An Unknown World

by Pierre de Sélènes

  “Bah!” said Lord Rodilan, intrigued.

  “Yes, my dear friend. You know that on the Moon, weight is six times less than on Earth. Thus, your honorable person, which would weigh 148 pounds on the Yacht Club scales, only weighs about 21. That’s why all the objects you touch seem so light, and the slight effort you made just now was sufficient to lift you up so high.”

  “That’s all very well,” said Lord Rodilan, “but if I have to continue living, I’d rather not remain too long in this darkness; it’s not worth the trouble of being alive to be buried like this.”

  “Oh,” said Marcel, “We’re not so badly off. I can’t yet estimate the distance that separates us from the lunar surface, but it must be considerable. First, we need to get out of here and reconnoiter the place where we we’ve ended up.”

  The exterior air had finished filling the shell; they could now open the portholes. When that was done, Marcel hastened to consult the instruments of observation with which the projectile was equipped. The centigrade thermometer marked 18.5; the barometer indicated a pressure of 641 millimeters, corresponding to an Earthly altitude of 1,480 meters. The needle of the Saussure hygrometer had stopped at ninety—which, according to the table constructed by Gay-Lussac, corresponded to a saturation of 0.791; it was an atmosphere heavily charged with humidity.

  “All that’s very reassuring,” said Marcel. “Now it’s necessary to know the nature of the liquid on which we’re floating.”

  Immediately, Jacques dipped a pewter goblet into the exterior liquid, and brought it back full of a colorless transparent liquid. Marcel examined it attentively, poured a few drops into the palm of his hand, and moistened his lips with it.

  “It’s water,” he said, “but with a slightly saline taste. At least we can be sure that we won’t die of thirst.”

  It was now a matter of reaching the strand, which seemed all the more urgent because Marcel thought he had noticed that for some time the shell had seemed to be moving away from it gradually. He made that observation to his companions.

  “It’s probable,” he told them, “that this lake overflows into some inferior basin, and the current is tending to draw us God knows where. It’s therefore important to land without wasting any time.”

  As they had been expecting to fall on to the surface of the Moon and to have to walk over very uneven ground, they had prudently equipped themselves with long and sturdy iron-tipped walking sticks. Two of these sticks were bound end to end and firmly fixed.

  “To you, my dear lord,” said Marcel then, “one of the most glorious champions of Oxford, goes the honor of steering over this lunar lake the first terrestrial vessel ever to venture thereon.”

  “All right!” replied the Englishman. “And it’s a great pity that some Cambridge champion isn’t here to witness that navigation and shrivel up with jealousy.”

  “One can’t have everything,” murmured Jacques, philosophically.

  Taking of his jacket and rolling up his shirt-sleeves, Lord Rodilan bared his muscular arms; then, seized the pole formed by the two iron-tipped canes, he passed it through the porthole opposite the shore, which was about two feet above the surface of the water. It reached the bottom. Bracing himself vigorously on the end of the pole, he gave it an energetic impulsion, and the heavy machine began to move, drawing nearer to the shore in a sensible fashion.

  It was evident that the subterranean lake into which they had fallen filled a depression of considerable depth, similar to the crater of a volcano. The shell must have fallen near the center; then, having come back up to the surface, it had been gripped by the current, which, by reason of the sinuosities of the shore, sometimes seemed to be drawing it toward it, and sometimes away from it.

  Marcel and Jacques stood at the other porthole, illuminating the direction to be followed by means of their electric lamps. As the shell, cylindrical in form, could not advance in a rigorously straight line, they indicated to Lord Rodilan the direction in which he ought to steer the inconvenient skiff.

  The Englishman toiled ardently. His robust limbs had lost nothing of their flexibility and skill, and his strength was multiplied tenfold in an environment where weight was diminished in such a remarkable fashion. So, in spite of the difficulty of the task, scarcely an hour had gone by when the shell ran aground on the gradually raised bed and stopped about fifty meters from the strand.

