“My Daughter: To God I trust thee; into His keeping I give thee. O Junius! If thou hast, in years past and numbered in the great cycle of time, loved, and loved with steadfast heart, then arise and rescue that love from oblivion; but—and search thy heart to its utmost depths—if such love has never been, or is past and gone, turn back again, and leave to eternal rest the being who lies entombed before you—my daughter, Marie Colchis.“Within the second chamber are batteries and means of obtaining heat, and fluids of life-giving principles. Cause the chamber to be warmed, arrange the batteries for current, and prepare thenourishment which you will find in the glass jars. When all is ready, cover your nostrils well, break the top glass of the casket, quickly seize the form therein lying, and bear it to the second chamber.“Once within the warmth of that room, tear off the bandages, and apply the poles of the battery to the heart, in front, and over the fifth rib, in the back. Let the current come with all its force. If it be God’s will, the form will shake, will quiver, open its eyes, will breathe, and become a living woman once again. Nourishment and care are all that will be required to complete the resurrection. Within the folds of the bandages over the heart lies a golden case containing a letter which is to be read by my daughter alone. Give it to her when she is recovered, and may God be with you.“Jean Colchis.”
“My Daughter: To God I trust thee; into His keeping I give thee. O Junius! If thou hast, in years past and numbered in the great cycle of time, loved, and loved with steadfast heart, then arise and rescue that love from oblivion; but—and search thy heart to its utmost depths—if such love has never been, or is past and gone, turn back again, and leave to eternal rest the being who lies entombed before you—my daughter, Marie Colchis.
“Within the second chamber are batteries and means of obtaining heat, and fluids of life-giving principles. Cause the chamber to be warmed, arrange the batteries for current, and prepare thenourishment which you will find in the glass jars. When all is ready, cover your nostrils well, break the top glass of the casket, quickly seize the form therein lying, and bear it to the second chamber.
“Once within the warmth of that room, tear off the bandages, and apply the poles of the battery to the heart, in front, and over the fifth rib, in the back. Let the current come with all its force. If it be God’s will, the form will shake, will quiver, open its eyes, will breathe, and become a living woman once again. Nourishment and care are all that will be required to complete the resurrection. Within the folds of the bandages over the heart lies a golden case containing a letter which is to be read by my daughter alone. Give it to her when she is recovered, and may God be with you.
“Jean Colchis.”
“Ah!” sighed Mollie, with tears in her eyes; “I see it all—I know it all!” Then, with all semblance of fear vanished from her heart, she cried:
“To work, doctor! To work!”
Dr. Town was a man quick to grasp a situation. He did not stop to wonder or ask questions. To be sure, he was very much surprised at what he saw, and at Mollie’s exclamation, but he was prepared to rescue a woman therein entombed—this from a knowledge of the contents of the letter found in the copper cylinder, and which Mollie had shown him. Wasting no time in speculation, the instructions engraved upon the tablet on the top ofthe casket were carefully followed out. Returning to the second chamber, they commenced their work. Oil was found in the sealed bottles, and put into the stove, whose asbestos wick would still perform its functions. The stove was soon aglow with a bright flame, and its warmth diffused about the chamber. The batteries were ready for adjustment, and only required the dropping of the carbons into the electropoion fluid. The bottles of beef extract and fluids of nourishment were opened, and their contents prepared upon the stove. Clothing from their own persons was prepared by the two girls, as none could be found about the place.
When all was ready, the doctor prepared to break the glass top of the casket.
“Remain here,” he said to them, “and I will bring her to you;” then, modestly: “and you shall strip off the bandages and cover her form; but leave bare her bosom and back.”
Having given his instructions, he proceeded to the chamber wherein Marie Colchis lay.
A moment of silence followed, then a crash was heard, and the doctor came staggering into the room with the drooping, lifeless form of Marie Colchis in his arms. Laying her upon a bed, which had been improvised from their wraps, he cried, as he turned away:
“Quick! Strip off the bandages, and tell me when you are ready!”
A moment later, when the girls had performedtheir work and had called upon him to come, he was by their side, and had adjusted the copper plates; then, pushing down the carbons into the batteries, he seized her hand and placed his finger on her pulse. As the current of electricity passed through her heart, there was a spasmodic contraction of the muscles of the body, a quivering of the flesh, a gasp, and her lovely bosom rose and fell as the air was inhaled and expelled; then the lips parted, and a low, deep sigh escaped, her eyes opened, and she lived.
“What is it?” she asked, in a quiet, weak voice.
“Hush! You must not speak; you are ill,” hastily said the doctor. “Drink this, and you will feel better,” and he put the cup of liquid to her lips.
Mechanically the girl obeyed the order, and drank the warm broth; then, closing her eyes, she became motionless, save a slight rising and falling of the bosom in breathing. Gently throwing aside her clothing, the doctor commenced a brisk rubbing of the legs, arms, and body along the spine. The heat of the fire, together with the friction of the rubbing, soon caused a free circulation of the blood, which had but barely moved through her arteries and veins for years. The color came slowly to her face, her breathing became stronger, she was receiving back the life which had been on the point of leaving her body. Once more the eyes opened, and she spoke, but in a stronger voice:
“Who are you? Where is my father?”
“Marie, dear girl,” cried Mollie, bending over her, while tears of joy fell from her eyes, “we are your friends, your dearest friends. You are ill now; do not speak or ask questions. All will be made known to you soon.”
