Days passed and brought no news of Mona. I did all in my power to appear cheerful, but often made a dismal failure of it. No one could help me, and Thorwald, though sympathetic like all the rest, would allow me no false hopes. He said a systematic and thorough search had been made, both on land and water, without result, and he could see no prospect of any success in the future. But, while I could see that Thorwald was about ready to abandon in despair the attempt to find Mona, I would not give up hope. I did not know at the time what excellent reasons Thorwald had for his feeling, for I did not realize how very complete the search had been, but my own faith was not founded on reason. I simply refused to believe that I should never see again the object of such deep love.
While affairs were in this condition, Thorwald said to us one morning:
“I wonder you have not been more anxious to see one of our flying machines. Our system of aerial navigation is one of the most enjoyable of our material blessings, and I shall take great pleasure in giving you a taste of it.”
“I think one reason,” I answered, “why we have not asked about it is because we have had so many other interesting things to see, and then you know we had our share of traveling in the air in coming to you. However, we shall be delighted to see your method at any time when you are pleased to exhibit it.”
“Very well,” said Thorwald; “then we will get up an expedition at once. Zenith and Avis will accompany us, I think; and as we shall probably fall in with Foedric, we will send for Antonia to go also.”
“That will make a pleasant party,” I said.
We found all were glad to go and witness our introduction to a modern air ship, and we were soon off.
Not far from the house we found a luxurious carriage of just the right size for us all. We did not see another like it anywhere about, and I was moved to ask:
“How does it happen, Thorwald, that exactly the kind of conveyance you want is ready without any prearrangement? This sort of carriage does not appear to be very plentiful.”
“Things generally ‘happen,’ as you call it, for our convenience,” he said. “Is it not so with you to some extent? If all the people wanted to travel in your cars on the same day and at the same hour, they could not easily be accommodated, but some dispensation divides them up so that there are, I presume, about the same number who find it necessary or convenient to travel each day. This subject has been studied by us, and we believe that even these details of our lives are all arranged by him to whom nothing is small, nothing great.”
A pleasant ride of a few miles brought us to a seaport, and to a scene of much activity. It seemed to be a great distributing point, as numerous loads of many kinds of goods were moving about, and immense stores of fruit and vegetables were to be seen. These products of the soil were of bewildering variety and surpassing richness, showing us that agriculture, providing most of the food of the people, must be a favorite science with many, and one that brought rich rewards. It was pleasing to see everything going on in such a quiet, orderly manner, and so many people at work without friction and with no look of fret, hurry, or fatigue. Everyone seemed to be enjoying his work, if that could be called work which looked so much like pleasure.
After riding through several busy streets we drew near an imposing structure, which Thorwald told us was the front of the aerial station. At the same time he directed our attention to the sky, and we saw a number of air ships sailing leisurely along, some just starting out and others apparently returning home. The doctor and I had our interest quickened by this sight and were anxious for a closer view. As the fact of riding in the air was not new to us, we had not been much excited by the prospect of seeing how the Martians did it. But these ships were so different from anything we had ever seen before that we began to anticipate a great deal from our excursion after all.
Going through the building, we came into an immense court or open space, large enough, one would suppose, for the fleets of a nation. Here were a great number of flying machines of various sizes, all gayly decorated with pleasing colors, and many of them, apparently, waiting for passengers. Thorwald selected one of medium size, and as we approached, whom should we find in charge but our young friend Foedric? In answer to Thorwald’s question, he told us that both he and his vessel were at our service, and we proceeded to mount to our seats in the car.
Foedric pulled a small lever, and we began to rise. He then expressed his pleasure to the doctor and me that he had the opportunity of making our further acquaintance.
“We are taking them for the ride,” said Thorwald, “and you may choose any course and go to any height you please.”
We thanked Foedric for his pleasant words, and then he showed us about the car and explained its conveniences. It was quite large, with a number of apartments and accommodations sufficient for a dozen people both day and night. Besides the ordinary furnishings for comfortable living, we saw air-condensing machines for use in lofty flights, a good-sized telescope, instruments for measuring speed and height, and other scientific apparatus of much of which we were obliged to ask the use.
Although Foedric was so much younger than Thorwald, he was taller and larger every way—a magnificent specimen of a magnificent race. In speaking to Thorwald he showed a proper respect for his greater age, and he bore himself becomingly in the presence of Zenith; but there was not the slightest sign of subserviency, nor anything to show that, though engaged in what might be called a lowly occupation, he was not on terms of perfect equality and even friendship with them. This easy poise of manner would not have surprised us had we known what Thorwald soon told us, and from this experience we learned never to judge a Martian by the work he happened to be doing.
“Foedric is a scholar,” said Thorwald, “and is engaged just now in writing a treatise on the color of sounds.”
