Across the Zodiac

  CHAPTER III - THE UNTRAVELLED DEEP.

  Rising at 5h., I observed a drooping in the leaves of my garden, andespecially of the larger shrubs and plants, for which I was not whollyunprepared, but which might entail some inconvenience if, failingaltogether, they should cease to absorb the gases generated fromburied waste, to consume which they had been planted. Besides this, Ishould, of course, lose the opportunity of transplanting them to Mars,though I had more hope of acclimatising seedlings raised from the seedI carried with me than plants which had actually begun their life onthe surface of the Earth. The failure I ascribed naturally to theknown connection between the action of gravity and the circulation ofthe sap; though, as I had experienced no analogous inconvenience in myown person, I had hoped that this would not seriously affectvegetation. I was afraid to try the effect of more liberal watering,the more so that already the congelation of moisture upon the glassesfrom the internal air, dry as the latter had been kept, was a sensibleannoyance--an annoyance which would have become an insuperable troublehad I not taken so much pains, by directing the thermic currents uponthe walls, to keep the internal temperature, in so far as comfortwould permit--it had now fallen to 4 deg. C.--as near as possible to thatof the inner surface of the walls and windows. A careful use of thethermometer indicated that the metallic surface of the former was nownearly zero C., or 32 deg. F. The inner surface of the windows was somewhatcolder, showing that the crystal was more pervious to heat than thewalls, with their greater thickness, their outer and inner lining ofmetal, and massive interior of concrete. I directed a current from thethermogene upon either division of the garden, hoping thus to protectthe plants from whatever injury they might receive from the cold.Somewhat later, perceiving that the drooping still continued, Iresolved upon another experiment, and arranging an apparatus of copperwire beneath the soil, so as to bring the extremities in immediatecontact with their roots, I directed through these wires a prolongedfeeble current of electricity; by which, as I had hoped rather thanexpected, the plants were after a time materially benefited, and towhich I believe I owed it that they had not all perished long beforethe termination of my voyage.

  It would be mere waste of space and time were I to attempt anythinglike a journal of the weeks I spent in the solitude of this artificialplanet. As matter of course, the monotony of a voyage through space isin general greater than that of a voyage across an ocean like theAtlantic, where no islands and few ships are to be encountered. It wasnecessary to be very frequently, if not constantly, on the look-outfor possible incidents of interest in a journey so utterly novelthrough regions which the telescope can but imperfectly explore. Itwas difficult, therefore, to sit down to a book, or even to pursue anynecessary occupation unconnected with the actual conduct of thevessel, with uninterrupted attention. My eyes, the only sense organs Icould employ, were constantly on the alert; but, of course, by far thegreater portion of my time passed without a single new object oroccasion of remark. That a journey so utterly without precedent orparallel, in which so little could be anticipated or provided for,through regions absolutely untraversed and very nearly unknown, shouldbe monotonous, may seem strange. But in truth the novelties of thesituation, such as they were, though intensely striking andinteresting, were each in turn speedily examined, realised, and, so tospeak, exhausted; and this once done, there was no greater occupationto the mind in the continuance of strange than in that of familiarscenery. The infinitude of surrounding blackness, filled as it werewith points of light more or less brilliant, when once its effects hadbeen scrutinised, and when nothing more remained to be noted, affordedcertainly a more agreeable, but scarcely a more interesting orabsorbing, outlook than the dead grey circle of sea, the dead greyhemisphere of cloud, which form the prospect from the deck of a packetin mid-Atlantic; while of change without or incident in the vesselherself there was, of course, infinitely less than is afforded in anocean voyage by the variations of weather, not to mention the solaceof human society. Everything around me, except in the one direction inwhich the Earth's disc still obscured the Sun, remained unchanged forhours and days; and the management of my machinery required no morethan an occasional observation of my instruments and a change in theposition of the helm, which occupied but a few minutes some half-dozentimes in the twenty-four hours. There was not even the change of nightand day, of sun and stars, of cloud or clear sky. Were I to describethe manner in which each day's leisure was spent, I should bore myreaders even more than--they will perhaps be surprised by theconfession--I was bored myself.

