CHAPTER IX.JUPITER SOMEWHAT CLOSE.
Except as to the time the comet would take to revolve
round the sun, it must be confessed that all the professor's
calculations had comparatively little interest for any one
but himself, and he was consequently left very much to
pursue his studies in solitude.
The following day was the 1st of August, or, according
to Rosette, the 63rd of April. In the course of this month
Gallia would travel 16,500,000 leagues, attaining at the
end a distance of 197,000,000 leagues from the sun. This
would leave 81,000,000 leagues more to be traversed before
reaching the aphelion of the 15th of January, after which
it would begin once more to approach the sun.
But meanwhile, a marvellous world, never before so
close within the range of human vision, was revealing
itself. No wonder that Palmyrin Rosette cared so little
to quit his observatory; for throughout those calm, clear
Gallian nights, when the book of the firmament lay open
before him, he could revel in a spectacle which no previous
astronomer had ever been permitted to enjoy.
The glorious orb that was becoming so conspicuous
an object was none other than the planet Jupiter, the
largest of all the bodies existing within the influence of
solar attraction. During the seven months that had
elapsed since its collision with the earth, the comet had
been continuously approaching the planet, until the distance
between them was scarcely more than 61,000,000
leagues, and this would go on diminishing until the 15th
of October.
Under these circumstances, was it perfectly certain that
no danger could accrue? Was not Gallia, when its pathway
led it into such close proximity to this enormous
planet, running a risk of being attracted within its influence?
Might not that influence be altogether disastrous?
The professor, it is true, in his estimate of the
duration of his comet's revolution, had represented that he
had made all proper allowances for any perturbations that
would be caused either by Jupiter, by Saturn, or by Mars;
but what if there were any errors in his calculations?
what if there should be any elements of disturbance on
which he had not reckoned?
Speculations of this kind became more and more frequent,
and Lieutenant Procope pointed out that the danger
incurred might be of a fourfold character: first, that the
comet, being irresistibly attracted, might be drawn on to
the very surface of the planet, and there annihilated;
secondly, that as the result of being brought under that
attraction, it might be transformed into a satellite, or
rather a sub-satellite, of that mighty world; thirdly, that
it might be diverted into a new orbit, which would never
be coincident with the ecliptic; or, lastly, its course might
be so retarded that it would only reach the ecliptic too late
to permit any junction with the earth. The occurrence of
any one of these contingencies would be fatal to their
hopes of re-union with the globe, from which they had been
so strangely severed.
To Rosette, who, without family ties (which he had
never found leisure or inclination to contract), had no
shadow of desire to return to the earth, it would be only
the first of these probabilities that could give him any
concern. Total annihilation might not accord with his
views, but he would be quite content for Gallia to miss
its mark with regard to the earth, indifferent whether
it revolved as a new satellite around Jupiter, or whether it
wended its course through the untraversed regions of the
Milky Way.
The rest of the community, however, by no means
sympathized with the professor's sentiments, and the
following month was a period of considerable doubt and
anxiety.
On the 1st of September the distance between Gallia
and Jupiter was precisely the same as the mean distance
between the earth and the sun; on the 16th, the distance
was further reduced to 26,000,000 leagues. The planet
began to assume enormous dimensions, and it almost
seemed as if the comet had already been deflected from
its elliptical orbit, and was rushing on in a straight line
towards the overwhelming luminary.
The more they contemplated the character of this
gigantic planet, the more they became impressed with the
likelihood of a serious perturbation in their own course.
The diameter of Jupiter is 85,390 miles, nearly eleven
times as great as that of the earth; his volume is 1387
times, and his mass 300 times greater; and although the
mean density is only about a quarter of that of the earth,
and only a third of that of water (whence it has been
supposed that the superficies of Jupiter is liquid), yet his
other proportions were large enough to warrant the apprehension
that important disturbances might result from his
proximity.
“I forget my astronomy, lieutenant,” said Servadac.
“Tell me all you can about this formidable neighbour.”
The lieutenant having refreshed his memory by reference
to Flammarion's “Récits de l'Infini,” of which he
had a Russian translation, and some other books, proceeded
to recapitulate that Jupiter accomplishes his revolution
round the sun in 4332 days, 14 hours, and 2 minutes;
that he travels at the rate of 467 miles a minute along an
orbit measuring 2976 millions of miles; and that his rotation
on his axis occupies only 9 hours and 55 minutes.
“His days, then, are shorter than ours?” interrupted
the captain.