Dressing her in warm clothing taken from their own bodies, they bore her to the litter which the doctor had ordered brought to the door of the cavern.
An hour later the whole party was en route to Noniva. The litter was strung between two mules, with a man on each side to steady it, while Mollie and Marie followed, mounted on their mules. The doctor led the way down the creek, across the country to the town. Mollie had the little gold case which had been found among the bandages, Marie the golden flowers, and the doctor carried the iron box in front of him on the saddle.
It was 2 dial the next day when the party reached Noniva, as they had been compelled to travel very slowly. A fear that the lipthalener had departed caused Mollie much uneasiness, for they should have been back at 20 dial. But, no; as they entered the town, they saw the San Francisco’s lights streaming over the waters. Captain Gordon had not found it in his heart to leave until the girls had joined the vessel.
Two days later, bidding a kind farewell to Captain Gordon and Dr. Town, the girls, with theircharge, and the things brought from the cavern, left the deck of the cruiser in the Bay of San Francisco. Landing at Mission street dock, a drag was taken, and the home of Mollie’s aunt Lora soon reached.
The weeks followed, and by careful nursing from her two faithful attendants, Marie Colchis regained her health, strength and beauty.
The letter in the golden case had been read by all the girls, and long and earnest were the conversations which had followed. Marie learned of the resurrection of her lover, and of his entrance into the family of the President; she became fully informed concerning the period of time it was in the world’s history, and all the details attending her own lifeless sleep and miraculous return to the world of the living. It seemed but a day since she was with her father in the cavern on Guadalupe Island; it was but a moment that her thoughts had been away from her lover.
With all the fire and passion of her former life not decreased, but increased, by long years of patient waiting, she longed for the time when she could meet him, could see him, and hear his loved voice. She had been told of his apparent lack of interest, his seemingly moody ways, and his careworn and sad expression of countenance. She felt the cause; she knew it: he still loved his little girl-wife of Duke’s Lane.
And she? Ah, God! she worshiped him!
It was the 10th of January when Cobb and Hugh returned from their visit to New England and reached the city of Washington.
Hugh was not at all pleased to find Marie gone; as for Cobb, it mattered not whether Mollie was there or not. To be sure, he admired the girl; loved her, but as a brother. All the passion which he had first thought to be in his heart for his friend’s sister had vanished into a simple brotherly regard.
“Hello!” cried a familiar voice as Hugh came from the executive mansion that evening.
“Hello, Lester!” exclaimed Hugh, extending his hand. “Glad to see you back, old man.”
“I can’t say that I’m glad to get back. The girls are gone, father says,” returned Hugh, in a woe-begone tone of voice.
“Yes,” laconically.
“Given us the slip, eh?”
“Looks very much that way.”
“Did she leave any word for you?”
“Yes; a short letter. Gone to visit her aunt in San Francisco, or some other seaport, I believe,” answered Lester, dubiously.
“Father says she went in a great hurry; don’t knowthe cause of her sudden departure. Looks funny, doesn’t it?” inquiringly.
“Very,” knowingly.
“Bad, eh?” with a scowl.
“Horrible!”
“Well, you hear me, young man; when your sister walks off on an unknown journey and to be gone an unknown time, she generally comes back and finds me on an equally unknown voyage, and having about as much idea when that voyage will end as a jackass knows about Sunday;” and he thrust his hands savagely into his coat-tail pockets, and assumed the air of a man perfectly indifferent as to what the world liked or disliked.
“And when your sister forgets that she has an affianced husband dodging about your father’s back door every night to catch but a moment’s happiness in her society, why—she’ll come back and find me off on a pleasure trip, somewhere,” and poor Lester faced the other, and mingled his disgust at the state of affairs with that of his friend.
“Let us clear out, and not come back until they have experienced the same disappointment as we do now—that is, if our absence will affect them that way,” with a dubious shake of his head.
“I’ll do it, Hugh! I’ll go to-morrow!” cried Lester, with an injured expression on his face.
“Then, it’s agreed. We’ll get Cobb and take the Orion and skip to—well, anywhere, so we don’t get back here under two months.” Hughwhistled an air of satisfaction at the thought of the misery he was going to bring to the heart of Marie Hathaway.
That evening Cobb was informed of Hugh’s intention of starting the next day in the Orion, and making a tour of the United States.
“Ah, Hugh; why say the United States? say the world! Let us go far, far away; to the north pole, for instance,” and Cobb looked his friend in the face, sadly, but yet with an anxious hope that his proposition would be accepted. “Yes, to the north pole,” he continued. “No living man has been there, even in this great age of progress, so you have informed me.”
“It is impossible, Junius. We cannot reach it,” returned Hugh.
“It is funny! I have seen your aërial ships, large and stanch; why can’t you go in one of them?”