  My sleep was of necessity more or less broken. I wished to have eighthours of rest, since, though seven of continuous sleep might well havesufficed me, even if my brain had been less quiet and unexcited duringthe rest of the twenty-four, it was impossible for me to enjoy thatterm of unbroken slumber. I therefore decided to divide my sleep intotwo portions of rather more than four hours each, to be taken as arule after noon and after midnight; or rather, since noon and midnighthad no meaning for me, from 12h. to 16h. and from 24h. to 4.h. But ofcourse sleep and everything else, except the necessary management ofthe machine, must give way to the chances of observation; it would bebetter to remain awake for forty-eight hours at a stretch than to missany important phenomenon the period of whose occurrence could be evenremotely calculated.

  At 8h., I employed for the first time the apparatus which I may callmy window telescope, to observe, from a position free from thedifficulties inflicted on terrestrial astronomers by the atmosphere,all the celestial objects within my survey. As I had anticipated, theabsence of atmospheric disturbance and diffusion of light was ofextreme advantage. In the first place, I ascertained by the barycriteand the discometer my distance from the Earth, which appeared to beabout 120 terrestrial radii. The light of the halo was of course verymuch narrower than when I first observed it, and its scintillations orcoruscations no longer distinctly visible. The Moon presented anexquisitely fine thread of light, but no new object of interest on thevery small portion of her daylight hemisphere turned towards me. Marswas somewhat difficult to observe, being too near what may be calledmy zenith. But the markings were far more distinct than they appear,with greater magnifying powers than I employed, upon the Earth. Intruth, I should say that the various disadvantages due to theatmosphere deprive the astronomer of at least one-half of theavailable light-collecting power of his telescope, and consequently ofthe defining power of the eye-piece; that with a 200 glass he seesless than a power of 100 reveals to an eye situated in space; though,from the nature of the lens through which I looked, I cannot speakwith certainty upon this point. With a magnifying power of 300 thepolar spots of Mars were distinctly visible and perfectly defined.They were, I thought, less white than they appeared from the Earth,but their colour was notably different from that of the planet'sgeneral surface, differing almost as widely from the orange hue ofwhat I supposed to be land as from the greyish blue of the water. Theorange was, I thought, deeper than it appears through a telescope ofsimilar power on Earth. The seas were distinctly grey rather thanblue, especially when, by covering the greater part of the field, Icontrived for a moment to observe a sea alone, thus eliminating theeffect of contrast. The bands of Jupiter in their turn were morenotably distinct; their variety of colour as well as the contrast oflight and shade much more definite, and their irregularities moreunmistakable. A satellite was approaching the disc, and this affordedme an opportunity of realising with especial clearness the differencebetween observation through seventy or a hundred miles of terrestrialatmosphere outside the object glass and observation in space. The twodiscs were perfectly rounded and separately discernible until theytouched. Moreover, I was able to distinguish upon one of the darkerbands the disc of the satellite itself, while upon a lighter band itsround black shadow was at the same time perfectly defined. Thiswonderfully clear presentation of one of the most interesting ofastronomical phenomena so absorbed my attention that I watched thesatellite and shadow during their whole course, though the former,passing after a time
on to a light band, became comparativelyindistinct. The moment, however, that the outer edge passed off thedisc of Jupiter, its outline became perfectly visible against theblack background of sky. What was still more novel was the occultationfor some little time of a star, apparently of the tenth magnitude, notby the planet but by the satellite, almost immediately after it passedoff the disc of the former. Whether the star actually disappeared atonce, as if instantaneously extinguished, or whether, as I thought atthe moment, it remained for some tenth of a second partially visible,as if refracted by an atmosphere belonging to the satellite, I willnot venture to say. The bands and rings of Saturn, the divisionbetween the two latter, and the seven satellites, were also perfectlyvisible, with a distinctness that a much greater magnifying powerwould hardly have attained under terrestrial conditions. I wasperplexed by two peculiarities, not, so far as I know, hitherto [5]mentioned by astronomers. The circumference did not appear to presentan even curvature.

  I mean that, apart from the polar compression, the shape seemed as ifthe spheroid were irregularly squeezed; so that though not broken byprojection or indentation, the limb did not present the regularquasi-circular curvature exhibited in the focus of our telescopes.Also, between the inner ring and the planet, with a power of 500, Idiscerned what appeared to be a dark purplish ring, semi-transparent,so that through it the bright surface of Saturn might be discerned asthrough a veil. Mercury shone brightly several degrees outside thehalo surrounding the Earth's black disc; and Venus was also visible;but in neither case did my observations allow me to ascertain anythingthat has not been already noted by astronomers. The dim form of Uranuswas better defined than I had previously seen it, but no marking ofany kind was perceptible.

