Chapter 22 Chapter 21 Maston is Summoned

On board the Susquehanna, the people were greatly shaken.The officers and sailors had long since forgotten the terrible danger of being smashed and thrown to the ground.They thought only of the disaster that ended the trip, when these brave adventurers gave their lives for one of the most daring causes that ever existed. "They're back," said the young lieutenant, and everyone understood what he meant.No one could doubt that this bolide was the projectile of the Cannon Club.Opinions differed as to the fate of the persons inside the projectile. "They're dead!" said one.

"They're still alive!" said another. "The sea is deep here to soften the impact of the falling projectile." "But they lack air," said this one, "and they may be smothered!" "Perhaps burned!" retorted the other, "the projectile was burning hot when it fell." "Never mind," all answered together. "Whether it's dead or alive, they must be fished up!" Meanwhile Captain Bloomsbury summoned all his officers, and with their consent a conference was called, and a decision must now be taken at once.The most urgent task is to salvage the projectile, which is a very difficult, but not absolutely impossible job.It just needs some high-efficiency precision machinery, but there is no such equipment on his escort ship.It was therefore resolved to sail the Susquehanna to a nearby port, and at the same time to inform the Cannon Club of the landing of the projectile.

Having passed this resolution unanimously, it was time to discuss the choice of ports.There is not a single place of anchorage on the coast near the twenty-seventh parallel of latitude.A little higher, on the Monterey peninsula, there is an important city of the same name.But behind this city is a real desert, there is no telegraph network connected to the mainland, and this important news can only be spread as quickly as possible by wires. A few degrees up is San Francisco Bay.It is much more convenient to communicate from the capital of El Dorado and the center of the United States.At full throttle, the Susquehanna could reach the port of San Francisco in two days.Therefore it is necessary to set sail immediately.

At this time, the fire is booming, and the sail can be set off immediately.There are two thousand fathoms of detection ropes in the water.Captain Bloomsbury did not want to waste precious time.So it was decided to cut off the detection rope. "We have a buoy attached to the end of the line," he said, "which will show us the exact spot where the projectile landed." "Besides that," replied Captain Bronsfield, "we know our exact bearings to be latitude 27°7' north and longitude 41:36' west." "Very well, Mr. Bronsfield," replied the captain, "if you agree, give the order to cut the detection line."

A solid buoy, reinforced with a pair of logs, was lowered into the Pacific Ocean.The ends of the rope are firmly nailed to the buoy, which can only swing with the waves and cannot drift away from its original place. At this time, the engineer sent someone to inform the captain that the boiler pressure had risen and the ship was ready to sail.Upon receiving this notice, the captain called someone to go back to thank the engineer, and then gave the order to proceed in the north-northeast direction.The Susquehanna then turned around and headed for San Francisco Bay at full speed.It was three o'clock in the morning.

Two hundred and twenty leagues was nothing to a speedboat like the Susquehanna.It took only thirty-six hours for the escort to complete the voyage, and entered San Francisco Bay at 1:27 p.m. on December 14th. The public's curiosity was suddenly aroused at the sight of a ship of the National Navy speeding into port, with its bowsprit broken at the root and its propped fore-mast.Immediately, many people gathered at the pier, waiting for the people on the warship to land. Immediately after the miscast, Captain Bloomsbury and Captain Bronsfield stepped out of an eight-oared boat, which promptly carried them ashore.

They jumped onto the pier. "Where is the telegraph office," they asked, answering nothing to the thousands of questions put to them by the crowd. An officer in the port, surrounded by countless curious people, personally accompanied them to the telegraph office. Bloomsbury and Bronsfield went into the telegraph office, and all the crowd crowded around at the gate. A few minutes later, four telegrams with the same content were sent: 1. To the Secretary of the Navy Department in Washington; 2. To the Vice President of the Baltimore Cannon Club; Deputy Director of Jianqiao Astronomical Observatory.

The content of the telegram is as follows: "At one sixteen in the morning on December 12, shells from the Columbia artillery crashed into the Pacific Ocean at latitude 27 degrees 7' north and longitude 41 30 minutes west. Please order. USS Susquehanna Long Bloomsbury/ Five minutes later, the whole city of San Francisco knew the news.Before six o'clock in the evening news of the projectile fatalities had been received in many states of the United States.After midnight, all Europe also learned by cable the results of this great American scientific experiment. We shall not here describe the worldwide effects of this unexpected ending.

