A Columbus of Space Read online

  Produced by Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

  A COLUMBUS OF SPACE

  BY GARRETT P. SERVISS

  "Standing on the steps ... was a creature shaped like aman, but more savage than a gorilla."]

  TO THE READERS OF JULES VERNE'S ROMANCES THIS STORY IS DEDICATED

  Not because the author flatters himself that he can walk in the Footstepsof that Immortal Dreamer, but because, like Jules Verne, he believes thatthe World of Imagination is as legitimate a Domain of the Human Mind asthe World of Fact.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I. A MARVELOUS INVENTION

  II. A TRIP OF TERROR

  III. THE PLANETARY LIMITED

  IV. THE CAVERNS OF VENUS

  V. OFF FOR THE SUN LANDS

  VI. LOST IN THE CRYSTAL MOUNTAINS

  VII. THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN

  VIII. LANGUAGE WITHOUT SPEECH

  IX. AN AMAZING METROPOLIS

  X. IMPRISONMENT AND A WONDERFUL ESCAPE

  XI. BEFORE THE THRONE OF VENUS

  XII. MORE MARVELS

  XIII. WE FALL INTO TROUBLE AGAIN

  XIV. THE SUN GOD

  XV. AT THE MERCY OF FEARFUL ENEMIES

  XVI. DREADFUL CREATURES OF THE GLOOM

  XVII. EARTH MAGIC ON VENUS

  XVIII. WILD EDEN

  XIX. THE SECRET OF THE CAR

  XX. THE CORYBANTIA OF THE SUN

  XXI. THE EARTH

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  "Standing on the steps ... was a creature shaped like a man, but moresavage than a gorilla"

  "We were in the heart of the _Crystal Mountains!_"

  "'Who and what are you, and whence do you come?'"

  "It curled itself over the edge of the hovering air ship and drew itdown"

  CHAPTER I

  A MARVELOUS INVENTION

  I am a hero worshiper; an insatiable devourer of biographies; and I saythat no man in all the splendid list ever equaled Edmund Stonewall. Yousmile because you have never heard his name, for, until now, hisbiography has not been written. And this is not truly a biography; it isonly the story of the crowning event in Stonewall's career.

  Really it humbles one's pride of race to see how ignorant the world is ofits true heroes. Many a man who cuts a great figure in history is, afterall, a poor specimen of humanity, slavishly following old ruts, destituteof any real originality, and remarkable only for some exaggeration of thecommonplace. But in the case of Edmund Stonewall the world cannot beblamed for its ignorance, because, as I have already said, his storyremains to be written, and hitherto it has been guarded as a profoundsecret.

  I do not wish to exaggerate; yet I cannot avoid seeming to do so insimply telling the facts. If Stonewall's proceedings had becomeMatter of common knowledge the world would have been--I must speakplainly--revolutionized. He held in his hands the means of realizing thewildest dreams of power, wealth, and human mastery over the forces ofnature, that any enthusiast ever treasured in his prophetic soul. It wasa part of his originality that he never entertained the thought ofemploying his advantage in any such way. His character was entirely freefrom the ordinary forms of avidity. He cared nothing for wealth initself, and as little for fame. All his energies were concentrated uponthe attainment of ends which nobody but himself would have regarded as ofany practical importance. Thus it happened that, having made an inventionwhich would have put every human industry upon a new footing, andmultiplied beyond the limits of calculation the activities andachievements of mankind, this extraordinary person turned his back uponthe colossal fortune which he had but to stretch forth his hand andgrasp, refused to seize the unlimited power which his genius had laid athis feet, and used his unparalleled discovery for a purpose so eccentric,so wildly unpractical, so utterly beyond the pale of waking life, that toany ordinary man he must have seemed a lunatic lost in an endless dreamof bedlam. And to this day I cannot, without a nervous thrill, think howthe desire of all the ages, the ideal that has been the loadstar forthousands of philosophers, savants, inventors, prophets, and dreamers,was actually realized upon the earth; and yet of all its fifteen hundredmillion inhabitants but a single one knew it, possessed it, controlledit--and he would not reveal it, but hoarded and used his knowledge forthe accomplishment of the craziest design that ever took shape in a humanbrain.

