If this astounding news, instead of flying through the electric wires, had simply arrived by post in the ordinary sealed envelope, Barbicane would not have hesitated a moment. He would have held his tongue about it, both as a measure of prudence, and in order not to have to reconsider his plans.This telegram might be a cover for some jest, especially as it came from a Frenchman.What human being would ever have conceived the idea of such a journey?And, if such a person really existed, he must be an idiot, whom one would shut up in a lunatic ward, rather than within the walls of the projectile.

The contents of the dispatch, however, speedily became known；for the telegraphic officials possessed but little discretion, and Michel Ardan's proposition ran at once throughout the several States of the Union. Barbicane, had, therefore, no further motives for keeping silence.Consequently, he called together such of his colleagues as were at the moment in Tampa Town, and without any expression of his own opinions simply read to them the laconic text itself.It was received with every possible variety of expressions of doubt, incredulity, and derision from every one, with the exception of J.T.Maston, who exclaimed，“It is a grand idea, however！”

When Barbicane originally proposed to send a shot to the moon every one looked upon the enterprise as simple and practicable enough—a mere question of gunnery；but when a person, professing to be a reasonable being, offered to take passage within the projectile, the whole thing became a farce, or, in plainer language a humbug.

One question, however, remained. Did such a being exist?This telegram flashed across the depths of the Atlantic, the designation of the vessel on board which he was to take his passage, the date assigned for his speedy arrival, all combined to impart a certain character of reality to the proposal.They must get some clearer notion of the matter.Scattered groups of inquirers at length condensed themselves into a compact crowd, which made straight for the residence of President Barbicane.That worthy individual was keeping quiet with the intention of watching events as they arose.But he had forgotten to take into account the public impatience；and it was with no pleasant countenance that he watched the population of Tampa Town gathering under his windows.The murmurs and vociferations below presently obliged him to appear.He came forward, therefore, and on silence being procured, a citizen put point-blank to him the following question：“Is the person mentioned in the telegram, under the name of Michel Ardan, on his way here?Yes or no?”

“Gentlemen，”replied Barbicane，“I know no more than you do.”

“We must know，”roared the impatient voices.

“Time will show，”calmly replied the president.

“Time has no business to keep a whole country in suspense，”replied the orator.“Have you altered the plans of the projectile according to the request of the telegram?”

“Not yet, gentlemen；but you are right！We must have better information to go by. The telegraph must complete its information.”

“To the telegraph！”roared the crowd.

Barbicane descended；and heading the immense assemblage, led the way to the telegraph office. A few minutes later a telegram was dispatched to the secretary of the underwriters at Liverpool, requesting answers to the following queries：

“About the ship Atlanta—when did she leave Europe?Had she on board a Frenchman named Michel Ardan?”

Two hours afterward Barbicane received information too exact to leave room for the smallest remaining doubt.

“The steamer Atlanta from Liverpool put to sea on the 2nd of October, bound for Tampa Town, having on board a Frenchman borne on the list of passengers by the name of Michel Ardan.”

That very evening he wrote to the house of Breadwill and Co.，requesting them to suspend the casting of the projectile until the receipt of further orders. On the 10th of October, at nine A.M.，the semaphores of the Bahama Canal signaled a thick smoke on the horizon.Two hours later a large steamer exchanged signals with them.the name of the Atlanta flew at once over Tampa Town.At four o'clock the English vessel entered the Bay of Espiritu Santo.At five it crossed the passage of Hillsborough Bay at full steam.At six she cast anchor at Port Tampa.The anchor had scarcely caught the sandy bottom when five hundred boats surrounded the Atlanta, and the steamer was taken by assault.Barbicane was the first to set foot on deck, and in a voice of which he vainly tried to conceal the emotion, called“Michel Ardan！”

“Here！”replied an individual perched on the poop.

Barbicane, with arms crossed, looked fixedly at the passenger of the Atlanta.

He was a man of about forty-two years of age, of large build, but slightly round-shouldered. His massive head momentarily shook a shock of reddish hair, which resembled a lion's mane.His face was short with a broad forehead, and furnished with a moustache as bristly as a cat's, and little patches of yellowish whiskers upon full cheeks.Round, wildish eyes, slightly near-sighted, completed a physiognomy essentially feline.His nose was firmly shaped, his mouth particularly sweet in expression, high forehead, intelligent and furrowed with wrinkles like a newly-plowed field.The body was powerfully developed and firmly fixed upon long legs.Muscular arms, and a general air of decision gave him the appearance of a hardy, jolly companion.

