For those who do not know me, I am indeed an American; serving as President Grant's special envoy to Her Majesty's Aether Expeditionary Fleet. It was in this capacity that I found myself on the moon. This was in 1863, back when Lincoln commissioned the first of us to advise the crown on new technologies being developed as a result of the war. The British were, at the time, still insisting that it would be possible to build a shipyard on the lunar surface. I had sternly recommended against such folly, saying that moving the materials from the earth to the moon and back would be impractical at best. Oh, we had already been to the moon, the means of our previous ascension being a dirigible which we'd specially outfitted for the task. The kind of operation they were in need of, however, required a bit more speed with regard to the transit between the two, which I told them at the time was too problematic to be attainable.There was nothing for it, however, as their minds were set.
They called upon a Frenchman to come up with a suitable method. What was his name? Verne, I believe it was. Yes, something like Jones or Julian. Ah, well. Small matter, I suppose. At any rate, this fellow comes up with the notion that they could fire supplies from a large cannon that would be aimed at the moon, safely ensconced in a craft that would resemble a large bullet. Even went so far as to build the thing. One of the Royal Artists made the picture to the right; that's supposed to be me at the top of the ladder, arguing the practicality of the plan with Mr. Verne (whom I feel was done a great injustice by the artist). I was put in charge of implementing his idea - over my own protests, of course and it was decided to attempt it first from the moon, as the gravity there is less.Even so, we were forced to use a much lighter craft than Verne initially planned, and it was this that proved the undoing of the project. I would suffer no one but myself to test the contraption out, not wanting to risk the lives of any of my subordinates. Everything went well enough at first, but the force of the launch made the craft fall apart around me in the earth's upper atmosphere!
It was fortunate that it didn't happen earlier, for I should have had the devil of a time trying to inhale pure aether. As it was, the air was quite thin, and it was all I could do to keep from passing out as I fell. I fell for what seemed an eternity, my hand still clenching the logbook and lead I'd taken with me, and to pass the time I took to sketching what I knew no man had ever seen with the naked eye, hoping that at least some good would come from what I believed to be my imminent death. I made the following sketch of the moon:
This story would have ended right here, were it not for my incredible good fortune of having fallen from the sky directly over Sicily. As you may recall, Mt. Etna erupted in a most violent fashion in 1863, and it was the force of that eruption that slowed my descent. There happened to be a large piece of metal bulkhead from my ship's remains falling in the air near me, and when I saw the cloud of ash and pumice billowing up beneath me I swam through the air until I could position myself on top of it. It was round in shape, and it was my hope that this would enable me to ride the cloud like a sledder on a snow-covered hill!
Alas, such was not the case. Nonetheless, my descent through the cloud was slowed enough that my impact with the slope of the mountain was survivable, and I rode the piece of metal down the side of the mountain and into the town below! Looking back on it now, it's a miracle I survived, but there you are.
Last I heard that Verne fellow was going to put his ideas in writing. I wonder if he ever got 'round to it?
ReplyDeleteMy compliments, my dear Major! That was a most exciting adventure to be sure, though it does beg the question, just how much gunpowder would be needed to shoot such a vessel to the moon and what sort of packing would need to be used? Oh hm? Yes, two lumps please, and a smidge of cream, thank you.
ReplyDeleteOh, My! No, I said NO milk, my dear..please do try to pay attention. Now, Major...if you would be so kind. I would like some further details on a few points..you won't mind if I take notes? Yes, well...concerning this dirigible and your previous visit to the moon? I am thinking of possibly a three part story. One where we start with the first journey and work our way to present day. What are the exact dates of this visit? Where and how was the dirigible outfitted...and how did you predict the needs of such a journey. For my readers now, how much tea must one pack for a trip to the moon? You say this Verne fellow can be reached? Would you by any chance happen to have a means of contacting him? I would very much like to get a different angle on this story. Such an amazing tale! Would it be alright if i took a closer look at that sketch you made? Such wonder! We must share this tale of heroism and bravery! Yes, excellent...and were you terribly injured from the ordeal? Do forgive me, I tend to prattle on when I am working, everything comes out at once you see...does anyone have a teaspoon? I seem to have lost mine.