“Considerably,” answered the lieutenant, who went on
to describe how the displacement of a point at the equator
of Jupiter was twenty-seven times as rapid as on the earth,
causing the polar compression to be about 2378 miles;
how the axis, being nearly perpendicular, caused the days
and nights to be nearly of the same length, and the seasons
to be invariable; and how the amount of light and heat
received by the planet is only a twenty-fifth part of that
received by the earth, the average distance from the sun
being 475,693,000 miles.
“And how about these satellites? Sometimes, I suppose,
Jupiter has the benefit of four moons all shining at
once?” asked Servadac.
Of the satellites, Lieutenant Procope went on to say
that one is rather smaller than our own moon; that another
moves round its primary at an interval about equal to the
moon's distance from ourselves; but that they all revolve
in considerably less time: the first takes only i day, 18 hrs,,
27 min.; the second takes 3 days, 13 hrs., 14 min.; the
third, 7 days, 3 hrs., 42 min.; whilst the largest of all takes
but 16 days, 16 hrs., 32 min. The most remote revolves
round the planet at a distance of 1,192,820 miles.
“They have been enlisted into the service of science,”
said Procope. “It is by their movements that the velocity
of light has been calculated; and they have been made
available for the determination of terrestrial longitudes.”
“It must be a wonderful sight,” said the captain.
“Yes,” answered Procope. “I often think Jupiter is
like a prodigious clock with four hands.”
“I only hope that we are not destined to make a fifth
hand,” answered Servadac.
Such was the style of the conversation that was day
by day reiterated during the whole month of suspense.
Whatever topic might be started, it seemed soon to settle
down upon the huge orb that was looming upon them with
such threatening aspect.
Amongst other subjects that were started, the ages of
the various planets were discussed.
“Let me read to you,” said Lieutenant Procope, “a few
lines from Flammarion.”
And commencing at a passage he had marked, he
began:
“The more remote that these planets are from the sun,
the more venerable and advanced in formation are they
found to be. Neptune, situated 2,746,271,000 miles from
the sun, issued from the solar nebulosity, thousands of
millions of centuries back. Uranus, revolving 1,753,851,000
miles from the centre of the planetary system, is of an age
amounting to many hundred millions of centuries. Jupiter,
the colossal planet, gravitating at a distance of 475,693,000
miles, may be reckoned as 70,000,000 centuries old.
Mars has existed for 1,000,000,000 years at a distance of
139,212,000 miles. The earth, 91,430,000 miles from the
sun, quitted his burning bosom 100,000,000 years ago.
Venus, revolving now 66,131,000 miles away, may be
assigned the age of 50,000,000 years at least; and Mercury,
nearest of all, and youngest of all, has been revolving at
a distance of 35,393,000 miles for the space of 10,000,000
years—the same time as the moon has been evolved from
the earth.”
Servadac listened attentively. He was at a loss what
to say; and the only reply he made to the recital of this
novel theory was to the effect that, if it were true, he
would prefer being captured by Mercury than by Jupiter,
for Mercury, being so much the younger, would probably
prove the less imperative and self-willed master.
It was on the 1st of September that the comet had
crossed' the orbit of Jupiter, and on the 1st of October
the two bodies were calculated to be at their minimum
separation. No direct shock, however, could be apprehended;
the demonstration was sufficiently complete that
the orbit of Gallia did not coincide with that of the planet,
the orbit of Jupiter being inclined at an angle of 1°{19}
to the orbit of the earth, with which that of Gallia was, no
doubt, coincident.
As the month of September verged towards its close,
Jupiter began to wear an aspect that must have excited
the admiration of the most ignorant or the most indifferent
observer. Its salient points were illumined with novel and
radiant tints, and the solar rays, reflected from its disc,
glowed with a mingled softness and intensity upon Gallia,
so that Nerina had to pale her beauty.
Who could wonder that Rosette, enthusiast as he was,
should be irremovable from his observatory? Who could
expect otherwise than that, with the prospect before him of
viewing the giant among planets, ten times nearer than
any mortal eye had ever done, he should have begrudged
every moment that distracted his attention?
Meanwhile, as Jupiter grew large, the sun grew small.
From its increased remoteness the diameter of the
sun's disc was diminished to 5'46".
And what an increased interest began to be associated
with the satellites! They were visible to the naked eye!
Was it not a new record in the annals of science?
Although it is acknowledged that they are not ordinarily
visible on earth without the aid of a somewhat
powerful telescope, it has been asserted that a favoured
few, endued with extraordinary powers of vision, have
been able to identify them with an unassisted eye; but
here, at least, in Nina's Hive were many rivals, for every
one could so far distinguish them one from the other as to
describe them by their colours. The first was of a dull
white shade; the second was blue; the third was white
and brilliant; the fourth was orange, at times approaching
to a red.
