THE COLUMBIAD.
Had the casting succeeded? They were reduced to mere conjecture. There
was indeed every reason to expect success, since the mould had absorbed
the entire mass of the molten metal; still some considerable time must
elapse before they could arrive at any certainty upon the matter.
The patience of the members of the Gun Club was sorely tried during this
period of time. But they could do nothing. J. T. Maston escaped roasting
by a miracle. Fifteen days after the casting an immense column of smoke
was still rising in the open sky and the ground burnt the soles of the
feet within a radius of 200 feet round the summit of Stones Hill. It was
impossible to approach nearer. All they could do was to wait with what
patience they might.
"Here we are at the 10th August," exclaimed J. T. Maston one morning,
"only four months to the 1st of December! We shall never be ready in
time!" Barbicane said nothing, but his silence covered serious irritation.
However, daily observations revealed a certain change going on in the
state of the ground. About the 15th August the vapours ejected had
sensibly diminished in intensity and thickness. Some days afterwards the
earth exhaled only a slight puff of smoke, the last breath of the monster
enclosed within its circle of stone. Little by little the belt of heat
contracted, until on the 22d August Barbicane, his colleagues, and the
engineer were enabled to set foot on the iron sheet which lay level upon
the summit of Stones Hill.
"At last!" exclaimed the President of the Gun Club, with an immense sigh
of relief.
The work was resumed the same day. They proceeded at once to extract the
interior mould, for the purpose of clearing out the boring of the piece.
Pickaxes and boring irons were set to work without intermission. The
clayey and sandy soils had acquired extreme hardness under the action of
the heat; but by the aid of the machines, the rubbish on being dug out
was rapidly carted away on railway waggons; and such was the ardour of
the work, so persuasive the arguments of Barbicane's dollars, that by
the 3rd of September all traces of the mould had entirely disappeared.
Immediately the operation of boring was commenced; and by the aid of
powerful machines, a few weeks later, the inner surface of the immense
tube had been rendered perfectly cylindrical, and the bore of the piece
had acquired a thorough polish.
At length, on the 22nd of September, less than a twelvemonth after
Barbicane's original proposition, the enormous weapon, accurately bored,
and exactly vertically pointed, was ready for work. There was only the
moon now to wait for; and they were pretty sure that she would not fail
in the rendezvous.
The ecstacy of J. T. Maston knew no bounds, and he narrowly escaped a
frightful fall while staring down the tube. But for the strong hand of
Colonel Blomsberry, the worthy secretary, like a modern Erostratus, would
have found his death in the depths of the Columbiad.
The cannon was then finished; there was no possible doubt as to its
perfect completion. So, on the 6th of October, Captain Nicholl opened
an account between himself and President Barbicane, in which he debited
himself to the latter in the sum of 2000 dollars. One may believe that
the Captain's wrath was increased to its highest point, and must have
made him seriously ill. However, he had still three bets of three, four,
and five thousand dollars, respectively; and if he gained two out of
these, his position would not be very bad. But the money question did
not enter into his calculations; it was the success of his rival in
casting a cannon against which iron plates sixty feet thick would have
been ineffectual, that dealt him a terrible blow.
After the 23rd of September the enclosure of Stones Hill was thrown open
to the public; and it will be easily imagined what was the concourse of
visitors to this spot! There was an incessant flow of people to and from
Tampa Town and the place, which resembled a procession, or rather, in
fact, a pilgrimage.
It was already clear to be seen that, on the day of the experiment itself,
the aggregate of spectators would be counted by millions; for they were
already arriving from all parts of the earth upon this narrow strip of
promontory. Europe was emigrating to America.
Up to that time, however, it must be confessed, the curiosity of the
numerous comers was but scantily gratified. Most had counted upon
witnessing the spectacle of the casting, and they were treated to
nothing but smoke. This was sorry food for hungry eyes; but Barbicane
would admit no one to that operation. Then ensued grumbling, discontent,
murmurs; they blamed the President, taxed him with dictatorial conduct.
His proceedings were declared "un-American." There was very nearly a
riot round Stones Hill; but Barbicane remained inflexible. When, however,
the Columbiad was entirely finished, this state of closed doors could
no longer be maintained; besides it would have been bad taste, and even
imprudence, to affront the public feeling. Barbicane, therefore, opened
the enclosure to all comers; but, true to his practical disposition, he
determined to coin money out of the public curiosity.
It was something, indeed, to be enabled to contemplate this immense
Columbiad; but to descend into its depths, this seemed to the Americans
the _ne plus ultra_ of earthly felicity. Consequently, there was not
one curious spectator who was not willing to give himself the treat of
visiting the interior of this metallic abyss. Baskets suspended from
steam-cranes permitted them to satisfy their curiosity. There was a
perfect mania. Women, children, old men, all made it a point of duty to
penetrate the mysteries of the colossal gun. The fare for the descent was
fixed at five dollars per head; and despite this high charge, during the
two months which preceded the experiment, the influx of visitors enabled
the Gun Club to pocket nearly 500,000 dollars!
Illustration: TAMPA TOWN AFTER THE UNDERTAKING.
It is needless to say that the first visitors of the Columbiad were the
members of the Gun Club. This privilege was justly reserved for that
illustrious body. The ceremony took place on the 25th September. A basket
of honour took down the President, J. T. Maston, Major Elphinstone,
General Morgan, Colonel Blomsberry, and other members of the club, to
the number of ten in all. How hot it was at the bottom of that long tube
of metal! They were half suffocated. But what delight! What ecstasy! A
table had been laid with six covers on the massive stone which formed
the bottom of the Columbiad, and lighted by a jet of electric light
resembling that of day itself. Numerous exquisite dishes, which seemed
to descend from heaven, were placed successively before the guests, and
the richest wines of France flowed in profusion during this splendid
repast, served nine hundred feet beneath the surface of the earth!
The festival was animated, not to say somewhat noisy. Toasts flew
backwards and forwards. They drank to the earth and to her satellite, to
the Gun Club, the Union, the moon, Diana, Phœbe, Selene, the "peaceful
courier of the night"! All the hurrahs, carried upwards upon the sonorous
waves of the immense acoustic tube, arrived with the sound of thunder
at its mouth; and the multitude ranged round Stones Hill heartily united
their shouts with those of the ten revellers hidden from view at the
bottom of the gigantic Columbiad.
J. T. Maston was no longer master of himself. Whether he shouted or
gesticulated, ate or drank most, would be a difficult matter to determine.
At all events, he would not have given his place up for an empire, "not
even if the cannon—loaded, primed, and fired at that very moment—were
to blow him in pieces into the planetary world."
Illustration: THE BANQUET IN THE COLUMBIAD.