27
As the Earth’s disk expanded before their eyes, Robert pointed out to Zola and Hakon the outlines of the continents and oceans, the mountain ranges and rivers. Their genuine wonder and delightful anticipation were a source of keen enjoyment to both the professor and Robert.
“It surpasses my wildest imagination to vision an expanse of water so vast that one can not see its boundaries!” exclaimed Hakon, excitedly. “I can scarcely contain myself till we shall actually see these wonders with our own eyes.”
“And think, Father, of the great forests of trees where one can really get lost; the mysterious clouds in the sky; the rushing rivers and waterfalls! Oh, how could I have thought of letting you stay away from all this! How happy we can be, can’t we, Robert?”
“Indeed we can, sweetheart,” he replied, with a feeling that his measure of delight was far more than he deserved.
Closer, closer drew the big world—his world and hers. Its great disk swelled and swelled, until it was no longer a disk but a vast expanse stretching away in all directions.
Robert had reduced the Sphere’s speed until they approached the surface, now less than fifty miles away, at about the speed of a fast passenger train. As they drew closer he reduced their speed still further. A big cloud bank obscured their view of the Earth’s surface now, but he knew that they were above the Atlantic. He had already given the Sphere the spin of the swiftly revolving Earth, before entering its envelope of atmosphere. They now drifted serenely, high above the clouds.
As they slowly drew near the cloud bank, Zola made a natural mistake of thinking it the ocean, till Robert told her different. Her astonishment and delight were great as they plunged through the fluffy mist and emerged above the water. A big sea was running, and Robert permitted the Sphere to drop within a hundred yards of the tall crests.
The continual rolling of the water mystified Hakon and Zola. This was explained to them with some difficulty. Robert opened two of the Sphere’s ports, for the first time since leaving Mars. They all filled their lungs gratefully with the keen, salty air as it blew in upon them. The main force of the gale was not felt, however, because the Sphere was being driven before it. Once an eccentric gust sucked the Sphere down abruptly. A mountainous wave, rearing hungrily toward the big metal ball, slapped forcibly against it, causing it to rebound high into the air with a suddenness that upset everyone. After that Robert kept a safe distance above the seething waters.
For a while they scudded swiftly along under the hypnotic spell of the restless sea. Its hissing turbulence was a source of continual awe and wonder to their guests. Finally Robert closed the ports and sped the Sphere toward the Jersey coast.
It was in the early afternoon when they passed over the coast line. Here their appearance was first noted and news of the Sphere’s safe return flashed all over the world. Later, as they sailed over New York, a droning of many whistles heralded their arrival, while a blimp, a big seaplane, and several airplanes glided and cavorted over, under and round them.
“Sphere ahoy!” shouted one venturesome chap, a reporter on the Times, as he whizzed by, a dozen feet away, in a two-passenger airplane. “What news?”
But the drone of his engine drowned a possible answer as the distance between them widened rapidly.
Leaving Manhattan, Robert steered the Sphere toward L—- and Professor Palmer’s estate. This was at the latter’s request, and in response to his cordial invitation to Robert and both their guests to make their home with him for the present.
Their arrival at the Palmer estate found the place already overrun with reporters and photographers in anticipation of their return there. Even the resourceful Henry could not stem the tide. Motion pictures of them all were run off and rushed to headquarters for early projection upon the silver screen all over the world.
Hakon, and Zola, more charming than ever, both accepted the situation with jolly good nature. Praises of the beautiful maiden from Mars were many, and their sincerity was reflected in the headlines and articles which appeared as by magic in the afternoon papers throughout the country the very day of their arrival.
The party rested at the Palmer estate for several days. Many were the delightful strolls which Robert and Zola took in the lovely grounds. The soft, luxuriant grass under foot, the tall trees, the beautiful shrubbery and flowers were as a fairyland to the princess, with her fairy prince at her side. As for Robert, he was in a veritable seventh heaven.
The emperor and Professor Palmer, now great cronies, were constantly together. Halton never tired of the professor’s tales of the Earth’s resources, its history and people; and of our long observation of and conjectures regarding his own planet, Mars.
