Fifteen Hundred Miles An Hour 7

Fifteen Hundred Miles An Hour 7

As he finished speaking, the Doctor rested his head on his hand, the

usual attitude he assumed when engaged in deep thought.

 

"But, Doctor, before we take all this for granted, at least let us

satisfy ourselves more completely that things are really so bad," said

Graham.

 

"No use, Graham, no use; I have studied these matters too long and too

carefully needlessly to alarm you," answered the Doctor.

 

"Well, Doctor," said Graham, "at least allow me to stop our motors.

Then what you say cannot possibly be refuted."

 

"I think Graham is right, Doctor," remarked Temple. "It seems to me a

very practical suggestion."

 

"You may do so if you like, but it is trouble thrown away," the Doctor

answered.

 

Graham was already hastening from the laboratory down the steps to the

engine-room, followed by his two friends, and a moment afterwards the

machinery ceased to work; the bright cranks and wheels and rods were

still; the motors ceased to revolve. At last this beautiful monument of

engineering skill, which had kept incessantly at work for upwards of

eighteen months, was stopped, and breathlessly the three men awaited

the result.

 

Doctor Hermann, cool and collected even in such awful moments, walked

slowly back to the laboratory to consult his instruments. Graham and

Temple followed, too excited to speak.

 

"Well, Doctor," said Temple at last, after he had patiently waited his

investigation, "what are your conclusions?"

 

With marvellous coolness, as though answering the merest commonplace

remark, Doctor Hermann replied: "It is as I said before; the _Sirius_

is falling with ever-increasing speed into the sun! We are lost!

 

"Our doom, even if our speed goes on increasing, cannot overtake us

for several years," continued the Doctor, "but I doubt if our supplies

could hold out for such a period."

 

"Doctor," broke in Temple excitedly, "that is poor comfort; you ask us

too much endurance. I, for one, will not, cannot, go on in such misery,

only to be overwhelmed at last. Two alternatives are left to us. We can

either go on in a lingering agony of suspense, and meet our doom by

starvation, or by fire; or, we can end our woes swiftly and effectually

with these"--and as he spoke he pointed to the four nickel-plated

revolvers hanging loaded against the wall. "We can but die like men!"

 

"I must confess, if all hope is really gone, that I incline to

Mr. Temple's view of the situation, and would prefer a sharp and

practically painless death to, it may be, years of horrible suspense,

crowned with the ten thousand times more awful fate of being hurled

into yonder furnace at last," said Graham.

 

"Temple, and you, too, Graham," answered the Doctor, "you surprise me

by such a shallow mode of reasoning. Listen to me. Both of you are free

agents to act as you may think fit; but before you rashly take your

lives, at least wait a little longer. We are in the midst of strange

surroundings, and still stranger possibilities. There is nothing to

warrant you in taking such extreme measures."

 

"My sentiments, Doctor, must, I suppose, be attributed to my weakness,"

answered Temple.

 

"You may taunt me as you will," said Graham, "but I believe there are

rare occasions in life when self-murder can be no crime--nay, is even

justified."

 

"Then all I can say is that your ethics are not mine, that your

theology is not half the comfort or support to you in your extremity

that my philosophy is to me in mine," remarked the Doctor.

 

"Once more," said the Doctor, "let me bid you wait. Let the motors be

started again, Graham, at full pressure. Some unforeseen occurrence may

yet work our salvation."

 

As time went on, Graham and Temple became more resigned to their fate;

and, in answer to the Doctor's urgent entreaties, gave him their

promise to think no more of suicide, at least until matters became

more desperate. The Doctor never abandoned hope. Calmly he bore up

under all difficulties, plodding along with his instruments and his

calculations; writing up his journals, and making voluminous notes,

though every word he penned was probably never destined to be read by

any other mortal but himself.

 

During the twentieth month of our absence from Earth, vast clouds of

meteorolites passed within a few miles of us; and at one time the whole

range of our vision was filled with these brilliant objects, just like

a snowstorm of sparkling fire. Many small ones struck the _Sirius_,

others exploded close by with sharp reports. We were too much alarmed

and too disconsolate thoroughly to enjoy the glorious sight, the

effects being beautiful in the extreme, and we were thankful when we

passed beyond this shower of fire.