ReplyDeleteSuch good questions! Let me address them one at a time.
ReplyDeleteI am afraid, Dr. Stanley, that we were quite unable to use any gunpowder in the launch. As the moon has no air, and we were concerned that any fire used to ignite the gunpowder - to say nothing of the resulting conflagration - would use up all the air in the somewhat cramped confines of the observation post where we constructed the cannon.
Instead, we accomplished the necessary force by filling the chamber beneath the ship with water, which instantly came to a boil due to the lower pressure exerted upon it by the aether. The resulting steam quickly became pressurized, ejecting my craft from the barrel of the cannon with the force of a hundred locomotives!
As far as packing, I really didn't need much more than a change of clothes for the trip back, so packing was actually quite easy.
Ms. Bevan, would it surprise you to learn that our first trip to the moon was entirely accidental? It began as a trip to the upper stratosphere in an experimental airship for the purpose of weather observation. We were flying over a hurricane raging over the Atlantic when our ballast tanks were struck by lightning, emptying all of our ballast into the ocean below!
ReplyDeleteHigher and higher we climbed, our screws turning for all they were worth to bring us over land, all to no avail. As the horizon started to bend we realized that the screws could find no purchase in the aether. Only by venting hydrogen from the balloon could we steer, eventually finding our way to the lunar surface, where we were quite beside ourselves for what to do next.
It was only by expelling our water tanks that we were able to achieve lift from the surface, for - as I mentioned before - the instant boiling of the water produced enough steam to propel us upward through the aether. It wasn't a graceful ascent, but it was enough to get us back into the earth's upper atmosphere. It was this event that gave us the idea later for the means of ejecting the ship from the cannon.
Unfortunately, our balloon was nearly depleted of its hydrogen, and we spiraled slowly down for a hard landing in the wilds of Patagonia.
As far as Mr. Verne, I'm not sure where he ended up. I heard he was trying to publish some of his theories, but I can't see it amounting to much.
An accident you say? Well, so should we all have such happy accidents! That is a stunning tale of adventure, Sir! Well done, I commend you! I shall venture to find this "Mr. Verne" for future articles, and check with you a moment on some spelling details, if you please. Would be horrid to misquote or get someone's name wrong, wouldn't it?
ReplyDeleteWell done, Major. It was a most exciting adventure indeed. I dare say that riding a ship's bulkhead like a sleigh is most inventive and quite unexpectedly handy. It is a wonder that you managed to hold on to your logbook during these events.
ReplyDeleteIf I may pose one last question concerning your heroic escape before calling for the vote. Did you retry your efforts to build the shipyard?
Oh Bravo Major! I say, I am rather shocked you didn't find yourself injured in many different ways. Even riding the bulkhead down a slope must have been taxing upon your poor physiology. I trust you've been examined to see that the thin air of the upper stratosphere combined with such a long fall and then a perilous ride as you have taken to make sure there was no unforeseen damage?
ReplyDeleteOh the logbook was quite torn from my grasp the instant I reached for the bulkhead. In fact, it didn't survive the fall intact at all, as its pages were ripped from its spine when I let go of it.
ReplyDeleteI made quite a stir when I skidded into town, however. To this day the locals call me "l'uomo volante," which is Italian for "the flying man."
I became a sort of local celebrity, and it was because of this that when the country folk surrounding the town knew to save the pages of my log book when they fluttered down from the sky like snow. It took a week to gather what few that survived, but the town made a big show of reuniting me with my notes and sketches.
I suspect more of the pages survived than they said, however; many of the locals wanted mementos.
As far as the shipyard goes, the idea was abandoned, I heard. I'm not at liberty to discuss the alternatives, but suffice it to say that there is a reason the British are swarming about the Khyber Pass in the highlands of Northern India.