"The atmosphere," he answered; "it never rains, I am sure, and I am
equally convinced that there are comparatively no changes in the
climate. The atmospheric conditions, which with us cause rust,
disintegration, and decay, are here neutralized, or altered, by an
absorption of electricity, pertaining only to the interior."
"But does the population not increase, requiring more houses to keep
them?" I inquired.
"Probably not as it does with us; but even in our own world there are
large regions where the death rate keeps pace with the births; and the
tendency is undoubtedly in that direction. When population ceases to
increase, which I believe is the case here, building will stop. Where
the term of man's natural life has been greatly prolonged, there is less
concentration of effort. The inner surface of the earth was undoubtedly
peopled millions of years before the outer, and we are barely beginning
to approximate conditions that have existed here for untold ages. After
all, it is the swing of the pendulum, and the next move will be a vast
exodus for the interior. The marvelous fertility of the soil, the
singular qualities of the atmosphere, make it possible for these people
to live without labor. I should, however, like to see their household
arrangements to gain a better knowledge of their lives. One thing I am
convinced of: it is that man's highest physical development, the acme of
his material civilization, is only reached under adverse terrestrial
conditions. Where nature coddles him he doesn't work, because he
doesn't have to, and while he thus fails in some of the results that a
harsher world would encourage, he gains in the poetical and spiritual
side of his nature because of the time afforded for reflection."
"And yet have we not witnessed the grandest monuments to a material
civilization ever dreamed of, in the strange city behind us?" I asked.
"True," said Torrence; "but I am firmly convinced that that city is
millions of years old, and that we have not yet seen a house which has
not existed in its present form and position for untold ages of time.
With us a city flashes up in a moment of energy. Here the energy is
applied directly to the result--pleasure--as life is assured, while the
city is the growth of ages. Houses are not built here, neither do they
rot!"
We were flying over a pastoral country without roads or fences, but
where temples peeped from flowering trees, and houses, red and golden,
stood by sheets of limpid water. Many of these were small, and looked
as if they had been shored above the earth by magic.
* * * * *
We crossed lakes, seas, continents, and mountain ranges. We caught the
occasional note of a distant trumpet, indicating that the inhabitant of
some isolated had seen us. At intervals the glimpse of a village would
enliven the solitude, and herds of the same diminutive sheep would
scamper across the plain.
* * * * *
But we could not expect that beauty and fertility would reign supreme
throughout an entire world, and there was a time when, looking down from
our lofty perch, we became aware that the trees had disappeared from our
range of vision, and that the grass was tussocky and stunted. The
change, to be sure, had been gradual, but with it had come the departure
of the human residence, and of all animals, neither was there any water.
It was clear enough that we were hovering upon the borders of a barren
land, perhaps, even a desert. We looked to our water supply, and
concluded there was enough to carry us over any ordinarily arid region,
especially at the rapid rate at which we were traveling, and so settled
ourselves down on deck to our cigars and fieldglasses.
* * * * *
We had been chatting along quite pleasantly, constantly scanning the
horizon, when we became aware that the air was perceptibly warmer, and
at the same time saw that even our scrubby patches of grass had been
entirely supplanted by the sand, which lay thick and red beneath, with a
peculiar luster. At long intervals there were rocks of the same color,
indistinguishable, except from their elevation, and in their crevices
grew a coarse, thorny plant, nearly as red as the rock itself. Dropping
earthward, we found these plants greasy and bad smelling.
At the same time we discovered that the ground was unpleasantly warm,
and that the sand crawled, covering our footsteps as soon as made. We
wanted to take some samples of this cactus-like leaf, but feared it
might be poisonous and so let it alone. Gradually even this loathsome
weed disappeared, and only the sand remained. It was clear that we had
entered upon a desert, where nothing grew, and where nothing lived.
True, there was no sun, but notwithstanding this, the air was hot and
sultry. We were unable to account for this change in the temperature,
and the heavy incinerated atmosphere, but the rapidity of our flight
created a draught, which kept us fairly comfortable.
The smoke from our cigars trailed rapidly astern, and then sank to the
ground in a condensed form as if weight laden. We watched it with
interest, puzzling over the cause, which Torrence thought might be some
peculiar quality in the air, coupled to the strong draught of the
vessel. Dropping to a lower level, and going astern, we were amazed to
see a pale-blue, thread-like line marking our course in a path over the
ground. It seemed incredible, but it was nothing more or less than a
smoke path, formed and fed by our cigars. Not a breath of air disturbed
its rectilinearity. It was a phenomenon neither of us could understand.