After receiving the telegram, the Secretary of the Navy sent a telegram to order the Susquehanna to stand by in San Francisco Bay and not to go out.Be ready to sail at any time, day or night. A special meeting was called at the Cambridge Observatory to discuss the scientific part of the question in silence, with that serenity characteristic of a scientific community. In the Cannon Club, it was as if there had been an explosion.All the artillerymen gathered in the club.The Honorable Vice-Chairman, Mr. Wellcome, first read the ill-conceived telegram from Maston and Belfast, in which they said that they were in the great reflecting telescope at Longhorn Saw the projectile.The telegram went on to say that the shell was drawn by the gravitational pull of the Moon to play the role of a satellite of a satellite in the world of the sun.

We now know the real situation on this front.Just—almost as fast as a projectile—set off for the Lang Ridge Observatory in the Rocky Mountains.He was accompanied by the learned Belfast, Director of the Cambridge Observatory.Arriving at the observatory, the two friends settled down casually, and never left the observatory at the tip of their enormous telescope. In fact, we know that this gigantic instrument is what the British call a "top-viewing," reflecting telescope. The device reflects only once the object being observed, so it appears more clearly. From this it can be seen that Maston and When Belfast observed, they sat not under the telescope, but on top. They reached the top of the telescope by a light spiral staircase, which was a masterpiece in itself, and below it was a mouthful of 280 Feet deep metal well with a mirror at the bottom, also made of metal.

For so many days the two scientists spent days on this narrow platform at the top of the telescope, cursing the day, because the light prevented them from seeing the moon, and the night, because the clouds were trying to hide the moon. So how happy they were when, after waiting for days, they suddenly caught sight of the vehicle that had launched their friend into space on the night of December 5th!But with joy came sorrow and disappointment, for they believed this fragmentary observation at the time, and sent their first telegram to the world, falsely affirming that the projectile Hugh was on a track that would never change. , became a satellite of the moon. From this time onwards the cannonball was never seen again, which was understandable, since it might have turned to the invisible side of the moon.But the anxiety of the fiery Maston and his equally fiery companions when it should reappear on the visible moon is left to the reader to judge for himself!Every minute they thought they saw again projectiles they hadn't seen!Therefore, the two often quarreled, and it was a fierce quarrel. Belfast said that the projectile, they probably didn't see it clearly that day, but Maston said "nothing more clearly"! " "It must be our shell!" Maston said over and over. "No!" answered Belfast, "it's an avalanche on Moon Mountain!" "Okay! We'll see it tomorrow." "No! No way!" At this point the exclamations fell like hailstones, and the well-known irascibility of the Secretary of the Cannon Club became a constant danger to the venerable Belfast. Just when the two of them could no longer live together, suddenly something unexpected interrupted their endless argument. It turned out that on the night of the fourteenth of December, two irreconcilable friends were observing the moon, with Maston swearing as he was accustomed to, and the learned Belfast furious.The secretary of the Gun Club said for the thousandth time that he would soon see the projectile, and he even added that Michel Ardan's face could be seen through the glass of the porthole.To add to the force of his argument, the dreadful iron hooks of his prosthetic arm gesticulated, worryingly. At this moment the servant from Belfast appeared on the platform—it was ten o'clock in the evening—and he delivered Belfast a telegram from the captain of the Susquehanna. Belfast opened the envelope, read it, and cried out suddenly. "What's the matter?" Maston asked. "Cannonball!" "what!" "The shells have fallen!" This time his answer was a cry, a scream. He turned to Maston.The unfortunate man, who had been bending over to observe, suddenly, in a moment of carelessness, fell into the metal shaft of the gigantic telescope.It was a fall into a shaft two hundred and eighty feet deep: Belfast rushed to the well in panic. He breathed a sigh of relief.Maston's iron hook hooked onto one of the telescope's servo mounts.He let out a horrible cry. Belfast screamed for help.His assistants arrived.So they lowered the tackle, and with some difficulty hoisted up the careless secretary of the Cannon Club.He reappeared safely at the mouth of the well. "Hey!" he said, "if I smash the glass in the telescope, it'll be..." "Then you have to pay the price!" Belfast replied solemnly. "You mean the damned shell fell," Maston asked. "Falled into the Pacific Ocean!" "We're going right away." A quarter of an hour later, the two scientists began to walk down the slopes of the Rocky Mountains.Arrived in San Francisco at the same time as their friends from the Cannon Club two days later, exhausting five horses along the way. No sooner had they arrived than Elfeston, Brother Bloomsbury, and Bilby came up to them and asked: "What to do?" they said aloud. "Salvage the shells," Maston replied. "And the sooner the better!"