  Now, to be more specific. Of Stonewall's antecedents I know very little.I only know that, in a moderate way, he was wealthy, and that he had noimmediate family ties. He was somewhere near thirty years of age, andheld the diploma of one of our oldest universities. But he was not, in ageneral way, sociable, and I never knew him to attend any of the reunionsof his former classmates, or to show the slightest interest in any of theevents or functions of society, although its doors were open to himthrough some distant relatives who were widely connected in New York, andwho at times tried to draw him into their circle. He would certainly haveadorned it, but it had no attraction for him. Nevertheless he was amember of the Olympus Club, where he frequently spent his evenings. Buthe made very few acquaintances even there, and I believe that exceptmyself, Jack Ashton, Henry Darton, and Will Church, he had no intimates.And we knew him only at the club. There, when he was alone with us, hesometimes partly opened up his mind, and we were charmed by his varietyof knowledge and the singularity of his conversation. I shall notdisguise the fact that we thought him extremely eccentric, although theidea of anything in the nature of insanity never entered our heads. Weknew that he was engaged in recondite researches of a scientific nature,and that he possessed a private laboratory, although none of us had everentered it. Occasionally he would speak of some new advance of science,throwing a flood of light by his clear expositions upon things of whichwe should otherwise have remained profoundly ignorant. His imaginationflashed like lightning over the subject of his talk, revealing it at themost unexpected angles, and often he roused us to real enthusiasm forthings the very names of which we almost forgot amidst the next day'soccupations.

  There was one subject on which he was particularlyeloquent--radioactivity; that most strange property of matter whosediscovery had been the crowning glory of science in the closing decade ofthe nineteenth century. None of us really knew anything about it exceptwhat Stonewall taught us. If some new incomprehensible announcementappeared in the newspapers we skipped it, being sure that Edmund wouldmake it all clear at the club in the evening. He made us understand, in adim way, that some vast, tremendous secret lay behind it all. I recallhis saying, on one occasion, not long before the blow fell:

  "Listen to this! Here's Professor Thomson declaring that a single grainof radium contains in its padlocked atoms energy enough to lift a milliontons three hundred yards high. Professor Thomson is too modest in hisestimates, and he hasn't the ghost of an idea how to get at that energy.Neither has Professor Rutherford, nor Lord Kelvin; _but somebody will getat it, just the same_."

  He positively thrilled us when he spoke thus, for there was a look in hiseyes which seemed to penetrate depths unfathomable to our intelligence.Yet we had not the faintest conception of what was really passing in hismind. If we had understood it, if we had caught a single clear glimpse ofthe workings of his intellect, we should have been appalled. And if wehad known how close we stood to the verge of an abyss of mystery about tobe lighted by such a gleam as had never before been emitted from thehuman spirit, I believe that we would have started from our chairs andfled in dismay.

  But we understood nothing, except that Edmund was indulging in one of hiseccentric dreams, and Jack, in his large, careless, go
od-natured waybroke in with:

  "Well, Edmund, suppose _you_ could 'get at it,' as you say; what wouldyou do with it?"

  Stonewall's eyes gleamed for a moment, and then he replied, with acurious emphasis:

  "I might do what Archimedes dreamed of."

  None of us happened to remember what it was that Archimedes had dreamed,and the subject was dropped.

  For a considerable time afterwards we saw nothing of Stonewall. He didnot come to the club, and we were beginning to think of looking him up,when one evening, quite unexpectedly, he dropped in, wearing an unusuallycheerful expression. We had greatly missed him, and we now greeted himwith effusion. His animation impressed us all, and he had no soonershaken hands than he said, with suppressed excitement in his voice:

  "Well, I've 'got at it.'"

  "Got at what?" drawled Jack.

  "The inter-atomic energy. I've got it under control."

  "The deuce you have!" said Jack.

  "Yes, I've arrived where a certain professor dreamed of being when heaverred that 'when man knows that every breath of air he draws hascontained within itself force enough to drive the workshops of the worldhe will find out some day, somehow, some way of tapping that energy.' Thething is done, for I've tapped it!"

  We stared at one another, not knowing what to say, except Jack, who,inspired by the spirit of mischief, drawled out:

  "Ah, yes, I remember. Well then, Edmund, as I asked you before, what areyou going to do with it?"

  There was not really any thought among us of poking fun at Edmund; werespected and admired him far too much for that; nevertheless, catchingthe infection of banter from Jack, we united in demanding, in a mannerwhich I can now see must have appeared most provoking:

  "Why, yes, Edmund, tell us what you are going to do with it."

  And then Jack added fuel by mockingly, though with perfectly good-naturedintention, taking Edmund by the hand and swinging him in front of uswith:

  "Gentlemen, Archimedes junior."

  Stonewall's eyes flashed and his cheek darkened, but for a moment he saidnothing. Presently, with a return of his former affability, he said:

  "I wish you would come over to the laboratory and let me show you what Iam going to do."

  Of course we instantly assented. Nothing could have pleased us betterthan this invitation, for we had long been dying to see the inside ofEdmund's laboratory. We all got our hats and started out with him. Weknew where he lived, occupying a whole house though he was a bachelor,but none of us had ever seen the inside of it, and our curiosity was onthe _qui vive_. He led us through a handsome hallway and a rear apartmentdirectly into the back yard, half of which we were surprised to findinclosed and roofed over, forming a huge shanty, like a workshop. Edmundopened the door of the shanty and ushered us in.