  Rising from my second, or, so to speak, midday rest, and having busiedmyself for some little time with what I may call my household andgarden duties, I observed the discometer at 1h. (or 5 P.M.). Itindicated about two hundred terrestrial radii of elevation. I had, ofcourse, from the first been falling slightly behind the Earth in herorbital motion, and was no longer exactly in opposition; that is tosay, a line drawn from the Astronaut to the Earth's centre was nolonger a prolongation of that joining the centres of the Earth andSun. The effect of this divergence was now perceptible. The earthlycorona was unequal in width, and to the westward was very distinctlybrightened, while on the other side it was narrow and comparativelyfaint. While watching this phenomenon through the lower lens, Ithought that I could perceive behind or through the widest portion ofthe halo a white light, which at first I mistook for one of thosescintillations that had of late become scarcely discernible. But aftera time it extended visibly beyond the boundary of the halo itself, andI perceived that the edge of the Sun's disc had come at last intoview. It was but a minute and narrow crescent, but was well worthwatching. The brightening and broadening of the halo at this point Iperceived to be due, not to the Sun's effect upon the atmosphere thatproduced it, but chiefly to the twilight now brightening on that limbof the Earth's disc; or rather to the fact that a small portion ofthat part of the Earth's surface, where, if the Sun were not visible,he was but a very little below the horizon, had been turned towardsme. I saw through the telescope first a tiny solar crescent of intensebrightness, then the halo proper, now exceedingly narrow, and thenwhat looked like a silver terrestrial crescent, but a mere thread,finer and shorter than any that the Moon ever displays even totelescopic observers on Earth; since, when such a minute portion ofher illuminated surface is turned towards the Earth, it is utterlyextinguished to our eyes by the immediate vicinity of the Sun, as wassoon the case with the terrestrial crescent in question. I watchedlong and with intense interest the gradual change, but I was calledaway from it by a consideration of no little practical moment. I mustnow be moving at a rate of nearly, if not quite, 40,000 miles an hour,or about a million miles per diem. It was not my intention, forreasons I shall presently explain, ever greatly to exceed this rate;and if I meant to limit myself to a fixed rate of speed, it was timeto diminish the force of the apergic current, as otherwise before itsreduction could take effect I should have attained an impulse greaterthan I desired, and which could not be conveniently or easilydiminished when once reached. Quitting, therefore, though reluctantly,my observation of the phenomena below me, I turned to the apergion,and was occupied for some two or three hours in gradually reducing theforce as measured by the cratometer attached to the downwardconductor, and measuring with extreme care the very minute effectproduced upon the barycrite and the discometer. Even the differencebetween 200 and 201 radii of elevation or apogaic distance was noteasily perceptible on either. It took, of course, much more minuteobservation and a much longer time to test the effect produced by theregulation of the movement, since whether I traveller forty,forty-five, or forty-two thousand miles in the course of one hour madescarcely any difference in the diameter of the Earth's disc, stillless, for reasons above given, in the gravity. By midnight, however, Iwas satisfied that I had not attained quite 1,000,000 miles, or 275terrestrial radii; also that my speed was not greater than 45,000miles (11-14 radii) per hour, and was not, I thought, increasing. Ofthis last point, however, I could better satisfy myself at the end ofmy four hours' rest, to which I now betook myself.

