From the Earth to the Moon, Direct in Ninety-Seven Hours and Twenty Minutes: and a Trip Round It — John Shaqi
From the Earth to the Moon, Direct in Ninety-Seven Hours and Twenty Minutes: and a Trip Round ItVerne, Jules
Science
From the Earth to the Moon, Direct in Ninety-Seven Hours and Twenty Minutes: and a Trip Round It
Verne, Jules
Manned space flight -- Fiction; Moon -- Fiction; Science fiction; Space flight to the moon -- Fiction; Space ships -- Fiction
"What!" roared J. T. Maston, "shall we not employ these remaining
years of our life in perfecting fire-arms? Shall there never be a fresh
opportunity of trying the ranges of projectiles? Shall the air never again
be lighted with the glare of our guns? No international difficulty ever
arise to enable us to declare war against some transatlantic power? Shall
not the French sink one of our steamers, or the English, in defiance of
the rights of nations, hang a few of our countrymen?"
"No such luck," replied Colonel Blomsberry; "nothing of the kind is likely
to happen; and even if it did, we should not profit by it. American
susceptibility is fast declining, and we are all going to the dogs."
"It is too true," replied J. T. Maston, with fresh violence; "there are
a thousand grounds for fighting, and yet we don't fight. We save up our
arms and legs for the benefit of nations who don't know what to do with
them! But stop—without going out of one's way to find a cause for
war—did not North America once belong to the English?"
"Undoubtedly," replied Tom Hunter, stamping his crutch with fury.
"Well then," replied J. T. Maston, "why should not England in her turn
belong to the Americans?"
"It would be but just and fair," returned Colonel Blomsberry.
"Go and propose it to the President of the United States," cried J. T.
Maston, "and see how he will receive you."
"Bah!" growled Bilsby between the four teeth which the war had left him;
"that will never do!"
"By Jove!" cried J. T. Maston, "he mustn't count on my vote at the next
election!"
"Nor on ours," replied unanimously all the bellicose invalids.
"Meanwhile," replied J. T. M., "allow me to say that, if I cannot get an
opportunity to try my new mortars on a real field of battle, I shall say
good-bye to the members of the Gun Club, and go and bury myself in the
prairies of Arkansas!"
"In that case we will accompany you," cried the others.
Matters were in this unfortunate condition, and the club was threatened
with approaching dissolution, when an unexpected circumstance occurred
to prevent so deplorable a catastrophe.
On the morrow after this conversation every member of the association
received a sealed circular couched in the following terms:—
"BALTIMORE, _Oct._ 3.
"The President of the Gun Club has the honour to inform his colleagues
that, at the meeting of the 5th instant, he will bring before them
a communication of an extremely interesting nature. He requests,
therefore, that they will make it convenient to attend in accordance
with the present invitation.—Very cordially,
Impey Barbicane, P.G.C."
CHAPTER II.
PRESIDENT BARBICANE'S COMMUNICATION.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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