AGAIN THE MOON.
Days passed and brought no news of Mona. I did all in my power to appear
cheerful, but often made a dismal failure of it. No one could help me,
and Thorwald, though sympathetic like all the rest, would allow me no
false hopes. He said a systematic and thorough search had been made,
both on land and water, without result, and he could see no prospect
of any success in the future. But, while I could see that Thorwald was
about ready to abandon in despair the attempt to find Mona, I would not
give up hope. I did not know at the time what excellent reasons Thorwald
had for his feeling, for I did not realize how very complete the search
had been, but my own faith was not founded on reason. I simply refused
to believe that I should never see again the object of such deep love.
While affairs were in this condition, Thorwald said to us one morning:
“I wonder you have not been more anxious to see one of our flying
machines. Our system of aerial navigation is one of the most enjoyable
of our material blessings, and I shall take great pleasure in giving you
a taste of it.”
“I think one reason,” I answered, “why we have not asked about it is
because we have had so many other interesting things to see, and then
you know we had our share of traveling in the air in coming to you.
However, we shall be delighted to see your method at any time when you
are pleased to exhibit it.”
“Very well,” said Thorwald; “then we will get up an expedition at once.
Zenith and Avis will accompany us, I think; and as we shall probably
fall in with Foedric, we will send for Antonia to go also.”
“That will make a pleasant party,” I said.
We found all were glad to go and witness our introduction to a modern
air ship, and we were soon off.
Not far from the house we found a luxurious carriage of just the right
size for us all. We did not see another like it anywhere about, and I
was moved to ask:
“How does it happen, Thorwald, that exactly the kind of conveyance you
want is ready without any prearrangement? This sort of carriage does not
appear to be very plentiful.”
“Things generally ‘happen,’ as you call it, for our convenience,” he
said. “Is it not so with you to some extent? If all the people wanted to
travel in your cars on the same day and at the same hour, they could not
easily be accommodated, but some dispensation divides them up so that
there are, I presume, about the same number who find it necessary or
convenient to travel each day. This subject has been studied by us, and
we believe that even these details of our lives are all arranged by him
to whom nothing is small, nothing great.”
A pleasant ride of a few miles brought us to a seaport, and to a
scene of much activity. It seemed to be a great distributing point, as
numerous loads of many kinds of goods were moving about, and immense
stores of fruit and vegetables were to be seen. These products of the
soil were of bewildering variety and surpassing richness, showing us
that agriculture, providing most of the food of the people, must be a
favorite science with many, and one that brought rich rewards. It was
pleasing to see everything going on in such a quiet, orderly manner, and
so many people at work without friction and with no look of fret, hurry,
or fatigue. Everyone seemed to be enjoying his work, if that could be
called work which looked so much like pleasure.
After riding through several busy streets we drew near an imposing
structure, which Thorwald told us was the front of the aerial station.
At the same time he directed our attention to the sky, and we saw a
number of air ships sailing leisurely along, some just starting out
and others apparently returning home. The doctor and I had our interest
quickened by this sight and were anxious for a closer view. As the fact
of riding in the air was not new to us, we had not been much excited by
the prospect of seeing how the Martians did it. But these ships were
so different from anything we had ever seen before that we began to
anticipate a great deal from our excursion after all.
Going through the building, we came into an immense court or open space,
large enough, one would suppose, for the fleets of a nation. Here were
a great number of flying machines of various sizes, all gayly decorated
with pleasing colors, and many of them, apparently, waiting for
passengers. Thorwald selected one of medium size, and as we approached,
whom should we find in charge but our young friend Foedric? In answer to
Thorwald’s question, he told us that both he and his vessel were at our
service, and we proceeded to mount to our seats in the car.
Foedric pulled a small lever, and we began to rise. He then expressed
his pleasure to the doctor and me that he had the opportunity of making
our further acquaintance.
“We are taking them for the ride,” said Thorwald, “and you may choose
any course and go to any height you please.”