  “Ah!” said Lord Rodilan, flexing his arms. “That bit of exercise has done me good.” Approaching the porthole facing the shore, he laughed and added: “Good! Now we’ll have to take a bath. After violent exercise, that’s very hygienic.”

  The shell was, in fact, some four feet deep in the water, and it was necessary to wade across the distance that separated the voyagers from solid ground.

  Detaching the mobile iron ladder that they used to reach the baggage stored in the upper section of the projectile, they passed it through the porthole and plunged it into the water, where its weight maintained it immobile. The three friends had rapidly put on impermeable rubber garments over their clothing, which enveloped them from head to toe. Thus equipped, they crossed the distance separating them from the shore in a few strides.

  As they set foot on the fine sand that formed the floor of the cavern, which had never been trodden before by any terrestrial creature, Marcel experienced a surge of triumphant excitement.

  “Victory, friends!” he cried. “Here were are in the bosom of the mysterious world of which our audacity has dreamed of penetrating the secrets. The calculations of science are confirmed. Let’s give thanks to God, who has brought us here safe and sound, and vive la France!”

  Jacques shook his hand with an emotion that he did not try to hide.

  “Pardon me, my dear Marcel,” said the Englishman. “Since I’m not dead, allow me to participate in your joy and also to associate England with it. Don’t you think it’s only just to shout with me: Hurrah for England?”

  “With all my heart, my dear Rodilan, and whatever the future has in reserve for us, there’s life and death between us now.”

  And the three friends embraced delightedly.

  The shell was then moored to an overhanging rocky outcrop, not far from the place where they had landed, with the aid of a cable that Marcel had fixed solidly to the interior and unrolled as he advanced toward the shore.

  IX. Exploration in the Unknown

  “By the way,” said Jacques, “what day is it, and what time might it be?”

  “I haven’t thought about that,” said Marcel, “but it’s easy enough to verify.” He took out his chronometer; it indicated seven forty-five.

  “Good,” said Lord Rodilan. “That’s the hour, but what day is it?”

  “Let’s see—we left on Saturday 15 December11 at ten forty-six and forty seconds in the evening. Our journey to reach the lunar surface lasted ninety-seven hours thirteen minutes and twenty seconds. I’m leaving out the time that it took us to traverse the lunar crust. We fell into the sea on Wednesday the nineteenth at eleven fifty-nine and sixty seconds—which is to say, at midnight. So it’s now Thursday 20 December, at seven forty-five in the morning.

  “And then again,” said Jacques, “how is it, since our projectile was able to get this far without breaking, that we can’t see any opening, any trace of light indicating a communication with the exterior?”

  “In truth, my dear chap, you’re asking too much for the moment. It’s probable that the fissure which gave us access narrowed; its doubtless several kilometers deep, in which case the solar light wouldn’t penetrate this far. In all probability, we’ve fallen into a part of the cavern where the water is very deep, and thanks to the invisible current whose action we’ve already observed, we’ve been drawn toward the shore.”

  “All that’s very interesting,” said Lord Rodilan. “We haven’t come here simply to devote ourselves to scientific dissertations, though, but to explore. I suggest, therefore, that we explore, and I won’t hide it from you that I’m in haste to see the
sun again.”

  “Well then, let’s explore,” said Jacques. “I’m beginning to get tired of this darkness myself.”

  All three of them picked their electric lamps and directed them at the wall at the foot of which they were standing, which rose up for some twenty meters above the lake. It was formed of solid and compact granite. Projecting the beams of light as high as they could, they could not perceive the summit on which the vault of the cavern must be braced.

  “In my opinion,” said Marcel, “there’s only one thing we can do: follow the shore until we find some tunnel or fault that permits us to get back to the surface.

  “Since we’re justified in believing that the Moon is inhabited on the side that’s invisible from the Earth,” Jacques said, “our efforts ought to be directed toward reaching that region.”