“Yes, our aërial ships are large and stanch; but it would be foolhardy to attempt to reach the pole in one of them. We, of course, depend on their lightness to overcome gravitation; now, the lightest gas we can get is hydrogen, and this we use. With our vessels filled with this gas, we have no trouble in making from twenty to fifty, and even a hundred miles per hour, according to the wind. But here comes in the greatest factor in aërial navigation; how to make up the gas discharged in changing altitudes and lost by exudation through the skin of the balloon. In nearly every great citylarge quantities of hydrogen are kept in store for filling the balloons of such vessels as may arrive and require replenishment. So long as a vessel is kept within a day’s journey of one of these cities, it is easy to keep sufficient gas in the balloon, and thus to travel from point to point; but as there are no hydrogen works north of latitude fifty-four degrees fifteen minutes, and as the distance from there to the pole is over 2,200 miles, and the same distance back again, and as, again, the speed of an aërial ship depends upon the direction of the wind, and its velocity—the maximum speed in a perfectly tranquil atmosphere being only forty-five miles per hour—it will easily be seen that a period of one hundred hours, and perhaps very many more, would elapse ere the ship could return to the starting point. As a fact, the loss of hydrogen will be so great that, unless replenished, the vessel will lose its carrying power ere thirty hours have passed. Thus you see, Junius, it is impossible to use the aërial ship to reach the pole.”
“But can you not carry material to keep your supply of hydrogen up to the amount required?” asked Cobb, eagerly.
“No. The amount would be too great to manufacture in the time which would be at one’s command; besides, the apparatus would be too heavy for the balloon to carry.”
“Then, I understand that, if you could manufacture this gas in sufficient quantities on the ship, and bylight apparatus, you could go anywhere?” Cobb spoke the words slowly, as if lost in some deep thought.
“Certainly,” replied Hugh. “But that is a discovery which I doubt much will ever be accomplished!”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?”
“Yes, I said perhaps,” returned Cobb, with a complaisant smile. Then, inquiringly: “Will you show me your finest aërial ship to-morrow?”
“Of course you will see it if we start to-morrow, as we have agreed.”
“But do not agree to start to-morrow. Show me your ship, as I have not seen them closely, and I will be ready to start soon after.”
“Well, if you wish it, Junius, I will do so; but I do not understand the reason for your request.”
“You will see,” quietly returned Cobb.
It was about 10 dial the next day when Cobb accompanied Hugh to the dock house of the large government aërial ship Orion. The vessel stood in the navy yard at Washington, covered by an immense canvas shed. Her gas bags were uninflated, and lay in great folds along the central support.
The vessel was 377 feet long, and was built in a very peculiar manner. The balloon part of the vessel was in the form of a huge cigar, through the center of which extended a rod 380 feet long, withtrusses to keep it rigid. The cones of the balloon were covered with aluminum shields, which extended toward the center to a distance of sixty feet. Light rods joined these two shields to each other, thereby bracing the whole vessel. Depending from the central rod, by stiff hangings, and just under the gas envelope, was the car, built of bamboo, canvas, and aluminum rods. The car was 100 feet in length and 15 wide, and had an area of 1,500 square feet; the flooring was of the lightest material consistent with safety. The rear point of the cone carried a wind propeller of forty-six feet in diameter; the forward cone had four rudders working from the point of the cone back to a distance of thirty feet, and set in pairs—one pair vertical, and the other horizontal. There was a small lipthalene engine in the center of the ship coupled to the propeller. Within the car were fourteen state-rooms, parlor, instrument-room, kitchen, dining-room, and cabin, besides the pilot’s room in front, and the engine-room in the center. The balloon, when inflated, was 377 feet from point to point of the cones, and 100 feet in diameter. Its displacement of air was 2,000,000 cubic feet, or 153,000 pounds, under the pressure of one atmosphere. Inflated with hydrogen, it had a carrying capacity of seventy tons. The silk bag was covered with a peculiar coating, which made it almost impervious to change of texture, yet soft and pliable. The weight of the whole ship was fifty-two tons, the engines andmachinery three tons more; making the whole weight, without passengers or freight, fifty-five tons. Five tons was the usual weight carried, as the gas bag was only about six-sevenths full at rising, in order to allow for the expansion of the gas as the elevation increased. The cabin was aft, and the state-rooms near the center; all were furnished handsomely, and with everything requisite for one’s comfort, but of the lightest material.
Through the center of the great gas bag a silk shaft led to a platform on the very top of the balloon. This was the lookout’s station, and communication with the pilot was by telephone. The vessel was lighted and heated by electricity, supplied from storage batteries of great power, though small in volume. The cooking was by electricity likewise, and owing to the inflammability of the hydrogen gas, fire was not permitted aboard the ship.
Cobb surveyed the vessel very carefully, examining every part, and looking at every detail of the mechanism of the machinery. The gas bag was critically inspected, and then the area of the deck measured. With a smiling, satisfied air, Cobb turned to Hugh, and said: “It rests with you, Hugh, whether this vessel take us to the north pole or simply makes a tour of the States.”
“You astonish me!” exclaimed Hugh. “You certainly will not ask me to make an attempt which others have declared impossible?”
“I mean to ask you to do it,” calmly replied the other.
“But I certainly will not grant your request,” with a decided movement of the head.
“But you will not only grant my request, but you will, with me, reach the pole before a week has passed.” There was a quiet, cool assurance in his words that gave Hugh a feeling that the man was not talking at random, but had some grand scheme in view, which, to him, gave promise of success. Feeling this to be the case, he framed his next words accordingly: “Tell me what you mean? How is this to be accomplished? Explain yourself.”
Without replying to the questions, Cobb simply asked: “Will you get the authority for a few simple changes in the construction of this vessel? Can you do this?”
“Yes; I think I can; that is, if it is to improve the ship.”