We thanked Foedric for his pleasant words, and then he showed us about
the car and explained its conveniences. It was quite large, with a
number of apartments and accommodations sufficient for a dozen people
both day and night. Besides the ordinary furnishings for comfortable
living, we saw air-condensing machines for use in lofty flights, a
good-sized telescope, instruments for measuring speed and height, and
other scientific apparatus of much of which we were obliged to ask the
use.
Although Foedric was so much younger than Thorwald, he was taller and
larger every way--a magnificent specimen of a magnificent race. In
speaking to Thorwald he showed a proper respect for his greater age, and
he bore himself becomingly in the presence of Zenith; but there was not
the slightest sign of subserviency, nor anything to show that, though
engaged in what might be called a lowly occupation, he was not on terms
of perfect equality and even friendship with them. This easy poise of
manner would not have surprised us had we known what Thorwald soon told
us, and from this experience we learned never to judge a Martian by the
work he happened to be doing.
“Foedric is a scholar,” said Thorwald, “and is engaged just now in
writing a treatise on the color of sounds.”
This announcement was a double surprise, for we would have said, if he
was writing anything, that it must be something about ballooning--the
application of electricity to flying machinery, perhaps. But Thorwald
further enlightened us, the talk going on in Foedric’s presence:
“He was attracted to that subject by the fact that he possesses in a
striking degree the faculty of hearing color, which belongs only to
refined minds. We all have this power to some extent, but in this, as
in so many other things, there are great differences among us. As an
example of this power, if you will excuse me, Doctor, I will tell you
that your voice is dark blue, while yours,” he continued, turning to me,
“is yellow. Foedric, a true son of Mars, speaks red, and as for Zenith,
her soft, pink voice has always been to me one of her principal charms,
and though it would be folly to deny that she has changed some in
appearance (not for the worse, however) since I first knew her, her
voice has retained the same tone or color. I will ask Foedric if I am
correct in my impressions.”
“Quite correct,” answered Foedric. “When I first heard your friend, the
doctor, speak I thought his voice was brown, but it has changed since
to such an extent that I think as you do--that the prevailing tinge is
a deep blue. Such cases are not unknown among us, but they are not
frequent.”
“If the color of my voice sympathizes with my thoughts,” said the
doctor, “I do not wonder that your quick ears have noticed a change.”
“I ought to say,” resumed Foedric, “that I have to rely on my friends to
tell me the shade of my own voice, for to my ears it is as colorless as
a piece of the clearest glass, and this is the common experience.”
“I would like to ask about the color of Antonia’s voice,” I said, “and
Avis’s, too.”
“Antonia’s is a beautiful green,” answered Foedric, looking with a
smile at the fair one, “and Avis, both in song and speech, has your
color--yellow.”
“Foedric,” said Thorwald, “tell our friends what you and others are
trying to discover in connection with the air vibrations. It may be
suggestive to them.”
“I can claim but little part in the work,” Foedric responded, “but it
is this. Our ears report to our brain the air waves until they reach
a frequency of forty thousand in a second, and we call the sensation
sound. When the vibrations of the ether are more rapid than that, we
have no sense with which to receive the impression until they reach the
great number of four hundred million millions in a second. Then they
affect the eye and produce red light, and as they increase still more
the color becomes orange, then yellow, green, blue, and violet. Perhaps
your limitations are not the same as ours, but our scientists are trying
to discover some means by which we can arrest and make use of a small
part at least of those waves which strike our bodies at a frequency
between forty thousand and four hundred million millions. It is still an
unsolved problem, this search for another sense, and we are now
looking forward for help in the task to the studies of the civilization
represented in our comet.”
All this time we were rising slowly but hardly realizing it, being
filled with that peculiar sensation, incident to balloon journeys, by
which we could almost believe we were remaining about in the same place
and the solid ground was falling away from us.
Now Foedric increased our speed and showed us how easily he could
sail in any direction and at any rate he pleased, explaining to us the
mechanism by which we were upheld and propelled, and also the way
in which the current of electricity was generated and applied. They
certainly had a wonderful method of producing great power with little
weight, and the doctor eagerly drank in the information in regard to it,
as if for future use.
