Across the Zodiac (8 page)

At the close of the third day I had gained, as was indicated by the
instruments, something more than two millions of miles in a direct
line from the Sun; and for the future I might, and did, reckon on a
steady progress of about one and a quarter million miles daily under
the apergic force alone—a gain in a line directly outward from the
Sun of about one million. Henceforward I shall not record my
observations, except where they implied an unexpected or altered
result.

On the sixth day, I perceived another nebula, and on this occasion in
a more promising direction. It appeared, from its gradual movement, to
lie almost exactly in my course, so that if it were what I suspected,
and were not at any great distance from me, I must pass either near or
through it, and it would surely explain what had perplexed and baffled
me in the case of the former nebula. At this distance the nature of
the cloudlet was imperceptible to the naked eye. The window telescope
was not adjustable to an object which I could not bring conveniently
within the field of view of the lenses. In a few hours the nebula so
changed its form and position, that, being immediately over the
portion of the roof between the front or bow lens and that in the
centre of the roof, its central section was invisible; but the
extremities of that part which I had seen in the first instance
through the upper plane window of the bow were now clearly visible
from the upper windows of either side. What had at first been a mere
greatly elongated oval, with a species of rapidly diminishing tail at
each extremity, had now become an arc spanning no inconsiderable part
of the space above me, narrowing rapidly as it extended downwards and
sternwards. Presently it came in view through the upper lens, but did
not obscure in the least the image of the stars which were then
visible in the metacompass. I very soon ascertained that the cloudlet
consisted, as I had supposed in the former case, of a multitude of
points of light less brilliant than the stars, the distance between
which became constantly wider, but which for some time were separately
so small as to present no disc that any magnifying power at my command
could render measurable. In the meantime, the extremities visible
through the other windows were constantly widening out till lost in
the spangled darkness. By and by, it became impossible with the naked
eye to distinguish the individual points from the smaller stars; and
shortly after this the nearest began to present discs of appreciable
size but somewhat irregular shape. I had now no doubt that I was about
to pass through one of those meteoric rings which our most advanced
astronomers believe to exist in immense numbers throughout space, and
to the Earth's contact with or approach to which they ascribe the
showers of falling, stars visible in August and November. Ere long,
one after another of these bodies passed rapidly before my sight, at
distances varying probably from five yards to five thousand miles.
Where to test the distance was impossible, anything like accurate
measurement was equally out of the question; but my opinion is, that
the diameters of the nearest ranged from ten inches to two hundred
feet. One only passed so near that its absolute size could be judged
by the marks upon its face. This was a rock-like mass, presenting at
many places on the surface distinct traces of metallic veins or
blotches, rudely ovoid in form, but with a number of broken surfaces,
one or two of which reflected the light much more brilliantly than
others. The weight of this one meteoroid was too insignificant as
compared with that of the Astronaut seriously to disturb my course.
Fortunately for me, I passed so nearly through the centre of the
aggregation that its attraction as a whole was nearly inoperative. So
far as I could judge, the meteors in that part of the ring through
which I passed were pretty evenly distributed; and as from the
appearance of the first which passed my window to the disappearance of
the last four hours elapsed, I conceived that the diameter of the
congeries, measured in the direction of my path, which seemed to be
nearly in the diameter of their orbit, was about 180,000 miles, and
probably the perpendicular depth was about the same.

I may mention here, though somewhat out of place, to avoid
interrupting the narrative of my descent upon Mars, the only
interesting incident that occurred during the latter days of my
journey—the gradual passage of the Earth off the face of the Sun. For
some little time after this the Earth was entirely invisible; but
later, looking through the telescope adjusted to the lens on that
side, I discerned two very minute and bright crescents, which, from
their direction and position, were certainly those of the Earth and
Moon, indeed could hardly be anything else.

