Chapter XIII: “vaults of Purple”

“All the elements
At least had gone to wreck, disturbed and torn
With violence of this conflict.”
(+Milton.+)

“What’s up, old man?” exclaimed Ross, hurriedly, as he and Dennis came hastily round the barrier, and Dennis asked, “Anything gone wrong?”

“Not here!” replied Gilbert, mystified; “the ship’s all right, everything is in perfect order and working splendidly. What’s gone wrong we’ve to find out. We have come on a straight line towards the centre.”

“Have we gone off at a tangent and come outside?” asked Miles Dalton, a botanist, as the rest all crowded up to the barrier.

“Impossible!” replied Dennis, “or we should again be in the atmosphere, or photosphere.”

“We must do something!” said Gilbert; “shall we sample the fog outside with one of the strong retainers, and risk another explosion?” All the others assenting, he continued: “Here, Dennis, take my place, old man, and do something for your living! that job can wait, under the circs.!” And he and Price Rowland passed into the laboratory.

The ship being safe, the others all stood about discussing the curious situation, without arriving at any reasonable conclusion. In the meantime, Gilbert and Rowland had obtained a sample of the outer air, this time without accident, and in due course they entered the saloon, where all the others crowded round them, anticipating startling news from their surprised expressions.

“What do you think!” exclaimed Gilbert; “the atmosphere here is nitrogen, neither more nor less than pure nitrogen!”

Had he told them they were in the shed at home, his fellow travellers could not have been more astonished, and several incredulously repeated, “Nitrogen? _nitrogen!_ are you sure? Nitrogen!!—a colourless gas, and this colour!”

“Yes, indeed it is,” answered Rowland. “This soup-like appearance is due entirely to fine particles of metallic and other dust which, when taken away, leaves absolutely pure nitrogen.”

“Then the inference is obvious!” cried Rutherford and several others.

“Assuredly,” agreed Gilbert; “all is now clear as daylight. We have passed through the immensely thick crust of the sun, and either come into a stratum of nitrogen or the whole interior of the planet is nitrogen.”

Here, indeed, was a discovery. This gas, nitrogen, from its being neutral and neither inflammable nor a supporter of combustion, either had put out the solar fire or caused a thick black crust of solid matter to form, which was the black portion through which they had recently passed, and the fine particles of solidified sun-dust were falling towards the centre, drawn thither by their own gravity; those being eliminated, nitrogen only remained.

“All has come to pass as you foretold, Oakland,” said Parkin Coombes; “but in spite of the _Regina’s_ powers it seems a marvellous thing that the sea has not rushed in after us, through the aperture we made.”

“And if the atoms were pushed aside by the _Regina_ and pressed into the parts adjacent, so as to allow free passage to the ship, one would think the sides of the well-like opening we made would become so tightly packed as to prevent the re-formation of the atoms in their original position, and thus form a shaft down which the sea could pour,” said Farrant.

“Yes,” replied Dennis, “that is what would occur ordinarily; but being temporarily turned into vapour by our de-atomising force, the atoms would, almost instantly after our passage, resume their former condition, and what heat had been imparted to them by the change would be destroyed by this nitrogen. Consequently, we have not disturbed the crust—actually—although, considering the circumstances, how we have escaped being involved in an awful explosion is a mystery.”

“Anyway, it is evident we _are_ fairly inside Dan Phœbus!” exclaimed Rowland; “and whether we caused an extra explosion up above or not is immaterial, for it is certain that the crust is as substantial as before, or the fiery sea even now would be pouring down on us and into the interior.”

Their discovery of the nitrogen could not do otherwise than cause a violent sensation, and every one buttonholed his neighbour, and talked and expounded theories galore. Then Gilbert asked them to come into the laboratory, and they trooped in _en masse_, for each knew what such a revelation meant, and to what it might lead, and every one was on the tip-toe of expectancy. Fresh samples were taken, with the same result as before; they were in a sea of nitrogen, safe from fire—but were they safe from chemical action?

