Ralph grew more despondent each day, and his hope of bringing his betrothed back to life grew dimmer and dimmer as the hours rolled on. For the first time since he left the Earth he became space-sick.
Space-sickness is one of the most unpleasant sensations that a human being can experience. Not all are subject to it, and it does not last longer than forty-eight hours, after which it never recurs.
On Earth, gravitational action to a certain degree exerts a certain pull on the brain. Out in space, with practically no gravitational action, this pull ceases. When this happens, the brain is no longer subjected to the accustomed pull, and it expands slightly in all directions, just as a balloon loses its pear shape and becomes round when an aeronaut cuts loose, to drop down with his parachute.
The effect on the brain results in space-sickness, the first symptoms being violent melancholy and depression followed by a terrible heart-rending longing for Earth. During this stage, at which the patient undergoes great mental suffering, the optical nerves usually become affected and everything appears upside down, as if the sufferer were looking through a lens. It becomes necessary to take large doses of Siltagol, otherwise brain fever may develop.
At the end of two days the sickness left Ralph, but it left him worn and exhausted physically and he was subject to terrible fits of depression. At these times the boundless space about him appalled him, weighing him down with its infinite immensity. The awful stillness crushed him. Everything seemed dead—dead as was that silent motionless figure that had been a living laughing creature who had loved him—it seemed so long ago.
He felt that Nature herself was punishing him for his daring assault upon her dominions. He had presumed to set the laws of Life and Death at variance, and this was the penalty, this living death, shut in with the living dead.
At such times a madness of fear and despair would grip him. He would fling himself down at Alice's side, his face buried in her cold inert hand, and sob like a child in his loneliness and agony of spirit.
When this had passed he would return to his state of lethargy, sitting hours at a time staring moodily at the floor. Gaunt, hollow-eyed and listless, he seemed more mad than sane.
And yet, the tremendous will-power of the man came into evidence when, within forty-eight hours' distance of Earth he threw off his blinding lethargy, and made himself ready, mentally and physically, for his last fight for Alice's life.