On the bridge of the steamer, in the midst of the crowd, he bustled to and fro, never still for a moment，“dragging his anchors”，as the sailors say, gesticulating, making free with everybody, biting his nails with nervous avidity. He was one of those originals which nature sometimes invents in the freak of a moment, and of which she then breaks the mould.

Among other peculiarities, this curiosity gave himself out for a sublime ignoramus，“like Shakespeare”，and professed supreme contempt for all scientific men. Those“fellows”，as he called them，“are only fit to mark the points, while we play the game.”He was, in fact, a thorough Bohemian, adventurous, but not an adventurer；a hare-brained fellow, a kind of Icarus, only possessing relays of wings.For the rest, he was ever in scrapes, ending invariably by falling on his feet, like those little figures which they sell for children's toys.In a few words, his motto was“I have my opinions”，and the love of the impossible constituted his ruling passion.

Such was the passenger of the Atlanta, always excitable, as if boiling under the action of some internal fire by the character of his physical organization. If ever two individuals offered a striking contrast to each other, these were certainly Michel Ardan and the Yankee Barbicane；both, moreover, being equally enterprising and daring, each in his own way.

The scrutiny which the president of the Gun Club had instituted regarding this new rival was quickly interrupted by the shouts and hurrahs of the crowd. The cries became at last so uproarious, and the popular enthusiasm assumed so personal a form, that Michel Ardan, after having shaken hands some thousands of times, at the imminent risk of leaving his fingers behind him, was fain at last to make a bolt for his cabin.

Barbicane followed him without uttering a word.

“You are Barbicane, I suppose?”said Michel Ardan, in a tone of voice in which he would have addressed a friend of twenty years'standing.

“Yes，”replied the president of the Gun Club.

“All right！how d'ye do, Barbicane?how are you getting on—pretty well?That's right.”

“So，”said Barbicane without further preliminary，“you are quite determined to go.”

“Quite decided.”

“Nothing will stop you?”

“Nothing. Have you modified your projectile according to my telegram.”

“I waited for your arrival. But，”asked Barbicane again，“have you carefully reflected?”

“Reflected?have I any time to spare?I find an opportunity of making a tour in the moon, and I mean to profit by it. There is the whole gist of the matter.”

Barbicane looked hard at this man who spoke so lightly of his project with such complete absence of anxiety.“But, at least，”said he，“you have some plans, some means of carrying your project into execution?”

“Excellent, my dear Barbicane；only permit me to offer one remark：My wish is to tell my story once for all, to everybody, and then have done with it；then there will be no need for recapitulation. So, if you have no objection, assemble your friends, colleagues, the whole town, all Florida, all America if you like, and tomorrow I shall be ready to explain my plans and answer any objections whatever that may be advanced.You may rest assured I shall wait without stirring.Will that suit you?”

“All right，”replied Barbicane.

So saying, the president left the cabin and informed the crowd of the proposal of Michel Ardan. His words were received with clappings of hands and shouts of joy.They had removed all difficulties.Tomorrow every one would contemplate at his ease this European hero.However, some of the spectators, more infatuated than the rest, would not leave the deck of the Atlanta.They passed the night on board.Among others J.T.Maston got his hook fixed in the combing of the poop, and it pretty nearly required the capstan to get it out again.

“He is a hero！A hero！”he cried, a theme of which he was never tired of ringing the changes.“And we are only like weak, silly women, compared with this European！”

As to the president, after having suggested to the visitors it was time to retire, he re-entered the passenger's cabin, and remained there till the bell of the steamer made it midnight.

But then the two rivals in popularity shook hands heartily and parted on terms of intimate friendship.

如果这个惊天动地的消息不是从海底电缆传送而来的，而是通过邮局封签寄来的，那么巴比凯恩会毫不犹豫地把它随手扔掉。而且，他会因为小心谨慎和不影响他的杰作的声誉而缄默不语。这封电报可能是个骗局，特别是它出自一个法国人之手。一个普普通通的人，就算是胆大包天，又怎么会突发奇想要去月球旅行呢？即使有这么一个人，那他也是个疯子，应该将他关进疯人院，而不是把他装在炮弹里。

