Before turning our backs for the last time upon this splendid monument of an unknown civilization, an incident occurred which is worthy of record.
As Tuzu was about to descend the gangplank – a stout, manila rope provided for that purpose – Torrence asked leave to examine the magnificent necklace he wore. The fellow appeared pleased, and when my brother, who is an excellent judge of precious stones, expressed his conviction that they were gems of rare merit, he insisted upon our accepting them, together with other decorations. This, of course, we would not do, but the man threw the jewels at our feet, and could not be persuaded to touch them again. The metallic ornaments upon his wrists and the girdle he would not part with. It was evident that the stones were not valued as with us, and that the blessing we had bestowed upon the city was considered sufficient remuneration for them. Tuzu then looked over the rail and said something to the citizens below, and in a minute a shower of jeweled ornaments began pouring in upon us, in the wildest profusion. The deck became covered with precious stones of such magnificence that their aggregate value could hardly be estimated. I would not like to say what amount of wealth was thus heaped upon us, as the most conservative estimate would sound wild and extravagant, but it was something fabulous. The air was thick with bracelets, neckbands, anklets, belts, earrings. They fell upon the vessel in heaps, in piles; they caught upon every projection, until the trembling of the air ship in rising shook some of them loose, and we began to ascend beyond their reach. This shower of wealth had probably not lasted more than ten minutes, but during that time we accumulated inestimable treasure, and stones of every color and size. It was a dazzling sight, but when I reflected that these were not a tithe of the wealth of the city, my brain fairly swam at the thought.
"After all," said Torrence, "it is simply the inversion of values; for what could be more beautiful than some of our Rhinestones, or even than some of our colored glass? No emerald is really as beautiful as a true Rhine crystal, but it is more rare, hence its value. The conditions here favor the formations that are most discouraged with us; why this should be is very evident, on the theory of inverted molecular action. The grinding and cooling of the earth's crust resulted in certain products upon the outer surface, and in others upon the inner. I have always believed we should find exactly this state of things here, and should really have been surprised if the results of creation had been similar in kind and quantity upon both surfaces. No doubt with little effort we could find diamond mines that would entirely destroy their value with us."
"Shall we get Tuzu to show us where they are?" I replied, feeling as if the gardens of Hesperides must be within our reach.
"I think not," he answered reflectively. "We have already more treasure than we can conveniently carry. I would rather spend the time in a superficial inspection of our new dominion than in digging wealth out of a hole which cannot be transported. If we should ever return it will be time enough to look up the mines, but where their product is so easily obtained as from these people, it seems hardly worth while to work for. However, if you wish it, we will go on a mining tour, and stake our claims, though I am sure no one will ever dispute them."
I agreed with him that we would better pursue our journey, as vast distances were to be traversed ere we could form the most indifferent conception of what awaited us in the continents, oceans, civilizations and cities. As yet we had only seen one little corner. We must make our way as rapidly as possible, and be content, for the present, with a bird's-eye view. And so, having retreated to a short distance from the gate, we lowered Tuzu to the ground.
When fairly upon our way again we sacked up about fifteen bushels of jewels, which in addition to the gold, made us very short of room. Indeed, our saloon was so crowded that we went stumbling about over bags of treasure, like the miser of Benadin.
Torrence now put on high speed and we swept over the country at the rate of forty miles an hour. We soon passed the noisy crowd returning to the city, with jangling bells and flowing mane, and they sent up a shout as we flew over their heads that spoke of good humor and general satisfaction. We had lost some valuable time, but were in a fair way to make it up, and looked forward to the great unknown with a keener interest than ever.
"How far do you propose to penetrate into the new world?" I inquired, as we sat on deck smoking our cigars through the rushing air.
"All the way," he answered.
"You must remember it will take us as long to return as it does to go," I replied.
"Return!" he exclaimed with surprise; "surely you don't expect to return."
"Rather! Do you intend to live here always?"
"Not at all," said Torrence; "I expect to go out through the opening at the South Pole!"