  “That doesn’t seem to me to be very difficult,” said Marcel. “It’s obvious that in the epoch when there were many active volcanoes, each one had its chimney, and furthermore, that the continual disturbance of the satellite’s crust must have led to the extension of fissures and crevasses of various sorts around each nucleus. We’ll doubtless have plenty of choice.”

  “Let’s get a move on, then,” said Lord Rodilan. “I’ve had enough of this inaction, and I wouldn’t be sorry to make the acquaintance of our new compatriots.”

  Having made that resolution, the three friends commenced their exploration. At the place where the shell had run aground the shore was only a short distance from the wall, but the space son expanded, the interior lake became more distant. As they were searching for a way out through the mountain, they continued to follow the wall, studying it intently. They had been walking for about an hour over fine sand when Lord Rodilan, who was in the lead, exclaimed: “Here we are at the end of the cavern, I think.”

  Projecting the beam of his lamp, he pointed at a mass of rocks that abruptly interrupted the strand.

  “It’s an obstacle to go around,” said Marcel, after having looked at it carefully. As far as I can tell, the rocks diminish rapidly in the direction of the lake.”

  After a few minutes, in fact, they found themselves back at the edge of the water, into which the granite wall plunged to form a kind of cape. The chaotic disorder of the profoundly uneven rock, with sharp ridges, neat fractures and polished faces, which the combined light of their lamps allowed them to distinguish clearly, dispelled any idea of climbing over.

  “What shall we do?” asked Jacques.

  “Well have to go into the water and try to swim around it, of course,” said Lord Rodilan. He was already advancing into the water.

  “Be careful,” said Marcel. “Use your iron-tipped stick to sound the bottom.”

  All three of them advanced, while their guide carefully tested the terrain. They soon reach the extremity of the cape; they were waist-deep in the water. Although their rubber garments, hermetically sealed, prevented them from getting wet, the coldness of the subterranean water ended up chilling their limbs. An immense liquid sheet extended in front of them, which bathed the granite wall on the other side of the cape.

  They hesitated momentarily.

  The absence of the strand at that place suggested that the depth of the lake might increase abruptly there, and that it was necessary to abandon any further research in that direction, but to return to their point of departure in order to go the other way was just as risky and would waste a lot of time.

  As he was advising his companions to keep going forward, Lord Rodilan, who was holding his lamp above his head and illuminating the inferior extremity of the rocks exclaimed: “I’m not mistaken! Look, Marcel—isn’t that, about a hundred meters away, the entrance to one of those fissures or tunnels you were talking about a while back?”

  In the direction he was indicating, there was indeed an obscure opening.

  “You’re right,” said Marcel. “We need to go that way.”

  They resumed walking and doubled the cape. They advanced slowly, weighed down and hampered by the rubber garments, and sometimes having water up to their knees and sometimes up to their shoulders, in accordance with the unevenness of the ground. After half an hour of that difficult march, they felt the ground on which they were walking rising along a gentle slope. The excavation they had noticed formed the arched entrance to a rather spacious grotto, into which they penetrated by ducking down slightly When they raised their heads again their gazes were dazzled and they uttered cries of admiration. The walls of the grotto were entirely coved with a shiny and polished substance that reflected the beam of the three electric lamps with an incomparable brightness.

  It was a radiation of light in which the prismatic faces of crystals were sown in profusion, like rubies, sapphires, topazes and emeralds. One might have thought it an enchanted palace. Marcel approached one of the walls and detached a few fragments of the crystalline substance with the aid of his iron-tipped cane. He examined them attentively and uttered an exclamation of surprise.

  “What is it?” Jacques asked.

  “Half the treasures buried here would suffice to pay for the national debts of all the states of Europe and enrich the whole of terrestrial humanity.”

  “What have you found that’s so marvelous?” asked Lord Rodilan.

  “They’re diamonds, Milord—genuine diamonds.” He projected the beam of his lamp over the brilliant surface, and added: “And look: some are as large as a fist. All the dealers in London and Amsterdam would pale with envy before such riches. But these precious pebbles are no use to us at present; we have to think about continuing our journey.” Darting a circular glance around, he exclaimed: “There are two openings that ought, in all probability, be the entrances to the tunnels we’re looking for.”

