II THE FIRST MAKING OF CAVORITE
But Cavor’s fears were groundless, so far as the actual making wasconcerned. On the 14th of October 1899 this incredible substance wasmade!
Oddly enough, it was made at last by accident, when Mr. Cavor leastexpected it. He had fused together a number of metals and certain otherthings--I wish I knew the particulars now!--and he intended to leavethe mixture a week and then allow it to cool slowly. Unless he hadmiscalculated, the last stage in the combination would occur when thestuff sank to a temperature of 60° Fahr. But it chanced that, unknownto Cavor, dissension had arisen about the furnace tending. Gibbs, whohad previously seen to this, had suddenly attempted to shift it to theman who had been a gardener, on the score that coal was soil, beingdug, and therefore could not possibly fall within the province of ajoiner; the man who had been a jobbing gardener alleged, however, thatcoal was a metallic or ore-like substance, let alone that he was cook.But Spargus insisted on Gibbs doing the coaling, seeing that he was ajoiner and that coal is notoriously fossil wood. Consequently Gibbsceased to replenish the furnace, and no one else did so, and Cavor wastoo much immersed in certain interesting problems concerning a Cavoriteflying machine (neglecting the resistance of the air and one or twoother points) to perceive that anything was wrong. And the prematurebirth of his invention took place just as he was coming across thefield to my bungalow for our afternoon talk and tea.
I remember the occasion with extreme vividness. The water was boiling,and everything was prepared, and the sound of his “zuzzoo” had broughtme out upon the verandah. His active little figure was black againstthe autumnal sunset, and to the right the chimneys of his house justrose above a gloriously tinted group of trees. Remoter rose the WealdenHills, faint and blue, while to the left the hazy marsh spread outspacious and serene. And then----!
The chimneys jerked heavenward, smashing into a string of bricks asthey rose, and the roof and a miscellany of furniture followed. Thenovertaking them came a huge white flame. The trees about the buildingswayed and whirled and tore themselves to pieces, that sprang towardsthe flare. My ears were smitten with a clap of thunder that left medeaf on one side for life, and all about me windows smashed, unheeded.
I took three steps from the verandah towards Cavor’s house, and even asI did so came the wind.
Instantly my coat tails were over my head, and I was progressing ingreat leaps and bounds, and quite against my will, towards him. In thesame moment the discoverer was seized, whirled about, and flew throughthe screaming air. I saw one of my chimney pots hit the ground withinsix yards of me, leap a score of feet, and so hurry in great stridestowards the focus of the disturbance. Cavor, kicking and flapping, camedown again, rolled over and over on the ground for a space, struggledup and was lifted and borne forward at an enormous velocity, vanishingat last among the labouring, lashing trees that writhed about his house.
A mass of smoke and ashes, and a square of bluish shining substancerushed up towards the zenith. A large fragment of fencing came sailingpast me, dropped edgeways, hit the ground and fell flat, and then theworst was over. The aerial commotion fell swiftly until it was a merestrong gale, and I became once more aware that I had breath and feet.By leaning back against the wind I managed to stop, and could collectsuch wits as still remained to me.
In that instant the whole face of the world had changed. The tranquilsunset had vanished, the sky was dark with scurrying clouds, everythingwas flattened and swaying with the gale. I glanced back to see if mybungalow was still in a general way standing, then staggered forwardtowards the trees amongst which Cavor had vanished, and through whosetall and leaf-denuded branches shone the flames of his burning house.
I entered the copse, dashing from one tree to another and clingingto them, and for a space I sought him in vain. Then amidst a heap ofsmashed branches and fencing that had banked itself against a portionof his garden wall I perceived something stir. I made a run for this,but before I reached it a brown object separated itself, rose on twomuddy legs and protruded two drooping, bleeding hands. Some tatteredends of garment fluttered out from its middle portion and streamedbefore the wind.
For a moment I did not recognise this earthy lump, and then I saw thatit was Cavor, caked in the mud in which he had rolled. He leant forwardagainst the wind, rubbing the dirt from his eyes and mouth.