“Then, get that permission, and have the changes made, a list of which I will give you this evening; they can be finished by day after to-morrow. Also, have 10,000 pounds of meteorite and 200 gallons of nitric acid put aboard the vessel, and 2,500 pounds of meteorite and fifty gallons of acid near at hand. Increase your supply of lipthalite sufficiently to run the engines twenty-five days.”
“But will you not be adding too much weight for buoyancy?” suggested Hugh.
“How much will the hydrogen which is used toinflate that bag weigh?” asked Cobb, pointing to the folded envelope.
“Well,” replied Hugh, thinking a moment, “the capacity is two million cubic feet, and a cubic foot of air weighs nearly eight hundredths of a pound; that would give about 160,000 pounds. Assuming the specific gravity of air at one, that of hydrogen would be sixty-nine thousandths, and the weight about 11,000 pounds.”
“Correct,” said Cobb, who had made a mental calculation of the weight. “Now I ask you to put on the vessel 12,000 pounds of meteorite and acid. Very well; if your ship can take care of 6,000 of these pounds, I will reduce the weight of the gas in the bag to 5,000 pounds, thus providing for the other 6,000 pounds.”
“But you cannot do it!” cried Hugh. “Hydrogen is the lightest gas known; you cannot reduce its weight.”
“I can.” Cobb looked calmly into the face of his friend.
“You, perhaps, think you can,” insinuated Hugh.
“I know I can,” firmly replied the other.
“Then the changes shall be made.”
“And day after to-morrow, at 12 dial, we sail for the north pole?” asked Cobb. “Is it to be so?”
“As you wish, Junius.”
Their plans being settled, they returned to the executive mansion, where Hugh immediately sought his father, and told him of his interviewwith Cobb, and what the latter had promised to do. He then asked for the order permitting the changes in the Orion.
Without evincing any surprise, the President wrote the order, and gave it to him, adding:
“I think I know where he will get this new gas. I saw it demonstrated in the Secretary’s office last September.”
“And I am to go with him, you understand?” anxiously asked Hugh.
“Well, as to that, if he has found a method of manufacturing the gas as it is needed, I see not the slightest objection, for you know that has been the only difficulty, heretofore, in making the voyage. Yes, my son, go, and let another laurel be added to the family name.”
When Cobb read the “Daily American” the next morning he was surprised to come across a notice to the world of his proposed voyage. He had said nothing to anyone, and could only account for the item by reasoning that the order to the Secretary, and which Hugh had shown him, had read:
“ * * * These changes must be completed by the 12th instant, at 12 dial, as Colonel Cobb and Captains Craft and Hathaway will start for the north pole at that hour. * * * ”
The paper gave the news, and commented upon the proposed undertaking as follows:
“Washington, 10, 18D.—Orders have been received at the War Department to have the aërialship Orion put into shape for a long and extended voyage. It is currently reported at the Capitol that Lieutenant-Colonel Junius Cobb, Second Cavalry, the man of ’87, as he has become known, intends to make the attempt of reaching the pole in an air-ship. His companions will be Captains Craft and Hathaway, of the army; the former officer a son of the President of the United States. This will be the seventh trial to reach the pole since the invention of the air-ship. The first four who competed for the honor returned in disgrace, their vessels failing to reach the sixty-ninth parallel of north latitude ere they were compelled to turn back on account of loss of gas. The other two adventurers, Pope, in the Star, in 1985, and Capron, in the Highflyer, in 1993, have never been heard from. The problem is one utterly without solution; the air-ship is not destined to ever reach the pole.
“The foolhardy attempt now about to be made will not only end in disaster to the gentlemen engaged in it, but will bring sorrow to the nation by the loss to the President of his only son.”
“Rather discouraging, that,” said Cobb to himself, as he laid the paper aside. “Strange how much these newspaper men know! They haven’t changed a particle since the days of old.”
The work progressed upon the Orion, and the sound of hammers was heard all the day. A long silken pipe had been connected to the gas bag, and terminatednear a small, bell-shaped aluminum receiver. The poles of the storage batteries had been joined to a dozen pairs of carbon points within this receiver, and a series of long pipes projected from its base. Two huge safety-valves had been placed in the top of the great gas bag, and additional escape provided. It was 9 dial of the 12th of January, and great crowds of people filled the streets, covered the house-tops, and jammed themselves into every available place from which a view could be had of the departure of the Orion. At the dock of the vessel the President, Secretaries, foreign ministers, and other notables were assembled to witness the departure of the man who had promised to reach the pole and return.
The huge silken bag still lay inert and motionless against the aluminum support, no attempt having been made to fill it. The baggage had been placed on board; the stores, the meteorite, and nitric acid were carefully in place, and the crew, consisting of two pilots, a cook, cabin boy, and two engineers, were standing near the vessel.
on the Orion
A moment later Junius Cobb appeared, and by his side walked Craft and Hathaway. Their appearance was greeted by cheer upon cheer from the vast concourse of people. Slowly approaching the big ship, they mounted the ladders to the side, and stood upon the deck of the Orion. Throwing off his coat, Cobb at once commenced his work. The meteorite was in sticks four feet long and an inchin diameter, and much resembled the sticks of lipthalite used on the Tracer. Taking a glass cylinder five feet in length by one in diameter, he filled it nearly full of nitric acid, and then placed a bunch of the meteorite rods in the liquid. Waiting but a moment, he withdrew them, and then put one into each of the ten pipes of the receiver, placed springs against their ends, and closed the caps. Having thus charged the receiver, he stepped back, and touched a push-button, and turned on the current to the carbons inside.