Towards the thirtieth day of my voyage I was disturbed by the
conflicting indications obtained from different instruments and
separate observations. The general result came to this, that the
discometer, where it should have indicated a distance of 333, actually
gave 347. But if my speed had increased, or I had overestimated the
loss by changes of direction, Mars should have been larger in equal
proportion. This, however, was not the case. Supposing my reckoning to
be right, and I had no reason to think it otherwise, except the
indication of the discometer, the Sun's disc ought to have diminished
in the proportion of 95 to 15, whereas the diminution was in the
proportion of 9 to 1. So far as the barycrite could be trusted, its
very minute indications confirmed those of the discometer; and the
only conclusion I could draw, after much thought and many intricate
calculations, was that the distance of 95 millions of miles between
the Earth and the Sun, accepted, though not very confidently, by all
terrestrial astronomers, is an over-estimate; and that, consequently,
all the other distances of the solar system have been equally
overrated. Mars consequently would be smaller, but also his distance
considerably less, than I had supposed. I finally concluded that the
solar distance of the Earth was less than 9 millions of miles, instead
of more than 95. This would involve, of course, a proportionate
diminution in the distance I had to traverse, while it did not imply
an equal error in the reckoning of my speed, which had at first been
calculated from the Earth's disc, and not from that of the Sun. Hence,
continuing my course unchanged, I should arrive at the orbit of Mars
some days earlier than intended, and at a point behind that occupied
by the planet, and yet farther behind the one I aimed at. Prolonged
observation and careful calculation had so fully satisfied me of the
necessity of the corrections in question, that I did not hesitate to
alter my course accordingly, and to prepare for a descent on the
thirty-ninth instead of the forty-first day. I had, of course, to
prepare for the descent very long before I should come within the
direct influence of the attraction of Mars. This would not prevail
over the Sun's attraction till I had come within a little more than
100,000 miles of the surface, and this distance would not allow for
material reduction of my speed, even were I at once to direct the
whole force of the apergic current against the planet. I estimated
that arriving within some two millions of miles of him, with a speed
of 45,000 miles per hour, and then directing the whole force of the
current in his direction, I should arrive at his surface at a speed
nearly equal to that at which I had ascended from the Earth. I knew
that I could spare force enough to make up for any miscalculation
possible, or at least probable. Of course any serious error might be
fatal. I was exposed to two dangers; perhaps to three: but to none
which I had not fully estimated before even preparing for my voyage.
If I should fail to come near enough to the goal of my journey, and
yet should go on into space, or if, on the other hand, I should stop
short, the Astronaut might become an independent planet, pursuing an
orbit nearly parallel to that of the Earth; in which case I should
perish of starvation. It was conceivable that I might, in attempting
to avert this fate, fall upon the Sun, though this seemed exceedingly
improbable, requiring a combination of accidents very unlikely to
occur. On the other hand, I might by possibility attain my point, and
yet, failing properly to calculate the rate of descent, be dashed to
pieces upon the surface of Mars. Of this, however, I had very little
fear, the tremendous power of the apergy having been so fully proved
that I believed that nothing but some disabling accident to
myself—such as was hardly to be feared in the absence of gravitation,
and with the extreme simplicity of the machinery I employed—could
prevent my being able, when I became aware of the danger, to employ in
time a sufficient force to avert it. The first of these perils, then,
was the graver one, perhaps the only grave one, and certainly to my
imagination it was much the most terrible. The idea of perishing of
want in the infinite solitude of space, and being whirled round for
ever the dead denizen of a planet one hundred feet in diameter, had in
it something even more awful than grotesque.