He extended a muddy lump of hand, and staggered a pace towards me. Hisface worked with emotion, little lumps of mud kept falling from it.He looked as damaged and pitiful as any living creature I have everseen, and his remark therefore amazed me exceeding. “Gratulate me,” hegasped; “gratulate me!”
“Congratulate you!” said I. “Good heavens! What for?”
“I’ve done it.”
“You _have_. What on earth caused that explosion?”
A gust of wind blew his words away. I understood him to say that itwasn’t an explosion at all. The wind hurled me into collision with him,and we stood clinging to one another.
“Try and get back to my bungalow,” I bawled in his ear. He did not hearme, and shouted something about “three martyrs--science,” and alsosomething about “not much good.” At the time he laboured under theimpression that his three attendants had perished in the whirlwind.Happily this was incorrect. Directly he had left for my bungalow theyhad gone off to the public-house in Lympne to discuss the question ofthe furnaces over some trivial refreshment.
I repeated my suggestion of getting back to my bungalow, and this timehe understood. We clung arm-in-arm and started, and managed at last toreach the shelter of as much roof as was left to me. For a space we satin arm-chairs and panted. All the windows were broken, and the lighterarticles of furniture were in great disorder, but no irrevocable damagewas done. Happily the kitchen door had stood the pressure upon it, sothat all my crockery and cooking materials had survived. The oil stovewas still burning, and I put on the water to boil again for tea. Andthat prepared, I could turn on Cavor for his explanation.
“Quite correct,” he insisted; “quite correct. I’ve done it, and it’sall right.”
“But,” I protested. “All right! Why, there can’t be a rick standing, ora fence or a thatched roof undamaged for twenty miles round....”
“It’s all right--_really_. I didn’t, of course, foresee this littleupset. My mind was preoccupied with another problem, and I’m apt todisregard these practical side issues. But it’s all right----”
“My dear sir,” I cried, “don’t you see you’ve done thousands of pounds’worth of damage?”
“There, I throw myself on your discretion. I’m not a practical man, ofcourse, but don’t you think they will regard it as a cyclone?”
“But the explosion----”
“It was _not_ an explosion. It’s perfectly simple. Only, as I say,I’m apt to overlook these little things. It’s that zuzzoo businesson a larger scale. Inadvertently I made this substance of mine, thisCavorite, in a thin, wide sheet....”
He paused. “You are quite clear that the stuff is opaque togravitation, that it cuts off things from gravitating towards eachother?”
“Yes,” said I. “Yes.”
“Well, so soon as it reached a temperature of 60° Fahr. and the processof its manufacture was complete, the air above it, the portions of roofand ceiling and floor above it ceased to have weight. I suppose youknow--everybody knows nowadays--that, as a usual thing, the air _has_weight, that it presses on everything at the surface of the earth,presses in all directions, with a pressure of fourteen and a halfpounds to the square inch?”
“I know that,” said I. “Go on.”
“I know that too,” he remarked. “Only this shows you how uselessknowledge is unless you apply it. You see, over our Cavorite thisceased to be the case, the air there ceased to exert any pressure, andthe air round it and not over the Cavorite was exerting a pressureof fourteen pounds and a half to the square inch upon this suddenlyweightless air. Ah! you begin to see! The air all about the Cavoritecrushed in upon the air above it
with irresistible force. The airabove the Cavorite was forced upward violently, the air that rushed into replace it immediately lost weight, ceased to exert any pressure,followed suit, blew the ceiling through and the roof off....
“You perceive,” he said, “it formed a sort of atmospheric fountain, akind of chimney in the atmosphere. And if the Cavorite itself hadn’tbeen loose and so got sucked up the chimney, does it occur to you whatwould have happened?”
I thought. “I suppose,” I said, “the air would be rushing up and upover that infernal piece of stuff now.”
“Precisely,” he said. “A huge fountain----”
“Spouting into space! Good heavens! Why, it would have squirted allthe atmosphere of the earth away! It would have robbed the world ofair! It would have been the death of all mankind! That little lump ofstuff!”
“Not exactly into space,” said Cavor, “but as bad--practically. Itwould have whipped the air off the world as one peels a banana, andflung it thousands of miles. It would have dropped back again, ofcourse--but on an asphyxiated world! From our point of view very littlebetter than if it never came back!”