Slowly at first, then faster, rose fold upon fold of the gas bag of the Orion; the gas was generating. The crowd cheered. For two hours the process was continued, until the Orion just balanced at her moorings; then and only then, Cobb ceased to fill the receiver. The 2,500 pounds of meteorite and fifty gallons of nitric acid, which had been brought as an extra supply, had been nearly all consumed, and over 1,500,000 cubic feet of meteorlene filled the great gas bag to within one-seventh of its capacity.
Stepping down the ladders, Cobb and his two companions bade good-bye to their friends. The crew went aboard, and then the three officers followed. At 11:57 the receiver pipes were again charged, and the electric current turned on; the great ship tugged hard at her cables, and swayed in the air.
“Cast off!” thundered the words from Cobb, and the hawsers whirled through the guards, and came tumblingto the ground. The vessel rose swiftly and gracefully in the air; the dial marked 12.
High up in the cold winter air, and swiftly, the noble ship rose; and soon the tooting of whistles and the cheers of the people became but faint murmurings in the depths below.
“Admiral,” reported Hugh, making a grave salute, and with a twinkle in his eye, “the barometer shows 8,000 feet.”
The fact was apparent that a great elevation had already been attained, for the temperature had fallen and a decided cold feeling was experienced by all.
“That is sufficient, Commodore,” returning the other’s salute, and smiling at his new title. “Be kind enough to have the course laid northeast by east, and discharge gas to keep at about this altitude,” and Cobb passed into his state-room, and donned a heavy overcoat.
As the engines commenced their work the great propeller turned rapidly on its axis, and the Orion, describing a great circle, took a course which would soon bring her over Newfoundland.
Rapidly they passed over the country; the towns and cities, the rivers and lakes, lay far below them, and the scene was like some gigantic panorama.
Emerging from the cabin, Cobb walked to the port bows, where Hugh and Lester were leaning on the rail, and commenting on the grand scenery over which they were being swiftly whirled. An expressionof satisfaction overspread his face, and a fire of ambition sparkled in his eye.
“Would that I were never more compelled to descend to earth!” he cried. “Would that I could ever remain thus far away from civilization and society!” and a sad, mournful expression succeeded the former brightness of his countenance.
“Say not so, dear Junius,” and Hugh took the other’s hand in his. “I am sure there is a bright future in store for you. I feel it; I know it!”
“I am not a part of those below,” and he jerked his thumb toward the earth dimly outlined far below them. “I am not a part of that people. No solitary tie, save that of new-found friendship, binds me to them, or them to me, Hugh,” and he pressed the hand that held his. “If I but had the love of her long since dead, long since gone to her heavenly home, then all would be changed. I would live again, would laugh and jest, and be another man. Alas, it is not to be,” and tears filled his eyes, and became crystals of ice in the freezing temperature that pervaded the air about them.
“Brace up, my dear Colonel!” interposed Lester. “Accept the world as you find it! The sun of a week hence may shine on a people shouting your praise to the end of the earth.”
“What care I for praise!” savagely returned the man, as he turned upon the other; then in a kinder tone, he said, “Forgive me, Lester; I know your heart is in the right place.” Twice he crossed thedeck in moody silence. “Enough,” he cried, at length, as he stopped in front of them. “Let fate work its decree.” Then turning once more from his friends, his emotion gave utterance to the feelings of his heart: “I abide the time of death, and a return to thee, O Marie, my darling, my girl wife!” Once more he faced them, and in harsh tones exclaimed: “It is over! Let us to business now; we are bound for the pole! For your sakes I hope we return.”
It was 1,500 miles to the banks of Newfoundland, and nearly 5 dial the next day, when the Orion was poised a thousand feet above the Atlantic. Below, plowing her way through the water, was one of the latest transatlantic passenger lipthaleners. Eight hundred and fifty feet in length by a beam of only forty-six feet, the huge spindle rushed through the water with a speed of over forty miles an hour. Sounding the great whistle of the Orion, Cobb threw over a small parachute, to which was attached a bundle of papers of the 12th inst. The lipthalener sounded her whistle in salutation, ceased her course, and sent a launch to pick up the papers. Again sounding the whistle as a parting salute, Cobb ordered gas, and the Orion rose, and was soon hidden in the clouds. The course was then laid due east.
It was 20 dial.
High up in the air and swiftly sped the Orion.
At the bow rail stood Junius Cobb and Hugh. Each was silent, his thoughts far away; the one in the present, and the other in a former, period of the world’s time. How their thoughts contrasted! Hugh, bright in his hopes for the future, meditated on the renown and glory that would attach to them all should their great undertaking prove successful. And then, was she not now informed of his mission? and was she not watching and praying for his safe return?
Ah! was he not to be envied?
But the other—Junius—how ran his thoughts? Back, back years before, he was wandering, among old scenes and old friends so dear to his heart. His head bowed upon his arm, he gave no heed to his friend’s presence.
On, on they sped; the whir of the propeller alone breaking the awful silence that surrounded them. The night advanced; the darkness came upon them.
“Are you not too cold, Junius?” asked Hugh, after watching for a moment his companion, and noticing a slight tremor of his form.