This announcement was a double surprise, for we would have said, if he was writing anything, that it must be something about ballooning—the application of electricity to flying machinery, perhaps. But Thorwald further enlightened us, the talk going on in Foedric’s presence:
“He was attracted to that subject by the fact that he possesses in a striking degree the faculty of hearing color, which belongs only to refined minds. We all have this power to some extent, but in this, as in so many other things, there are great differences among us. As an example of this power, if you will excuse me, Doctor, I will tell you that your voice is dark blue, while yours,” he continued, turning to me, “is yellow. Foedric, a true son of Mars, speaks red, and as for Zenith, her soft, pink voice has always been to me one of her principal charms, and though it would be folly to deny that she has changed some in appearance (not for the worse, however) since I first knew her, her voice has retained the same tone or color. I will ask Foedric if I am correct in my impressions.”
“Quite correct,” answered Foedric. “When I first heard your friend, the doctor, speak I thought his voice was brown, but it has changed since to such an extent that I think as you do—that the prevailing tinge is a deep blue. Such cases are not unknown among us, but they are not frequent.”
“If the color of my voice sympathizes with my thoughts,” said the doctor, “I do not wonder that your quick ears have noticed a change.”
“I ought to say,” resumed Foedric, “that I have to rely on my friends to tell me the shade of my own voice, for to my ears it is as colorless as a piece of the clearest glass, and this is the common experience.”
“I would like to ask about the color of Antonia’s voice,” I said, “and Avis’s, too.”
“Antonia’s is a beautiful green,” answered Foedric, looking with a smile at the fair one, “and Avis, both in song and speech, has your color—yellow.”
“Foedric,” said Thorwald, “tell our friends what you and others are trying to discover in connection with the air vibrations. It may be suggestive to them.”
“I can claim but little part in the work,” Foedric responded, “but it is this. Our ears report to our brain the air waves until they reach a frequency of forty thousand in a second, and we call the sensation sound. When the vibrations of the ether are more rapid than that, we have no sense with which to receive the impression until they reach the great number of four hundred million millions in a second. Then they affect the eye and produce red light, and as they increase still more the color becomes orange, then yellow, green, blue, and violet. Perhaps your limitations are not the same as ours, but our scientists are trying to discover some means by which we can arrest and make use of a small part at least of those waves which strike our bodies at a frequency between forty thousand and four hundred million millions. It is still an unsolved problem, this search for another sense, and we are now looking forward for help in the task to the studies of the civilization represented in our comet.”
All this time we were rising slowly but hardly realizing it, being filled with that peculiar sensation, incident to balloon journeys, by which we could almost believe we were remaining about in the same place and the solid ground was falling away from us.
Now Foedric increased our speed and showed us how easily he could sail in any direction and at any rate he pleased, explaining to us the mechanism by which we were upheld and propelled, and also the way in which the current of electricity was generated and applied. They certainly had a wonderful method of producing great power with little weight, and the doctor eagerly drank in the information in regard to it, as if for future use.
It was charming. The atmosphere was as clear as crystal, the air balmy and the motion delightful, and if the Martians, with their purer nature and keener senses, enjoyed the trip that morning more than we earth-dwellers did, then their capacity for enjoyment must have been beyond ours. The ship seemed to be under perfect control; there was nothing uncertain in her movements, and as we went sailing along without fear of harm, in the very poetry of motion, the doctor and I realized over and over again that we had much to learn in this method of navigation.
Now we were riding at a good height, and our vision could take in a wide expanse of land and water. The peculiarity of the surface of Mars was noticeable, the seas being long, narrow inlets, as it were, running through or between winding strings of land, a decided contrast to the great oceans and noble continents of our mother earth. It seemed to me that this was much to the advantage of the earth, and so I was bold enough to say:
“When I used to look at a map of Mars, Thorwald, I remember thinking that the planet was not a handsome one, whatever might be the character of its inhabitants. But I have no doubt you have an answer for me which will give some good reason for the peculiar structure of the surface of Mars and make me ashamed of my sentimental preference for the earth.”
“I certainly hope you will hear nothing while you are with us to make you ashamed of your own planet,” said Thorwald; “but I must tell you the truth in regard to Mars. How do you like our climate, as far as you have experienced it?”
“We have enjoyed it exceedingly,” I answered, “and I have been on the point of remarking several times that we were fortunate in making our visit here at so pleasant a season of the year.”