I stared. As yet I was too amazed to realise how all my expectationshad been upset. “What do you mean to do now?” I asked.
“In the first place, if I may borrow a garden trowel I will remove someof this earth with which I am encased, and then if I may avail myselfof your domestic conveniences I will have a bath. This done, we willconverse more at leisure. It will be wise, I think”--he laid a muddyhand on my arm--“if nothing were said of this affair beyond ourselves.I know I have caused great damage--probably even dwelling-houses maybe ruined here and there upon the country-side. But on the other hand,I cannot possibly pay for the damage I have done, and if the realcause of this is published, it will lead only to heart-burning and theobstruction of my work. One cannot foresee _everything_, you know,and I cannot consent for one moment to add the burthen of practicalconsiderations to my theorising. Later on, when you have come in withyour practical mind, and Cavorite is floated--floated _is_ the word,isn’t it?--and it has realised all you anticipate for it, we may setmatters right with these persons. But not now--not now. If no otherexplanation is offered, people, in the present unsatisfactory state ofmeteorological science, will ascribe all this to a cyclone; there mightbe a public subscription, and as my house has collapsed and been burnt,I should in that case receive a considerable share in the compensation,which would be extremely helpful to the prosecution of our researches.But if it is known that _I_ caused this, there will be no publicsubscription, and everybody will be put out. Practically I shouldnever get a chance of working in peace again. My three assistants mayor may not have perished. That is a detail. If they have, it is nogreat loss; they were more zealous than able, and this premature eventmust be largely due to their joint neglect of the furnace. If theyhave not perished, I doubt if they have the intelligence to explainthe affair. They will accept the cyclone story. And if, during thetemporary unfitness of my house for occupation, I may lodge in one ofthe untenanted rooms of this bungalow of yours----”
He paused and regarded me.
A man of such possibilities, I reflected, is no ordinary guest toentertain.
“Perhaps,” said I, rising to my feet, “we had better begin by lookingfor a trowel,” and I led the way to the scattered vestiges of thegreenhouse.
And while he was having his bath I considered the entire questionalone. It was clear there were drawbacks to Mr. Cavor’s society I hadnot foreseen. The absent-mindedness that had just escaped depopulatingthe terrestrial globe, might at any moment result in some other graveinconvenience. On the other hand I was young, my affairs were in amess, and I was in just the mood for reckless adventure--with a chanceof something good at the end of it. I had quite settled in my mind thatI was to have half at least in that aspect of the affair. FortunatelyI held my bungalow, as I have already explained, on a three-yearagreement, without being responsible for repairs; and my furniture,such as there was of it, had been hastily purchased, was unpaid for,insured, and altogether devoid of associations. In the end I decided tokeep on with him, and see the business through.
Certainly the aspect of things had changed very greatly. I no longerdoubted at all the enormous possibilities of the substance, but I beganto have doubts about the gun-carriage and the patent boots.
We set to work at once to reconstruct his laboratory and proceed withour experiments. Cavor talked more on my level than he had ever donebefore, when it came to the question of how we should make the stuffnext.
“Of course we must make it again,” he said, with a sort of glee I hadnot expected in him, “of course we must make it again. We have caughta Tartar, perhaps, but we have left the theoretical behind us for goodand all. If we can possibly avoid wrecking this little planet of ours,we will. But--there _must_ be risks! There must be. In experimentalwork there always are. And here, as a practical man, _you_ must comein. For my own part it seems to me we might make it edgeways, perhaps,and very thin. Yet I don’t know. I have a certain dim perception ofanother method. I can hardly explain it yet. But curiously enough itcame into my mind, while I was rolling over and over in the mud beforethe wind, and very doubtful how the whole adventure was to end, asbeing absolutely the thing I ought to have done.”
Even with my aid we found some little difficulty, and meanwhile wekept at work restoring the laboratory. There was plenty to do beforeit was absolutely necessary to decide upon the precise form and methodof our second attempt. Our only hitch was the strike of the threelabourers, who objected to my activity as a foreman. But that matter wecompromised after two days’ delay.