Chapter 23 Chapter 22 Rescue

We know where the projectile sank, but we have no fishing tools. The necessary tools had to be invented and manufactured.American engineers will never be helpless over such trivial matters.The grapples fitted, with the aid of the steam, ensured that the projectile, however heavy it might be, was lightened by the buoyancy of the water. Just being able to salvage shells is not enough.It must be done quickly, which is very important to the three travelers.They are still alive, no one can doubt that. "They're alive!" Maston kept repeating, his confidence infectious to all. "Our friends can't fall like fools. They're alive, of course, but they must be found quickly. Food, water, I don't worry, they've got plenty, and they'll last a long time. But air, Whoops! They're going to be out of air in no time. So hurry!"

They go quickly.The Susquehanna sailed back to its destination.Its powerful machines are linked by fibrous chains.The aluminum projectile weighed only 19,250 pounds, much lighter than the transatlantic cable that was salvaged under the same conditions.The only difficulty is that the wall of the cylindrical-conical shell is smooth, so it cannot be hooked, caught, or salvaged. So Mercchison engineers went to San Francisco and got someone to build the giant automatic grapple, with its gigantic pincers—once it gripped a projectile, it never let go.In addition, he ordered many diving suits that are waterproof and pressure-resistant, so that divers can understand the situation at the bottom. He also installed several exquisitely designed machines for making compressed air on the Susquehanna.These were actual air chambers, with portholes in the walls, and compartments into which sea water could be introduced.Make the air chamber sink to the bottom of the sea.At that time, there happened to be such equipment in San Francisco, which was originally used for the construction of the Huidi Dam.That's a stroke of luck, because it's too late to make such a device.

However, no matter how perfect these devices are, and no matter how talented the scientists who use them, the success of the operation remains uncertain.How easy it is to salvage a projectile at a depth of 20,000 feet!Besides, even if the projectile could be salvaged, would the three travelers inside have been able to withstand the terrible impact that twenty thousand feet of water might not be enough to mitigate? Finally, act quickly.Day and night Maston urged his workers to work harder.He himself is prepared to put on a wetsuit, or hide in an air compressor, to see how his three brave friends are doing.

Five long days passed--five days were like five centuries, in spite of all the hard work of all the various machines, and the large sums allocated to the Gun Club by the Government of the United States! — before all these preparations were completed.By this time, public opinion was at its height of excitement.All over the world telegrams were being exchanged by wires and cables.The rescue of Barbicane, Nicholl and Michel Ardan then became an international event.The work of rescuing the three travelers was of great concern to all the peoples who had subscribed to the donations of the Cannon Club.

Chains, air compressors, and automatic grabs for fiber pulling were finally loaded onto the Susquehanna.Maston, Engineer Murchison, and all the representatives of the Gun Club entered their cabins.Now it's just a matter of setting sail. At eight o'clock in the evening on December 21st, the escort ship set sail in the calm sea against the soft northeast wind and severe cold.All the residents of San Francisco crowded on the pier. They were very excited, but they were silent, perhaps waiting for Susquehanna to return and then cheering. The steam had reached maximum pressure, and the Susquehanna's propellers deftly sent it out of the bay.

As for the conversations of the officers, sailors, and passengers on board, there is no need to repeat them here.All these people have but one thought, and all these people's hearts beat with the same emotion.What were they doing when they came to rescue Barbicane and his companions, what was their condition, and could they do anything bold to save themselves?No one can answer these questions.To tell the truth, there is no other way!Facing this metal prison sunk almost two miles deep in the sea, the three prisoners were really powerless! The Susquehanna sailed quickly and arrived at the accident site at eight o'clock in the morning on December 23, and had to wait until noon to determine the correct position.Haven't seen the buoy nailed to the detection line yet.