  I woke about 4h. 30m., and on a scrutiny of the instruments, feltsatisfied that I was not far out in my calculations. A later hour,however, would afford a more absolute certainty. I was about to turnagain to the interesting work of observation through the lens in thefloor, when my attention was diverted by the sight of something like awhitish cloud visible through the upper window on my left hand.Examined by the telescope, its widest diameter might be at most tendegrees. It was faintly luminous, presenting an appearance veryclosely resembling that of a star cluster or nebula just beyond thepower of resolution. As in many nebulae, there was a visibleconcentration in one part; but this did not occupy the centre, but aposition more resembling that of the nucleus of a small taillesscomet. The cloudlet might be a distant comet, it might be a lessdistant body of meteors clustering densely in some particular part oftheir orbit; and, unfortunately, I was not likely to solve theproblem. Gradually the nebula changed its position, but not its form,seeming to move downwards and towards the stern of my vessel, as if Iwere passing it without approaching nearer. By the time that I wassatisfied of this, hunger and even faintness warned me that I must notdelay preparing my breakfast. When I had finished this meal andfulfilled some necessary tasks, practical and arithmetical, the handof the chronometer indicated the eighth hour of my third day. I turnedagain somewhat eagerly to the discometer, which showed an apparentdistance of 360 terrestrial radii, and consequently a movement whichhad not materially varied from the rate of 11-1/4 radii per hour. Bythis time the diameter of the Earth was not larger in appearance thanabout 19', less than two-thirds that of the Sun; and she consequentlyappeared as a black disc covering somewhat more than one-third of hisentire surface, but by no means concentrical. The halo had of coursecompletely disappeared; but with the vernier it was possible todiscern a narrow band or line of hazy grey around the black limb ofthe planet. She was moving, as seen from the Astronaut, very slightlyto the north, and more decidedly, though very slowly, to the eastward;the one motion due to my deliberately chosen direction in space, theother to the fact that as my orbit enlarged I was falling, though asyet slowly, behind her. The sun now shone through, the variouswindows, and, reflected from the walls, maintained a continuousdaylight within the Astronaut, as well diffused as by the atmosphereof Earth, strangely contrasting the star-spangled darkness outside.

  At the beginning as at the end of my voyage, I steered a distinctcourse, governed by considerations quite different from those whichcontrolled the main direction of my voyage. Thus far I had simplyrisen straight from the Earth in a direction somewhat to thesouthward, but on the whole "in opposition," or right away from theSun. So, at the conclusion of my journey, I should have to devote somedays to a gradual descent upon Mars, exactly reversing the process ofmy ascent from the
Earth. But between these two periods I hadcomparatively little to do with either planet, my course beinggoverned by the Sun, and its direction and rate being uniform. Iwished to reach Mars at the moment of opposition, and during the wholeof the journey to keep the Earth between myself and the Sun, for areason which may not at first be obvious. The moment of opposition isnot necessarily that at which Mars is nearest to the Earth, but issufficiently so for practical calculation. At that moment, accordingto the received measurement of planetary distances, the two would bemore than 40 millions of miles apart. In the meantime the Earth,travelling on an interior or smaller orbit, and also at a greaterabsolute speed, was gaining on Mars. The Astronaut, moving at theEarth's rate under an impulse derived from the Earth's revolutionround the Sun (that due to her rotation on her own axis having beengot rid of, as aforesaid), traveller in an orbit constantly widening,so that, while gaining on Mars, I gained on him less than did theEarth, and was falling behind her. Had I used the apergy only to driveme directly outward from the Sun, I should move under the impulsederived from the Earth about 1,600,000 miles a day, or 72 millions ofmiles in forty-five days, in the direction common to the two planets.The effect of the constantly widening orbit would be much as if thewhole motion took place on one midway between those of the Earth andMars, say 120 millions of miles from the Sun. The arc described onthis orbit would be equivalent to 86 millions of miles on that ofMars. The entire arc of his orbit between the point opposite to thatoccupied by the Earth when I started and the point of opposition--theentire distance I had to gain as measured along his path--was about116 millions of miles; so that, trusting to the terrestrial impulsealone, I should be some 30 millions behindhand at the critical moment.The apergic force must make up for this loss of ground, while drivingme in a direction, so to speak, at right angles with that of theorbit, or along its radius, straight outward from the Sun, forty oddmillions of miles in the same time. If I succeeded in this, I shouldreach the orbit of Mars at the point and at the moment of opposition,and should attain Mars himself. But in this I might fail, and I shouldthen find myself under the sole influence of the Sun's attraction;able indeed to resist it, able gradually to steer in any directionaway from it, but hardly able to overtake a planet that should lie farout of my line of advance or retreat, while moving at full speed awayfrom me. In order to secure a chance of retreat, it was desirable aslong as possible to keep the Earth between the Astronaut and the Sun;while steering for that point in space where Mars would lie at themoment when, as seen from the centre of the Earth, he would be mostnearly opposite the Sun,--would cross the meridian at midnight. It wasby these considerations that the course I henceforward steered wasdetermined. By a very simple calculation, based on the familiarprinciple of the parallelogram of forces, I gave to the apergiccurrent a force and direction equivalent to a daily motion of about750,000 miles in the orbital, and rather more than a million in theradial line. I need hardly observe that it would not be to the apergiccurrent alone, but to a combination of that current with the orbitalimpulse received at first from the Earth, that my progress and coursewould be due. The latter was the stronger influence; the former onlywas under my control, but it would suffice to determine, as I mightfrom time to time desire, the resultant of the combination. The onlyobvious risk of failure lay in the chance that, my calculationsfailing or being upset, I might reach the desired point too soon ortoo late. In either case, I should be dangerously far from Mars,beyond his orbit or within it, at the time when I should come into aline with him and the Sun; or, again, putting the same mischance inanother form, behind him or before him when I attained his orbit. ButI trusted to daily observation of his position, and verification of my"dead reckoning" thereby, to find out any such danger in time to avertit.