 

Onwards, onwards and onwards we sped, falling with awful velocity

through space. So fast did we travel that our indicators failed to

record the rate of speed, but still the sun did not appear any closer.

 

This was our one assuring hope. The Doctor was assiduous in his

observations, but could not arrive at any definite conclusion. A week

before our second Christmas in the _Sirius_, after a careful scrutiny

through his largest telescope, he joyfully announced that Mars was

greatly increasing in apparent size, and that he had actually detected

the presence of two satellites revolving round the planet! Here was

welcome news, indeed! If this were true, then, after all, we had

nothing to fear from the sun. After some further investigation we were

thoroughly convinced of our safety. No words can tell our feelings of

thankfulness. We felt as though we had been snatched from the very jaws

of death.

 

"I can only explain our apparent fall towards the sun," said the

Doctor, "by the extreme rarity of the ether around us. This was not

sufficient to float us, nor to afford resistance to our motors: hence

we fell into space, instead of being propelled through it. I made the

very natural error of supposing that some attractive force was at work,

other than that exerted by the planet Mars. Once more our prospect is

unclouded. The worst part of the journey is over; we may expect at any

time now to find our centre of gravity fixed on Mars, at last--then

success may almost be counted upon as a certainty."

 

Our second Christmas in the _Sirius_ was spent as happily as the first.

The past year had been an exciting and eventful one for us; full of

dangers, full of trials; and three of our party felt that we had

overcome them, thanks in a great measure to Doctor Hermann's skill and

indomitable courage.

 

Almost daily we found the ether around us becoming more dense, and the

speed of the _Sirius_ sensibly decreased. Our water supply once more

became plentiful, the condensers now working admirably.

 

We kept New Year's Day as a great holiday--a red-letter day in our

experience, each of us feeling that we ought to inaugurate such an

eventful year in not only our own history, but that of mankind, in

a manner suited to its vast importance. As the clocks on Earth were

striking midnight on the 31st of December, 1876, and New Year's

greetings were being exchanged in all parts of the world we had

left, four human beings, millions of miles away in space, were doing

likewise. Earth shone steadily, like a pale beautiful star, below us.

During the first few moments of that glad New Year, we drank with mild

and boisterous enthusiasm to the planet Mars, to the men on Earth, and

to our own success.

 

Owing to the increased rate of speed at which we had been travelling,

our distance from the Earth had increased much more than we had

suspected. The Doctor computed our distance from Earth to be now

28,000,000 miles! If all went well, we should arrive at Mars in about

six months' time. We all of us had long felt weary of our close

confinement. Owing to the strict rules of hygiene that the Doctor

enforced, not one of the party had suffered from disease. Still, it was

a great joy to know that we should soon be released from the _Sirius_,

and the wonders of a new world were a rich reward in store.

 

Mars, now, was a most beautiful object in the heavens. Long and often

did we peer at it through our telescopes in wondering astonishment, as

it shone in brilliant ruddy glory, still millions of miles away. The

Doctor was enchanted with his discovery of the satellites of Mars.

 

By the end of January, 1877, we had crossed those regions of rarefied

ether, which were little more than an absolute vacuum; and the _Sirius_

was once again propelled by its motive forces alone.

 

We now thought it advisable slightly to check our engines, and our

speed was reduced to about twelve hundred miles per hour. Another

interesting phenomenon was the change in our centre of gravity, which

was now the planet of Mars. This last great discovery set all our

doubts at rest. Between five and six millions of miles had still to be

traversed, many perils had still to be undergone, many difficulties

remained to be overcome--but Mars, bright, glorious, ruddy Mars, was

conquered at last!

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER V.

 

 

THE GLORIES OF THE HEAVENS.

 

 

For a month after the last events were chronicled the _Sirius_ pursued

its way steadily towards Mars, without a single exceptional incident.

On the second of February, however, when we were about four and a

quarter millions of miles from our destination, we were dreadfully

alarmed by a series of majestic natural phenomena.

 

On the evening of the day just mentioned, or, rather, what would have

been evening could we have distinguished night from day, the sun, for

the first time since we left the shadow of Earth, began to shine less

brightly. As the hours went by he became more and more indistinct,

just as he appears through a fog on earth, and finally his fiery rays

were hidden behind vast banks of cloud. The blazing light now became a

depressing gloom, just as before a thunderstorm. Our dog evidently felt ill at ease, and whined and trembled as with great fear.