The Secret of the Earth

by Charles Willing Beale

Having decided to push through the opening at the South Pole, and desirous of reaching our own world as early as possible, we put the vessel to a high rate of speed, after having filled our water casks at the Crystal River, and bathed in its cool, delicious current. The land beneath us had again become green and beautiful, and the atmosphere of a temperature which left nothing to be desired. Our haste was not because we would reach the south polar regions at any pleasanter season, but from terror lest the air ship should collapse. It was a kind of homesickness, growing apace; a terror of pending disaster and ultimate inability to reach the land of our birth.

For days after this we traveled at a rapid rate, over a varying country. We crossed great forests, flowering plains of unparalleled beauty, and trees whose fruits we stopped occasionally to test. And here we saw animals, nearly as large as our elephants, but with heads like the wild boar. We passed over thickly settled districts, where the inhabitants rode upon animals of great speed and delicacy of build, although but slightly resembling our horses. We hovered over magnificent cities densely populated, and with temples and monuments of passing splendor; but we did not stop at any of these, from our utter inability to communicate with the inhabitants. There were rivers teeming with ships, and loaded with passengers, but upon every hand was the evidence of rest and recreation. No work; no commerce; no effort to live. But wherever we were seen the ubiquitous trumpet announced our approach and departure in an anthem of wonderful beauty.

At last my dread that we were approaching a great internal ocean was realized, for we came to a halt on the summit of a lofty cliff, with a splendid vision of the sea beyond. There was something in the appearance of the water that made us both believe it was more than a mere inland lake. The surf which rolled in upon the shore, the distant white caps, and the raw, saline smell in the air, suggested a watery waste of vast extent. It was a rugged coast, and we decided to overhaul our machinery before venturing into the unknown beyond.

On this headland we cooked our dinner, just as we had done upon the North Cape, indeed there was something so similar in the appearance of the two places that we were reminded of our adventure there, and took care that there should be no repetition of it.

A careful examination of the vibrator showed that Torrence had repaired it perfectly, and there seemed no possibility of further trouble, but to make assurance doubly sure, we applied extra bolts to secure the damaged parts, and were then, as Torrence declared, in a better position than when we left London.

The great light disk in the heavens had been slowly ascending toward the zenith, with our advance upon the equator, and as it now stood about ninety degrees from the vertical meridian, or halfway between the horizon and overhead, we imagined we must be somewhere nearly under the tropics of our own world. There had been no falling off in the light, it being disseminated throughout the interior with equal purity and force; and as Torrence explained, when the northern summer waned, with the passage of the sun across the line, the south polar opening would gradually supplant the deficiencies of the north. I wish we could have remained in our new world long enough to have witnessed this change, but we could not make up our minds to so long a stay.

"It does seem astounding," I said to Torrence, as we sat sipping our coffee, "that the people of this world should never have discovered their close proximity to our own outer sphere, which is indeed equivalent to another planet!"

"No more astounding," he answered, "than that we, who so continually boast of our superior powers, should through all these ages have failed to even suspect their existence. We search the heavens for indications of life upon our sister planets, and neglect this world beneath our feet. That to me is more astounding than the other!"

The outlook ahead was melancholy; possibly due to the uncertainty of when we should again see land. We continued our meal in silence, and then with a final look at the machinery, re-embarked to cross this unexplored sea.

The cliffs rapidly faded away in the distance, while the sky above, and the water beneath, alone remained to us. We felt like the tenants of some meteor traversing the regions of interplanetary space.