Chapter 27

CHAPTER XXVII

FOUL WEATHER

At the moment when that pyramid of fire rose to a prodigious
height into the air, the glare of flame lit up the whole of
Florida; and for a moment day superseded night over a
considerable extent of the country. This immense canopy of fire
was perceived at a distance of one hundred miles out at sea, and
more than one ship's captain entered in his log the appearance
of this gigantic meteor.

The discharge of the Columbiad was accompanied by a
perfect earthquake. Florida was shaken to its very depths.
The gases of the powder, expanded by heat, forced back the
atmospheric strata with tremendous violence, and this
artificial hurricane rushed like a water-spout through the air.

Not a single spectator remained on his feet! Men, women
children, all lay prostrate like ears of corn under a tempest.
There ensued a terrible tumult; a large number of persons were
seriously injured. J. T. Maston, who, despite all dictates of
prudence, had kept in advance of the mass, was pitched back 120
feet, shooting like a projectile over the heads of his
fellow-citizens. Three hundred thousand persons remained deaf
for a time, and as though struck stupefied.

As soon as the first effects were over, the injured, the deaf,
and lastly, the crowd in general, woke up with frenzied cries.
"Hurrah for Ardan! Hurrah for Barbicane! Hurrah for Nicholl!"
rose to the skies. Thousands of persons, noses in air, armed
with telescopes and race-glasses, were questioning space,
forgetting all contusions and emotions in the one idea of
watching for the projectile. They looked in vain! It was no
longer to be seen, and they were obliged to wait for telegrams
from Long's Peak. The director of the Cambridge Observatory was
at his post on the Rocky Mountains; and to him, as a skillful
and persevering astronomer, all observations had been confided.

But an unforeseen phenomenon came in to subject the public
impatience to a severe trial.

The weather, hitherto so fine, suddenly changed; the sky became
heavy with clouds. It could not have been otherwise after the
terrible derangement of the atmospheric strata, and the dispersion
of the enormous quantity of vapor arising from the combustion of
200,000 pounds of pyroxyle!

On the morrow the horizon was covered with clouds-- a thick and
impenetrable curtain between earth and sky, which unhappily
extended as far as the Rocky Mountains. It was a fatality!
But since man had chosen so to disturb the atmosphere, he was
bound to accept the consequences of his experiment.

Supposing, now, that the experiment had succeeded, the travelers
having started on the 1st of December, at 10h. 46m. 40s. P.M.,
were due on the