It was further observed that Jupiter itself was almost
void of scintillation.
Rosette, in his absorbing interest for the glowing
glories of the planet, seemed to be beguiled into comparative
forgetfulness of the charms of his comet; but no
astronomical enthusiasm of the professor could quite allay
the general apprehension that some serious collision might
be impending.
Time passed on. There was nothing to justify apprehension.
The question was continually being asked,
“What does the professor really think?”
“Our friend the professor,” said Servadac, “is not
likely to tell us very much; but we may feel pretty certain
of one thing: he wouldn't keep us long in the dark, if he
thought we were not going back to the earth again. The
greatest satisfaction he could have would be to inform us
that we had parted from the earth for ever.”
“I trust from my very soul,” said the count, “that his
prognostications are correct.”
“The more I see of him, and the more I listen to him,”
replied Servadac, “the more I become convinced that his
calculations are based on a solid foundation, and will prove
correct to the minutest particular.”
Ben Zoof here interrupted the conversation.
“I have something on my mind,” he said.
“Something on your mind? Out with it!” said the
captain.
“That telescope!” said the orderly; “it strikes me
that that telescope which the old professor keeps pointed up
at yonder big sun is bringing it down straight upon us.”
The captain laughed heartily.
“Laugh, captain, if you like; but I feel disposed to
break the old telescope into atoms.”
“Ben Zoof,” said Servadac, his laughter exchanged for
a look of stern displeasure, “touch that telescope, and
you shall swing for it!”
The orderly looked astonished.
“I am governour here,” said Servadac.
Ben Zoof knew what his master meant, and to him his
master's wish was law.
The interval between the comet and Jupiter was, by the
1st of October, reduced to 43,000,000 miles—about twice
the distance of the moon from the earth. Now, if Jupiter
were, with regard to the earth, to change places with the
moon, it is the indisputable attestation of science that
its disc would be full thirty-four times larger than the
moon's; it is consequently easy to imagine what was the
wondrous brilliancy of Jupiter when surveyed in the same
proximity.
The belts all parallel to Jupiter's equator were very
distinct in their markings. Those immediately north and
south of the equator were of a dusky hue; those toward
the poles were alternately dark and light; the intervening
spaces of the planet's superficies, between edge and edge,
being intensely bright. The belts themselves were occasionally
broken by spots, which the records of astronomy
describe as varying both in form and in extent.
The physiology of belts and spots alike was beyond the
astronomer's power to ascertain; and even if he should be
destined once again to take his place in an astronomical
congress on the earth, he would be just as incapable as
ever of determining whether or no they owed their existence
to the external accumulation of vapour, or to some
internal agency. It would not be Professor Rosette's lot
to enlighten his brother savants to any great degree as to
the mysteries that are associated with this, which must
ever rank as one of the most magnificent amongst the
heavenly orbs.
As the comet approached the critical point of its career
it cannot be denied that there was an unacknowledged
consciousness of alarm. Mutually reserved, though ever
courteous, the count and the captain were secretly drawn
together by the prospect of a common danger; and as
their return to the earth appeared to them to become more
and more dubious, they abandoned their views of narrow
isolation, and tried to embrace the wider philosophy that
acknowledges the credibility of a habitable universe.
But no philosophy could be proof against the common
instincts of their humanity; their hearts, their hopes, were
set upon their natural home; no speculation, no science,
no experience, could induce them to give up their fond and
sanguine anticipation that once again they were to come in
contact with the earth.
“Only let us escape Jupiter,” said Lieutenant Procop
repeatedly, “and we are free from anxiety.”
“But would not Saturn lie ahead?” asked Servadac
and the count in one breath.
“No!” said Procope; “the orbit of Saturn is remote,
and does not come athwart our path. Jupiter is our sole
hindrance. Of Jupiter we must say, as William Tell
said:—
‘Once through the ominous pass
And all is well.’
The 15th of October came, the date of the nearest
approximation of the comet to the planet. They were
only 31,000,000 miles apart. What would now transpire?
Would Gallia be diverted from its proper way? or would
it hold the course that the astronomer had predicted?
Early next morning the captain ventured to take the
count and the lieutenant up to the observatory.
The professor was in the worst of tempers.
That was enough. It was enough, without a word, to
indicate the course which events had taken.
The comet was pursuing an unaltered way.
The astronomer, correct in his prognostications, ought
to have been the most proud and contented of philosophers;
his pride and contentment were both overshadowed
by the certainty that the career of his comet was destined
to be so transient, and that it must inevitably once again
come into collision with the earth.