We stood watching this for a long time, observing how the smoke, as we
blew it from our mouths, would sweep earthward with the draught of the
vessel, and then immediately be drawn out into the thin, blue,
concentrated line described.
Even the last vestige of rock had now vanished, and we were speeding
over a plain of red sand, above which the heat-laden air quivered. The
temperature was steadily rising, and our Fahrenheit thermometer recorded
eighty-six degrees. Torrence and I took off our coats, and renewed our
search of the horizon in the hope of discovering hills, or any
indication that we were approaching the end of the desert, but there was
nothing but the red sand as far as the eye could reach with the aid of
our strongest glasses. We were moving at a high rate of speed, and felt
sure that a few hours would bring a change, but in this we were
disappointed.
We had penetrated more than a hundred miles into the solitudes of this
desert when an extraordinary sight presented itself. A bird of such
magnitude and terrible aspect swept across the sky that Torrence and I
trembled with horror. There is nothing in size that I can compare it
with, save the roc of the "Arabian Nights," and even that mythical bird,
although possibly larger, had neither the plumage nor frightful
countenance of this. The bird was flying diagonally across our path,
although much above it, and to the best of my belief must have measured
fifty feet from tip to tip of wing. Its feathers were of a dirty red,
and its beak was hooked and powerful. Its eyes were fiery red, set in a
circle of white, and as it looked down upon us there was a sinister
expression, almost human in its intelligence. It was flying at terrific
speed, and apparently without effort, and as it passed away we observed
an unpleasant odor, which hung upon the air for some minutes after. It
uttered no cry, but had evidently seen us, and left an impression
bordering upon the supernatural, which was not easily effaced. It was
the only living thing we had seen since entering the desert. The bird
seemed to spring into the air from nowhere, and crossed our bow with
such velocity--at an altitude of probably a couple of hundred feet--and
vanished with such marvelous speed into the distance that had we not
both seen it, I should have been inclined to ascribe it to some optical
illusion. But there was no doubt that here was a creature unknown, or
undreamed of in our own world. Could it be possible that the stories of
the roc were founded upon any obscure tradition of this strange animal?
Torrence believed that it was. He declared, moreover, that not a fairy
tale existed but was built upon the conscious, or unconscious, knowledge
of some past existing fact.
Five hours after entering the desert our thermometer registered one
hundred and four degrees, and the heat was becoming intolerable. The
deck was the coolest place, as we got all the draught of motion, and
there was no sun to shine upon us. We looked anxiously ahead for
relief, but there was nothing save the red sand and the quivering
atmosphere in view. Even the sky had a pinkish tinge, shared by the
great illuminating disk in the heavens behind us. We had indeed entered
upon a barren land, which even the dwellers of its own world renounced.
* * * * *
*XX.*
Nearly a day had passed since we first entered this great sterile,
superheated plain, and notwithstanding our speed, the end was nowhere in
sight, even at the expiration of eleven hours. The temperature had
become so oppressive that we had no appetite, and sat fanning ourselves
with wet cloths and moistening our heads and faces and wrists, in a vain
effort to keep cool. At this time the thermometer registered one
hundred and ten degrees, and was steadily rising. We had tried various
elevations, but could not perceive that it was more tolerable at a
height of five hundred than one hundred feet from the ground. In fact
it was the same everywhere, and upon every side of us--above, below,
before, behind. We had discussed the advisability of returning, but
pushed ahead with the conviction that a change for the better must soon
come. We dreaded to retrace our steps with the possibility of being
lost, and were loath to miss the strange sights that might be in store
for us in the regions of the antarctic opening. There could be no
question that the heat was subterranean, and indeed when we had last
landed the sand was so hot that we could scarcely bear our feet in it.
I was searching the horizon ahead, while Torrence was examining the sky
for electrical phenomena, when a sight met my eyes that filled me with
unspeakable horror. We were rushing upon a sea of liquid fire, which
extended in the distance as far as eye could reach, and from east to
west without apparent limit. It was an awful picture. There was no
escaping it, unless by retreat. I shouted to Torrence, who turned
immediately from the sky, to the fearful horizon ahead.
"There is nothing to be done," I cried, "but return!"
The atmosphere was quivering like a glowing oven, and from the fiery sea
to the sky above the waves of vapor rose and fell like the spirits of
the flames themselves. As we drifted on, the heat grew more intense,
and the vital principle of the atmosphere was gone. The sea was rushing
upon us with awful speed, and with each minute of advance the air became
more stifling. Torrence's hand was upon the lever, but not to slacken
speed. Was he mad? Had the fellow become insane? I asked him the
question, for although rising to a tremendous height, he had pushed the
air ship up to her highest speed, and it would be but a few minutes
before we should be launched directly over that awful hell of fire.