On this point, judging from the severe tests which their protecting currents had withstood already, they were reassured, and then the whole company went nearly wild with enthusiasm. They were so delighted as almost to bewilder the three owners with thanks and congratulations for bringing them there, and to Godfrey also for his share in it, which made the four of them so shy and embarrassed that, in comic despair, they took Rollsborough by the collar and pushed him to the fore, as the one who had first suggested they should go _through_ the sun, and then _he_ became the centre of a fresh avalanche of applause; they chaired him, like a set of wild schoolboys, and kept it up till the simple, good-hearted little man nearly cried with pleasure and excitement, and could only say, hysterically, “No, no, gentlemen! not I, not I! I had no idea of this happening; I had not, really! Thank Oakland and his friends, and our good friend Spenser. Oh dear! gentlemen, don’t, I beg of you! It is very kind of you, very, but—no, no! I thank you sincerely, but—Oakland, and——” And, overwhelmed, he struggled and fought his way amongst his clamouring colleagues till he got to Dennis, under whose wing he took shelter, exclaiming, “Really, Oakland, all the thanks are due to you and to Eastern, and Ainley, and to Spenser, here, and how _can_ we thank you enough! What will the world say?” And the poor man mopped his forehead, agitated and perspiring.

“The world!” interjected Godfrey, laughing. “What will the world say? It will say that we are one and all supreme liars, at the very least, possibly something stronger!—for to begin with, no one on Earth will believe for a moment that we have been under the sun’s enormous crust, or even _in_ the fiery sea at all.”

No one seemed to have thought of that, and somebody suggested they should at once ‘wave’ the news to Earth and see how they took it, so Ross despatched the message, and after a while the instrument started and the reply came: “The _Regina_ is too small for us to pick her out on the sun’s disc. We note you say that you are inside the sun and appreciate your joke.”

This was pinned up, and caused no little amusement, which soon turned to mortification when there dawned on them the utter impossibility of being able to prove their statements.

The dust seemed exactly like that obtained up above, and therefore to say a portion of it had been obtained below the photosphere, and another portion high above, would be no proof that they had not divided it; and to bring back cylinders of pure nitrogen with a statement that it came from inside the crust would not prove that it had not been made on board. Neither would the miles of continuous photographs and spectrum films prove the positions from which they had been taken.

Of course they were all trusted scientists, men on whose word reliance was placed, but it seems to be a trait in human nature to doubt anything abnormally wonderful, unusual, or even contrary to established belief and expectations; and though the weight of numbers all telling the same story precluded avowed incredulity, all knew that to state such startling and unexpected facts without substantial and indisputable proof would but cause people to disbelieve at heart while apparently agreeing with what they could not deny.

They could only leave it to chance to provide them the evidence required, so they dismissed the matter for the moment, and several suggested that they should rise and examine the interior of the crust, or shell. Accordingly Dennis caused the _Regina_ to rise till her dome was just below the crust, but near as were the lights, their powerful beams failed to penetrate the gas, rendered thick by the fine dust which absorbed their rays. The vessel then circled the crust, travelling immediately beneath, but though many samples of air were taken, the same results followed, revealing only nitrogen.

After the circuit had been made, Ross inquired, “Are we going upward outside, the way we came, or shall we descend to the centre?”

Some were for returning and others for sinking, when Sorrel said: “Let us fall, Ainley. There’s no telling what will happen, and as we _are_ here we shall see, at any rate, if the whole of the interior is nitrogen.”

This now meeting with general assent, the ship fell steadily, all the search-lights full on, and every face was pressed closely to the windows, watching the opaque wall of dust, so that no alteration or passing object should escape notice. In a few minutes there was a general exclamation of surprise, as, simultaneously, all saw a change take place in the fog around, and there was a sudden cry from various places, “Oxygen, with nitrogen—nitrogen peroxide!”

Instantly the ship was stopped, and on all sides the wall of fog showed ruddy-coloured and glowing. The particles of dust were being destroyed, either by heat or evaporation, for the light now penetrated several feet and the haze had the distinct red glow which comes from the chemical combination of nitrogen with oxygen, though on Earth such a union is caused by the action of intense heat.

Again was there great excitement, and all crowded round Gilbert, as he obtained and examined a sample of the outer air, which but confirmed their suppositions, there being a perceptible diminution in the quantity of dust collected.

It was now about the usual time for retiring to rest but all ignored the automatic electric signal; sleep, even rest, was out of the question, for who could sleep when such strange and marvellous phenomena were unfolded before them in such unexpected and exciting form.

They sailed forward, maintaining the same gravity, thus keeping an equal distance from the crust all round, returning to the spot from which they started, finding but a repetition of the previous experience; in some wonderful and unaccountable way the deadly nitrogen had taken to itself, and united with, oxygen, giving promise of becoming less deadly.