On the thirty-ninth morning of my voyage, so far as I could calculate
by the respective direction and size of the Sun and of Mars, I was
within about 1,900,000 miles from the latter. I proceeded without
hesitation to direct the whole force of the current permitted to
emerge from the apergion directly against the centre of the planet.
His diameter increased with great rapidity, till at the end of the
first day I found myself within one million of miles of his surface.
His diameter subtended about 15', and his disc appeared about
one-fourth the size of the Moon. Examined through the telescope, it
presented a very different appearance from that either of the Earth or
of her satellite. It resembled the former in having unmistakably air
and water. But, unlike the Earth, the greater portion of its surface
seemed to be land; and, instead of continents surrounded by water, it
presented a number of separate seas, nearly all of them land-locked.
Around the snow-cap of each pole was a belt of water; around this,
again, a broader belt of continuous land; and outside this, forming
the northern and southern boundary between the arctic and temperate
zones, was another broader band of water, connected apparently in one
or two places with the central, or, if one may so call it, equatorial
sea. South of the latter is the one great Martial ocean. The most
striking feature of this new world, as seen from this point, was the
existence of three enormous gulfs, from three to five thousand miles
in length, and apparently varying in breadth from one hundred to seven
hundred miles. In the midst of the principal ocean, but somewhat to
the southward, is an island of unique appearance. It is roughly
circular, and, as I perceived in descending, stands very high, its
table-like summit being some 4000 feet, as I subsequently ascertained,
above the sea-level. Its surface, however, was perfectly
white—scarcely less brilliant, consequently, than an equal area of
the polar icefields. The globe, of course, revolved in some 4-1/ hours
of earthly time, and, as I descended, presented successively every
part of its surface to my view. I speak of descent, but, of course, I
was as yet ascending just as truly as ever, the Sun being visible
through the lens in the floor, and reflected upon the mirror of the
discometer, while Mars was now seen through the upper lens, and his
image received in the mirror of the metacompass. A noteworthy feature
in the meteorology of the planet became apparent during the second day
of the descent. As magnified by the telescope adjusted to the upper
lens, the distinctions of sea and land disappeared from the eastern
and western limbs of the planet; indeed, within 15° or an hour of time
from either. It was plain, therefore, that those regions in which it
was late evening or early morning were hidden from view; and,
independently of the whitish light reflected from them, there could be
little doubt that the obscuration was due to clouds or mists. Had the
whitish light covered the land alone, it might have been attributed to
a snowfall, or, perhaps, even to a very severe hoar frost congealing a
dense moisture. But this last seemed highly improbable; and that mist
or cloud was the true explanation became more and more apparent as,
with a nearer approach, it became possible to discern dimly a broad
expanse of water contrasting the orange tinge of the land through this
annular veil. At 4h. on the second day of the descent, I was about
500,000 miles from Mars, the micrometer verifying, by the increased
angle subtended by the diameter, my calculated rate of approach. On
the next day I was able to sleep in security, and to devote my
attention to the observation of the planet's surface, for at its close
I should be still 15,000 miles from Mars, and consequently beyond the
distance at which his attraction would predominate over that of the
Sun. To my great surprise, in the course of this day I discerned two
small discs, one on each side of the planet, moving at a rate which
rendered measurement impossible, but evidently very much smaller than
any satellite with which astronomers are acquainted, and so small that
their non-discovery by terrestrial telescopes was not extraordinary.
They were evidently very minute, whether ten, twenty, or fifty miles
in diameter I could not say; neither of them being likely, so far as I
could calculate, to come at any part of my descent very near the
Astronaut, and the rapidity of their movement carrying them across the
field, even with the lowest power of my telescopes, too fast for
measurement. That they were Martial moons, however, there could be no
doubt.

About 10h. on the last day of the descent, the effect of Mars'
attraction, which had for some time so disturbed the position of the
Astronaut as to take his disc completely out of the field of the
meta-compass, became decidedly predominant over that of the Sun. I had
to change the direction of the apergic current first to the left-hand
conductor, and afterwards, as the greater weight of the floor turned
the Astronaut completely over, bringing the planet immediately below
it, to the downward one. I was, of course, approaching Mars on the
daylight side, and nearly in the centre. This, however, did not
exactly suit me. During the whole of this day it was impossible that I
should sleep for a minute; since if at any point I should find that I
had miscalculated my rate of descent, or if any other unforeseen
accident should occur, immediate action would be necessary to prevent
a shipwreck, which must without doubt be fatal. It was very likely
that I should be equally unable to sleep during the first twenty-four
hours of my sojourn upon Mars, more especially should he be inhabited,
and should my descent be observed. It was, therefore, my policy to
land at some point where the Sun was setting, and to enjoy rest during
such part of the twelve hours of the Martial night as should not be
employed in setting my vessel in order and preparing to evacuate it. I
should have to ascertain exactly the pressure of the Martial
atmosphere, so as not to step too suddenly from a dense into what was
probably a very light one. If possible, I intended to land upon the
summit of a mountain, so high as to be untenanted and of difficult
access. At the same time it would not do to choose the highest point
of a very lofty range, since both the cold and the thinness of the air
might in such a place be fatal. I wished, of course, to leave the
Astronaut secure, and, if not out of reach, yet not within easy reach;
otherwise it would have been a simple matter to watch my opportunity
and descend in the dark from my first landing-place by the same means
by which I had made the rest of my voyage.