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Well, lieutenant, and our soundings?”
“I think, sir, that the operation is nearing its
completion,” replied Lieutenant Bronsfield. “But who would have
thought of finding such a depth so near in shore, and only 200 miles from the
American coast?”
“Certainly, Bronsfield, there is a great depression,” said
Captain Blomsberry. “In this spot there is a submarine valley worn by
Humboldt’s current, which skirts the coast of America as far as the
Straits of Magellan.”
“These great depths,” continued the lieutenant, “are
not favorable for laying telegraphic cables. A level bottom, like that
supporting the American cable between Valentia and Newfoundland, is much
better.”
“I agree with you, Bronsfield. With your permission, lieutenant,
where are we now?”
“Sir, at this moment we have 3,508 fathoms of line out, and the
ball which draws the sounding lead has not yet touched the bottom; for if so,
it would have come up of itself.”
“Brook’s apparatus is very ingenious,” said Captain
Blomsberry; “it gives us very exact soundings.”
“Touch!” cried at this moment one of the men at the
forewheel, who was superintending the operation.
The captain and the lieutenant mounted the quarterdeck.
“What depth have we?” asked the captain.
“Three thousand six hundred and twenty-seven fathoms,”
replied the lieutenant, entering it in his notebook.
“Well, Bronsfield,” said the captain, “I will take
down the result. Now haul in the sounding line. It will be the work of some
hours. In that time the engineer can light the furnaces, and we shall be ready
to start as soon as you have finished. It is ten o’clock, and with your
permission, lieutenant, I will turn in.”
“Do so, sir; do so!” replied the lieutenant obligingly.
The captain of the Susquehanna, as brave a man as need be, and the
humble servant of his officers, returned to his cabin, took a brandy-grog,
which earned for the steward no end of praise, and turned in, not without
having complimented his servant upon his making beds, and slept a peaceful
sleep.
It was then ten at night. The eleventh day of the month of December was
drawing to a close in a magnificent night.
The Susquehanna, a corvette of 500 horse-power, of the United States
navy, was occupied in taking soundings in the Pacific Ocean about 200 miles off
the American coast, following that long peninsula which stretches down the
coast of Mexico.
The wind had dropped by degrees. There was no disturbance in the air.
The pennant hung motionless from the maintop-gallant- mast truck.
Captain Jonathan Blomsberry (cousin-german of Colonel Blomsberry, one of
the most ardent supporters of the Gun Club, who had married an aunt of the
captain and daughter of an honorable Kentucky merchant)— Captain
Blomsberry could not have wished for finer weather in which to bring to a close
his delicate operations of sounding. His corvette had not even felt the great
tempest, which by sweeping away the groups of clouds on the Rocky Mountains,
had allowed them to observe the course of the famous projectile.
Everything went well, and with all the fervor of a Presbyterian, he did
not forget to thank heaven for it. The series of soundings taken by the
Susquehanna, had for its aim the finding of a favorable spot for the laying of
a submarine cable to connect the Hawaiian Islands with the coast of America.
It was a great undertaking, due to the instigation of a powerful
company. Its managing director, the intelligent Cyrus Field, purposed even
covering all the islands of Oceanica with a vast electrical network, an immense
enterprise, and one worthy of American genius.
To the corvette Susquehanna had been confided the first operations of
sounding. It was on the night of the 11th-12th of December, she was in exactly
27° 7’ north latitude, and 41° 37’ west longitude, on the meridian
of Washington.
The moon, then in her last quarter, was beginning to rise above the
horizon.
After the departure of Captain Blomsberry, the lieutenant and some
officers were standing together on the poop. On the appearance of the moon,
their thoughts turned to that orb which the eyes of a whole hemisphere were
contemplating. The best naval glasses could not have discovered the projectile
wandering around its hemisphere, and yet all were pointed toward that brilliant
disc which millions of eyes were looking at at the same moment.
“They have been gone ten days,” said Lieutenant Bronsfield
at last. “What has become of them?”
“They have arrived, lieutenant,” exclaimed a young
midshipman, “and they are doing what all travelers do when they arrive in
a new country, taking a walk!”
“Oh! I am sure of that, if you tell me so, my young friend,”
said Lieutenant Bronsfield, smiling.