  A remarkable object at once concentrated our attention. In the center ofthe place was the queerest-looking thing that you can well imagine. I canhardly describe it. It was round and elongated like a boiler, withbulging ends, and seemed to be made of polished steel. Its total lengthwas about eighteen feet, and its width ten feet. Edmund approached it andopened a door in the end, which was wide and high enough for us to enterwithout stooping or crowding.

  "Step in, gentlemen," he said, and unhesitatingly we obeyed him, allexcept Church, who for some unknown reason remained outside, and when welooked for him had disappeared.

  Edmund turned on a bright light, and we found ourselves in anoblong chamber, beautifully fitted up with polished woodwork, andleather-cushioned seats running round the sides. Many metallic knobs andhandles shone on the walls.

  "Sit down," said Edmund, "and I will tell you what I have got here."

  He stepped to the door and called again for Church but there was noanswer. We concluded that, thinking the thing would be too deep to beinteresting, he had gone back to the club. That was not what he had done,as you will learn later, but he never regretted what he did do. Gettingno response from Church, Edmund finally sat down with us on one of theleather-covered benches, and began his explanation.

  "As I was telling you at the club," he said, "I've solved the mystery ofthe atoms. I'm sure you'll excuse me from explaining my method" (therewas a little raillery in his manner), "but at least you can understandthe plain statement that I've got unlimited power at my command. Theseknobs and handles that you see are my keys for turning it on and off, andcontrolling it as I wish. Mark you, this power comes right out of theheart of what we call matter; the world is chock full of it. We haveknown that it was there at least ever since radioactivity was discovered,but it looked as though human intelligence would never be able to set itfree from its prison. Nevertheless I have not only set it free, but I amable to control it as perfectly as if it were steam from a boiler, or anelectric current from a dynamo."

  Jack, who was as unscientific a person as ever lived, yawned, and Edmundnoticed it. But he showed no irritation, merely smiling, and saying, witha wink at me and Henry:

  "Even this seems to be rather too deep, so perhaps I had better show you,instead of telling you, what I mean. Excuse me a moment."

  He stepped out of the door, and we remained seated. We heard a noiseoutside like the opening of a barn door, and immediately Edmundreappeared and closed the door of the chamber in which we were. Wewatched him with growing curiosity. With a singular smile he pressed aknob on the wall, and instantly we felt that the chamber was rising inthe air. It rocked a little like a boat in wavy water. We were startled,of course, but not alarmed.

  "Hello!" exclaimed Jack. "What kind of a balloon is this?"

  "It's something more than a balloon," was Edmund's reply, and as he spokehe touched another knob, and we felt the car, as I must now call it, cometo rest. Then Edmund opened a shutter at one side, and we all sprang upto look out. Below us we saw roofs and the tops of two trees standing atthe side of the street.

  "We're about a hundred feet up," said Edmund quietly. "What do you thinkof it now?"

  "Wonderful! wonderful!" we exclaimed in a breath. And I continued:

  "And do you say that it is inter-atomic energy that does this?"

  "Nothing else in the world," returned Edmund.

  But bantering Jack must have his quip:

  "By the way, Edmund," he demanded, "what was it that Archimedes dreamed?But no matter; you've knocked him silly. Now, what are you going to dowith your atomic balloon?"

  Edmund's eyes flashed:

  "You'll see in a minute."

  The scene out of the window was beautiful, and for a moment we allremained watching it. The city lights were nearly all below our level,and away off over the New Jersey horizon I noticed the planet Venus, nearto setting, but as brilliant as a diamond. I am fond of star-gazing, andI called Edmund's attention to the planet as he happened to be standingnext to me.

  "Lovely, isn't she?" he said with enthusiasm. "The finest world in thesolar system, and what a strange thing that she should have one sidealways day and the other always night."

  I was surprised by his exhibition of astronomic lore, for I had neverknown that he had given any attention to the subject, but a minute laterthe incident was forgotten as Edmund suddenly pushed us back from thewindow and closed the shutter.

  "Going down again so soon?" asked Jack.

  Edmund smiled. "Going," he said simply, and put his hand to one of theknobs. Immediately we felt ourselves moving very slowly.

  "That's right, Edmund," put in Jack again, "let us down easy; I don'tlike bumps."

  We expected at each instant to feel the car touch the cradle in which ithad evidently rested, but never were three mortals so mistaken. Whatreally did happen can better be described in the words of Will Church,who, you will remember, had disappeared at the beginning of our singularadventure. I got the account from him long afterwards. He had written itout carefully and put it away in a safe, as a sort of historic document.Here is Church's narrative, omitting the introduction, which read like alaw paper:

  "When we went over from the club to S
tonewall's house, I dropped behindthe others, because the four of them took up the whole width of thesidewalk. Stonewall was talking to them, and my attention was attractedby something uncommon in his manner. He had an indefinable carriage ofthe head which suggested to me the suspicion that everything was not justas it should be. I don't mean that I thought him crazy, or anything ofthat kind, but I felt that he had some scheme in his mind to fool us.

