A. D. 2000

It was about 10 dial the next day when Cobb accompanied Hugh to the dock house of the large government aërial ship Orion. The vessel stood in the navy yard at Washington, covered by an immense canvas shed. Her gas bags were uninflated, and lay in great folds along the central support.

The vessel was 377 feet long, and was built in a very peculiar manner. The balloon part of the vessel was in the form of a huge cigar, through the center of which extended a rod 380 feet long, with trusses to keep it rigid. The cones of the balloon were covered with aluminum shields, which extended toward the center to a distance of sixty feet. Light rods joined these two shields to each other, thereby bracing the whole vessel. Depending from the central rod, by stiff hangings, and just under the gas envelope, was the car, built of bamboo, canvas, and aluminum rods. The car was 100 feet in length and 15 wide, and had an area of 1,500 square feet; the flooring was of the lightest material consistent with safety. The rear point of the cone carried a wind propeller of forty-six feet in diameter; the forward cone had four rudders working from the point of the cone back to a distance of thirty feet, and set in pairs – one pair vertical, and the other horizontal. There was a small lipthalene engine in the center of the ship coupled to the propeller. Within the car were fourteen state-rooms, parlor, instrument-room, kitchen, dining-room, and cabin, besides the pilot’s room in front, and the engine-room in the center. The balloon, when inflated, was 377 feet from point to point of the cones, and 100 feet in diameter. Its displacement of air was 2,000,000 cubic feet, or 153,000 pounds, under the pressure of one atmosphere. Inflated with hydrogen, it had a carrying capacity of seventy tons. The silk bag was covered with a peculiar coating, which made it almost impervious to change of texture, yet soft and pliable. The weight of the whole ship was fifty-two tons, the engines and machinery three tons more; making the whole weight, without passengers or freight, fifty-five tons. Five tons was the usual weight carried, as the gas bag was only about six-sevenths full at rising, in order to allow for the expansion of the gas as the elevation increased. The cabin was aft, and the state-rooms near the center; all were furnished handsomely, and with everything requisite for one’s comfort, but of the lightest material.

Through the center of the great gas bag a silk shaft led to a platform on the very top of the balloon. This was the lookout’s station, and communication with the pilot was by telephone. The vessel was lighted and heated by electricity, supplied from storage batteries of great power, though small in volume. The cooking was by electricity likewise, and owing to the inflammability of the hydrogen gas, fire was not permitted aboard the ship.

Cobb surveyed the vessel very carefully, examining every part, and looking at every detail of the mechanism of the machinery. The gas bag was critically inspected, and then the area of the deck measured. With a smiling, satisfied air, Cobb turned to Hugh, and said: “It rests with you, Hugh, whether this vessel take us to the north pole or simply makes a tour of the States.”

“You astonish me!” exclaimed Hugh. “You certainly will not ask me to make an attempt which others have declared impossible?”

“I mean to ask you to do it,” calmly replied the other.

“But I certainly will not grant your request,” with a decided movement of the head.

“But you will not only grant my request, but you will, with me, reach the pole before a week has passed.” There was a quiet, cool assurance in his words that gave Hugh a feeling that the man was not talking at random, but had some grand scheme in view, which, to him, gave promise of success. Feeling this to be the case, he framed his next words accordingly: “Tell me what you mean? How is this to be accomplished? Explain yourself.”

Without replying to the questions, Cobb simply asked: “Will you get the authority for a few simple changes in the construction of this vessel? Can you do this?”

“Yes; I think I can; that is, if it is to improve the ship.”

“Then, get that permission, and have the changes made, a list of which I will give you this evening; they can be finished by day after to-morrow. Also, have 10,000 pounds of meteorite and 200 gallons of nitric acid put aboard the vessel, and 2,500 pounds of meteorite and fifty gallons of acid near at hand. Increase your supply of lipthalite sufficiently to run the engines twenty-five days.”

“But will you not be adding too much weight for buoyancy?” suggested Hugh.

“How much will the hydrogen which is used to inflate that bag weigh?” asked Cobb, pointing to the folded envelope.

“Well,” replied Hugh, thinking a moment, “the capacity is two million cubic feet, and a cubic foot of air weighs nearly eight hundredths of a pound; that would give about 160,000 pounds. Assuming the specific gravity of air at one, that of hydrogen would be sixty-nine thousandths, and the weight about 11,000 pounds.”

“Correct,” said Cobb, who had made a mental calculation of the weight. “Now I ask you to put on the vessel 12,000 pounds of meteorite and acid. Very well; if your ship can take care of 6,000 of these pounds, I will reduce the weight of the gas in the bag to 5,000 pounds, thus providing for the other 6,000 pounds.”

“But you cannot do it!” cried Hugh. “Hydrogen is the lightest gas known; you cannot reduce its weight.”