“But,” said Thorwald, “you could not have come in a worse season, for we have none worse than this. The temperature varies enough to give variety, but not enough in either direction to cause discomfort. Each season is quite distinctive from the others, but each has its peculiar charm and all are equally enjoyable. Our telescopes tell us it is not so on the earth, for we can see the winter snow creep well down on its surface and remain there several months, then go away and come on the other hemisphere. We know this means great changes of climate, and as the inclination of the axis of the earth to the plane of its orbit is about the same as that of the axis of Mars, we believe we would have equally violent changes were it not for the fortunate distribution of land and water on our planet. All those narrow seas which disfigure our surface in your eyes, are in reality vast rivers, which are constantly bearing the water from one part of the globe to another. The warm water of the equatorial regions is carried to the cold countries north and south, and the water thus displaced cools in its turn the lands more directly under the sun. Thus the temperature of all parts is nearly equalized. In the summer in this latitude the water that washes our shores is cool and in the winter it is warm, and the strips of land are so narrow that all places feel the influence, making the climate delightful everywhere. At each pole there is a spot of perpetual snow, but these are comparatively small, and the fields are cultivated right up to the foot of the snow hills.”
This recital excited the doctor’s interest amazingly, and as Thorwald closed he said:
“I rather think my companion did not expect so complete an answer, but I am glad his words suggested to you this statement, Thorwald. It is of great value to us in our study of your remarkable planet. How wonderfully God has adapted everything to your comfort and well-being!”
Thorwald smiled in appreciation of the doctor’s final words, but before he had time to speak we were a little startled by the red voice of Foedric, calling out:
“The moon! Look!”
It was nothing new for any of us now to look at our old moon. We had seen it almost every day, had talked much about it, and thought the novelty of its companionship to Mars about worn off. But our present high position and the clear, thin atmosphere gave it quite a changed appearance, as it was slowly coming into view above the horizon. We watched it in silence for a while and saw it mount the eastern sky, and I think all of us except Foedric had the same thought, that it appeared to be much nearer than usual. Foedric had seen it before from the same height, and knew when he called our attention to it that we were going to be surprised.
As the moon rose still higher it appeared to be coming toward us, instead of aiming at a point far over our heads, and our next sensation was caused by Zenith, who mildly exclaimed:
“It cannot be more than a few miles away. Why not go and make it a visit?”
To her surprise, if people of such high endowments ever are surprised, Thorwald asked quickly:
“Are you willing to try it if the rest of us are?”
“Certainly,” she replied.
“Foedric,” said Thorwald, “what do you say to flying out to the moon and attempting an invasion of it?”
“I say,” answered Foedric, “that I am ready. We have provisions enough for several days, and I believe the capacity of our battery is sufficient for the trip.” Thorwald learned from Avis and Antonia that they would not object to the trial, and then said:
“Well, we have a good majority, but must not think of deciding on so important a step unless the feeling is unanimous. Let us hear from our friends here, who have had some experience with the moon.”
The doctor said pleasantly that he should like nothing better than the proposed experiment, and, as I was the last, I remarked that I could not spoil such an interesting project by withholding my consent. But it seemed to me all the time that the whole thing was a joke and that it would end at once in a laugh. I thought of the cold and cheerless surface of the moon, comparing it in my mind with the delectable world we were leaving, and had no relish for the proposed trip. Something of my feeling must have been reflected in my countenance, for Zenith, who had been looking at me, said in a sympathetic tone:
“Although you gave your consent, you look as if you did not enjoy the prospect of another visit to the moon.”
Thorwald heard this remark, and after a glance at me he said:
“You are right, Zenith, and I think we will abandon the idea at once. We started out today for the purpose of entertaining the doctor and his friend, and it would not become us to treat them to more of a ride than they desire.”
“You are both excellent mind readers,” I responded. “And if I were as honest as you Martians are, I suppose I should have said in the first place that I preferred not to make such an extended journey. I suspect the doctor is willing to go ahead, as he is too sensible to be affected by such a feeling as now moves me. My thoughts turn back to our departure from the earth in a balloon, and I cannot rid my mind of the dreadful fear that perhaps we are now unconsciously bidding a long farewell to Mars.”
Thorwald thanked me for my frankness and said they should certainly respect my sentiment. He then stepped to Foedric’s side to speak to him in regard to a change of course. At that moment I looked at the moon, which had been rapidly approaching us. What was it that suddenly gave it a deeper interest to me? A flash of intelligence suffused my being like an electric shock, frilling my imagination with the most beautiful vision and making the moon appear to me now as the one desirable place in all the universe.
“Thorwald,” I exclaimed, “keep right on! I want to go now. I have changed my mind.”
“Yes,” he responded, looking at me with a pleased smile, “and I see you have changed your face, too. You look like quite another man. Why this sudden transition?”
“Don’t you know? Mona is there.”
“Where?”
“In the moon, of course.”
“How do you know that? You seem to be pretty confident.”
“Why, she must be there. You couldn’t find her on land or water, and you know you have no accidents in Mars, so she could not have come to any harm there. I know we shall find her in the moon. She must have been left behind in some way when the doctor and I were thrown off, and now she is no doubt expecting us to come back to her. Oh, let us make haste.”