Slowly sank the ship, samples of the air being taken every few miles, and though for several hours there was no change, they eventually came to a stratum where there was a greater percentage of oxygen. All knew what this portended and again everybody became almost distracted, and it required all their self-control to enable them to conduct their observations calmly and systematically, step by step, as they proceeded.

All at once Dennis threw down some wires from an induction coil which he had been using, saying to Ross,—“I’m played out, Ross! Tell them all to go to sleep, and insist on it; what’s coming can wait! And let the ship stay where she is.” And he passed on into his cabin, where he flung himself down just as he was, falling asleep almost before he had settled in his hammock, without heeding Ross’s reply.

Ross then spoke up: “I say, you fellows, we must look after our health, you know! For nearly fifty hours we have had no sleep, and all the time have been under full pressure of exciting work. We cannot continue it without being ill, and illness on board would be a dreadful thing. Let us all retire for at least twelve hours and then we can continue our observations and experiments in detail, as we sink down to that which appears to be below us. In the meantime, the ship is stationary and will not move a hair’s-breadth, so we shall lose nothing. Good-night.” And he also passed into his room and was soon fast asleep.

Loth to leave their work, yet feeling the wisdom of reserving their energies, and finding there was no movement in the air around, the others gradually sought repose in their cabins, going off in driblets till the saloon, laboratory and observatory were empty, and throughout the ship there reigned silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of the sleepers.

Gilbert had retired some hours before Dennis; for over two days he had been working feverishly, but though fagged out, he would not seek rest except on Ross’s solemn promise to wake him in order to take charge of the vessel. Consequently, he was the first up, and saw that for the first time during the voyage the ship was unwatched, and felt somewhat annoyed that Ross had not called him as promised before vacating his position. Evidently both he and Dennis had been too weary to waken their sleeping companion.

Mechanically Gilbert looked round and saw that all was safe, then passed into the rooms of Dennis and Ross, both of whom were sleeping soundly; in the reflecting tubes he examined every berth and nook of the whole ship, to find all safe and the occupants sleeping calmly in their cabins. He then, in the dead silence, passed out of the _sanctum sanctorum_ to examine the air apparatus, which proved to be working satisfactorily, and then forward into the laboratory where, after a general glance round to see what experiments were in progress, he commenced some further analyses of the composition, weight, and nature of the atmosphere in which the ship rested. What was his surprise to find that the air outside was in motion, so slight that only the most delicate instrument recorded the faintest trace of sound, but sound it was, undoubtedly. Rushing back, he examined the switches and dials, to find the ship poised and absolutely still. The air must have been in motion, therefore, the night before, but so slightly that, the ship’s motion being present also, the instrument was unaffected. When the ship was still, the vibration of eighteen moving people, imperceptible as that seemed on so large and rigid a vessel, had, nevertheless, proved sufficient to annul the instrument’s record of sound.

It was evidently an illustration of a law of physics—that if two sound-waves not in unison meet, and the swell of one encounters the opposite phase of the other, silence will result, for both will be neutralised; just as in the well-known experiment of the tumbler placed on a table and a second tumbler held at right-angles over it. A tuning-fork in rapid vibration is held in the centre of the angle formed by the two tumblers, and though its vibrations continue, no sound results; but the sound is made to become audible or cease as one of the tumblers is removed or replaced. In the one phase, by the upper tumbler being removed there is no check on the vibrations, which are free to produce sound, but when the upper tumbler is held as described, the sound-waves strike one another at opposite phases, and the plus of one is absorbed in the minus of the other.

It was a most interesting point, for the sound-waves set in motion by the moving air and those disturbed by the moving people chanced to be at right-angles, and produced silent vibrations. For several hours Gilbert continued his observations and experiments, hearing first one and then another of his companions moving about, and at last he awoke Dennis and Ross, asking them not to start the ship for the present. Very soon all were in their accustomed places, refreshed and alert after their long sleep. Hearing that Gilbert had found out something important, everybody trooped into the laboratory and he explained his discovery.

“What do you infer from that?” asked Godfrey. “I only see in it a most interesting physical experiment naturally conducted.”

“It is more than that,” was the reply; “it means that there is ‘sound’ outside.”

“Really!” remarked Godfrey, banteringly. “Surely we have had enough sound outside since we came near the sun to make a little more or less now a matter of no surprise—but you physicists have always something wonderful up your sleeve, haven’t you, Gilbert? What is it now?”