“I can.” Cobb looked calmly into the face of his friend.

“You, perhaps, think you can,” insinuated Hugh.

“I know I can,” firmly replied the other.

“Then the changes shall be made.”

“And day after to-morrow, at 12 dial, we sail for the north pole?” asked Cobb. “Is it to be so?”

“As you wish, Junius.”

Their plans being settled, they returned to the executive mansion, where Hugh immediately sought his father, and told him of his interview with Cobb, and what the latter had promised to do. He then asked for the order permitting the changes in the Orion.

Without evincing any surprise, the President wrote the order, and gave it to him, adding:

“I think I know where he will get this new gas. I saw it demonstrated in the Secretary’s office last September.”

“And I am to go with him, you understand?” anxiously asked Hugh.

“Well, as to that, if he has found a method of manufacturing the gas as it is needed, I see not the slightest objection, for you know that has been the only difficulty, heretofore, in making the voyage. Yes, my son, go, and let another laurel be added to the family name.”

When Cobb read the “Daily American” the next morning he was surprised to come across a notice to the world of his proposed voyage. He had said nothing to anyone, and could only account for the item by reasoning that the order to the Secretary, and which Hugh had shown him, had read:

“ * * * These changes must be completed by the 12th instant, at 12 dial, as Colonel Cobb and Captains Craft and Hathaway will start for the north pole at that hour. * * * ”

The paper gave the news, and commented upon the proposed undertaking as follows:

“Washington, 10, 18 D. – Orders have been received at the War Department to have the aërial ship Orion put into shape for a long and extended voyage. It is currently reported at the Capitol that Lieutenant-Colonel Junius Cobb, Second Cavalry, the man of ’87, as he has become known, intends to make the attempt of reaching the pole in an air-ship. His companions will be Captains Craft and Hathaway, of the army; the former officer a son of the President of the United States. This will be the seventh trial to reach the pole since the invention of the air-ship. The first four who competed for the honor returned in disgrace, their vessels failing to reach the sixty-ninth parallel of north latitude ere they were compelled to turn back on account of loss of gas. The other two adventurers, Pope, in the Star, in 1985, and Capron, in the Highflyer, in 1993, have never been heard from. The problem is one utterly without solution; the air-ship is not destined to ever reach the pole.

“The foolhardy attempt now about to be made will not only end in disaster to the gentlemen engaged in it, but will bring sorrow to the nation by the loss to the President of his only son.”

“Rather discouraging, that,” said Cobb to himself, as he laid the paper aside. “Strange how much these newspaper men know! They haven’t changed a particle since the days of old.”

The work progressed upon the Orion, and the sound of hammers was heard all the day. A long silken pipe had been connected to the gas bag, and terminated near a small, bell-shaped aluminum receiver. The poles of the storage batteries had been joined to a dozen pairs of carbon points within this receiver, and a series of long pipes projected from its base. Two huge safety-valves had been placed in the top of the great gas bag, and additional escape provided. It was 9 dial of the 12th of January, and great crowds of people filled the streets, covered the house-tops, and jammed themselves into every available place from which a view could be had of the departure of the Orion. At the dock of the vessel the President, Secretaries, foreign ministers, and other notables were assembled to witness the departure of the man who had promised to reach the pole and return.

The huge silken bag still lay inert and motionless against the aluminum support, no attempt having been made to fill it. The baggage had been placed on board; the stores, the meteorite, and nitric acid were carefully in place, and the crew, consisting of two pilots, a cook, cabin boy, and two engineers, were standing near the vessel.

A moment later Junius Cobb appeared, and by his side walked Craft and Hathaway. Their appearance was greeted by cheer upon cheer from the vast concourse of people. Slowly approaching the big ship, they mounted the ladders to the side, and stood upon the deck of the Orion. Throwing off his coat, Cobb at once commenced his work. The meteorite was in sticks four feet long and an inch in diameter, and much resembled the sticks of lipthalite used on the Tracer. Taking a glass cylinder five feet in length by one in diameter, he filled it nearly full of nitric acid, and then placed a bunch of the meteorite rods in the liquid. Waiting but a moment, he withdrew them, and then put one into each of the ten pipes of the receiver, placed springs against their ends, and closed the caps. Having thus charged the receiver, he stepped back, and touched a push-button, and turned on the current to the carbons inside.

Slowly at first, then faster, rose fold upon fold of the gas bag of the Orion; the gas was generating. The crowd cheered. For two hours the process was continued, until the Orion just balanced at her moorings; then and only then, Cobb ceased to fill the receiver. The 2,500 pounds of meteorite and fifty gallons of nitric acid, which had been brought as an extra supply, had been nearly all consumed, and over 1,500,000 cubic feet of meteorlene filled the great gas bag to within one-seventh of its capacity.