  "I bitterly repented, after things turned out as they did, that I had notwhispered a word to the others. But that would have been difficult, and,besides, I had no idea of the seriousness of the affair. Nevertheless, Idetermined to stay out of it, so that the laugh should not be on me atany rate. Accordingly when the others entered the car I stayed outside,and when Stonewall called me I did not answer.

  "When he came out to open the roof of the shed, he did not see me in theshadow where I stood. The opening of the roof revealed the whole schemein a flash. I had had no suspicion that the car was any kind of aballoon, and even after he had so significantly thrown the roof open, andthen entered the car and closed the door, I was fairly amazed to see thething began to rise without the slightest noise, and as if it wereenchanted. It really looked diabolical as it floated silently upward andpassed through the opening, and the sight gave me a shiver.

  "But I was greatly relieved when it stopped at a height of a hundred feetor so, and then I said to myself that I should have been less of a foolif I had stayed with the others, for now they would have the laugh on mealone. Suddenly, while I watched, expecting every moment to see them dropdown again, for I supposed that it was merely an experiment to show thatthe thing would float, the car started upward, very slowly at first, butincreasing its speed until it had attained an elevation of perhaps fivehundred feet. There it hung for a moment, like some mail-clad monsterglinting in the quavering light of the street arcs, and then, withoutwarning, made a dart skyward. For a minute it circled like a strange birdtaking its bearings, and finally rushed off westward until I lost sightof it behind some tall buildings. I ran into the house to reach thestreet, but found the outer door locked, and not a person visible. Icalled but nobody came. Returning to the yard I discovered a place whereI could get over the fence, and so I escaped into the street. ImmediatelyI searched the sky for the mysterious car, but could see no sign of it.They were gone! I almost sank upon the pavement in a state of helplessexcitement, which I could not have explained to myself if I had stoppedto reason; for why, after all, should I take the thing so tragically. Butsomething within me said that all was wrong. A policeman happened topass.

  "'Officer! officer!' I shouted, 'have you seen it?'

  "'Seen what?' asked the blue-coat, twirling his club.

  "'The car--the balloon,' I stammered.

  "'Balloon in your head! You're drunk. Get long out o' here!'

  "I realized the impossibility of explaining the matter to him, andrunning back to the place where I had got over the fence I climbed intothe yard and entered the shed. Fortunately the policeman paid no furtherattention to my movements after I left him. I sat down on the emptycradle and stared up through the opening in the roof, hoping against hopeto see them coming back. It must have been midnight before I gave up myvigil in despair, and went home, sorely puzzled, and blaming myself forhaving kept my suspicions unuttered. I finally got to sleep, but I hadhorrible dreams.

  "The next day I was up early looking through all the papers in the hopeof finding something about the car. But there was not a word. I watchedthe news columns for several days without result. Whenever the coast wasclear I haunted Stonewall's yard, but the fatal shed yawned empty, andthere was not a soul about the house. I cannot describe my feelings. Myfriends seemed to have been snatched away by some mysterious agency, andthe horror of the thing almost drove me crazy. I felt that I was, in amanner, responsible for their disappearance.

  "One day my heart sank at the sight of a cousin of Jack Ashton'smotioning to me in the street. He approached, with a troubled look. 'Mr.Church,' he said, 'I think you know me; can you tell me what has becomeof Jack? I haven't seen him for several days.' What could I say? Stillbelieving that they would soon come back, I invented, on the spur of themoment, a story that Jack, with a couple of intimate friends, had goneoff on a hunting expedition. I took a little comfort in the reflectionthat my friends, like myself, were bachelors, and consequently at libertyto disappear if they chose.

  "But when more than a week had passed with out any news of them I wasthrown into despair. I had to give up all hope. Remembering how near wewere to the coast, I concluded that they had drifted out over the sea andgone down. It was hard for me, after the lie I had told, to let out thetruth to such of their friends as I knew, but I had to do it. Then thepolice took the matter in hand and ransacked Stonewall's laboratory andthe shanty without finding anything to throw light on the mystery. It wasa newspaper sensation for a few days, but as nothing came of it everybodysoon forgot all about it--all except me. I was left to my loneliness andmy regrets.

  "A year has now passed with no news from them. I write this on theanniversary of their departure. My friends, I know, are dead--somewhere!Oh, what an experience it has been! When your friends die and are buriedit is hard enough but when they disappear in a flash and leave notoken--! It is almost beyond endurance!"