All the rest laughed at Godfrey’s manner, and Gilbert, turning to his chum, retorted, laughingly,—“This will prove a lesson in deduction, old man, and show you how to make one fact elucidate another!” And then more seriously,—“You notice that after passing through the enormously thick sun-crust we came to silence; all the upper thundering noises were cut off. We entered a stratum of nitrogen which even the sun could not burn; then a little lower and it became mixed with oxygen; now the percentage of oxygen is higher. So far, everything points, as you all know, to the presence far below us of a breathable atmosphere—breathable to us, I mean—and we are all naturally asking ourselves the question, ‘Why this breathable air if there is no need for it?’ and the presence of ‘sound,’ faint as it is, strengthens the supposition. _If_ there is sound, as there is, something must make it, and given an atmosphere capable of supporting human life, added to sound, or the echo of sound as we might call it, which is now absent as we are all moving, it is highly probable that something living exists below. If you will kindly turn the ship on its axis, Ross, so as to alter the direction of our waves to run parallel to those outside, we shall find, unless I am very much mistaken, a modification of the same law, and the two sounds which seem now to have changed and to run in unison will be doubled when they run side by side.”

This was proved to be the case, and a sound coming from the instrument, though faint, was distinctly audible, and the vibrations were numbered on the dial.

“It is possible that down below us we shall find light, of course,” remarked Parkin Coombes.

“More than possible,” replied Rowland.

“What new phase has turned up now? Do you mean to say we are likely to be lit up shortly?” interposed Godfrey.

“Everything points to that, certainly,” answered Sorrel, “and Rollsborough here will tell us all about it.” And as several others came up at the news and crowded round, Rollsborough proceeded,—“It seems more than possible that we shall come to an illumined world; the luminiferous ether permeates everything, and given an air free from solid matter that could obstruct, absorb, or divert the rays of light (and every mile of descent the air is becoming clearer), there is no reason why we should not have light below, for light is, in effect, the same as sound and follows many of the same laws, and if two luminous waves encounter each other at opposites, each extinguishes the other and total darkness results; but on the other hand, if two light-rays run parallel to each other, then the light is doubled. An effect of this is seen in the twinkling stars, from which two unequally vibrating rays will coincide at certain points, when their light will be doubled, but at all their vibrations that do not coincide there is no light of any kind, but instead, total darkness. This—darkness and light following in rapid succession as the unequal rays coincide and miss one another—gives us the twinkling of the stars; the altering humidity and density of the air on Earth through which the light-rays must pass also contribute largely to the effect of scintillation.

“It is, therefore, judging from the present progress, probable that as we descend we shall come to a world which is self-lighting, and on which the luminiferous ether has so many of its rays in coincidence that every ray is augmented by its next ray, and not a single light-ray is lost, thus making this unknown world, if not brilliant, at least light; probably very light, as is the case with many of the stars.”

Needless to say, this conversation did not conduce to calmness in their already exciting position, and Godfrey remarked,—“Folk say that scientists conduct their work without sentiment, and are all matter-of-fact, but, upon my word, we all of us need a good thrashing to compel us to go on with our own business! I never knew it so difficult to work steadily on and wait patiently for what is coming!”

All the same, every one knew he was working well and seriously with every nerve concentrated on what he had in hand. And if it had been suggested that they should rush down to solve their doubts, he would have been one of the first to say, “No, we must not be too enthusiastic; we must examine step by step, and get a true record of every stratum through which we pass.” He, however, did but express the general feeling, and none were sorry when the time came to sink lower.

All at once they descried below them a peculiar sight. As far as they could see, there were piled up hundreds of miles of rocks, the _bases_ lit with a peculiar haze, or glow, which came from the ground itself like a giant _ignis fatuus_, or ‘will-o’-the-wisp,’ the origin of which is, even to-day, a mystery to science, and though many explanations have been attempted, none are conclusive, or even tenable. Then numbers of these flashing lights appeared, as though a multitude of people were carrying huge candles or lanterns, some of the lights being blue, others greenish and yellow, but the majority purple, and all these flitted in and out and about the bases of the hills, and clambered up and rested on peak after peak in the most ghostly manner imaginable. Then all was dark again. The ground heaved and split, and the ‘marsh gas,’ the colliers’ ‘fire-damp’ (evolved during the process of decomposition of the dead and dying vegetable matter in the ground and in the changes taking place while coal was being formed), had found a means of outlet through the opening, and, mixing with the air, formed the well-known explosive mixture which, with an awful though silent disruption, laid low hill after hill, and a few seconds later what had been a range of mountains became a desolate plain.