Stepping down the ladders, Cobb and his two companions bade good-bye to their friends. The crew went aboard, and then the three officers followed. At 11:57 the receiver pipes were again charged, and the electric current turned on; the great ship tugged hard at her cables, and swayed in the air.

“Cast off!” thundered the words from Cobb, and the hawsers whirled through the guards, and came tumbling to the ground. The vessel rose swiftly and gracefully in the air; the dial marked 12.

High up in the cold winter air, and swiftly, the noble ship rose; and soon the tooting of whistles and the cheers of the people became but faint murmurings in the depths below.

“Admiral,” reported Hugh, making a grave salute, and with a twinkle in his eye, “the barometer shows 8,000 feet.”

The fact was apparent that a great elevation had already been attained, for the temperature had fallen and a decided cold feeling was experienced by all.

“That is sufficient, Commodore,” returning the other’s salute, and smiling at his new title. “Be kind enough to have the course laid northeast by east, and discharge gas to keep at about this altitude,” and Cobb passed into his state-room, and donned a heavy overcoat.

As the engines commenced their work the great propeller turned rapidly on its axis, and the Orion, describing a great circle, took a course which would soon bring her over Newfoundland.

Rapidly they passed over the country; the towns and cities, the rivers and lakes, lay far below them, and the scene was like some gigantic panorama.

Emerging from the cabin, Cobb walked to the port bows, where Hugh and Lester were leaning on the rail, and commenting on the grand scenery over which they were being swiftly whirled. An expression of satisfaction overspread his face, and a fire of ambition sparkled in his eye.

“Would that I were never more compelled to descend to earth!” he cried. “Would that I could ever remain thus far away from civilization and society!” and a sad, mournful expression succeeded the former brightness of his countenance.

“Say not so, dear Junius,” and Hugh took the other’s hand in his. “I am sure there is a bright future in store for you. I feel it; I know it!”

“I am not a part of those below,” and he jerked his thumb toward the earth dimly outlined far below them. “I am not a part of that people. No solitary tie, save that of new-found friendship, binds me to them, or them to me, Hugh,” and he pressed the hand that held his. “If I but had the love of her long since dead, long since gone to her heavenly home, then all would be changed. I would live again, would laugh and jest, and be another man. Alas, it is not to be,” and tears filled his eyes, and became crystals of ice in the freezing temperature that pervaded the air about them.

“Brace up, my dear Colonel!” interposed Lester. “Accept the world as you find it! The sun of a week hence may shine on a people shouting your praise to the end of the earth.”

“What care I for praise!” savagely returned the man, as he turned upon the other; then in a kinder tone, he said, “Forgive me, Lester; I know your heart is in the right place.” Twice he crossed the deck in moody silence. “Enough,” he cried, at length, as he stopped in front of them. “Let fate work its decree.” Then turning once more from his friends, his emotion gave utterance to the feelings of his heart: “I abide the time of death, and a return to thee, O Marie, my darling, my girl wife!” Once more he faced them, and in harsh tones exclaimed: “It is over! Let us to business now; we are bound for the pole! For your sakes I hope we return.”

It was 1,500 miles to the banks of Newfoundland, and nearly 5 dial the next day, when the Orion was poised a thousand feet above the Atlantic. Below, plowing her way through the water, was one of the latest transatlantic passenger lipthaleners. Eight hundred and fifty feet in length by a beam of only forty-six feet, the huge spindle rushed through the water with a speed of over forty miles an hour. Sounding the great whistle of the Orion, Cobb threw over a small parachute, to which was attached a bundle of papers of the 12th inst. The lipthalener sounded her whistle in salutation, ceased her course, and sent a launch to pick up the papers. Again sounding the whistle as a parting salute, Cobb ordered gas, and the Orion rose, and was soon hidden in the clouds. The course was then laid due east.

CHAPTER XXI

It was 20 dial.

High up in the air and swiftly sped the Orion.

At the bow rail stood Junius Cobb and Hugh. Each was silent, his thoughts far away; the one in the present, and the other in a former, period of the world’s time. How their thoughts contrasted! Hugh, bright in his hopes for the future, meditated on the renown and glory that would attach to them all should their great undertaking prove successful. And then, was she not now informed of his mission? and was she not watching and praying for his safe return?

Ah! was he not to be envied?

But the other – Junius – how ran his thoughts? Back, back years before, he was wandering, among old scenes and old friends so dear to his heart. His head bowed upon his arm, he gave no heed to his friend’s presence.

On, on they sped; the whir of the propeller alone breaking the awful silence that surrounded them. The night advanced; the darkness came upon them.

“Are you not too cold, Junius?” asked Hugh, after watching for a moment his companion, and noticing a slight tremor of his form.