It was charming. The atmosphere was as clear as crystal, the air balmy
and the motion delightful, and if the Martians, with their purer
nature and keener senses, enjoyed the trip that morning more than we
earth-dwellers did, then their capacity for enjoyment must have been
beyond ours. The ship seemed to be under perfect control; there was
nothing uncertain in her movements, and as we went sailing along without
fear of harm, in the very poetry of motion, the doctor and I realized
over and over again that we had much to learn in this method of
navigation.
Now we were riding at a good height, and our vision could take in a wide
expanse of land and water. The peculiarity of the surface of Mars was
noticeable, the seas being long, narrow inlets, as it were, running
through or between winding strings of land, a decided contrast to the
great oceans and noble continents of our mother earth. It seemed to
me that this was much to the advantage of the earth, and so I was bold
enough to say:
“When I used to look at a map of Mars, Thorwald, I remember thinking
that the planet was not a handsome one, whatever might be the character
of its inhabitants. But I have no doubt you have an answer for me which
will give some good reason for the peculiar structure of the surface of
Mars and make me ashamed of my sentimental preference for the earth.”
“I certainly hope you will hear nothing while you are with us to make
you ashamed of your own planet,” said Thorwald; “but I must tell you the
truth in regard to Mars. How do you like our climate, as far as you have
experienced it?”
“We have enjoyed it exceedingly,” I answered, “and I have been on the
point of remarking several times that we were fortunate in making our
visit here at so pleasant a season of the year.”
“But,” said Thorwald, “you could not have come in a worse season, for
we have none worse than this. The temperature varies enough to give
variety, but not enough in either direction to cause discomfort. Each
season is quite distinctive from the others, but each has its peculiar
charm and all are equally enjoyable. Our telescopes tell us it is not
so on the earth, for we can see the winter snow creep well down on its
surface and remain there several months, then go away and come on the
other hemisphere. We know this means great changes of climate, and as
the inclination of the axis of the earth to the plane of its orbit is
about the same as that of the axis of Mars, we believe we would have
equally violent changes were it not for the fortunate distribution of
land and water on our planet. All those narrow seas which disfigure our
surface in your eyes, are in reality vast rivers, which are constantly
bearing the water from one part of the globe to another. The warm water
of the equatorial regions is carried to the cold countries north and
south, and the water thus displaced cools in its turn the lands more
directly under the sun. Thus the temperature of all parts is nearly
equalized. In the summer in this latitude the water that washes our
shores is cool and in the winter it is warm, and the strips of land
are so narrow that all places feel the influence, making the climate
delightful everywhere. At each pole there is a spot of perpetual snow,
but these are comparatively small, and the fields are cultivated right
up to the foot of the snow hills.”
This recital excited the doctor’s interest amazingly, and as Thorwald
closed he said:
“I rather think my companion did not expect so complete an answer, but
I am glad his words suggested to you this statement, Thorwald. It is
of great value to us in our study of your remarkable planet. How
wonderfully God has adapted everything to your comfort and well-being!”
Thorwald smiled in appreciation of the doctor’s final words, but before
he had time to speak we were a little startled by the red voice of
Foedric, calling out:
“The moon! Look!”
It was nothing new for any of us now to look at our old moon. We had
seen it almost every day, had talked much about it, and thought the
novelty of its companionship to Mars about worn off. But our present
high position and the clear, thin atmosphere gave it quite a changed
appearance, as it was slowly coming into view above the horizon. We
watched it in silence for a while and saw it mount the eastern sky, and
I think all of us except Foedric had the same thought, that it appeared
to be much nearer than usual. Foedric had seen it before from the same
height, and knew when he called our attention to it that we were going
to be surprised.
As the moon rose still higher it appeared to be coming toward us,
instead of aiming at a point far over our heads, and our next sensation
was caused by Zenith, who mildly exclaimed:
“It cannot be more than a few miles away. Why not go and make it a
visit?”