The ship was made in equipoise, and in complete amazement, all watched the surface of the world below them change its shape and configuration every few minutes—it was in constant fret, and though not losing its shape as a whole, yet valleys were turned into hills and mountains into deserts with an awfulness which the darkness and silence rendered even more frightful.

All would be dark—black; then from point to point in the distance the light would come again, roving here and there like a lost spirit fruitlessly searching in a desolate world for its soul, and would run up the rocks in a gliding flow, hanging for a few moments on dizzy pinnacles, and then, in apparent despair, precipitate itself headlong, or wash itself down the steep sides like an avalanche of sliding snow; perhaps, when half-way down, suddenly to stop and take a fresh movement, spreading and stretching itself like a flickering, elastic web, embracing hill after hill in its toils, till the whole horizon was covered with it, and there lay below them a snowy world, with every summit frowning and black by contrast, showing above it as though impaled. A second later the whole landscape, shuddering under its cloak, would shake itself and the light suddenly vanish, leaving black darkness again everywhere.

The _Regina’s_ search-lights were switched off, and the whole vessel plunged in darkness, so that the occupants could better examine the strange world below them as they crowded round all the windows, intently watching through their glasses.

For a while nothing could be discerned, and then the whole country, to the limits of blackness, was glowing with phosphorescent fire, and times without number the rocks rose and fell as though floating on an angry sea, completely hidden by the forms above. And all the while the ‘will-o’-the-wisp’ lights were dancing their mad flight, and the rocks, in their apparent endeavour to trap them, rent themselves apart and crashed together, always too late, or too soon, for the lights invariably fled elsewhere, whilst the rocks were but welded firmly into larger and more compact masses.

It was a world in chaos—a nightmare of evolution—where the ghosts and spirits of creation tossed and tumbled in their fevered, restless efforts to build themselves into solid shape; where earth and rock were spun and pounded together as clay in the hands of the potter; pounded this way and that in an ever-turning churn, becoming more and more compact as gigantic masses of earth and rock crashed together and became absorbed one in the other, and were again packed into less than half their bulk, mountain after mountain becoming little more than a hill; and when no further compression seemed possible, they would tumble upside down, their bases uppermost, their jagged roots, which had seemed so firmly embedded in the ground, showing in the flickering light like awful teeth, the sight of which made the flesh creep; their peaks also, now twisted and awry with the shock, were wounded and beseeching, for the beautiful mountains had become deformed monstrosities. So would they heave as in an agony of physical pain, tumbling and twisting about to obtain relief; travelling over and under other mountains which they exposed and lifted up as they dug underneath them, they being momentarily hidden. Some of these did not rise again, but were plunged into the depths below, in which they became fixed; others, after being slowly and irresistibly pounded into compactness, would suddenly become disintegrated and spread themselves out as though some mighty roller were crushing them into slabs, and during the process they would resume some semblance of their original form and become dense, hard, invincible rock with precipitous sides. Chain after chain of hills would turn to valleys and long sweeps of undulating country; these undulations would then become more pronounced, then involved, and then suddenly rise; the next moment they were hundreds of miles of forbidding, death-inviting mountain ranges, with craggy sides on which no human being could find a foothold, or if found, could keep. Over the range would pass a gentle shiver, and without a sound would follow an awful earthquake, swallowing up hundreds of enormous hills, and for the space of fully five minutes there yawned beneath the ship a bottomless gulf, with sides as straight as if cut, into which the whole mass of the hills seemed to tumble.

Even here the strange and lurid light flashed on the sides of the chasm as they dashed together again, leaving no trace of the awful catastrophe.

Awed into long and complete silence, the occupants of the _Regina_ watched the chaotic disturbance below, rendered doubly amazing by the absence of sound—at least of sufficient volume to penetrate the vessel—and the gentle, deliberate way in which all the movements took place. Had the changes been made with terrible speed and deafening clatter and bang, the observers would not have been disturbed, for there would have been nothing abnormal, but sound _could_ be heard in the ship, and such havoc ought to have been accompanied with crash and noise, yet the upheavals took place silently, the impacts being an ‘absorption’ of one into the other, as it were, with quiet force which seemed awful in its irresistibility.

