Fuller had awakened and come in in the meantime, and he wanted to know why they didn't take some pictures from this spot.
"No point in it," said Morey. "We have the ones we took coming in; what we want is a wide-angle shot."
Arcot threw on the space-strain drive once more, and they headed on at top speed.
They were all in the control room, watching the instruments and joking—principally the latter—when it happened. One instant they were moving smoothly, weightlessly along. The next instant, the ship rocked as though it had been struck violently! The air was a snapping inferno of shooting sparks, and there came the sharp crash of the suddenly volatilized silver bar that was their main power fuse. Simultaneously, they were hurled forward with terrific force; the straps that held them in place creaked with the sudden strain, and the men felt weak and faint.
Consciousness nearly left them; they had been burned in a dozen places by the leaping sparks.
Then it was over. Except that the ghost ships no longer followed them, the Ancient Mariner seemed unchanged. Around them, they could see the dim glowing of the galaxies.
"Brother! We came near something!" Arcot cried. "It may be a wandering star! Take a look around, quick!"
But the dark of space seemed utterly empty around them as they coasted weightless through space. Then Arcot snapped off the lights of the control room, and in a moment his eyes had become accustomed to the dim lights.
It was dead ahead of them. It was a dull red glow, so dim it was scarcely visible. Arcot realized it was a dead star.
"There it is, Morey!" he said. "A dead star, directly ahead of us! Good God, how close are we?"