To her surprise, if people of such high endowments ever are surprised,
Thorwald asked quickly:
“Are you willing to try it if the rest of us are?”
“Certainly,” she replied.
“Foedric,” said Thorwald, “what do you say to flying out to the moon and
attempting an invasion of it?”
“I say,” answered Foedric, “that I am ready. We have provisions
enough for several days, and I believe the capacity of our battery is
sufficient for the trip.” Thorwald learned from Avis and Antonia that
they would not object to the trial, and then said:
“Well, we have a good majority, but must not think of deciding on so
important a step unless the feeling is unanimous. Let us hear from our
friends here, who have had some experience with the moon.”
The doctor said pleasantly that he should like nothing better than the
proposed experiment, and, as I was the last, I remarked that I could
not spoil such an interesting project by withholding my consent. But it
seemed to me all the time that the whole thing was a joke and that
it would end at once in a laugh. I thought of the cold and cheerless
surface of the moon, comparing it in my mind with the delectable world
we were leaving, and had no relish for the proposed trip. Something of
my feeling must have been reflected in my countenance, for Zenith, who
had been looking at me, said in a sympathetic tone:
“Although you gave your consent, you look as if you did not enjoy the
prospect of another visit to the moon.”
Thorwald heard this remark, and after a glance at me he said:
“You are right, Zenith, and I think we will abandon the idea at once.
We started out today for the purpose of entertaining the doctor and his
friend, and it would not become us to treat them to more of a ride than
they desire.”
“You are both excellent mind readers,” I responded. “And if I were as
honest as you Martians are, I suppose I should have said in the first
place that I preferred not to make such an extended journey. I suspect
the doctor is willing to go ahead, as he is too sensible to be affected
by such a feeling as now moves me. My thoughts turn back to our
departure from the earth in a balloon, and I cannot rid my mind of
the dreadful fear that perhaps we are now unconsciously bidding a long
farewell to Mars.”
Thorwald thanked me for my frankness and said they should certainly
respect my sentiment. He then stepped to Foedric’s side to speak to him
in regard to a change of course. At that moment I looked at the moon,
which had been rapidly approaching us. What was it that suddenly gave it
a deeper interest to me? A flash of intelligence suffused my being
like an electric shock, frilling my imagination with the most beautiful
vision and making the moon appear to me now as the one desirable place
in all the universe.
“Thorwald,” I exclaimed, “keep right on! I want to go now. I have
changed my mind.”
“Yes,” he responded, looking at me with a pleased smile, “and I see you
have changed your face, too. You look like quite another man. Why this
sudden transition?”
“Don’t you know? Mona is there.”
“Where?”
“In the moon, of course.”
“How do you know that? You seem to be pretty confident.”
“Why, she must be there. You couldn’t find her on land or water, and you
know you have no accidents in Mars, so she could not have come to any
harm there. I know we shall find her in the moon. She must have been
left behind in some way when the doctor and I were thrown off, and
now she is no doubt expecting us to come back to her. Oh, let us make
haste.”
“Well,” answered Thorwald, “we were only waiting your consent, and we
can now keep on as we are going and try to reach the moon. But I must
give you a friendly warning not to let your hope get the better of your
judgment in regard to finding your friend.”
With this Thorwald and Foedric consulted a moment, and at once our speed
increased till we were flying at a fearful rate, but none too fast for
me. I knew now why I had been so reluctant to go so far away from
Mars. It was because I thought Mona was there; but now, with my present
opinion, the moon had suddenly changed its character and become to my
imagination a bright and beautiful world. To such a degree does love
transform the most unlovely objects.
I was struck with the easy way in which Zenith had accepted the result
of what I thought her sportive suggestion, and, not being able to fathom
her thoughts, I said to her:
“When we left home, this morning, you did not expect to be gone over
night. Have you no anxiety about the house and the children?”