"Have you lost your mind?" I shouted; "what are you about?"
"Gurt, brace yourself for a strain; we can stand it!"
"Stand what?"
"Go below! Get some buckets of water and sponges. I am going to cross
that sea!"
"Stop!" I cried, grasping his arm, "are you going to kill us?"
He shook me off.
"Get the water," he said, "and be quick about it."
Still I was immovable, while the air ship seemed to leap through the air
at the rate of a mile a minute. I could scarcely breathe. The fiery
world ahead was not a mile away. Our lungs would be consumed in that
horrible incandescent vapor. No living creature could stand it. I
continued to hesitate.
"Damn you!" roared Torrence; "if you don't get the water you can stand
where you are and be burned. I would cross that sea if it were a
thousand times hotter than hell. But I tell you I do not believe it is
wide, and we shall be safely over in an hour, if you will trust me.
Don't stop to talk, for I am determined, and will drag both our
skeletons through to the bitter end, sooner than turn back now!"
I ran below as fast as possible after the water, for I saw that argument
was useless, and my fears for Torrence's sanity were also aroused.
On reaching deck the sea was beneath, and the incandescent atmosphere
around us. I saw Torrence through a yellow haze, holding fast to the
lever, and cramming his handkerchief into his mouth. I staggered toward
him with the bucket, and pressed a wet sponge upon his head; doing the
same immediately for myself. The water saturated us, and enabled us to
get our breath, which came in gasps. I plied the sponges constantly and
regularly, at the same time watching the horizon for a change, with the
deepest anxiety; but the sea was dazzling and the volatile gases which
ascended both blinding and stifling. As far as the eye could reach,
before, behind, and upon either side, great lurid flames leaped up from
the ground, and beyond the limit of their powers this deadly vapor
surrounded and penetrated every tissue of our being. At each breath,
these poisonous gases burned and scorched their way into our lungs,
shriveling our lips and throats like the fumes of sulphur. Again and
again I rushed below for water, and again staggered on deck scarcely
able to support my load. But it was not until the sixth or seventh
trip, when the hair on our heads was positively singeing, and the skin
or my brother's face looked like parchment, that I made the fearful
discovery that the water was nearly out! I was drawing upon the last
cask. What was to be done? It would be useless to talk to Torrence; he
would drive the air ship into hell before he would turn back, as he had
already said. Should I endeavor to overpower him, seize the lever
myself, and retreat, if indeed it were yet possible to do so? or should
I die in furthering his insane determination? I crawled on deck with
the last bucket of water, still undecided.
"The water is out!" I yelled through the roaring of the flames. "Do you
still persist?"
Torrence did not answer, but pointed below, and in an agony of horror I
saw what he meant. Our end was at hand; for the vessel was sinking into
the fiery mass beneath.
"It's the heat!" he said hoarsely. "It's too late to talk about
returning. The fire has damaged the vibrator. We can't keep her afloat
an hour to save our souls; and the end may be nearer ahead than behind
us!"
He then stood quietly watching our gradual descent into the pestilential
fumes with an indifference that amazed me. I should not say that he was
indifferent, but that he had every appearance of it. We sank upon the
deck, side by side, mopping ourselves with the last spongeful of water
and wondering how soon the end would come. Suddenly Torrence jumped up
and staggered to the rail.
"It is cooler!" he shouted; "I feel it. We are still high above the
fire. If we can keep afloat for ten minutes longer we are saved!"
"How do you propose to do it?" I gasped.
"Throw out the gold! Throw out the gold!" he roared,
We were unable to stand erect, but stumbled, and crawled, and staggered
into the saloon. Alas! we were too weak to lift the metal in the
original packages, but took out huge chunks from the sacks, throwing
them overboard through the windows.
"Be quick, for God's sake," called Torrence, as a great yellow flame
leaped into the air higher than the others. We were heaving out the
yellow metal as fast as possible, and bag after bag had been disposed
of, when we both became sensible of a marked change in the atmosphere.
"It is cooler!" I said, taking time to rest for a second.
Torrence implored me not to stop, so I resumed the work, and together we
had thrown out half the gold, when we sank down thoroughly exhausted.
For several minutes neither of us had strength to move, not really
caring much whether we were burned alive or not. But at last there came
a change, and we crawled to port and looked overboard. We had passed
the fiery sea, and were hovering over a sandy desert, similar to the one
already crossed.