The words, though lowly spoken, fell upon the ear of the other as if a voice from the unknown worldhad shouted out his doom; so still was all about them that a whisper even seemed to vibrate back until it had swelled into a harsh, discordant cry.
With a quick, shaking movement, Cobb raised his head, and turned toward the speaker: “What is it, Hugh? you spoke to me, did you not?”
“Yes; I asked if you were not cold. For ten minutes have we stood here in this freezing temperature, each busy with his own thoughts.”
“Yes; I am cold,” came the reply. “And, cold as my body may be, my dear friend, my heart is colder. I would that I could shake off these depressing feelings, but my mind will wander. Even now I thought how easily, how swiftly, and painlessly man could from this air-ship terminate a distasteful and annoying existence. Yes,” looking into the other’s eyes, “yes, one has but to throw himself over this rail, and life passes from him without a pang.”
“And do you call that a painless death, being crushed upon the earth below into a shapeless mass?” asked Hugh, with a shudder, glancing over the rail.
“Yes, Hugh. Death from falling from a great height is perfectly painless. Let me explain it,” warming to the subject, and losing some of his melancholy in the prospective discussion of a scientific theme. “Let me tell you why such is the case. We are now 10,000 feet above the ocean, are we not?”
“So I read the barometer, a quarter of an hour ago,” answered Hugh.
“Well, no matter; let us assume that we are at that elevation. Now, what would be our velocity falling from this point upon reaching the surface of the earth below?”
“Really, I could not answer that question without working it out,” the other returned.
“Well, it would be just 802 feet per second,” said Cobb. “And that velocity at 500, 1,000 and 5,000 feet below us would be 179, 253, and 567 feet, respectively, per second. A human being falling is, for an instant, convulsed by a terrible, awful feeling; not a feeling of pain, but rather a feeling of apprehension. This fear, this apprehension, is but momentary, I say; it lasts during the first second of the descent only, or for a distance of about sixteen feet. After this first second the senses become confused, circulation of the blood is retarded, a feeling of rest, a sense of pleasure, pervades the whole soul. This state of ecstasy, which it should really be called, increases as the velocity of descent is accelerated, until the mind can no longer enjoy the delightful sensation, but loses all knowledge, all thought, all feeling, and insensibility ensues. This condition of the senses is produced when the velocity of the body has attained a rate of 400 feet a second, or at the fourteenth second of descent—about 2,480 feet below the point of starting. The cause of this is, that the lungs no longer perform their function; they fail to take in the quantity of air, and consequently the oxygen necessaryto fully renovate the blood. The velocity being so great, the air is pushed aside by the falling body, and fails to surround that portion of the body not directly in the line of descent, with air at the normal pressure. The air supply being thus diminished, the blood leaps through the veins, rushes to the brain, and the mind knows no more. A human body of 175 pounds weight falling from this height—10,000 feet—would reach the earth at the end of the twenty-fifth second, and would have, at that moment, a velocity of 802 feet per second.”
“There would not be much resemblance to a human being left,” ejaculated Hugh, intently interested, and looking over the rail as if he already saw the body falling toward the earth. “No.” Cobb shook his head in a decided manner. “No; I should say not. The body would strike the earth with a force of 146,000 foot pounds per second, and would become but a shapeless, pulpy mass.” He ceased speaking a moment, as if lost in thought, then quickly added: “But enough of this subject. Let us take a turn on the forward deck, and then retire to the cabin.”
The two men moved forward, and crossed to the starboard side of the Orion. Here the air was a trifle warmer, or, rather, the wind caused by their forward movement was less strong and piercing. The great perpendicular rudders of the vessel were inclined two degrees to the left to overcome the northern currents, which came strong and cold.
It was now 21 dial, and the earth below seemedcovered by a black pall. Around them were silence and darkness. No moon was visible, and the gloom below was only relieved by the beautiful sky, with its thousands of twinkling stars above them.
Stopping at the rocket box, just to the right of the rudder chains, Cobb laid his hand upon the rail, and gazed fixedly into the depths below; and then, raising his eyes toward the horizon, he pointed his finger forward, and exclaimed: “Hugh, what are those bright lights away off in the ocean, and this one, almost under us?”
Hugh looked in the direction indicated, and also leaned over the rail, and noted a beautiful, brilliant light almost underneath the Orion. Hesitating a moment, he cried:
“Why, Junius, those are the Atlantic stations. We can see one—two—three of them. Yes, I am sure; and there is one behind us,” pointing to a light directly in their rear. “Yes, they are the stations. That one behind us must be the first one, and this underneath, the second, from Newfoundland; that would agree with our position, which, I take it, is about a hundred miles east of the land.”
“Atlantic stations! Do you mean that these lights are on stationary vessels in the ocean?” asked Cobb, intently gazing at the bright lights.
“Yes; those are ocean stations for the relief of distressed vessels and shipwrecked people. You see the lights; this one under us, and the one toward the west, and those two to the east. Ah! there is another!see it? away down on the horizon. That makes five. By Jove! I doubt if ever before five of these lights have been seen at the same time by one person!” with a pleased expression on his face.
Cobb viewed for a moment the brilliant light, which was apparently gently swaying to right and left just beneath him, and then his eyes passed along the line made by the others. The second light was quite bright also, but the third seemed faint. The fourth light appeared as a star lying just on the edge of the ocean. Indeed, were it not for the fact that the Orion lay exactly in the line of the stations, and for the further fact that no stars were visible so low down toward the horizon, the light might not have been noticed at all.