“Oh, no,” she replied; “the house will not run away, nor the children
either. We do not often stay away from them over night, but we do not
hesitate to do so when we have a good reason for it. Our children know
us well enough to be sure we have such a reason now, and this faith
in us and in our safe return will permit us to stay away as long as we
please. As for our feelings, we have no such thing as anxiety, for all
our experience teaches us that no harm of any kind can come to our loved
ones. I suppose in such circumstances on the earth both the mother and
the children would have a feeling of great fear, caused by the fact that
there would be in reality some danger of harm, but here we have never
heard of such a thing, and even the word ‘danger’ has little meaning in
it to us, because all we know about it comes from our reading.” The moon
was now well above us, and we were making for a point in the western
sky where Foedric hoped to intercept it. We were already so far from
the planet that the air was getting weak, so we all put on breathing
machines. These were of such perfect construction that our lungs had
free play, nor were they cumbersome enough to interfere much with our
movements.
By this time the moon had grown so vastly, owing to our swift traveling,
that our friends began to be amazed at its enormous proportions. The
jagged, mountainous surface was plainly visible, a most uninviting place
for people accustomed to the serene beauty and felicity of the planet
Mars.
“Remember,” said the doctor, “that you are not to judge the earth by
what you see of her old satellite.”
“Well,” answered Thorwald, “we mean to see what we can of the satellite.
Foedric, let us point the glass at it and be selecting a place to land.”
But Foedric was obliged to let Thorwald handle the glass alone, for his
attention was needed just now to manage our craft. He had discovered
that shutting off the power did not diminish the speed, and for a moment
he was puzzled, quite a new sensation for a Martian of that era. But he
soon studied out the difficulty and made the following announcement:
“I find this huge mass that we are approaching is pulling us toward its
surface, so that we are using but little power. I expect in a short time
we can merely fall to its surface.”
This suggested to Thorwald the very trouble that the doctor and I had
encountered with our balloon, and he asked Foedric if we could get away
again after we had dropped to the moon.
“Yes,” Foedric answered, “I am sure we have power enough here to
overcome the attraction and get away whenever we please.”
Thorwald, who had been intently studying the surface through the
telescope, now spoke out with some excitement in his voice:
“Doctor, I begin to think you did not make a thorough investigation of
the moon’s condition. Did you not report it practically uninhabited?”
“Our means of investigation were rather limited,” replied the doctor,
“but we surely found no inhabitants except poor Mona, whom, I am
confident, we shall never see again. Why do you ask? Are there any
signs of life visible? I have no doubt you Martians can see more at this
distance than we could when standing on the globe itself.”
“Well,” Thorwald answered, “either you reached wrong conclusions or else
a race has grown up there pretty rapidly. I cannot make out anything
definite yet, but there is smoke, I am sure, and I can see some object
moving about.”
I had great difficulty in restraining my feelings as Thorwald uttered
these words, but neither he nor the doctor seemed to realize what
significance they had for me. Both had apparently given up all
expectation of finding Mona anywhere, and these evidences of life, so
plain to me, were therefore inexplicable to them. I controlled myself
and begged Thorwald to let me look through the glass. He adjusted it
for me, but before I could get a satisfactory view our swift motion made
such a change in the appearance of the surface that Thorwald could not
find the same spot again.
As no one said a word to indicate any thought of connecting Mona with
the movements that Thorwald had observed, I determined that I would keep
quiet also and await the result of our landing. I let my thoughts fly to
my love, who, without doubt, had seen the approach of our air ship and
was expecting our speedy arrival. What an addition she would make to our
party, and how these Martians would study her history as she recounted
it in that exquisite voice. But I should claim a large share of her time
for myself. How glad I was to think that Foedric had so openly shown his
affection for Antonia. Surely I need not harbor the jealous feeling that
would arise, for so true a son of Mars could not fall to the level of
some earthly men, and be unfaithful to so noble a girl as Antonia. It
was beyond all reason, and yet my love for Mona, whom I thought we were
soon to find, was such that I undesignedly but still unmistakably made
up my mind to keep a close watch on handsome Foedric.