Negotiations were opened with a firm of expert diamond cutters in New York for the cutting and polishing of the stones brought from Mars. Their representatives, escorted by a heavy guard, arrived promptly and departed with the first valuable consignment of the rough gems.
The balance of the treasure, in bullion and stones, had been safely deposited in the vaults of three different banks for greater safety. The bullion, however, was rapidly converted into cash and deposited in equal shares to the individual credit of the four adventurers and one other person. This person was Taggert’s sweetheart, a Miss Sarah Daugherty, who had waited faithfully for the valiant reporter’s return. By mutual consent, a fifth and equal share of the treasure was allotted her. Taggert’s mother, poor woman, had not lived to see the return of the Sphere. She had contracted pneumonia and passed away a month before her son’s death. One of the first things Robert had done upon his return was to seek Mrs. Taggert and Miss Daugherty, after delivering Taggert’s notes to the Morning Chronicle with an additional report on the events following the lion-hearted reporter’s death. He obtained the publishers’ ready consent to turn over all salaries and bonus due Taggert, to Miss Daugherty.
From the moment of their return, Robert and Professor Palmer were lionized by the world. Eminent scientists from everywhere sought interviews with them. Even the former opponent of the Palmer theories, Professor Margard, came to Professor Palmer with sincere congratulations. They were besieged by learned societies to lecture at gatherings for their enlightenment. Capitalists and promoters begged them to consider offers of enormous sums for their patents on the Sphere’s remarkable gravity-defying principles.
Construction of a huge device for flashing messages to Mars by means of reflection of the sun’s rays was commenced in the Sahara Desert. A code furnished by the emperor was to be used. Though wireless had been considered, the enormous distance was judged to be too great to make that method of communication practicable, even with the most powerful apparatus then conceivable.
“They’ll be betting on each other’s stock markets soon,” laughed Henry, when he heard of the project.
On the day of Robert’s and Zola’s wedding, the emperor presented his daughter with a magnificent, perfect ruby, which he had had set, and hung in a pendant, with the connivance of the professor. The gem was uniquely cut, similarly to what we know as table-cut. He also presented them with a packet of three remarkable stones, in the rough, which he had secretly brought with him. One of these was a black diamond of twenty-one carats; another was a white diamond of slightly larger size.
The third stone was also a white diamond, but of astounding size. It was several times larger than the famous Koh-i-noor; it even exceeded in size the Great Mogul in the rough, as it balanced at a trifle under 1,115 carats! Properly cut and polished, without the unfortunate bungling which both the Koh-i-noor and the Great Mogul had suffered, it should weigh considerably more than these two famous gems together, they weighing 106 and 280 carats respectively after their final cutting.
“It should be named,” said the professor, when shown this enormous stone. “What are you going to call it?”
“Let us call it the Ragnarok, which means ‘the twilight of the gods and the doomsday of the world’—in memory of the waning world from which it came,” suggested Robert, after some thought.
And so it was named.
The little vine-clad church in the village saw the wedding of Robert and Zola on a delightful, soft autumn afternoon a few days later. Her father gave her away, and Professor Palmer was the best man. Futile attempts at fittingly describing the glorious vision presented by the princess were attempted. But perhaps none was more apt than that ventured by the professor’s housekeeper, a kindly soul, who had helped Zola choose her dainty bridal gown and charming trousseau. “A true daughter of the gods,” was the rather surprizing expression of this normally prosaic woman.
More surprizing, however, may have been the choice of these two young beings of the scene of their honeymoon. Not a tour of Europe, nor of the natural wonders of our own great country. They simply disappeared into the great Canadian wilderness. There, if one could have followed them, they might have been discovered happily paddling a well-loaded canoe up a winding stream of still, friendly, wooded shores. Above, the clear blue sky rivaled the crystal transparency of the rippling stream. A hawk drifted across the ribbon of blue and was lost again beyond the maze of tall pines. Somewhere a woodpecker drummed stoutly upon a dead limb.
Softly, easily, the slim craft rounded a bend to the even thrust of two pairs of vigorous, willing young arms. Like the hawk, it was soon lost to view—lost in a twilight wilderness of love and peace.
[THE END]
Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in four consecutive issues of Weird Tales magazine starting in November 1925.