“How far apart are these stations?” he asked.
“They are placed at intervals of fifty miles,” returned the other.
“Then, that light away down near the horizon is nearly 150 miles from us?”
“Yes.”
“And our elevation now is 10,000 feet, you say?”
“So I observed it, as I told you, some fifteen or twenty minutes ago.”
Then, after a moment’s silence, Cobb exclaimed: “We are rising. We cannot be less than 12,500 feet above the ocean.”
“How do you make that out, Junius?” asked Hugh. “I don’t think we have ascended 2,500 feet since my last observation.”
“It is easily answered,” said the other. “The curvature of the earth and the refraction of light necessitate an elevation of 1,430 feet for one to see an object on the surface at a distance of fifty miles. To see this light, distant 150 miles, our altitude must be at least 11,500 feet.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. Let us go inside, and see if I am not correct, and then I want you to tell me about these stations,” touching the other on the arm, and then moving aft.
Once in the cabin, the barometer was consulted, and found to read 19.29 inches, or an elevation of 11,581 feet. Cobb again asked his friend to enlighten him concerning this new invention, the lights of which he had seen twinkling and scintillating away toward the east.
“I cannot tell you much, Junius, for I am not well posted on the subject. These transatlantic life-stations are set on a line extending from St. John’s, Newfoundland, to Land’s End, England, or nearly on the fiftieth parallel of north latitude. Perhaps there may be something relating to the subject among the books in the chart-room. Excuse me but a moment, and I will look.” Saying which, he arose and passed out to the pilot’s house. A moment later he returned, bearing a pamphlet in his hand.
“Here we are, my boy,” he exclaimed, as he shut the door behind him. “Here’s quite a history of these stations. I found it among the nautical almanacs and charts in the pilot’s room.”
Opening the first page, Hugh displayed three wood-cuts of one of the transatlantic life-stations. The first cut showed the station in its normal position upon the surface of the ocean; the second showed it partially submerged, during a storm, and the third gave a cross-section of its interior. Handing the book to Cobb, he said: “You can read it yourself, for everything is explained therein, I think.” The other took the pamphlet, and settling himself back in his chair, read of this wonderful adjunct to a safe traveling of the great Atlantic highway to Europe.
a transatlantic life-station
There were, across the Atlantic Ocean, from Newfoundland to England, thirty-eight marine life-saving stations. These stations were, in all respects, similar; a full description of one answered for all. In the pamphlet which Cobb read, were given the details of Station No. 14, situated in longitude 37 degrees 5 minutes west, and latitude 49 degrees 50 minutes north. He read:
“HISTORY OF THE TRANSATLANTIC LIFE-SAVING SERVICE.
“In 1923 a joint commission of Great Britain, France and the United States, met in the city of Washington for the purpose of devising some means toward making travel across the Atlantic Ocean more safe and sure than was possible under the circumstances at the time. Vessels of the finest description and of great tonnage were traversing a well-known route continuously. Accidents had occurred, which it seemed could not have been prevented,whereby a great number of lives had been sacrificed and vast property lost.
“Great factors in the calling together of this commission were a series of terrible accidents in the years 1919, 1920, and in the fall of 1922.
“On the 15th of July, 1919, at 23 dial, or as they then reckoned time, 11 o’clockP. M., the City of New York was struck by lightning, in latitude 49 degrees 10 minutes, and longitude 31 degrees 14 minutes. Despite the endeavors of a well-trained crew and every facility for extinguishing fire, the vessel burned and sunk; 2,167 souls who were aboard of her at the time took to the boats. Of this number 914 only were rescued, or ever heard of. Those who were rescued had sailed over 450 miles before being picked up. The supposition is that the distance from land was too great for them to overcome with the limited amount of water and food aboard the boats, and had land, or some station, been within reasonable distance from the scene of the accident, all would have been saved.
“A most peculiar case was that of the City of Providence in 1920. This vessel was one of the finest of the American transatlantic passenger steamers, 600 feet in length, with a tonnage of 16,000. She left the Mersey on October 7 of that year, with 3,465 souls on board. On the morning of the 9th, at 4:12 dial, a terrible accident occurred; two of the thirty-six boilers burst, the concussion causing nine more to explode. The vessel was torn almostasunder, her bulkheads broken, and the water poured into the ship. Her engines were wrecked, and the engine-room flooded. A vessel of ordinary construction would have sunk immediately, but the Providence, having every improvement, and a great number of water-tight compartments, continued to float. Torn and broken, she lay upon the ocean perfectly helpless.
“The strange but sad continuation of this disaster follows:
“The City of Providence, making the trip across the ocean, as she usually did, in four days, carried provisions for but eight days. After the explosion the ship drifted at the mercy of the currents and wind.
“It was four weeks after the disaster when she was found by vessels sent out to look for her, in latitude 44 degrees 12 minutes, and longitude 31 degrees 16 minutes. Seven boats’ crews had left her to seek aid; her passengers had been cut down to rations, and finally every vestige of food had been consumed, and starvation and thirst commenced their deadly work. Out of that host of people on the Providence when she sailed, only fifty-four lived to tell of the terrible disaster. Four of the boats were never heard from, and only twenty-seven persons were found alive on the ship. During all these weeks that the Providence drifted about, she twice crossed the line upon which the life-stations are now situated. Had these stations then been in existence, everysoul on board of the ill-fated vessel would probably have been saved. How it could be that a vessel of the Providence’s size could have escaped the notice of the hundreds of ships passing in that latitude is a problem none can solve; that she did, is a fact, for no report of her was ever made until she was sighted by the relief vessel sent out to search for her.
