“Then,” said Barbicane, as if he had been
suddenly struck with an idea, “confound that
asteroid that crossed our path!”
“Eh?” said Michel Ardan.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Nicholl.
“I mean,” resumed Barbicane, who appeared
convinced, “I mean that our deviation is solely
due to the influence of that wandering body.”
“But it did not even graze us,” continued
Michel.
“What does that matter? Its bulk, compared
with that of our projectile, was enormous, and its
attraction was sufficient to have an influence upon
our direction.”
“That influence must have been very slight,”
said Nicholl.
“Yes, Nicholl, but slight as it was,”
answered Barbicane, “upon a distance of 84,000
leagues it was enough to make us miss the moon!”
THE OBSERVERS OF THE MOON.
Barbicane had evidently found the only plausible reason
for the deviation. However slight it had been,
it had been sufficient to modify the trajectory of
the projectile. It was a fatality. The audacious
attempt had miscarried by a fortuitous circumstance,
and unless anything unexpected happened, the lunar
disc could no longer be reached. Would they pass
it near enough to resolve certain problems in physics
and geology until then unsolved? This was the
only question that occupied the minds of these bold
travellers. As to the fate the future held in
store for them, they would not even think about it.
Yet what was to become of them amidst these infinite
solitudes when air failed them? A few more days
and they would fall suffocated in this bullet wandering
at hazard. But a few days were centuries to these
intrepid men, and they consecrated every moment to
observing the moon they no longer hoped to reach.
The distance which then separated the projectile from
the satellite was estimated at about 200 leagues.
Under these conditions, as far as regards the visibility
of the details of the disc, the travellers were farther
from the moon than are the inhabitants of the earth
with their powerful telescopes.
It is, in fact, known that the instrument set up by
Lord Rosse at Parsonstown, which magnifies 6,500 times,
brings the moon to within sixteen leagues; and the
powerful telescope set up at Long’s Peak magnifies
48,000 times, and brings the moon to within less than
two leagues, so that objects twelve yards in diameter
were sufficiently distinct.
Thus, then, at that distance the topographical details
of the moon, seen without a telescope, were not distinctly
determined. The eye caught the outline of those
vast depressions inappropriately called “seas,”
but they could not determine 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 leaning
over a furnace of molten silver, turned from it involuntarily.
