A few small objects lying around loose had been furiously hurled against the ceiling, but the others appeared not to have suffered the slightest injury.

The straps that fastened them up were unfrayed, and the fixtures that held them down were uncracked.
The partitions beneath the disc having been ruptured, and the water having escaped, the false floor had been dashed with tremendous violence against the bottom of the Projectile, and on this disc at this moment three human bodies could be seen lying perfectly still and motionless.
Were they three corpses?
Had the Projectile suddenly become a great metallic coffin bearing its ghastly contents through the air with the rapidity of a lightning flash?
In a very few minutes after the shock, one of the bodies stirred a little, the arms moved, the eyes opened, the head rose and tried to look around; finally, with some difficulty, the body managed to get on its knees.

It was the Frenchman! He held his head tightly squeezed between his hands for some time as if to keep it from splitting.

Then he felt himself rapidly all over, cleared his throat with a vigorous "hem!" listened to the sound critically for an instant, and then said to himself in a relieved tone, but in his native tongue: "One man all right! Call the roll for the others!" He tried to rise, but the effort was too great for his strength.

He fell back again, his brain swimming, his eyes bursting, his head splitting.
His state very much resembled that of a young man waking up in the morning after his first tremendous "spree." "Br--rr!" he muttered to himself, still talking French; "this reminds me of one of my wild nights long ago in the _Quartier Latin_, only decidedly more so!" Lying quietly on his back for a while, he could soon feel that the circulation of his blood, so suddenly and violently arrested by the terrific shock, was gradually recovering its regular flow; his heart grew more normal in its action; his head became clearer, and the pain less distracting.
"Time to call that roll," he at last exclaimed in a voice with some pretensions to firmness; "Barbican! MacNicholl!" He listens anxiously for a reply.