The Secret of the Earth

by Charles Willing Beale

I agreed with him, and the water was soon rushing beneath us at a fearful rate. Both sailing ships and steamers were now passed like stationary objects, but the wonder with which we inspired the passengers unfortunately escaped our observation. The day was warm, and the speed agreeable, allowing us to remain on deck in comfort.

While racing, we passed a fleet of schooners loaded with lumber. The consternation caused on board was made apparent by the blast of half a dozen trumpets, which reached our ears in a chorus, although we left the boats so rapidly that the sound was only heard for a minute, and in a quarter of an hour the fleet was out of sight.

At 4 o'clock we caught the first glimpse of the island peaks, off the coast of Norway, and knowing that it would not be dark until after ten, we slackened speed.

Nearing the land the sight was singularly beautiful. The dark blues and greens against the black rocks of those mountain islands, made an intensely vivid picture. Between these lofty heights were revealed far-stretching vistas of bluest sea, bounded again by other islands and other mountains.

Torrence said he should not venture in any of these channels, but proposed running entirely outside the cordon of islands, keeping the coast well in hand upon the right. Fortunately there would be but two or three hours of darkness, or it might have been expedient to seek a higher level to avoid the possibility of accident by collision; as it was, a sharp lookout would be all that was necessary.

After sailing up the coast for a couple of hours, I went below to prepare supper, which we decided to eat on deck, so as not to miss the magnificent scenery. This we did, and later I was instructed in the art of aerial navigation, and after changing our course a few points to seaward for safety, Torrence went below to sleep, leaving me in charge. During this watch our speed was materially lowered, as we did not deem it wise to run rapidly along this dangerous coast, while I was alone on deck.

The feeling of power as I sat there with absolute control of the vessel was exhilarating. I had never had such a sensation before. Like a visitor from another planet I floated on above the sea, inspecting the most exquisitely weird and beautiful scenery, made doubly entrancing by the lingering twilight, which seemed as if it would never fade away. The intensity of the coloring, the purity of the atmosphere, and the marvelous shapes of these mountain islands, made impressions not easily obliterated. There was an endless variety of fiords and water vistas opening between them, and each vista and each island showed something new.

Torrence slept soundly until 10:30 o'clock when, as the twilight had deepened into gloom, I thought it best to call him, and went below to sleep myself. The night was quickly passed, as there was little of it, and in the watches we rounded the headlands of the Sogne, the Geiranger, and the Romsdal fiords, and then steering a little more to the east with the trend of the coast, made for the great bay of Trondhjem, which we reached about the middle of the afternoon. Skirting the opening of the fiord, Torrence asked if I thought it worth while to pay a visit to this historic city of the Norwegians—Trondhjem being one of their most important and beautiful towns. If we concluded to go, he said it would be best, in order not to attract attention, to land upon one of the lonely island hilltops near the town, and thence make our way by foot and boat. We talked the matter over, but finally decided to let all towns alone, it being possible that the authorities held orders for our detention, as they had in Hull.

"We are quite safe where we are," said Torrence, "and when we stop, let it be away from people."

Having decided to stick to the air ship, we went directly on past the mouth of the bay without entering it. The town itself is a number of miles further up the fiord.