  The displacement of the Earth on the Sun's face proved it to benecessary that the apergic current should be directed against thelatter in order to govern my course as I desired, and to recover theground I had lost in respect to the orbital motion. I hoped for amoment that this change in the action of the force would settle aproblem we had never been able to determine. Our experiments provedthat apergy acts in a straight line when once collected in anddirected along a conductor, and does not radiate, like other forces,from a centre in all directions. It is of course this radiation--diffusing the effect of light, heat, or gravity over the surface of asphere, which surface is proportionate to the square of theradius--that causes these forces to operate with an energy inverselyproportionate, not to the distance, but to its square. We had noreason to think that apergy, exempt as it is from this law, would beat all diminished by distance; and this view the rate of accelerationas I rose from the Earth had confirmed, and my entire experience hassatisfied me that it is correct. None of our experiments, however, hadindicated, or could well indicate, at what rate this force can travelthrough space; nor had I yet obtained any light upon this point. Fromthe very first the current had been continuous, the only interruptiontaking place when I was not five hundred miles from the Earth'ssurface. Over so small a distance as that, the force would move soinstantaneously that no trace of the interruption would be perceptiblein the motion of the Astronaut. Even now the total interruption of theaction of apergy for a considerable time would not affect the rate atwhich I was already moving. It was possible, however, that if thecurrent had been hitherto wholly intercepted by the Earth, it mighttake so long a time in reaching the Sun that the interval between themovement of the helm and the response of the Astronaut's coursethereto might afford some indication of the time occupied by thecurrent in traversing the 96-1/2 millions of miles which parted mefrom the Sun. My hope, however, was wholly disappointed. I couldneither be sure that the action was instantaneous, nor that it wasotherwise.

  At the close of the third day I had gained, as was indicated by theinstruments, something more than two millions of miles in a directline from the Sun; and for the future I might, and did, reckon on asteady progress of about one and a quarter million miles daily underthe apergic force alone--a gain in a line directly outward from theSun of about one million. Henceforward I shall not record myobservations, except where they implied an unexpected or alteredresult.

  On the sixth day, I perceived another nebula, and on this occasion ina more promising direction. It appeared, from its gradual movement, tolie 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 orthrough it, and it would surely explain what had perplexed and baffledme in the case of the former nebula. At this distance the nature ofthe cloudlet was imperceptible to the naked eye. The window telescopewas not adjustable to an object which I could not bring convenientlywithin the field of view of the lenses. In a few hours the nebula sochanged its form and position, that, being immediately over theportion of the roof between the front or bow lens and that in thecentre of the roof, its central section was invisible; but theextremities of that part which I had seen in the first instancethrough the upper plane window of the bow were now clearly visiblefrom the upper windows of either side. What had at first been a meregreatly elongated oval, with a species of rapidly diminishing tail ateach extremity, had now become an arc spanning no inconsiderable partof the space above me, narrowing rapidly as it extended downwards andsternwards. Presently it came in view through the upper lens, but didnot obscure in the least the image of the stars which were thenvisible in the metacompass. I very soon ascertained that the cloudletconsisted, as I had supposed in the former case, of a multitude ofpoints of light less brilliant than the stars, the distance betweenwhich became constantly wider, but which for some time were separatelyso small as to present no disc that any magnifying power at my commandcould render measurable. In the meantime, the extremities visiblethrough the other windows were constantly widening out till lost inthe spangled darkness. By and by, it became impossible with the nakedeye to distinguish the individual points from the smaller stars; andshortly after this the nearest began to present discs of appreciablesize but somewhat irregular shape. I
had now no doubt that I was aboutto pass through one of those meteoric rings which our most advancedastronomers believe to exist in immense numbers throughout space, andto the Earth's contact with or approach to which they ascribe theshowers of falling, stars visible in August and November. Ere long,one after another of these bodies passed rapidly before my sight, atdistances varying probably from five yards to five thousand miles.Where to test the distance was impossible, anything like accuratemeasurement was equally out of the question; but my opinion is, thatthe diameters of the nearest ranged from ten inches to two hundredfeet. One only passed so near that its absolute size could be judgedby the marks upon its face. This was a rock-like mass, presenting atmany places on the surface distinct traces of metallic veins orblotches, rudely ovoid in form, but with a number of broken surfaces,one or two of which reflected the light much more brilliantly thanothers. The weight of this one meteoroid was too insignificant ascompared with that of the Astronaut seriously to disturb my course.Fortunately for me, I passed so nearly through the centre of theaggregation that its attraction as a whole was nearly inoperative. Sofar as I could judge, the meteors in that part of the ring throughwhich I passed were pretty evenly distributed; and as from theappearance of the first which passed my window to the disappearance ofthe last four hours elapsed, I conceived that the diameter of thecongeries, measured in the direction of my path, which seemed to benearly in the diameter of their orbit, was about 180,000 miles, andprobably the perpendicular depth was about the same.

