Read From the Earth to the Moon, Direct in Ninety-Seven Hours and Twenty Minutes: and a Trip Round It Page 3


  CHAPTER I.

  THE GUN CLUB.

  During the War of the Rebellion, a new and influential club wasestablished in the city of Baltimore in the State of Maryland. It is wellknown with what energy the taste for military matters became developedamongst that nation of ship-owners, shopkeepers, and mechanics. Simpletradesmen jumped their counters to become extemporized captains, colonels,and generals, without having ever passed the School of Instruction atWest Point: nevertheless, they quickly rivalled their compeers of theold continent, and, like them, carried off victories by dint of lavishexpenditure in ammunition, money, and men.

  But the point in which the Americans singularly distanced the Europeanswas in the science of _gunnery._ Not, indeed, that their weapons retaineda higher degree of perfection than theirs, but that they exhibitedunheard-of dimensions, and consequently attained hitherto unheard-ofranges. In point of grazing, plunging, oblique, or enfilading, orpoint-blank firing, the English, French, and Prussians have nothing tolearn; but their cannon, howitzers, and mortars are mere pocket-pistolscompared with the formidable engines of the American artillery.

  This fact need surprise no one. The Yankees, the first mechanicians inthe world, are engineers--just as the Italians are musicians and theGermans metaphysicians--by right of birth. Nothing is more natural,therefore, than to perceive them applying their audacious ingenuity tothe science of gunnery. Witness the marvels of Parrott, Dahlgren, andRodman. The Armstrong, Palliser, and Beaulieu guns were compelled to bowbefore their transatlantic rivals.

  Now when an American has an idea, he directly seeks a second American toshare it. If there be three, they elect a president and two secretaries.Given _four,_ they name a keeper of records, and the office is readyfor work; _five,_ they convene a general meeting, and the club is fullyconstituted. So things were managed in Baltimore. The inventor of a newcannon associated himself with the caster and the borer. Thus was formedthe nucleus of the "Gun Club." In a single month after its formation itnumbered 1833 effective members and 30,565 corresponding members.

  One condition was imposed as a _sine qua non_ upon every candidate foradmission into the association, and that was the condition of havingdesigned, or (more or less) perfected a cannon; or, in default of acannon, at least a firearm of some description. It may, however, bementioned that mere inventions of revolvers, five-shooting carbines,and similar small arms, met with but little consideration. Artilleristsalways commanded the chief place of favour.

  The estimation in which these gentlemen were held, according to oneof the most scientific exponents of the Gun Club, was "proportional tothe masses of their guns, and in the direct ratio of the square of thedistances attained by their projectiles."

  The Gun Club once founded, it is easy to conceive the result of theinventive genius of the Americans. Their military weapons attained colossalproportions, and their projectiles, exceeding the prescribed limits,unfortunately occasionally cut in two some unoffending pedestrians.These inventions, in fact, left far in the rear the timid instruments ofEuropean artillery.

  It is but fair to add that these Yankees, brave as they have ever provedthemselves to be, did not confine themselves to theories and formulae,but that they paid heavily, in _propria persona,_ for their inventions.Amongst them were to be counted officers of all ranks, from lieutenantsto generals; military men of every age, from those who were just makingtheir _debut_ in the profession of arms up to those who had grown old onthe gun-carriage. Many had found their rest on the field of battle whosenames figured in the "Book of Honour" of the Gun Club; and of those whomade good their return the greater proportion bore the marks of theirindisputable valour. Crutches, wooden legs, artificial arms, steel hooks,caoutchouc jaws, silver craniums, platinum noses, were all to be found inthe collection; and it was calculated by the great statistician Pitcairnthat throughout the Gun Club there was not quite one arm between fourpersons and exactly two legs between six.

  Nevertheless, these valiant artillerists took no particular account ofthese little facts, and felt justly proud when the despatches of a battlereturned the number of victims at tenfold the quantity of the projectilesexpended.

  One day, however--sad and melancholy day!--peace was signed betweenthe survivors of the war; the thunder of the guns gradually ceased,the mortars were silent, the howitzers were muzzled for an indefiniteperiod, the cannon, with muzzles depressed, were returned into thearsenal, the shot were repiled, all bloody reminiscences were effaced;the cotton-plants grew luxuriantly in the well-manured fields, allmourning garments were laid aside, together with grief; and the Gun Clubwas relegated to profound inactivity.

