. But here reality, by the neutralizations of attractive
forces, produced men in whom nothing had any weight, and who
weighed nothing themselves.
Suddenly Michel, taking a spring, left the floor and remained
suspended in the air, like Murillo’s monk of the Cusine des
Anges.
The two friends joined him instantly, and all three formed a
miraculous “Ascension” in the center of the
projectile.
“Is it to be believed? is it probable? is it
possible?” exclaimed Michel; “and yet it is so. Ah! if
Raphael had seen us thus, what an ‘Assumption’ he would
have thrown upon canvas!”
“The ‘Assumption’ cannot last,” replied
Barbicane. “If the projectile passes the neutral point, the
lunar attraction will draw us to the moon.”
“Then our feet will be upon the roof,” replied
Michel.
“No,” said Barbicane, “because the
projectile’s center of gravity is very low; it will only turn
by degrees.”
“Then all our portables will be upset from top to bottom,
that is a fact.”
“Calm yourself, Michel,” replied Nicholl; “no
upset is to be feared; not a thing will move, for the
projectile’s evolution will be imperceptible.”
“Just so,” continued Barbicane; “and when it
has passed the point of equal attraction, its base, being the
heavier, will draw it perpendicularly to the moon; but, in order
that this phenomenon should take place, we must have passed the
neutral line.”
“Pass the neutral line,” cried Michel; “then
let us do as the sailors do when they cross the equator.”
A slight side movement brought Michel back toward the padded
side; thence he took a bottle and glasses, placed them “in
space” before his companions, and, drinking merrily, they
saluted the line with a triple hurrah2. The influence of these
attractions scarcely lasted an hour; the travelers felt themselves
insensibly drawn toward the floor, and Barbicane fancied that the
conical end of the projectile was varying a little from its normal
direction toward the moon. By an inverse motion the base was
approaching first; the lunar attraction was prevailing over the
terrestrial; the fall toward the moon was beginning, almost
imperceptibly as yet, but by degrees the attractive force would
become stronger, the fall would be more decided, the projectile,
drawn by its base, would turn its cone to the earth, and fall with
ever-increasing speed on to the surface of the Selenite continent;
their destination would then be attained. Now nothing could prevent
the success of their enterprise, and Nicholl and Michel Ardan
shared Barbicane’s joy.
Then they chatted of all the phenomena which had astonished them
one after the other, particularly the neutralization of the laws of
weight. Michel Ardan, always enthusiastic, drew conclusions which
were purely fanciful.
“Ah, my worthy friends,” he exclaimed, “what
progress we should make if on earth we could throw off some of that
weight, some of that chain which binds us to her; it would be the
prisoner set at liberty; no more fatigue of either arms or legs.
Or, if it is true that in order to fly on the earth’s
surface, to keep oneself suspended in the air merely by the play of
the muscles, there requires a strength a hundred and fifty times
greater than that which we possess, a simple act of volition, a
caprice, would bear us into space, if attraction did not
exist.”
“Just so,” said Nicholl, smiling; “if we could
succeed in suppressing weight as they suppress pain by anaesthesia,
that would change the face of modern society!”
“Yes,” cried Michel, full of his subject,
“destroy weight, and no more burdens!”
“Well said,” replied Barbicane; “but if
nothing had any weight, nothing would keep in its place, not even
your hat on your head, worthy Michel; nor your house, whose stones
only adhere by weight; nor a boat, whose stability on the waves is
only caused by weight; not even the ocean, whose waves would no
longer be equalized by terrestrial attraction; and lastly, not even
the atmosphere, whose atoms, being no longer held in their places,
would disperse in space!”
“That is tiresome,” retorted Michel; “nothing
like these matter-of-fact people for bringing one back to the bare
reality.”
“But console yourself, Michel,” continued Barbicane,
“for if no orb exists from whence all laws of weight are
banished, you are at least going to visit one where it is much less
than on the earth.”
“The moon?”
“Yes, the moon, on whose surface objects weigh six times
less than on the earth, a phenomenon easy to prove.”
“And we shall feel it?” asked Michel.
“Evidently, as two hundred pounds will only weigh thirty
pounds on the surface of the moon.”
“And our muscular strength will not diminish?”
“Not at all; instead of jumping one yard high, you will
rise eighteen feet high.”
“But we shall be regular Herculeses in the moon!”
exclaimed Michel.
“Yes,” replied Nicholl; “for if the height of
the Selenites is in proportion to the density of their globe, they
will be scarcely a foot high.”
“Lilliputians!” ejaculated Michel; “I shall
play the part of Gulliver. We are going to realize the fable of the
giants. This is the advantage of leaving one’s own planet and
over-running the solar world.”
“One moment, Michel,” answered Barbicane; “if
you wish to play the part of Gulliver, only visit the inferior
planets, such as Mercury, Venus, or Mars, whose density is a little
less than that of the earth; but do not venture into the great
planets, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune; for there the order will
be changed, and you will become Lilliputian.”
“And in the sun?”
“In the sun, if its density is thirteen hundred and
twenty-four thousand times greater, and the attraction is
twenty-seven times greater than on the surface of our globe,
keeping everything in proportion, the inhabitants ought to be at
least two hundred feet high.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Michel; “I should be
nothing more than a pigmy, a shrimp!”
“Gulliver with the giants,” said Nicholl.
“Just so,” replied Barbicane.
“And it would not be quite useless to carry some pieces of
artillery to defend oneself.”
“Good,” replied Nicholl; “your projectiles
would have no effect on the sun; they would fall back upon the
earth after some minutes.”
“That is a strong remark.”
“It is certain,” replied Barbicane; “the
attraction is so great on this enormous orb, that an object
weighing 70,000 pounds on the earth would weigh but 1,920 pounds on
the surface of the sun. If you were to fall upon it you would
weigh— let me see— about 5,000 pounds, a weight which
you would never be able to raise again.”
“The devil!” said Michel; “one would want a
portable crane. However, we will be satisfied with the moon for the
present; there at least we shall cut a great figure. We will see
about the sun by and by.”
1This episode is an uncanny presage of the Apollo 1 disaster where three astronauts died in a fire that raged instantly out of control in the pure oxygen atmosphere of the capsule.
2This is another instance where Verne misses the mark on his faithful scientific predictions. He should have realized that you can't pour liquids into glasses when they have no weight.
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