This was a new idea to me; but suddenly a thought struck me with horror.
"Do you not know it will be the depth of winter, and dark as Erebus when we get there?" I exclaimed.
"I admit that it will be both dark and cold," he replied, "although not quite the depth of winter, if we maintain anything approaching our present rate of speed. You must remember we shall have left the shortest day – June 21st – behind us."
"At best it will be but a matter of a few weeks, and I still claim that it will be the depth of winter."
"Practically," said Torrence, "it will."
He spoke with as much indifference as if he were merely going to walk down the street.
"We shall be frozen corpses if you attempt such a thing, and I must beg you to give up an idea so thoroughly impracticable."
"It is not impracticable, Gurt," he answered seriously; "do you not know that we are prepared for all kinds of weather? We can shut up the cabin and heat it to any temperature desired. Do not be alarmed; everything shall go well. While here we ought to see as much as possible. We shall sail through the darkness in a warm and brightly lighted cabin, and if I mistake not, there are sights in the antarctic regions which will amply repay our visit. Remember that no human being has ever penetrated their awful solitudes, and that none is ever likely to do so unless equipped as we are!"
There was something horrible in the thought of plunging into those regions of ice and darkness, but I could see the force of his argument. However, the great bulk of the interior was yet to be traversed, and there would be plenty of time to think of those terrors before we reached them.
The purple hills proved to be a country of minerals, grass, and timber, was broken and picturesque, and abounding in lakes, parks, and diminutive rivers. The habitations wore few and scattered, the houses but half under roof. Occasionally we sighted a village, brilliant in coloring, and strangely rich in architecture, and the inhabitants would invariably stare up at us and shout. There were greens and crimsons and flashes of gold among the rocks, and lumps of iridescence that looked like clusters of gems of marvelous size and beauty; but we had not time to examine them. We were sure, however, from all we saw that gold was among their least valued metals, and that those natural products most highly prized with us were here regarded as drugs.
We hastened through this mountain country, not because we did not appreciate its beauty, but from a desire to get a rapid bird's-eye view of the new earth, and reach again our old home.
A rolling country was now beneath, which we speeded over at the rate of a mile a minute, not wishing to waste time upon extended areas that could be comprehended at a glance. Here we saw herds of cattle carrying four horns and tailless. Probably there were no flies to annoy them, and tails would have been useless. There were also more of those diminutive sheep of a pinkish hue, and wool like silk that trailed upon the ground. One and all they scampered away upon catching sight of us, but we quickly passed beyond their range of vision.
Here were great parks of magnificent timber and brilliant flowers, and limpid sheets of water. Occasional palaces of reddish stone under partial roofs of a dark yellow metal were also encountered. Dropping earthward to examine these we were saluted by the occupants, who coming out of the buildings would wave banners, and blow upon a powerful, sweet-toned trumpet, whose music would linger in the air for quite awhile after the performer had removed it from his lips.
Howbeit, our speed was so great, that these heavenly strains of music were lost by reason of their distance, while other sounds would greet our ears ahead.
Our anxiety to learn something of these people and their history was ungratified, from the impossibility of communication.
It was easy to see that our air ship was an object of intense curiosity both to man and beast. We were as great a wonder to them as they to us, which, to be sure, was true of our vessel upon the outer world, and it showed that aerial navigation was as little understood here as above. We received various unmistakable invitations to halt, but these we declined on the ground of haste. We determined, however, to accept one before our final exit.
A striking feature in the lives of those we saw was the fact that there was no evidence of work. So far we had seen no plowing, or tilling of the soil, neither was there any sowing of seed or reaping of grain, nor building of houses; and yet we had the evidence of our eyes that superb structures and cities had been erected. On speaking of this fact to Torrence, he said:
"The climate and soil seem to render agriculture unnecessary; and possibly the buildings belong to a previous age. I doubt if material rots and disintegrates, as it does with us."
I asked how he had reached such an extraordinary conclusion.
"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.
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.