The Captain looked on
with keen interest; he knew very well that Barbican was calculating
their distance from the Earth by the apparent measure of the terrestrial
diameter, and he eyed him anxiously.
Pretty soon his friends saw a color stealing into Barbican's pale face,
and a triumphant light glittering in his eye.
"No, my brave boys!" he exclaimed at last throwing down his pencil,
"we're not falling! Far from it, we are at present more than 150
thousand miles from the Earth!"
"Hurrah!" }
"Bravo!" } cried M'Nicholl and Ardan, in a breath.
"We have passed the point where we should have stopped if we had had no
more initial velocity than the Cambridge men allowed us!"
"Hurrah! hurrah!"
"Bravo, Bravissimo!"
"And we're still going up!"
"Glory, glory, hallelujah!" sang M'Nicholl, in the highest excitement.
"_Vive ce cher Barbican!_" cried Ardan, bursting into French as usual
whenever his feelings had the better of him.
"Of course we're marching on!" continued M'Nicholl, "and I know the
reason why, too. Those 400,000 pounds of gun-cotton gave us greater
initial velocity than we had expected!"
"You're right, Captain!" added Barbican; "besides, you must not forget
that, by getting rid of the water, the Projectile was relieved of
considerable weight!"
"Correct again!" cried the Captain.
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