A TELEGRAPHIC DISPATCH
The great works undertaken by the Gun Club had now virtually come to an
end; and two months still remained before the day for the discharge of
the shot to the moon. To the general impatience these two months
appeared as long as years! Hitherto the smallest details of the
operation had been daily chronicled by the journals, which the public
devoured with eager eyes.
Just at this moment a circumstance, the most unexpected, the most
extraordinary and incredible, occurred to rouse afresh their panting
spirits, and to throw every mind into a state of the most violent
excitement.
One day, the 30th of September, at 3:47 P.M., a telegram, transmitted
by cable from Valentia (Ireland) to Newfoundland and the American
Mainland, arrived at the address of President Barbicane.
The president tore open the envelope, read the dispatch, and, despite
his remarkable powers of self-control, his lips turned pale and his
eyes grew dim, on reading the twenty words of this telegram.
Here is the text of the dispatch, which figures now in the archives of
the Gun Club:
FRANCE, PARIS,
30 September, 4 A.M.
Barbicane, Tampa Town, Florida, United States.
Substitute for your spherical shell a cylindro-conical projectile.
I shall go inside. Shall arrive by steamer Atlanta.
MICHEL ARDAN.