At noon, Captain Bloomsbury, with the help of the officers supervising the observation, took the bearing of the voyage in the presence of representatives of the Gun Club.This is an unsettling time.The position was fixed, and the Susquehanna was only a few minutes away to the west of the place where the projectile sank. The escort ship then turned its bow and headed towards the designated location. At 12:46 p.m., they recognized the buoy.The buoys are intact and the drift is likely to be minor. "Finally found!" exclaimed Maston. "Shall we start now?" Captain Bloomsbury asked.

"Not a second is wasted," Meston replied. They took all necessary measures to keep the escort ship completely stationary. Before studying how to salvage the projectile, engineers Mochisheng must first find out the location of the projectile on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.Instruments exploring the ocean floor were supplied with air.The use of these machines was not without danger, for the pressure of the water at a depth of twenty thousand feet was so great that the failure of the machines would have been disastrous. Maston, the Bloomsbury brothers, and Engineer Murchison entered the air chamber without thinking about the dangers.The captain directs the operation on the bridge, and prepares to stop the lowering or pull back the chain when the signal is received.The propellers were disengaged, and all mechanical power on board was quickly transferred from the capstans to the exploration instruments beside the ship.

It was launched into the water at 1:25 in the evening, and the air chamber sank into the sea under the weight of the water storage chamber. The officers and sailors on the warship were extremely excited. They were worried about the prisoners in the projectile and the prisoners in the underwater exploration instrument.In fact, the prisoners in the explorer had long forgotten themselves. They were clinging to the glass of the porthole, concentrating on observing the vast fluid they passed through. The rate of descent is tricky.At 2:16, Maston and his companions reached the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.But they saw nothing but this barren desert, devoid of sea animals or plants, and in the light of their few powerful reflective searchlights they could see far into the dark water. layer, but the projectile did not appear in their field of vision.

It is impossible to describe the anxiety of these brave submersibles.The probe and the escort ship were connected by wires, and they sent out the agreed signal, and the Susquehanna fixed them at a height of a few meters from the bottom of the sea, and moved them one by one within a nautical mile. In this way they searched the submarine plain, now and then being teased by optical illusions and breaking their hearts.Here a rock, there a dune, at first glance appeared to be the projectile they were so eagerly looking for; but after a while they discovered their error, and were again disappointed.

