Chapter 10

THE OBSERVERS OF THE MOON.

Barbican's happy conjecture had probably hit the nail on the head. The
divergency even of a second may amount to millions of miles if you only
have your lines long enough. The Projectile had certainly gone off its
direct course; whatever the cause, the fact was undoubted. It was a
great pity. The daring attempt must end in a failure due altogether to a
fortuitous accident, against which no human foresight could have
possibly taken precaution. Unless in case of the occurrence of some
other most improbable accident, reaching the Moon was evidently now
impossible. To failure, therefore, our travellers had to make up their
minds.

But was nothing to be gained by the trip? Though missing actual contact
with the Moon, might they not pass near enough to solve several problems
in physics and geology over which scientists had been for a long time
puzzling their brains in vain? Even this would be some compensation for
all their trouble, courage, and intelligence. As to what was to be their
own fate, to what doom were themselves to be reserved--they never
appeared to think of such a thing. They knew very well that in the midst
of those infinite solitudes they should soon find themselves without
air. The slight supply that kept them from smothering could not
possibly last more than five or six days longer. Five or six days! What
of that? _Quand même_! as Ardan often exclaimed. Five or six days were
centuries to our bold adventurers! At present every second was a year in
events, and infinitely too precious to be squandered away in mere
preparations for possible contingencies. The Moon could never be
reached, but was it not possible that her surface could be carefully
observed? This they set themselves at once to find out.

The distance now separating them from our Satellite they estimated at
about 400 miles. Therefore relatively to their power of discovering the
details of her disc, they were still farther off from the Moon than some
of our modern astronomers are to-day, when provided with their powerful
telescopes.

We know, for example, that Lord Rosse's great telescope at Parsonstown,
possessing a power of magnifying 6000 times, brings the Moon to within
40 miles of us; not to speak of Barbican's great telescope on the summit
of Long's Peak, by which the Moon, magnified 48,000 times, was brought
within 5 miles of the Earth, where it therefore could reveal with
sufficient distinctness every object above 40 feet in diameter.

Therefore our adventurers, though at such a comparatively small
distance, could not make out the topographical details of the Moon with
any satisfaction by their unaided vision. The eye indeed could easily
enough catch the rugged outline of