Chapter 7 - Page 2

Ardan observed, "a plain is a more suitable landing place
than a mountain. A Selenite deposited on the top of Mount Everest or
even on Mont Blanc, could hardly be considered, in strict language, to
have arrived on Earth."

"Not to talk," added M'Nicholl, "of the comfort of the thing! When you
land on a plain, there you are. When you land on a peak or on a steep
mountain side, where are you? Tumbling over an embankment with the train
going forty miles an hour, would be nothing to it."

"Therefore, Captain Barbican," cried the Frenchman, "as we should like
to appear before the Selenites in full skins, please land us in the snug
though unromantic North. We shall have time enough to break our necks in
the South."

Barbican made no reply to his companions, because a new reflection had
begun to trouble him, to talk about which would have done no good. There
was certainly something wrong. The Projectile was evidently heading
towards the northern hemisphere of the Moon. What did this prove?
Clearly, a deviation resulting from some cause. The bullet, lodged,
aimed, and fired with the most careful mathematical precision, had been
calculated to reach the very centre of the Moon's disc. Clearly it was
not going to the centre now. What could have produced the deviation?
This Barbican could not tell; nor could he even determine its extent,
having no points of sight by which to make his observations. For the
present he tried to console himself with the hope that the deviation of
the Projectile would be followed by no worse consequence than carrying
them towards the northern border of the Moon, where for several reasons
it would be comparatively easier to alight. Carefully avoiding,
therefore, the use of any expression which might needlessly alarm his
companions, he continued to observe the Moon as carefully as he could,
hoping every moment to find some grounds for believing that the
deviation from the centre was only a slight one. He almost shuddered at
the thought of what would be their situation, if the bullet, missing its
aim, should pass the Moon, and plunge into the interplanetary space
beyond it.

As he continued to gaze, the Moon, instead of presenting the usual
flatness of her disc, began decidedly to show a surface somewhat convex.
Had the Sun been shining on her obliquely, the shadows would have
certainly thrown the great mountains into strong relief. The eye could
then bury itself deep in the yawning chasms of the craters, and easily
follow the cracks, streaks, and ridges which stripe, flecker, and bar
the immensity of her plains. But for the present all relief was lost in
the dazzling glare. The Captain could hardly distinguish even those dark