The Secret of the Earth

by Charles Willing Beale

We crossed lakes, seas, continents, and mountain ranges. We caught the occasional note of a distant trumpet, indicating that the inhabitant of some isolated had seen us. At intervals the glimpse of a village would enliven the solitude, and herds of the same diminutive sheep would scamper across the plain.

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But we could not expect that beauty and fertility would reign supreme throughout an entire world, and there was a time when, looking down from our lofty perch, we became aware that the trees had disappeared from our range of vision, and that the grass was tussocky and stunted. The change, to be sure, had been gradual, but with it had come the departure of the human residence, and of all animals, neither was there any water. It was clear enough that we were hovering upon the borders of a barren land, perhaps, even a desert. We looked to our water supply, and concluded there was enough to carry us over any ordinarily arid region, especially at the rapid rate at which we were traveling, and so settled ourselves down on deck to our cigars and fieldglasses.

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We had been chatting along quite pleasantly, constantly scanning the horizon, when we became aware that the air was perceptibly warmer, and at the same time saw that even our scrubby patches of grass had been entirely supplanted by the sand, which lay thick and red beneath, with a peculiar luster. At long intervals there were rocks of the same color, indistinguishable, except from their elevation, and in their crevices grew a coarse, thorny plant, nearly as red as the rock itself. Dropping earthward, we found these plants greasy and bad smelling.

At the same time we discovered that the ground was unpleasantly warm, and that the sand crawled, covering our footsteps as soon as made. We wanted to take some samples of this cactus-like leaf, but feared it might be poisonous and so let it alone. Gradually even this loathsome weed disappeared, and only the sand remained. It was clear that we had entered upon a desert, where nothing grew, and where nothing lived. True, there was no sun, but notwithstanding this, the air was hot and sultry. We were unable to account for this change in the temperature, and the heavy incinerated atmosphere, but the rapidity of our flight created a draught, which kept us fairly comfortable.

The smoke from our cigars trailed rapidly astern, and then sank to the ground in a condensed form as if weight laden. We watched it with interest, puzzling over the cause, which Torrence thought might be some peculiar quality in the air, coupled to the strong draught of the vessel. Dropping to a lower level, and going astern, we were amazed to see a pale-blue, thread-like line marking our course in a path over the ground. It seemed incredible, but it was nothing more or less than a smoke path, formed and fed by our cigars. Not a breath of air disturbed its rectilinearity. It was a phenomenon neither of us could understand. We stood watching this for a long time, observing how the smoke, as we blew it from our mouths, would sweep earthward with the draught of the vessel, and then immediately be drawn out into the thin, blue, concentrated line described.

Even the last vestige of rock had now vanished, and we were speeding over a plain of red sand, above which the heat-laden air quivered. The temperature was steadily rising, and our Fahrenheit thermometer recorded eighty-six degrees. Torrence and I took off our coats, and renewed our search of the horizon in the hope of discovering hills, or any indication that we were approaching the end of the desert, but there was nothing but the red sand as far as the eye could reach with the aid of our strongest glasses. We were moving at a high rate of speed, and felt sure that a few hours would bring a change, but in this we were disappointed.

We had penetrated more than a hundred miles into the solitudes of this desert when an extraordinary sight presented itself. A bird of such magnitude and terrible aspect swept across the sky that Torrence and I trembled with horror. There is nothing in size that I can compare it with, save the roc of the "Arabian Nights," and even that mythical bird, although possibly larger, had neither the plumage nor frightful countenance of this. The bird was flying diagonally across our path, although much above it, and to the best of my belief must have measured fifty feet from tip to tip of wing. Its feathers were of a dirty red, and its beak was hooked and powerful. Its eyes were fiery red, set in a circle of white, and as it looked down upon us there was a sinister expression, almost human in its intelligence. It was flying at terrific speed, and apparently without effort, and as it passed away we observed an unpleasant odor, which hung upon the air for some minutes after. It uttered no cry, but had evidently seen us, and left an impression bordering upon the supernatural, which was not easily effaced. It was the only living thing we had seen since entering the desert. The bird seemed to spring into the air from nowhere, and crossed our bow with such velocity—at an altitude of probably a couple of hundred feet—and vanished with such marvelous speed into the distance that had we not both seen it, I should have been inclined to ascribe it to some optical illusion. But there was no doubt that here was a creature unknown, or undreamed of in our own world. Could it be possible that the stories of the roc were founded upon any obscure tradition of this strange animal? Torrence believed that it was. He declared, moreover, that not a fairy tale existed but was built upon the conscious, or unconscious, knowledge of some past existing fact.

Five hours after entering the desert our thermometer registered one hundred and four degrees, and the heat was becoming intolerable. The deck was the coolest place, as we got all the draught of motion, and there was no sun to shine upon us. We looked anxiously ahead for relief, but there was nothing save the red sand and the quivering atmosphere in view. Even the sky had a pinkish tinge, shared by the great illuminating disk in the heavens behind us. We had indeed entered upon a barren land, which even the dwellers of its own world renounced.