  I may mention here, though somewhat out of place, to avoidinterrupting the narrative of my descent upon Mars, the onlyinteresting incident that occurred during the latter days of myjourney--the gradual passage of the Earth off the face of the Sun. Forsome little time after this the Earth was entirely invisible; butlater, looking through the telescope adjusted to the lens on thatside, I discerned two very minute and bright crescents, which, fromtheir direction and position, were certainly those of the Earth andMoon, indeed could hardly be anything else.

  Towards the thirtieth day of my voyage I was disturbed by theconflicting indications obtained from different instruments andseparate observations. The general result came to this, that thediscometer, where it should have indicated a distance of 333, actuallygave 347. But if my speed had increased, or I had overestimated theloss by changes of direction, Mars should have been larger in equalproportion. This, however, was not the case. Supposing my reckoning tobe right, and I had no reason to think it otherwise, except theindication of the discometer, the Sun's disc ought to have diminishedin the proportion of 95 to 15, whereas the diminution was in theproportion of 9 to 1. So far as the barycrite could be trusted, itsvery minute indications confirmed those of the discometer; and theonly conclusion I could draw, after much thought and many intricatecalculations, was that the distance of 95 millions of miles betweenthe Earth and the Sun, accepted, though not very confidently, by allterrestrial astronomers, is an over-estimate; and that, consequently,all the other distances of the solar system have been equallyoverrated. Mars consequently would be smaller, but also his distanceconsiderably less, than I had supposed. I finally concluded that thesolar distance of the Earth was less than 9 millions of miles, insteadof more than 95. This would involve, of course, a proportionatediminution in the distance I had to traverse, while it did not implyan equal error in the reckoning of my speed, which had at first beencalculated from the Earth's disc, and not from that of the Sun. Hence,continuing my course unchanged, I should arrive at the orbit of Marssome days earlier than intended, and at a point behind that occupiedby the planet, and yet farther behind the one I aimed at. Prolongedobservation and careful calculation had so fully satisfied me of thenecessity of the corrections in question, that I did not hesitate toalter my course accordingly, and to prepare for a descent on thethirty-ninth instead of the forty-first day. I had, of course, toprepare for the descent very long before I should come within thedirect influence of the attraction of Mars. This would not prevailover the Sun's attraction till I had come within a little more than100,000 miles of the surface, and this distance would not allow formaterial reduction of my speed, even were I at once to direct thewhole force of the apergic current against the planet. I estimatedthat arriving within some two millions of miles of him, with a speedof 45,000 miles per hour, and then directing the whole force of thecurrent in his direction, I should arrive at his surface at a speednearly equal to that at which I had ascended from the Earth. I knewthat I could spare force enough to make up for any miscalculationpossible, or at least probable. Of course any serious error might befatal. I was exposed to two dangers; perhaps to three: but to nonewhich 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, andyet should go on into space, or if, on the other hand, I should stopshort, the Astronaut might become an independent planet, pursuing anorbit nearly parallel to that of the Earth; in which case I shouldperish of starvation. It was conceivable that I might, in attemptingto avert this fate, fall upon the Sun, though this seemed exceedinglyimprobable, requiring a combination of accidents very unlikely tooccur. On the other hand, I might by possibility attain my point, andyet, failing properly to calculate the rate of descent, be dashed topieces upon the surface of Mars. Of this, however, I had very littlefear, the tremendous power of the apergy having been so fully provedthat I believed that nothing but some disabling accident tomyself--such as was hardly to be feared in the absence of gravitation,and with the extreme simplicity of the machinery I employed--couldprevent my being able, when I became aware of the danger, to employ intime a sufficient force to avert it. The first of these perils, then,was the graver one, perhaps the only grave one, and certainly to myimagination it was much the most terrible. The idea of perishing ofwant in the infinite solitude of space, and being whirled round forever the dead denizen of a planet one hundred feet in diameter, had init something even more awful than grotesque.

