THE PEAK OF APTAURA
They spent five days in the island before setting out for Aptaura.
During this time Melanitis and Radcliffe explored in all directions;
they roamed the woods and the glens, they sat by the waterfalls,
they paid friendly visits to the chief people of the town, enjoying
themselves to the utmost. It was as though they had made an unwritten
compact that this was to be a holiday interlude. The princess gave him
a fund of information about the Atalantan people, and taught him many
things it was most necessary to know. Carmichael enjoyed society in his
own way, and certainly won the hearts of the learned.
Just before they started, an airship arrived from the mainland flying
the red pennant of the palace. It bore several letters, only one of
which need detain us. There was a sealed despatch from Mayana, which
evidently caused Mexitli a measure of care, for she knitted her brows
as she read it. But she did not divulge the contents, beyond assuring
her guests that they had no cause for fear.
There was a letter from Carysfort merely telling of his literary work,
but making scantiest allusion to anything else; the Professor read it
to the others and then put it in his pocket. But there was a letter
from Tom which sent the whole party into such convulsions of laughter
that it is to be wondered that they were not all of them ill. The
example of the others proved contagious--to Melanitis, at least, for
she could hardly retain her seat without holding on to it. The letter,
however, was so hilariously engrossing that the terrestrials scarce
noticed the princess’s condition.
It was to Carmichael, and is worth quoting entire.
“DEAR MR. PROFESSOR,
“Pardon the liberty I am taking, but I thought you would like to
know how we are all doing. First, I’ll just say that I like old King
Malchon better and better. He is the dearest old genelman that ever I
see. He took me for a walk round the terraces, leaning on my arm, and
I never had no King, dook, nor baron to show me such honour yet.
“I sang him one of the hymns Mr. Radcliffe likes which he used to
have at his church.
“Mrs. Cleophon (I forget her Christian name) does the bigger half of
his business for him, and a real lady she is.
“Miss Melanitis is sure to look after dear Mr. Radcliffe, and to see
that he doesn’t walk the dark side of the south pole without his
greatcoat. Would you just tell him that he said he was going to learn
Miss Mexitli the art of playing chess? if he do, as soon as she has
learned the moves, he must be sure to let her win some of the games.
“I don’t go in for politics, but it’s myself that thinks there will
be a job on with them priests, for I fancy, and Mrs. Cleophon thinks
so too, that that old rascal Lydon is after some mischief. But if the
Lord will, the queens will be coming back soon, and they will finish
his bother.
“Now, about Mr. Carysfort. He is writing a big book on Venus for the
other world, and he means to give it to the Vice-Chancellor. He is
also going to write to Mr. Chamberlain, the German Emperor, and the
Prime Minister, though I think there will be a new one before we get
back.
“Hoping this will find you well, as it leaves us at present,
“I am,
“Your humble servant,
“TOM.”
Soon the heights of Melandria faded in the twilight of the low red
sun. They held on their way to the mainland, which they now perceived
to be but a narrow neck of country tapering off to a point. The other
ocean came in sight, and at last, where the land ended in a magnificent
headland, against which the waters beat with tempestuous fury, stood a
lonely house surrounded with high walls and rocky ramparts, to protect
it from the fury of the southern sea.
“These are the last Atalantans except upon Aptaura,” said Mexitli. “We
will salute them and hasten on.” This they did from a height of about
five hundred feet.
Across the straits rose the warden of the frozen pole, the giant
Aptaura, his snow-white crest gilded by the rays of the ice-bound sun,
his mighty granite mass rising sheer out of the deep. The peak seemed
utterly inaccessible to mortal enterprise, and so indeed it was till
the era of the airship.
Higher, and yet higher, they ascended, till the summit was scaled at
last, twenty miles in perpendicular height. There, protected by a
rampart of rock, nestled the Observatory, a low-roofed building with
several giant reflectors, telescope shaped, pointed towards the sky.
To the south were the frozen ice-fields, wrapped in polar darkness; the
air was piercingly keen, the stars shone out in the black sky, and,
near the horizon, behold, one bright, greenish-red star of incomparable
richness and brilliance, a small glittering moon.
“There is your world,” said Mexitli, pointing to it.
It was the earth.