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“These terrible disasters, taken in consideration with the great advantages which would accrue were there stations at intervals across the ocean, led to the creation of the commission.
“The commission met on the 19th day of June, 1923, and made proposals for plans for these stations. On the 11th of December of that year the commission selected, from the plans submitted, those of Mr. Cyril Louis, of California.
“These plans were for a huge cylindrical vessel, sitting upright in the water, and surmounted by a tower one hundred feet above the water line. The vessel proper was a cylinder; its base, a plane; its top, the frustum of a cone, surmounted by a tower upon a tower. The cylinder was eighty-three feet in length to the water line, the cone nine feet high, the first tower fifty one feet above the frustum of the cone, and the second tower forty feet above this. The cylinder was made of boiler iron in three layers of one-inch plates, and covered on the outside with aluminum plates a quarter of an inch thick; the diameter was thirty feet, and the vessel wasdivided into eight stories by floors of one-inch steel. The first, or lower, and second chambers were fourteen feet high; the next twelve; the four following, ten; while the top chamber, under the cone, was twelve feet to the frustum. All of these chambers, except the first, were divided into water-tight compartments by steel bulkheads. The second chamber had eight compartments; the third, two; the fourth, fifth and sixth, four; the seventh and eighth two. The first, or main tower extended down through the cylinder to the top of the third chamber, and was eight feet in diameter. It was necessary to pass through this tube to gain entrance to any of the floors. Access to the different compartments of each floor was by means of doors closing water-tight. The chambers were for use as follows: the first contained 10,000 cubic feet of fine sand—1,300,000 pounds—or so much of it as was needed to bring the surface of the water to within three feet of the cone. This chamber was peculiarly constructed; water-holes permitted free access to the surrounding water, causing the sand to be saturated. Ten capped openings in the bottom were manipulated from the engine-room and office, and by means of which any amount of sand could be quickly dropped from the chamber into the ocean, thus decreasing the weight and increasing the buoyancy.
“The second chamber was the water-chamber, and was divided into eight separate compartments. Water could be admitted into any one, or all, bysuitable levers worked in the engine-room. Pipes from each compartment were connected to the pumps in the engine-room, thus permitting of the compartment being quickly emptied of its water. The capacity of the eight compartments was 10,000 cubic feet, or 64,000 pounds of water.
“The third chamber was the engine-room. Here was all of the machinery used in operating the station: The main engines for the pumps (pipes from which ran to every compartment in the cylinder), for the fans for circulating fresh air; dynamos for electric lighting, pumps of the condensers, and, last, the three propellers, which were situated on the outside, on a level with the engine-room floor—two at 180 degrees apart, their faces parallel to the diameter of the cylinder, and the other at right angles to them and ninety degrees from either. These propellers were used to prevent any rotary motion of the cylinder.
“Until lipthalite had been discovered—and it is now used—petroleum was the fuel for these engines, the vapors escaping through a tube extending to near the top of the first tower. Within the engine-room was a set of dials and bells which would give instant warning of the entrance of water into any compartment, tubes and telephones to all parts of the vessel; dials for pressure, submergence, state of electricity; levers for opening sand and water ports, etc. The fourth and fifth chambers were for stores and material.
“The sixth contained the kitchen, mess, etc.
“The seventh was the dormitory, while the eighth was the officers’ cabin and office. Natural light was admitted into the last two chambers through bull’s-eyes.
“The office was provided with every instrument necessary in operating the station, and from it the sand and water ports could be opened.
“The first tower was eight feet in diameter, tapering to five feet at the top, and fifty-one feet high. It was made of two-inch steel rings, six feet wide, firmly riveted together, the whole covered by aluminum plates.
“The entrance to the vessel was through the tower, at the top of the frustum. A spiral stairway led to a port at the top, through which the upper balcony was reached. Bull’s-eyes admitted light to the interior during the day.
“The upper tower was forty feet high in the clear, setting down fifteen feet in the first tower, and was twenty inches in diameter, of one-inch cast steel. The interior of this tower was divided into a central pipe of ten inches diameter, surrounded by four pipes in the quadrants of its area. The central pipe was used for raising the electric lamp, of 25,000 candle power; the other pipes were, two for the engines, to carry off the vapors, etc., one for receiving fresh air into the vessel, and the other for carrying off the vitiated air.
“Upon the side of the cone was a complete liferaft, provisioned and ready for instant use, and so fastened that it could be launched at a moment’s notice.
“The station was anchored by a three-inch cable, pivoted at both ends to prevent twisting. In the center of the cable were electric wires terminating at the bottom of the ocean in a large coil. This coil was laid upon one of the old Atlantic cables which had been abandoned after the invention of the sympathetic telegraph.
“In the office were a set of instruments, and communication was by induction to the cable below, and thence to each end and to each station.
“The normal submergence of the vessel was to within three feet of the cone. The exceptional, or rough weather, submergence was to within two feet of the top of the tower.
“The weights were as follows: