CHAPTER IV
AN ACCIDENT
Washington White was kept busy getting together the food for the voyage, and he had about completed his task, while Andy Sudds announced one morning that his department was ready for inspection, and that he thought he would go hunting until the projectile was ready to start.
“Well, if you see anything of that queer man who sent me the note, just ask him what he meant by it,” suggested Mark, for inquiry from the boy who had brought the message, developed the fact that Dick did not know the man, nor had he ever seen him before. He was a stranger in the neighborhood. But, as nothing more resulted from it, the two lads gave the matter no further thought.
“How soon before we will be ready to start?” asked Jack one day, while he and his chum, with the two professors, were working over the projectile, which was soon to be shot through space.
“In about two weeks,” replied Mr. Roumann. “I want to make a few changes in the Cardite plates, which will replace the ones used on the Etherium motor. Then I want to test them, and, if I find that they work all right, as I hope, we will seal ourselves up in the Annihilator, and start for the moon.”
“Are you going to try to go around it, and land on the side turned away from us?” asked Mark, who had been studying astronomy lately.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Jack. “Doesn’t the moon turn around?”
“Not as the earth does,” replied his chum; “or, rather, to be more exact, it rotates exactly as the earth does, on its axis; but, in doing this it occupies precisely the same time that it takes to make a revolution about our planet. So that, in the long run, to quote from my astronomy, it keeps the same side always toward the earth; and today, or, to be more correct, each night that the moon is visible, we see the same face and aspect that Galileo did when he first looked at it through his telescope, and, unless something happens, the same thing will continue for thousands of years.”
“Then we’ve never seen the other side of the moon?” asked Jack.
“Never; and that’s why I wondered if the professor was going to attempt to reach it. Perhaps there are people there, and air and water, for it is practically certain that there is neither moisture nor atmosphere on this side of Luna.”
“Wow! Then maybe we’d better not go,” said Jack, with a shiver. “What will we do, if we get thirsty?”
“Oh, I guess we can manage, with all the apparatus we have, to distill enough water,” said Professor Henderson, with a smile. “Then, too, we will take plenty with us, and, of course, tanks of oxygen to breathe. But it will be interesting to see if there are people on the moon.”
“If there are any, they must have a queer time,” went on Mark.
“Why?” asked Jack, who wasn’t very fond of study.
“Why? Because the moon is only about one forty-ninth the size of the earth. Its diameter is 2,163 miles—only a quarter of the earth’s—and, comparing the force of gravity, ours is much greater. A body that weighs six pounds on the earth, would weigh only one pound on the moon, and a man on the moon could jump six times as high as he can on this earth, and throw a stone six times as far.”
“What’s dat?” inquired Washington White quickly, nearly dropping some packages he was carrying into the projectile. “What was yo’ pleased t’ saggasiate, in remarkin’ concernin’ de untranquility ob the densityness ob stones jumpin’ ober a man what is six times high?” he asked.
“Do you mean what did I say?” asked Mark solemnly.
“Dat’s what I done asked yo’,” spoke the colored man gravely.
“Well, you didn’t, but perhaps you meant to,” went on the youth, and he repeated his remarks.
“‘Scuse me, I guess I’d better not go on dish yeah trip after all,” came from Washington.
“Why not?” demanded Professor Henderson.
“‘Cause I ain’t goin’ t’ no place whar ef yo’ wants t’ take a little jump yo’ has t’ go six times as far as yo’ does when yo’ is on dis yeah earth. An’ s’posin’ some ob dem moon men takes a notion t’ throw a stone at me? Whar’ll I be, when a stone goes six times as far as it does on heah? No, sah, I ain’t goin’!”
“But perhaps there are no men on the moon,” said Mark quickly. “It is only a theory of astronomers that I’m talking about.”
“Oh, only a theory; eh?” asked Washington quickly.
“That’s all.”
“Oh, if it’s only a theory, den I reckons it’s all right,” came from the colored man. “I didn’t know it were a theory. Dat makes it all right. It’s jest in theory, am it, Massa Mark, dat a stone goes six times as far?”
“That’s all.”
“Oh, well, den, why didn’t yo’ say so fust, dat it was only a theory? I don’t mind theories. I—I used t’ eat ‘em boiled an’ roasted befo’ de wah.” And, with a contented smile on his face, Washington went into the projectile, to finish stowing things away in his kitchen lockers.
The big projectile was housed in the shed where it had been constructed, and the professor and the boys were working over it there, carefully guarded from curious eyes, for the German inventor did not want the secret of his Cardite motor to become known.
The work went on from day to day, good progress being made. The boys were of great assistance, for they were practical mechanics, and had had considerable experience.
“Well, I shall try the Cardite motor to-morrow,” announced Professor Roumann one night, after a hard day’s work on the projectile.
“Do you think it will work?” asked Mr. Henderson.
“I think so, yes. My experiments have made me hopeful.”
“And if it does work, when can we start?” asked Jack.
“Two days later; that is, if everything else is in readiness, the food and other, supplies on board.”
“They are all ready to be stowed away,” said Andy Sudds, who had been hunting all day.
It was an anxious assemblage that gathered inside the big shed the next day, to watch Professor Roumann try the Cardite motor. Would it work as well as had the Etherium one? Would it send them along through space at enormous speed? True, they would not have to travel so far, nor so fast, but more power would be needed, since, as it was feared no food, water, nor air could be had on the moon, many more supplies were to be taken along than on the trip to Mars, and this made the projectile heavier.
“We will test the Cardite in this small motor first,” said Mr. Roumann, as he pointed to a machine in the projectile used for winding a cable around a windlass when there was necessity for hauling the Annihilator about, without sending it into the air.
Into the receptacle of the motor, the German professor placed some of the wonderful red substance he had secured from Mars. Then he closed the heavy metal box that held it, and, looking about to see if all was in readiness, he motioned to those watching him that he was about to shift the lever that would start the motor.
“If it works as well as I hope it will,” he said, “it ought to pull the projectile slowly across the shop—a task that would be impossible in a motor of this size, if operated by electricity, gasoline, or any other force at present in use. And, if this small motor will do that, I know the large ones will send us through space to the moon. All ready, now.”
Slowly the professor shoved over the lever, while Jack, Mark and the others watched him carefully. They were standing back of him, in the engine room of the projectile.
There was a clicking sound as the lever snapped into place. This was succeeded by a buzzing hum, as the motor began to absorb the great power from the red substance, which was not unlike radium in its action. There was a trembling to the great projectile.
“She’s moving!” cried Jack.
Hardly had he spoken when there was a flash of red fire, a sound as of a bursting bomb, and everyone was knocked from his feet, over backward, while Professor Roumann was hurled the entire length of the engine room.
“The Cardite motor has exploded!” cried Mark. “Professor Roumann is killed!”