  On the thirty-ninth morning of my voyage, so far as I could calculateby the respective direction and size of the Sun and of Mars, I waswithin about 1,900,000 miles from the latter. I proceeded withouthesitation to direct the whole force of the current permitted toemerge from the apergion directly against the centre of the planet.His diameter increased with great rapidity, till at the end of thefirst day I found myself within one million of miles of his surface.His diameter subtended about 15', and his disc appeared aboutone-fourth the size of the Moon. Examined through the telescope, itpresented a very different appearance from that either of the Earth orof her satellite. It resembled the former in having unmistakably airand water. But, unlike the Earth, the greater portion of its surfaceseemed to be land; and, instead of continents surrounded by water, itpresented 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, formingthe northern and southern boundary between the arctic and temperatezones, was another broader band of water, connected apparently in oneor two places with the central, or, if one may so call it, equatorialsea. South of the latter is the one great Martial ocean. The moststriking feature of this new world, as seen from this point, was theexistence of three enormous gulfs, from three to five thousand milesin length, and apparently varying in breadth from one hundred to sevenhundred miles. In the midst of the principal ocean, but somewhat tothe southward, is an island of unique appearance. It is roughlycircular, and, as I perceived in descending, stands very high, itstable-like summit being some 4000 feet, as I subsequently ascertained,above the sea-level. Its surface, however, was perfectlywhite--scarcely less brilliant, consequently, than an equal area ofthe polar icefields. The globe, of course, revolved in some 4-1/ hoursof earthly time, and, as I descended, presented successively everypart of its surface to my view. I speak of descent, but, of course, Iwas as yet ascending just as truly as ever, the Sun being visiblethrough the lens in the floor, and reflected upon the mirror of thediscometer, while Mars was now seen t
hrough the upper lens, and hisimage received in the mirror of the metacompass. A noteworthy featurein the meteorology of the planet became apparent during the second dayof the descent. As magnified by the telescope adjusted to the upperlens, the distinctions of sea and land disappeared from the easternand western limbs of the planet; indeed, within 15 deg. or an hour of timefrom either. It was plain, therefore, that those regions in which itwas late evening or early morning were hidden from view; and,independently of the whitish light reflected from them, there could belittle doubt that the obscuration was due to clouds or mists. Had thewhitish light covered the land alone, it might have been attributed toa snowfall, or, perhaps, even to a very severe hoar frost congealing adense moisture. But this last seemed highly improbable; and that mistor cloud was the true explanation became more and more apparent as,with a nearer approach, it became possible to discern dimly a broadexpanse of water contrasting the orange tinge of the land through thisannular veil. At 4h. on the second day of the descent, I was about500,000 miles from Mars, the micrometer verifying, by the increasedangle subtended by the diameter, my calculated rate of approach. Onthe next day I was able to sleep in security, and to devote myattention to the observation of the planet's surface, for at its closeI should be still 15,000 miles from Mars, and consequently beyond thedistance at which his attraction would predominate over that of theSun. To my great surprise, in the course of this day I discerned twosmall discs, one on each side of the planet, moving at a rate whichrendered measurement impossible, but evidently very much smaller thanany satellite with which astronomers are acquainted, and so small thattheir non-discovery by terrestrial telescopes was not extraordinary.They were evidently very minute, whether ten, twenty, or fifty milesin diameter I could not say; neither of them being likely, so far as Icould calculate, to come at any part of my descent very near theAstronaut, and the rapidity of their movement carrying them across thefield, even with the lowest power of my telescopes, too fast formeasurement. That they were Martial moons, however, there could be nodoubt.