"We are saved!" exclaimed Torrence, pressing his hand against his
parched cheek; "this desert evidently surrounds the crater."
"Strange name for an ocean of fire!" I remarked.
"Perhaps you would rather say the fountain head of the crater," he
replied; "for I believe that this sea of burning bitumen is the
foundation for one or more of the volcanoes in our own world. Does it
not seem strange that the story of a fiery hell, situated beneath the
earth, should have such a striking exemplification in fact?"
I admitted that it was extraordinary, and then crawled to the upper
deck, and looked about. The sea of fire was still visible in the
distance, and despite the fact that half our gold was gone, we were
falling rapidly earthward. The self-registering thermometer showed that
we had passed through a temperature of one hundred and thirty-five
degrees, which seemed incredible; a heat which no human creature could
have stood, were it not for the entire absence of moisture, and,
paradoxical as it may appear, for the constant application of the wet
sponge. Of course this water was cool by comparison with the air,
otherwise it would have scalded us. As it was, its constant evaporation
preserved our lives. Even now the thermometer recorded one hundred and
fifteen degrees, but this was cool and comfortable.
Much as we regretted the loss of the gold we were impelled to throw over
still more, being anxious to reach water, and a better climate before
undertaking repairs upon the vessel; and so we probably threw over the
trifle of a hundred thousand dollars in additional ore in the effort to
restore our buoyancy. Fortunately we were not obliged to part with our
jewels, wherein lay our principal wealth.
The vessel was now pushed to her full capacity, which was not more than
twenty miles an hour, and constantly decreasing, together with an
alarming tendency to drop earthward. We had just come through such
horrors that nothing could seriously disconcert us, and I felt,
moreover, every confidence in my brother's ability to repair and
readjust the vibrator as soon as we had reached a suitable place for the
work.
About half a bucket of water was left, obliging us to use it with the
greatest economy, and as the heat was still intense, our thirst
continued to be quite painful. We kept our places on deck, scanning the
horizon for indications of water or vegetation, but the burning red sand
usurped the earth in every direction. We felt, however, that there was
reason to hope for relief, on account of the increased humidity and the
gradual falling of the temperature. However slight this may have been,
it indicated that we were going in the right direction, if we could only
hold out long enough.
Steadily our speed fell off, and slowly, but steadily, we sank
earthward. At last, when an indescribable apathy was stealing over us,
we discovered a sight which filled our hearts with hope. It was a range
of sharp, precipitous mountains, silhouetted against the southern sky.
It seems proper in this connection to explain the use of a word which
might appear paradoxical in our peculiar situation. The word I refer to
is "horizon." To an outsider the expression might seem only applicable
to conditions of the external globe, but when it is borne in mind that
our range of vision rarely exceeded twenty miles, it will be seen that
the concavity of the earth was not any more apparent than the convexity
would be with us, in a similar panorama. Beyond this, the state of the
atmosphere afforded as true a horizon as any upon our exterior plane.
To be sure it was not always so clear cut as our own upon certain
occasions, the land blending with the sky, as on a cloudy day with us,
but there is nothing in that respect which is not thoroughly agreeable
and natural. No one could have guessed, from the simple appearance of
earth or sky line that he was not a dweller of the outer world. The
sights which amazed us were those already described, and perhaps of
these the most astounding was the great disk of light in the heavens.
The mountain range, which had been gradually looming up before us, now
gave us fresh courage, for surely where there are mountains there must
be water. Help was ahead, but we must reach it before the air ship
collapsed. The poor thing which had been so buoyant, so fleet and
powerful hitherto, was now a miserable cripple, requiring constant care
to keep it afloat. Every bulky or weighty object that we could possibly
spare was thrown over, but there came a time when we saw that she must
sink to the ground within a mile. Our speed had also been greatly
decreased, so that during the last hour we could have walked very nearly
as far as we had sailed. At last we settled gently upon the red,
burning sand like a feather undecided whether to fall or rise. We
scrambled over the side, and for the first time since leaving London
felt the poverty of man's power of locomotion.
"And is this to be the end of all our efforts?" I inquired despondingly,
throwing myself on the hot sand beside Torrence.
"Undoubtedly, if we lie here more than five minutes!" he answered,
wiping his face with the damp sponge.
"And what do you propose doing?" I inquired.
"We must get to those hills, dead or alive," he replied; "and we must be
about it directly."
"Do you intend walking?"
"Yes, if we can't patch up the machine."
"We are a helpless couple, as it is," I remarked, rising, for the sand
was burning me.
"It's a long way from home," observed Torrence with a sickly smile.