“But,” continued another officer, “their arrival
cannot be doubted. The projectile was to reach the moon when full on the 5th at
midnight. We are now at the 11th of December, which makes six days. And in six
times twenty-four hours, without darkness, one would have time to settle
comfortably. I fancy I see my brave countrymen encamped at the bottom of some
valley, on the borders of a Selenite stream, near a projectile half-buried by
its fall amid volcanic rubbish, Captain Nicholl beginning his leveling
operations, President Barbicane writing out his notes, and Michel Ardan
embalming the lunar solitudes with the perfume of his——”
“Yes! it must be so, it is so!” exclaimed the young
midshipman, worked up to a pitch of enthusiasm by this ideal description of his
superior officer.
“I should like to believe it,” replied the lieutenant, who
was quite unmoved. “Unfortunately direct news from the lunar world is
still wanting.”
“Beg pardon, lieutenant,” said the midshipman, “but
cannot President Barbicane write?”
A burst of laughter greeted this answer.
“No letters!” continued the young man quickly. “The
postal administration has something to see to there.”
“Might it not be the telegraphic service that is at fault?”
asked one of the officers ironically.
“Not necessarily,” replied the midshipman, not at all
confused. “But it is very easy to set up a graphic communication with the
earth.”
“And how?”
“By means of the telescope at Long’s Peak. You know it
brings the moon to within four miles of the Rocky Mountains, and that it shows
objects on its surface of only nine feet in diameter. Very well; let our
industrious friends construct a giant alphabet; let them write words three
fathoms long, and sentences three miles long, and then they can send us news of
themselves.”
The young midshipman, who had a certain amount of imagination, was
loudly applauded; Lieutenant Bronsfield allowing that the idea was possible,
but observing that if by these means they could receive news from the lunar
world they could not send any from the terrestrial, unless the Selenites had
instruments fit for taking distant observations at their disposal.
“Evidently,” said one of the officers; “but what has
become of the travelers? what they have done, what they have seen, that above
all must interest us. Besides, if the experiment has succeeded (which I do not
doubt), they will try it again. The Columbiad is still sunk in the soil of
Florida. It is now only a question of powder and shot; and every time the moon
is at her zenith a cargo of visitors may be sent to her.”
“It is clear,” replied Lieutenant Bronsfield, “that J.
T. Maston will one day join his friends.”
“If he will have me,” cried the midshipman, “I am
ready!”
“Oh! volunteers will not be wanting,” answered Bronsfield;
“and if it were allowed, half of the earth’s inhabitants would
emigrate to the moon!”
This conversation between the officers of the Susquehanna was kept up
until nearly one in the morning. We cannot say what blundering systems were
broached, what inconsistent theories advanced by these bold spirits. Since
Barbicane’s attempt, nothing seemed impossible to the Americans. They had
already designed an expedition, not only of savants, but of a whole colony toward
the Selenite borders, and a complete army, consisting of infantry, artillery,
and cavalry, to conquer the lunar world.
At one in the morning, the hauling in of the sounding-line was not yet
completed; 1,670 fathoms were still out, which would entail some hours’
work. According to the commander’s orders, the fires had been lighted,
and steam was being got up. The Susquehanna could have started that very
instant.
At that moment (it was seventeen minutes past one in the morning)
Lieutenant Bronsfield was preparing to leave the watch and return to his cabin,
when his attention was attracted by a distant hissing noise. His comrades and
himself first thought that this hissing was caused by the letting off of steam;
but lifting their heads, they found that the noise was produced in the highest
regions of the air. They had not time to question each other before the hissing
became frightfully intense, and suddenly there appeared to their dazzled eyes
an enormous meteor, ignited by the rapidity of its course and its friction
through the atmospheric strata.
This fiery mass grew larger to their eyes, and fell, with the noise of
thunder, upon the bowsprit, which it smashed close to the stem, and buried
itself in the waves with a deafening roar!
A few feet nearer, and the Susquehanna would have foundered with all on
board!
At this instant Captain Blomsberry appeared, half-dressed, and rushing
on to the forecastle-deck, whither all the officers had hurried, exclaimed,
“With your permission, gentlemen, what has happened?”
And the midshipman, making himself as it were the echo of the body,
cried, “Commander, it is ‘they’ come back again!”
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