"Where are they, where are they," Maston kept yelling. The poor man called out to Nicholl, to Barbicane, to Michel Ardan, as if these three unfortunate friends could hear him, or could answer him through this inaccessible place. ! They continued to search under these conditions until the air in the explorer became more and more polluted and the divers had to ascend. The fiber pulling began at about six o'clock in the evening and did not end until midnight. "The search will continue tomorrow," Maston said, climbing onto the deck of the frigate. "Yes," replied Captain Bloomsbury. "Change another place." "yes." Maston still believed in success, but his companions had lost the freshness of the beginning and knew that there would be difficulties.In San Francisco, it seems easy, but here, on this vast ocean, it is almost impossible, and the hope of success is dwindling.The only way to find the projectile is to turn to chance. The next day, December 24, everyone ignored the fatigue of the night and started searching again.The escort ship sailed westward for a few minutes, and the explorer added enough air to bring the original explorers to the depths of the ocean again. A whole day passed without result.The bottom is like a desert.On the twenty-fifth day, nothing came of it.The same goes for the twenty-sixth. Really frustrating and disappointing.All were thinking of these three unfortunate souls, who had spent twenty-six days in the shells; and even if they had escaped the fall, they were probably beginning to suffocate by now: there was no air, I fear. Courage and the will to fight have also disappeared with the air! "The air is gone, that's possible," Maston always answered, "but the fighting spirit never dies." Then I searched for two more days. On the 28th, there was no hope.This cannonball is but an atom in the ocean!The search should no longer be pursued. But when it comes to leaving here, Maston doesn't even listen.At least he couldn't find his friends' graves and was reluctant to leave the scene.Captain Bloomsbury, however, could not hold on any longer, and in spite of the pleas of his honorable secretary, he was obliged to give the order to set sail. At 9 o'clock in the morning on December 29, the Susquehanna returned to Jinshan Bay in the northeast. Ten o'clock in the morning.The escort ship slowly and seemingly reluctantly left the place where the disaster happened. A sailor who was observing the regretful face on the third tier of sails suddenly called out: "There's a buoy downwind." All the officers looked in the direction pointed by the sailor.They saw through the binoculars that it really looked like a buoy that indicated the channel in a bay or a river.But, curiously, there was a small flag waving in the wind from the cone five or six feet above the water.The buoy shone in the sun as if its shell were made of silver plates. Captain Bloomsbury, Maston, and all the representatives of the Cannon Club stepped on the bridge, and they took a long look at this floating object. Everyone was watching it anxiously, but no one said anything.No one dared to speak out what was in his head. The escort ship was within two anchor chains of the drifter. All the people on board suddenly shuddered. It's the American flag! At this moment, a cry was heard suddenly, and it turned out that the righteous Maston fell like an unconscious object.On the one hand, he forgot that his right arm was replaced by an iron hook; It's terrible to fall off. Everyone rushed over immediately, helped him up, and restored him to consciousness.What was his first sentence? "Why! We are savages! Fools! Idiots!" "What's the matter?" those around him asked loudly. "what happened?……" "But you talk!" "What fools we are!" roared the dreadful secretary. "Because the shell weighs only nineteen thousand two hundred and fifty pounds!" "so what?" "It displaces twenty-eight tons, or fifty-six thousand pounds, so it must float!" what!Just like the word "floating" that this venerable person seems to emphasize, this is a truth!All, yes!All the scientists have forgotten a basic law: this is, when the projectile falls to the deepest part of the ocean, but because of its low density, it will naturally return to the water page!It is now quietly floating with the sea water... Several small cabins were released into the sea.Maston and his friends jumped into the boat hastily.Everyone's excitement has reached its peak.All hearts were beating wildly, and at that moment the boat was speeding toward the projectile.What's going on inside the canister?Are they alive or dead?Alive, of course alive!Unless Barbicane and his two friends were killed after the flag was planted! There was silence in the boat.All hearts are beating with excitement.Their eyes could see nothing.The projectile was seen to have an open porthole.A few pieces of broken glass left in the groove indicated that the glass had been broken.The porthole was now about five feet above the water. A small boat approached the projectile, Maston's, and Maston threw himself on the shattered window. "What's the matter?" those around him asked loudly. "what happened?……" "But you talk!" "What fools we are!" roared the dreadful secretary. "Because the shell weighs only nineteen thousand two hundred and fifty pounds!" "so what?" "It displaces twenty-eight tons, or fifty-six thousand pounds, so it must float!" what!Just like the word "floating" that this venerable person seems to emphasize, this is a truth!All, yes!All the scientists have forgotten a basic law: this is, when the projectile falls to the deepest part of the ocean, but because of its low density, it will naturally return to the water page!It is now quietly floating with the sea water... Several small cabins were released into the sea.Maston and his friends jumped into the boat hastily.Everyone's excitement has reached its peak.All hearts were beating wildly, and at that moment the boat was speeding toward the projectile.What's going on inside the canister?Are they alive or dead?Alive, of course alive!Unless Barbicane and his two friends were killed after the flag was planted! There was silence in the boat.All hearts are beating with excitement.Their eyes could see nothing.The projectile was seen to have an open porthole.A few pieces of broken glass left in the groove indicated that the glass had been broken.The porthole was now about five feet above the water. A small boat approached the projectile, Maston's, and Maston threw himself on the shattered window. At this time, Michel Ardan's hearty laughter suddenly came, and he said loudly in a triumphant tone: "All, Barbicane, all!" It turned out that Barbicane, Michel Ardan, and Nicholl were playing dominoes.