The projectile had just escaped a terrible danger, and a very
unforseen one. Who would have thought of such an encounter
with meteors? These erring bodies might create serious perils
for the travelers. They were to them so many sandbanks upon
that sea of ether which, less fortunate than sailors, they could
not escape. But did these adventurers complain of space? No, not
since nature had given them the splendid sight of a cosmical
meteor bursting from expansion, since this inimitable firework,
which no Ruggieri could imitate, had lit up for some seconds the
invisible glory of the moon. In that flash, continents, seas,
and forests had become visible to them. Did an atmosphere,
then, bring to this unknown face its life-giving atoms?
Questions still insoluble, and forever closed against
human curiosity!
It was then half-past three in the afternoon. The projectile
was following its curvilinear direction round the moon. Had its
course again been altered by the meteor? It was to be feared so.
But the projectile must describe a curve unalterably determined
by the laws of mechanical reasoning. Barbicane was inclined to
believe that this curve would be rather a parabola than a hyperbola.
But admitting the parabola, the projectile must quickly have
passed through the cone of shadow projected into space opposite
the sun. This cone, indeed, is very narrow, the angular diameter
of the moon being so little when compared with the diameter of
the orb of day; and up to this time the projectile had been
floating in this deep shadow. Whatever had been its speed
(and it could not have been insignificant), its period of
occultation continued. That was evident, but perhaps that would
not have been the case in a supposedly rigidly parabolical
trajectory-- a new problem which tormented Barbicane's brain,
imprisoned as he was in a circle of unknowns which he could
not unravel.
Neither of the travelers thought of taking an instant's repose.
Each one watched for an unexpected fact, which might throw some
new light on their uranographic studies. About five o'clock,
Michel Ardan distributed, under the name of dinner, some pieces
of bread and cold meat, which were quickly swallowed without
either of them abandoning their scuttle, the glass of which was
incessantly encrusted by the condensation of vapor.
About forty-five minutes past five in the evening, Nicholl,
armed with his glass, sighted toward the southern border of the
moon, and in the direction followed by the projectile, some
bright points cut upon the dark shield of the sky. They looked
like a succession of sharp points lengthened into a tremulous line.
They were very bright. Such appeared the terminal line of the
moon when in one of her octants.
They could not be mistaken. It was no longer a simple meteor.
This luminous ridge had neither color nor motion. Nor was it a
volcano in eruption. And Barbicane did not hesitate to
pronounce upon it.
"The sun!" he exclaimed.
"What! the sun?" answered Nicholl and Michel Ardan.
"Yes, my friends, it is the radiant orb itself lighting up the
summit of the mountains situated on the southern borders of
the moon. We are evidently nearing the south pole."
"After having passed the north pole," replied Michel. "We have
made the circuit of our satellite, then?"
"Yes, my good Michel."
"Then, no more hyperbolas, no more parabolas, no more open
curves to fear?"
"No, but a closed curve."
"Which is called----"
"An ellipse. Instead of losing itself in interplanetary space,
it is probable that the projectile will describe an elliptical
orbit around the moon."
"Indeed!"
"And that it will become her satellite."
"Moon of the moon!" cried Michel Ardan.
"Only, I would have you observe, my worthy friend," replied
Barbicane, "that we are none the less lost for that."
"Yes, in another manner, and much more pleasantly," answered the
careless Frenchman with his most amiable smile.