  About 10h. on the last day of the descent, the effect of Mars'attraction, which had for some time so disturbed the position of theAstronaut as to take his disc completely out of the field of themeta-compass, became decidedly predominant over that of the Sun. I hadto change the direction of the apergic current first to the left-handconductor, and afterwards, as the greater weight of the floor turnedthe Astronaut completely over, bringing the planet immediately belowit, to the downward one. I was, of course, approaching Mars on thedaylight side, and nearly in the centre. This, however, did notexactly suit me. During the whole of this day it was impossible that Ishould sleep for a minute; since if at any point I should find that Ihad miscalculated my rate of descent, or if any other unforeseenaccident should occur, immediate action would be necessary to preventa shipwreck, which must without doubt be fatal. It was very likelythat I should be equally unable to sleep during the first twenty-fourhours of my sojourn upon Mars, more especially should he be inhabited,and should my descent be observed. It was, therefore, my policy toland at some point where the Sun was setting, and to enjoy rest duringsuch part of the twelve hours of the Martial night as should not beemployed in setting my vessel in order and preparing to evacuate it. Ishould have to ascertain exactly the pressure of the Martialatmosphere, so as not to step too suddenly from a dense into what wasprobably a very light one. If possible, I intended to land upon thesummit of a mountain, so high as to be untenanted and of difficultaccess. At the same time it would not do to choose the highest pointof a very lofty range, since both the cold and the thinness of the airmight in such a place be fatal. I wished, of course, to leave theAstronaut secure, and, if not out of reach, yet not within easy reach;otherwise it would have been a simple matter to watch my opportunityand descend in the dark from my first landing-place by the same meansby which I had made the rest of my voyage.

  At 18h. I was within 8000 miles of the surface, and could observe Marsdistinctly as a world, and no longer as a star. The colour, soremarkable a feature in his celestial appearance, was almost equallyperceptible at this moderate elevation. The seas are not so much blueas grey. Masses of land reflected a light between yellow and orange,indicating, as I thought, that orange must be as much the predominantcolour of vegetation as green upon Earth. As I came still lower, andonly parts of the disc were visible at once, and these through theside and end windows, this conviction was more and more stronglyimpressed upon my mind. What, however, was beyond denial was, that ifthe polar ice and snow were not so purely and distinctly white as theyappear at a distance upon Earth, they were yet to a great extentdevoid of the yellow tinge that preponderated everywhere else. Themost that could be said was, that whereas on Earth the snow is of thatwhite which we consider absolute, and call, as such, snow-white, butwhich really has in it a very slight preponderance of blue, upon Marsthe polar caps are rather cream-white, or of that white, so common inour flowers, which has in it an equally slight tinge of yellow. On theshore, or about twenty miles from the shore of the principal sea tothe southward of the equator, and but a few degrees from the equatoritself, I perceived at last a point which appeared peculiarly suitablefor my descent. A very long range of mountains, apparently having anaverage height of about 14,000 feet, with some peaks of probably twiceor three times that altitude, stretched for several hundred milesalong the coast, leaving, however, between it and the actualshore-line an alluvial plain of some twenty to fifty miles across. Atthe extremity of this range, and quite detached from it, stood anisolated mountain of peculiar form, which, as I examined it throughthe telescope, appeared to present a surface sufficiently broken andsloped to permit of descent; while, at the same time, its height andthe character of its summit satisfied me that no one was likely toinhabit it, and that though I might descend-it in a few hours, toascend it on foot from the plain would be a day's journey. Towardsthis I directed my course, looking out from time to time carefully forany symptoms of human habitation or animal life. I made out by degreesthe lines of rivers, mountain slopes covered by great forests,extensive valleys and plains, seemingly carpeted by a low, dense, richvegetation. But my view being essentially of a bird's-eye character,it was only in those parts that lay upon my horizon that I coulddiscern clearly the height of any object above the general level; andas yet, therefore, there might well be houses and buildings,cultivated fields and divisions, which I could not see.

  Before I had satisfied myself whether the planet was or was notinhabited, I found myself in a position from which its general surfacewas veiled by the evening mist, and directly over the mountain inquestion, within some twelve miles of its summit. This distance Idescended in the course of a quarter of an hour, and landed without ashock about half an hour, so far as I could judge, after the Sun haddisappeared below the horizon. The sunset, however, by reason of themists, was totally invisible.