“I think this is more awful than the fire above!” ejaculated Merrick Rutherford, at last.

“It is!” agreed Creeve Kelman, with a long breath. “Who would have thought that a world was so formed?”

“And contrary, too, to all established beliefs and theories!” said Sorrel.

“We had better go down into it,” proposed Gilbert; “we shall be safe! What do you say, all?”

“Yes, let us go,” said Dennis; “we have seen as much as we can from here”; and Gilbert stepped towards the switch-board, but scarcely had he traversed half the distance when there was a yell from Godfrey, who turned away from the window, shrieking with laughter. So long and vigorously did he laugh that the poor fellow could not stand, and, doubled up as he was, he sought to sit on a chair, but missing it, fell on the floor, where he lay laughing and crying in turn.

“He’s gone mad!” cried half a dozen, in dismay, as they rushed to his assistance, but being waved aside, they formed a circle round their prostrate companion, all the rest hurrying up also.

“Whatever’s the matter, Godfrey,” exclaimed Gilbert, running back.

“Mad! we’re all mad!” gurgled Godfrey, painfully. “Oh, Great Bona! I shall die, I’m sure I shall! I can’t laugh any more. Oh, dear!” and he rolled over in agony.

“Tell us all about it, old man!” exclaimed several, soothingly, as they attempted to raise him up, which drew a protest as he slid back on the floor, moaning, “Oh, don’t! don’t touch me, or I’ll snap in two like a carrot!—the windows!—look out——”

All rushed to the windows, but nothing was visible except the turbulent world, and when they turned round Godfrey was sat on the floor with his legs straight out and his hands to his sides, the picture of woe.

“There’s nothing!” said Dennis; “only what we’ve been looking at half a day. Tell us what’s the matter, there’s a good chap.”

“The matter?” moaned Godfrey, getting on his hands and knees like a bear, but, finding it painful, sitting down again. “The matter! everything’s the matter! And ‘only what we’ve been looking at half a day’!—why, that’s just it, my boy!

“We’re as bright a set of idiots as could be got together in a lifetime!” And he declaimed, as if giving a lecture,—“We get into the way of looking for scientific explanations for everything, till we can’t use our eyes to see what’s staring us in the face as plainly as a hole in a ladder! My dear fellow-idiots, I regret to say that it only dawned across my woolly brains a few moments since that we have, the whole lot of us, spent five solid hours staring at nothing more nor less than _clouds with light on them_, thinking——”

“Clouds!!” they all shrieked, without waiting to hear more, and, leaving the orator as if he were a pestilence, they made a tumbling rush for the windows. Now they had the idea, they saw distinctly that they were above a stratum of clouds which were faintly illumined from below, the light catching the upper portions as their movements allowed it points of entrance.

There was no doubt about it! the more they gazed, the more certain it was, and the grim humour of the situation appealed to them as to Godfrey; they all laughed till they could not stand, some till they could not sit but rolled on the floor to join Godfrey, alternately wiping away tears and holding their aching sides. Anon they would look up at one another with pain-drawn features, and the sight of their companions in a similar state would send them off into fresh paroxysms of laughter. The joke, like the sun, was immense; not one of these intensely scientific men could be said to be without a sense of humour, and not one of them felt in any way ashamed or embarrassed to be utterly prostrated with amusement at his own blunder. But the laugh did come in, though they had to do it themselves, and “it’s a good thing to laugh, at any rate.”

After they had all calmed sufficiently to be serious again they descended, photographing as they fell, in accordance with the custom they had observed since the commencement of the voyage; and as they sank they came to brighter and still brighter strata until at last, far below them, they espied a wide stretch of what appeared to be Earth-clouds, so Earth-names were given to them. The highest, those now immediately below them, were the ‘cirrus,’ or ‘mare’s tails,’ and were moving somewhat rapidly, proving the presence of a strong wind as in the strata above. These cirrus clouds floating on this particular current of atmosphere were proved to be minute crystals of ice, the refractions and reflections of which produced ravishing colour. Below these were heavy cumuli, cutting off all view below as they lay in an unbroken bed beneath them, like a sea of grey, unbleached wool, and once through these, although they had hoped for what they saw, the realisation raised their excitement to fever-heat. Ever since they had found the atmosphere changing from deadly nitrogen by very gradual degrees into the semblance of Earth-atmosphere, they had partly expected to find an interior world of some form or other, yet they could be excused feeling fevered when they saw below them their whole horizon filled with land, only lit by the luminous ether, ’tis true, but clear and fresh as one sees the Earth under the light of early dawn.