但是，电报内容已经传开了，因为电报传送机本身就缺少保密性。米歇尔·阿尔当的建议已经在美利坚合众国各州传遍了。这么一来，巴比凯恩就没有任何理由保持沉默了。因此，他把尚留在坦帕城的同事们召集起来，随便地把那简短的电文读了一遍，既没向他们吐露自己的看法，也没有让大家讨论电文的可信度。与会者们既用语言又用在此情况之下所必有的手势，发泄了自己的怀疑、愤怒和不屑之情。只有J.T.马斯顿突发一言，语惊四座。“这倒也是个好主意！”他大声说道。

当巴比凯恩建议向月球发射一颗炮弹的时候，人人都认为这一试验合乎情理，切实可行，是一个纯属重炮射击学的问题！可如今，却冒出一个并不是疯子的人偏偏提出来要置身炮弹之中，准备做一次异想天开的旅行，整个事情就变成了一场闹剧，用准确地翻译成本国语言的法国词语来说，简直就是一个“骗局”[46]。

不过，先得弄清：是否真的有这么个人？这封通过大西洋底传送来的电报，那个法国人声称的自己乘坐的那艘轮船的名字，以及所指明的到达日期等所有这些情况，表明他的建议具有某种真实性。必须将这些情况全都弄清楚。很快，人们就分别组合起来，越聚越多，从而形成一个密集的人群，向着巴比凯恩主席的住处走去。巴比凯恩主席自收到电报时起，就没有发表过任何个人意见，他缄默不语，静观事态发展。公众都按捺不住了，可他却以一种极其不悦的目光看着聚集在他窗下的坦帕城的民众们。很快，嘟哝声、谩骂声把他逼了出来。他站到了窗前，民众安静下来。随即，一位公民说话了。他单刀直入地向巴比凯恩提出下面这个问题：“电报上署名米歇尔·阿尔当的人是不是正在前来美国的路上？是，还是不是？”

“先生们，”巴比凯恩回答道，“我并不比你们知道得多。”

“必须弄清楚这个问题！”一些人不耐烦地大声嚷叫道。

“时间将会告诉我们的！”巴比凯恩主席冷冷地回答道。

“时间无权让整个国家的人心存疑惑。”那个带头发言的人又说道，“您是否根据那封电报所要求的那样修改了炮弹图纸？”

“还没有，先生们；不过，你们说得对，必须弄清楚到底是怎么回事。电报局引起了这么大的混乱，它应该提供更多的情况。”

“找电报局去！”民众们叫嚷着。

巴比凯恩走下楼来。他走在庞大队伍的前头，带着大家向电报局大楼走去。几分钟之后，一封电报发给了利物浦船舶经纪人联合会。人们在电报中要求对方就下列问题给予答复：

“‘亚特兰大’号是什么样的船？它什么时候离开的欧洲？船上是否有一个名叫米歇尔·阿尔当的法国人乘坐？”

两小时过后，巴比凯恩收到了回电，内容十分明确，无可怀疑。

利物浦的“亚特兰大”号于十月二日起航，驶往坦帕城，船上有一名法国乘客，登记簿上写的是米歇尔·阿尔当。

不过，当天晚上，他便立即修书一封，寄往布雷德维尔公司，请求对方暂停铸造炮弹的工作，等待新的命令下达。十月十日，上午九点，巴哈马运河信号台报告，远方地平线上有一股浓烟。两个小时之后，一艘大型蒸汽轮船与信号台进行了信号联络。于是，“亚特兰大”号的名字立即传到了坦帕城。四点钟，这艘英国轮船驶入埃斯皮里图桑托湾。五点钟，它全速穿越了希利斯波洛湾。六点钟，它停泊在坦帕港。还没等船锚钩住海底，便有五百条小船把“亚特兰大”号团团围住，使它动弹不得。巴比凯恩第一个跨过船舷，用难以抑制的声音喊道：“米歇尔·阿尔当！”

“我在这儿！”有个站在艉楼上的人应答道。

巴比凯恩双臂交叉，嘴唇紧闭，用询问的目光盯着“亚特兰大”号上的这位乘客。

此人四十二岁，身材高挑，但已经有点儿驼背。他脑袋很大，状若狮子头，不时地甩动他那像狮鬣般的火红的头发。他短脸阔额，八字胡竖起，似猫胡须一般，长着一簇簇黄褐色的络腮胡，眼睛圆圆的，目光有点儿茫然，两只近视眼眯缝着，让整张脸看着更像是猫脸了。但是，他的鼻子却是又大又挺，嘴巴又尤为讨人喜爱，额头很高，显出聪明样儿，上面布满皱纹，像是一块新犁过的田地一样沟壑交错；他上身肌肉发达，实实在在地立在两条长腿上；他双臂健壮有力，神态果断，看起来像是一个坚强、快乐、随和的人。