  Some few of the more advanced and inveterate theorists set themselvesagain to work upon calculations regarding the laws of projectiles. Theyreverted invariably to gigantic shells and howitzers of unparalleledcalibre. Still, in default of practical experience what was the valueof mere theories? Consequently, the club-rooms became deserted, theservants dozed in the antechambers, the newspapers grew mouldy on thetables, sounds of snoring came from dark corners, and the members of theGun Club, erstwhile so noisy in their seances, were reduced to silenceby this disastrous peace and gave themselves up wholly to dreams of aPlatonic kind of artillery.

  "This is horrible!" said Tom Hunter one evening, while rapidly carbonizinghis wooden legs in the fireplace of the smoking-room; "nothing to do!nothing to look forward to! what a loathsome existence! When again shallthe guns arouse us in the morning with their delightful reports?"

  "Those days are gone by," said jolly Bilsby, trying to extend his missingarms. "It was delightful once upon a time! One invented a gun, and hardlywas it cast, when one hastened to try it in the face of the enemy! Thenone returned to camp with a word of encouragement from Sherman or afriendly shake of the hand from M'Clellan. But now the generals are goneback to their counters; and in place of projectiles, they despatch balesof cotton. By Jove, the future of gunnery in America is lost!"

  "Ay! and no war in prospect!" continued the famous James T. Maston,scratching with his steel hook his gutta-percha cranium. "Not a cloud inthe horizon! and that too at such a critical period in the progress ofthe science of artillery! Yes, gentlemen! I who address you have myselfthis very morning perfected a model (plan, section, elevation, &c.) ofa mortar destined to change all the conditions of warfare!"

  "No! is it possible?" replied Tom Hunter, his thoughts revertinginvoluntarily to a former invention of the Hon. J. T. Maston, by which,at its first trial, he had succeeded in killing three hundred andthirty-seven people.

  Illustration: THE ARTILLERY MEN OF THE GUN CLUB.

  "Fact!" replied he. "Still, what is the use of so many studies workedout, so many difficulties vanquished? It's mere waste of time! The NewWorld seems to have made up its mind to live in peace; and our bellicose_Tribune_ predicts some approaching catastrophes arising out of thisscandalous increase of population."

  "Nevertheless," replied Colonel Blomsberry, "they are always strugglingin Europe to maintain the principle of nationalities."

  "Well?"

  "Well, there might be some field for enterprise down there; and if theywould accept our services--"

  "What are you dreaming of?" screamed Bilsby; "work at gunnery for thebenefit of foreigners?"

  "That would be better than doing nothing here," returned the colonel.

  "Quite so," said J. T. Maston; "but still we need not dream of thatexpedient."

  "And why not?" demanded the colonel.

  "Because their ideas of progress in the Old World are contrary to ourAmerican habits of thought. Those fellows believe that one can't becomea general without having served first as an ensign; which is as much asto say that one can't point a gun without having first cast it oneself!"

  "Ridiculous!" replied Tom Hunter, whittling with his bowie-knife the armsof his easy-chair; "but if that be the case there, all that is left forus is to plant tobacco and distil whale-oil."

  "What!" roared J. T. Maston, "shall we not employ these remainingy
ears of our life in perfecting fire-arms? Shall there never be a freshopportunity of trying the ranges of projectiles? Shall the air never againbe lighted with the glare of our guns? No international difficulty everarise to enable us to declare war against some transatlantic power? Shallnot the French sink one of our steamers, or the English, in defiance ofthe rights of nations, hang a few of our countrymen?"

  "No such luck," replied Colonel Blomsberry; "nothing of the kind is likelyto happen; and even if it did, we should not profit by it. Americansusceptibility is fast declining, and we are all going to the dogs."

  "It is too true," replied J. T. Maston, with fresh violence; "there area thousand grounds for fighting, and yet we don't fight. We save up ourarms and legs for the benefit of nations who don't know what to do withthem! But stop--without going out of one's way to find a cause forwar--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 turnbelong 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 nextelection!"

  "Nor on ours," replied unanimously all the bellicose invalids.

  "Meanwhile," replied J. T. M., "allow me to say that, if I cannot get anopportunity to try my new mortars on a real field of battle, I shall saygood-bye to the members of the Gun Club, and go and bury myself in theprairies of Arkansas!"

  "In that case we will accompany you," cried the others.

  Matters were in this unfortunate condition, and the club was threatenedwith approaching dissolution, when an unexpected circumstance occurredto prevent so deplorable a catastrophe.

  On the morrow after this conversation every member of the associationreceived 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."