The cirrus clouds had been 43,000 feet above the ground, the cumulus had had an elevation of but 6000 feet, and now, a few feet above the ground, Rowland took the last sample of air and found it contained nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide, aqueous vapour, helium, and traces of nitric acid, ammonia and carburetted hydrogen, thus being practically like terrestrial atmosphere, and the gravitometer registered the same gravity as that of Earth, so that there was no reason why the outer air should not be breathed, and amidst cheers, for the second time since leaving Earth, the doors were opened, the net drawn aside, and there permeated the ship the natural air of heaven, pure and fresh as that on the country moors in the far-away home—and the hearts of the adventurers filled with gratitude and thankfulness for their preservation.

The first care was to go over every inch of the net and outer casing of the ship, in case any damage had been sustained, so that they might at once make any needful repairs, or, if necessary, replace the net with a new one they had brought for such a contingency, several having been woven at the same time. Every knot and twist was most searchingly scrutinised, for all their lives during the equally perilous return journey depended on the immutability of the net, but it was found in as excellent condition as when newly woven.

This long and tedious though important task over, they gave themselves up to the examination of that portion of the country on which they had settled; this was overgrown with small trees and shrubs, the foliage, as well as the grass, being a strange golden yellow, twinkling with green.

This might be the effect of the peculiar light, but be that as it may, all were amazed to see so strange a sight under circumstances so entirely at variance, for in the absence of sunshine, how was it possible for the vegetation to have such glinting, gleaming lights?

On closer inspection, they were surprised beyond measure to find that what they had taken to be long tendrils were, in reality, festoons of insects, clinging together in such numbers as to obliterate every living thing above the ground. There were millions of them, and their golden, horny bodies, with brilliant green elytra, or wing-cases, which their movements caused to be in a state of constant agitation, produced a shimmering as of a myriad gems. On the bushes being shaken they arose in a golden cloud, as of cut and sparkling precious stones, to settle a moment later, hiding every living thing of vegetable growth, clinging to each other in some places like swarming bees, and in others they formed strings, festoons and tendrils, binding bush to bush with living, jewelled cords, and the combined sound of their movements rose in a faint hum like a distant, swiftly revolving fan. It was a fairy-land. Examination of the plants was scarcely possible, for no sooner had the little creatures been disturbed and their resting-places exposed than they were back again, and so persistent were they in this that though some of the shrubs were cut down and taken into the vessel, thousands followed and rested on them. How they lived was a miracle, for they did not appear to eat the vegetation, yet it was necessary to their existence, for of all the thousands Godfrey and his entomological colleagues collected and kept apart, not one survived, yet those allowed to remain on or near the shrubs lived and multiplied exceedingly, although, like some of the ephemera—the may-fly, for instance—they possessed no mouth organs, or indeed any digestive organs, even of a rudimentary nature. And strange to say, the shrubs and plants (which, in common with all other vegetable growth on this world, when divested of the insects, were of a pale green colour) neither grew nor faded, losing none of their suppleness, and when carefully weighed it was found that after they had given support to scores of generations of thousands of insects, their weight had not varied in the least. Neither ordinary heat nor moisture affects them, but if an actual light is put to them or they are burned, they then prove highly inflammable, burning furiously till consumed, when they leave no ash or residue; they are, however, perfectly safe at any temperature not exceeding 200° F.

With regard to the insects themselves, so rapidly did they increase that every week or so handfuls had to be taken away and kept apart from the shrubs, when they died—yet thousands never got near because of the thousands intervening, to which they clung. It was an interesting instance of symbiosis, and virtue in some shape or form must have been transmitted through the intervening bodies, or possibly by means of some delicate sense of smell.

Neither Godfrey nor any other of the great biologists of the time have ever been able to throw any additional light on the matter, though not unparallel cases have been known in certain of those islands on Earth, of highly volcanic origin, formerly called the Fiji, or Viti Islands, which were a British dependency. These islands were famed for the tropical luxuriance of their vegetable and insect life, but were submerged in the South Pacific by the great tidal wave closely following the devastating eruption and earthquake of 2316 +a.d.+, which permanently raised that portion of the South Pacific Ocean.