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XX.
Nearly a day had passed since we first entered this great sterile, superheated plain, and notwithstanding our speed, the end was nowhere in sight, even at the expiration of eleven hours. The temperature had become so oppressive that we had no appetite, and sat fanning ourselves with wet cloths and moistening our heads and faces and wrists, in a vain effort to keep cool. At this time the thermometer registered one hundred and ten degrees, and was steadily rising. We had tried various elevations, but could not perceive that it was more tolerable at a height of five hundred than one hundred feet from the ground. In fact it was the same everywhere, and upon every side of us—above, below, before, behind. We had discussed the advisability of returning, but pushed ahead with the conviction that a change for the better must soon come. We dreaded to retrace our steps with the possibility of being lost, and were loath to miss the strange sights that might be in store for us in the regions of the antarctic opening. There could be no question that the heat was subterranean, and indeed when we had last landed the sand was so hot that we could scarcely bear our feet in it.
I was searching the horizon ahead, while Torrence was examining the sky for electrical phenomena, when a sight met my eyes that filled me with unspeakable horror. We were rushing upon a sea of liquid fire, which extended in the distance as far as eye could reach, and from east to west without apparent limit. It was an awful picture. There was no escaping it, unless by retreat. I shouted to Torrence, who turned immediately from the sky, to the fearful horizon ahead.
"There is nothing to be done," I cried, "but return!"
The atmosphere was quivering like a glowing oven, and from the fiery sea to the sky above the waves of vapor rose and fell like the spirits of the flames themselves. As we drifted on, the heat grew more intense, and the vital principle of the atmosphere was gone. The sea was rushing upon us with awful speed, and with each minute of advance the air became more stifling. Torrence's hand was upon the lever, but not to slacken speed. Was he mad? Had the fellow become insane? I asked him the question, for although rising to a tremendous height, he had pushed the air ship up to her highest speed, and it would be but a few minutes before we should be launched directly over that awful hell of fire.
"Have you lost your mind?" I shouted; "what are you about?"
"Gurt, brace yourself for a strain; we can stand it!"
"Stand what?"
"Go below! Get some buckets of water and sponges. I am going to cross that sea!"