“Well,” answered Thorwald, “we were only waiting your consent, and we can now keep on as we are going and try to reach the moon. But I must give you a friendly warning not to let your hope get the better of your judgment in regard to finding your friend.”
With this Thorwald and Foedric consulted a moment, and at once our speed increased till we were flying at a fearful rate, but none too fast for me. I knew now why I had been so reluctant to go so far away from Mars. It was because I thought Mona was there; but now, with my present opinion, the moon had suddenly changed its character and become to my imagination a bright and beautiful world. To such a degree does love transform the most unlovely objects.
I was struck with the easy way in which Zenith had accepted the result of what I thought her sportive suggestion, and, not being able to fathom her thoughts, I said to her:
“When we left home, this morning, you did not expect to be gone over night. Have you no anxiety about the house and the children?”
“Oh, no,” she replied; “the house will not run away, nor the children either. We do not often stay away from them over night, but we do not hesitate to do so when we have a good reason for it. Our children know us well enough to be sure we have such a reason now, and this faith in us and in our safe return will permit us to stay away as long as we please. As for our feelings, we have no such thing as anxiety, for all our experience teaches us that no harm of any kind can come to our loved ones. I suppose in such circumstances on the earth both the mother and the children would have a feeling of great fear, caused by the fact that there would be in reality some danger of harm, but here we have never heard of such a thing, and even the word ‘danger’ has little meaning in it to us, because all we know about it comes from our reading.” The moon was now well above us, and we were making for a point in the western sky where Foedric hoped to intercept it. We were already so far from the planet that the air was getting weak, so we all put on breathing machines. These were of such perfect construction that our lungs had free play, nor were they cumbersome enough to interfere much with our movements.
By this time the moon had grown so vastly, owing to our swift traveling, that our friends began to be amazed at its enormous proportions. The jagged, mountainous surface was plainly visible, a most uninviting place for people accustomed to the serene beauty and felicity of the planet Mars.
“Remember,” said the doctor, “that you are not to judge the earth by what you see of her old satellite.”
“Well,” answered Thorwald, “we mean to see what we can of the satellite. Foedric, let us point the glass at it and be selecting a place to land.”
But Foedric was obliged to let Thorwald handle the glass alone, for his attention was needed just now to manage our craft. He had discovered that shutting off the power did not diminish the speed, and for a moment he was puzzled, quite a new sensation for a Martian of that era. But he soon studied out the difficulty and made the following announcement:
“I find this huge mass that we are approaching is pulling us toward its surface, so that we are using but little power. I expect in a short time we can merely fall to its surface.”
This suggested to Thorwald the very trouble that the doctor and I had encountered with our balloon, and he asked Foedric if we could get away again after we had dropped to the moon.
“Yes,” Foedric answered, “I am sure we have power enough here to overcome the attraction and get away whenever we please.”
Thorwald, who had been intently studying the surface through the telescope, now spoke out with some excitement in his voice:
“Doctor, I begin to think you did not make a thorough investigation of the moon’s condition. Did you not report it practically uninhabited?”
“Our means of investigation were rather limited,” replied the doctor, “but we surely found no inhabitants except poor Mona, whom, I am confident, we shall never see again. Why do you ask? Are there any signs of life visible? I have no doubt you Martians can see more at this distance than we could when standing on the globe itself.”
“Well,” Thorwald answered, “either you reached wrong conclusions or else a race has grown up there pretty rapidly. I cannot make out anything definite yet, but there is smoke, I am sure, and I can see some object moving about.”
I had great difficulty in restraining my feelings as Thorwald uttered these words, but neither he nor the doctor seemed to realize what significance they had for me. Both had apparently given up all expectation of finding Mona anywhere, and these evidences of life, so plain to me, were therefore inexplicable to them. I controlled myself and begged Thorwald to let me look through the glass. He adjusted it for me, but before I could get a satisfactory view our swift motion made such a change in the appearance of the surface that Thorwald could not find the same spot again.
As no one said a word to indicate any thought of connecting Mona with the movements that Thorwald had observed, I determined that I would keep quiet also and await the result of our landing. I let my thoughts fly to my love, who, without doubt, had seen the approach of our air ship and was expecting our speedy arrival. What an addition she would make to our party, and how these Martians would study her history as she recounted it in that exquisite voice. But I should claim a large share of her time for myself. How glad I was to think that Foedric had so openly shown his affection for Antonia. Surely I need not harbor the jealous feeling that would arise, for so true a son of Mars could not fall to the level of some earthly men, and be unfaithful to so noble a girl as Antonia. It was beyond all reason, and yet my love for Mona, whom I thought we were soon mind to keep a close watch on handsome Foedric.
All books are sourced from Project Gutenberg