  A short distance away, there were indeed two openings, whose depth it was impossible to estimate at first glance.

  The first one into which they ventured followed a horizontal path initially, but seen sloped downwards steeply toward the core of the satellite.

  “Damn!” said Lord Rodilan, turning back.

  Marcel and Jacques remained silent, but their frowns testified to their disappointment and betrayed a commencement of anxiety.

  They returned to the diamond cave and took the other tunnel without hesitation. They had only taken a few paces when Marcel’s face cleared. “This time, I think, we’re on the right path,” he said.

  The floor of the tunnel was, indeed, sloping upwards significantly. The vault was reasonably high and the breadth sufficient for the three travelers to walk abreast.

  After having determined the direction of the tunnel Marcel stopped. “We can’t go any further,” he said, “without being equipped with food supplies and everything necessary for an exploration that might be long and difficult.”

  “Will we have to contend with this obscurity much longer?” asked Lord Rodilan.

  “In truth, my dear friend, it’s impossible to estimate our present depth, but it’s certainly several kilometers. There’s no proof, anyway, that this tunnel maintains the same slope, and God knows what other obstacles we might have to face. We need, therefore, to make provision for several days, perhaps more, of tortuous and difficult travel.”

  “Let’s get on with it,” said Jacques. “We’ll see what the future has in store for us.”

  They went back to the shell, but the emotions through which the three companions had passed since they had come round from their profound unconsciousness, and the fatigues of their exploration, had exhausted their strength. While they had been animated by the sentiment of a strange situation, and the fear of being buried forever in that somber abyss, a nervous excitement had sustained them, but now that a ray of hope was shining in their eyes and Marcel had put into the souls of his friends the ardent conviction that filled him, nature imperiously reclaimed its rights.

  Jacques, in his capacity as a physician, observed it first. “Friends,” he said, “before departing for the unknown, we need to get our strength back; my opinion is, therefo
re, that we should obtain from reparative sleep all the energy that we’ll need.”

  “You speak like a sage,” Marcel replied. “Anyway, now that I think about it, I’m worn out.”

  “Perfect,” said Lord Rodilan. “Let’s sleep. We have nothing to fear from unwelcome visitors, and when we wake up, we’ll prepare ourselves with a solid meal to present to the inhabitants of the Moon three correct gentlemen, very much alive!”

  The three friends lay down on the circular divan, therefore, and the calmness of their respiration soon indicated that they were sleeping as peacefully as if they were in the best room at the Grand Hotel in Paris.

  Ten hours later they woke up, and after a substantial lunch, in which the old burgundy was not spared, they each equipped themselves as if for a difficult climb. They packed enough food for three weeks.

  Before setting out they carefully checked the mooring-rope securing the shell to the rock, and made sure that no oscillation could detach it; it was their unique and supreme resource in the fantastic world in which they were lost.

  Returning to the cave of diamonds, they set off resolutely into the tunnel they had chosen.

  During the first day, the journey was effected without overmuch difficulty. They were evidently following the chimney of an ancient volcano; the layers of rocks they traversed presented in their successive stratifications dispositions very similar to those forming the terrestrial crust. First they encountered primitive rocks, gneiss and mica-schist; then came the primary terrains. They had crossed the Silurian and Devonian layers and were on the third day of their march when the first traces of carboniferous terrain appeared.

  “We’re evidently getting close to the surface,” said Jacques. “If we were on Earth, we could hope to see the light of the Sun within two or three days.”

  “Yes,” said Marcel, “but how can we determine here the thickness of the lunar layers that still separate us from the surface? Who can tell, in any case, whether the volcanic eruptions of which the Moon has been the theater might have accumulated molten materials drawn from the depths of its entrails in the original layers? Who can tell whether we might not run into impenetrable walls of cooled lava?”