他不停地在轮船甲板上的人群中走来走去，从不停下来，如同水手们所说的，他在“走锚”，而且说话时手总是比画来比画去的，见到所有的人都很放肆，尤其老爱咬指甲。这是造物主一时心血来潮造出来，而又立即毁掉其模子的那些怪人中的一个。

除种种怪癖外，他还像莎士比亚一样，以一个“崇高的无知者”自诩，公开蔑视科学家。他说：“有些人只能在我们搞比赛时帮我们计计分而已。”总之，这是一个四处漂泊的波希米亚人，一个喜欢冒险而非冒险家的人，一个无比胆大的人，一个带着备用翅膀的伊卡洛斯[47]。反正，他敢于破釜沉舟，随时准备粉身碎骨，但最后总能安然无恙，如同孩子们爱玩的接骨木木偶一样。他的座右铭就几个字：“我有自己的看法！”对不可能的事的追求是他的“至爱”。

“亚特兰大”号上的这位乘客就是这样一个人，总是躁动不安，总是火急火燎，总是激动不已。这是因为他那燥热的体质使然。如果要找两个性格截然不同的人的话，那么非法国人米歇尔·阿尔当和美国人巴比凯恩莫属了。不过，这两个人却也有共同之处：执着、大胆、无所畏惧。

大炮俱乐部主席一直出神地凝视着这个让自己退居次要位置的对手；但很快，人群中爆发出的一阵阵欢呼声和喝彩声打断了他的沉思。一阵阵的呼喊声越来越疯狂，对米歇尔·阿尔当的个人崇拜，几乎达到了狂热的程度，以至这个法国人在与成千上万的人握过手之后，恨不得把自己的手指头奉献出去，好躲进自己的船舱。

巴比凯恩跟着他走，但一言未发。

“你就是巴比凯恩吧？”二人单独在一起时，米歇尔·阿尔当问对方道，那口气像是跟一个二十年的老朋友说话似的。

“是的。”大炮俱乐部主席回答道。

“嗯，你好，巴比凯恩。事情进展得怎么样呀？很好？那太好了！”

“这么说，”巴比凯恩直截了当地说道，“您真的决定出发了？”“真的决定了。”

“没有什么可以让您改变了？”

“没有什么了。你是否按照我电报上所指明的那样，对你的炮弹进行了改动？”

“我一直想等您来了之后再说，不过，”巴比凯恩又问了一句，“您真的考虑好了？”

“当然啰，难道我还有时间可耽误吗？我找到了去月球旅行的机会，我就得抓住它，就这么回事。我觉得这事用不着翻来覆去地考虑。”

巴比凯恩凝视着这个人；此人在谈到他的月球旅行时是那么轻描淡写，漫不经心，毫不畏惧。“可是，起码，”巴比凯恩对他说道，“您得有个计划，有一些实施方案吧？”

“当然有啊，亲爱的巴比凯恩。不过，请允许我向你指出一点：我喜欢一下子把自己的故事对所有的人讲完，然后就别再提了。这么做将可以避免一说再说。因此，如果你没有更好的意见的话，就请你把你的朋友们、同事们、全城的百姓们、全佛罗里达州的人们，以及——要是您愿意的话——全美国的人们，全都召集起来。明天我就可以把我的全部方案介绍一下，并且准备好应对各种各样的反对意见。请你放心，我是不怕反对意见的。你觉得怎样？”

“我觉得可以。”巴比凯恩回答道。

说完，巴比凯恩便走出了船舱，把米歇尔·阿尔当的意见告诉了大家。他的话受到了众人的欢迎，大家又跺脚又欢呼。这么一来，困难全都迎刃而解了。第二天，人人都可以随意地欣赏这位欧洲英雄了。但是，有些比较固执的群众仍然不愿离开“亚特兰大”号的甲板，他们准备留在船上过夜。其中包括J.T.马斯顿，他用他那铁钩钩住船艉栏杆，除非用绞盘，否则无法将它弄走。

“他是英雄！英雄！”他忽高忽低地不停地呼喊着，“与这个欧洲人相比，我们简直就是懦夫！”

至于巴比凯恩主席，在劝说众人离去之后，他又返回米歇尔·阿尔当的舱房，直到船上的钟在午夜敲响时，他才离去。

这两位深孚众望的对手热烈地握手，友好地道别了。