The words, though lowly spoken, fell upon the ear of the other as if a voice from the unknown world had shouted out his doom; so still was all about them that a whisper even seemed to vibrate back until it had swelled into a harsh, discordant cry.

With a quick, shaking movement, Cobb raised his head, and turned toward the speaker: “What is it, Hugh? you spoke to me, did you not?”

“Yes; I asked if you were not cold. For ten minutes have we stood here in this freezing temperature, each busy with his own thoughts.”

“Yes; I am cold,” came the reply. “And, cold as my body may be, my dear friend, my heart is colder. I would that I could shake off these depressing feelings, but my mind will wander. Even now I thought how easily, how swiftly, and painlessly man could from this air-ship terminate a distasteful and annoying existence. Yes,” looking into the other’s eyes, “yes, one has but to throw himself over this rail, and life passes from him without a pang.”

“And do you call that a painless death, being crushed upon the earth below into a shapeless mass?” asked Hugh, with a shudder, glancing over the rail.

“Yes, Hugh. Death from falling from a great height is perfectly painless. Let me explain it,” warming to the subject, and losing some of his melancholy in the prospective discussion of a scientific theme. “Let me tell you why such is the case. We are now 10,000 feet above the ocean, are we not?”

“So I read the barometer, a quarter of an hour ago,” answered Hugh.

“Well, no matter; let us assume that we are at that elevation. Now, what would be our velocity falling from this point upon reaching the surface of the earth below?”

“Really, I could not answer that question without working it out,” the other returned.

“Well, it would be just 802 feet per second,” said Cobb. “And that velocity at 500, 1,000 and 5,000 feet below us would be 179, 253, and 567 feet, respectively, per second. A human being falling is, for an instant, convulsed by a terrible, awful feeling; not a feeling of pain, but rather a feeling of apprehension. This fear, this apprehension, is but momentary, I say; it lasts during the first second of the descent only, or for a distance of about sixteen feet. After this first second the senses become confused, circulation of the blood is retarded, a feeling of rest, a sense of pleasure, pervades the whole soul. This state of ecstasy, which it should really be called, increases as the velocity of descent is accelerated, until the mind can no longer enjoy the delightful sensation, but loses all knowledge, all thought, all feeling, and insensibility ensues. This condition of the senses is produced when the velocity of the body has attained a rate of 400 feet a second, or at the fourteenth second of descent – about 2,480 feet below the point of starting. The cause of this is, that the lungs no longer perform their function; they fail to take in the quantity of air, and consequently the oxygen necessary to fully renovate the blood. The velocity being so great, the air is pushed aside by the falling body, and fails to surround that portion of the body not directly in the line of descent, with air at the normal pressure. The air supply being thus diminished, the blood leaps through the veins, rushes to the brain, and the mind knows no more. A human body of 175 pounds weight falling from this height – 10,000 feet – would reach the earth at the end of the twenty-fifth second, and would have, at that moment, a velocity of 802 feet per second.”

“There would not be much resemblance to a human being left,” ejaculated Hugh, intently interested, and looking over the rail as if he already saw the body falling toward the earth. “No.” Cobb shook his head in a decided manner. “No; I should say not. The body would strike the earth with a force of 146,000 foot pounds per second, and would become but a shapeless, pulpy mass.” He ceased speaking a moment, as if lost in thought, then quickly added: “But enough of this subject. Let us take a turn on the forward deck, and then retire to the cabin.”

The two men moved forward, and crossed to the starboard side of the Orion. Here the air was a trifle warmer, or, rather, the wind caused by their forward movement was less strong and piercing. The great perpendicular rudders of the vessel were inclined two degrees to the left to overcome the northern currents, which came strong and cold.

It was now 21 dial, and the earth below seemed covered by a black pall. Around them were silence and darkness. No moon was visible, and the gloom below was only relieved by the beautiful sky, with its thousands of twinkling stars above them.

Stopping at the rocket box, just to the right of the rudder chains, Cobb laid his hand upon the rail, and gazed fixedly into the depths below; and then, raising his eyes toward the horizon, he pointed his finger forward, and exclaimed: “Hugh, what are those bright lights away off in the ocean, and this one, almost under us?”

Hugh looked in the direction indicated, and also leaned over the rail, and noted a beautiful, brilliant light almost underneath the Orion. Hesitating a moment, he cried:

“Why, Junius, those are the Atlantic stations. We can see one – two – three of them. Yes, I am sure; and there is one behind us,” pointing to a light directly in their rear. “Yes, they are the stations. That one behind us must be the first one, and this underneath, the second, from Newfoundland; that would agree with our position, which, I take it, is about a hundred miles east of the land.”

“Atlantic stations! Do you mean that these lights are on stationary vessels in the ocean?” asked Cobb, intently gazing at the bright lights.

“Yes; those are ocean stations for the relief of distressed vessels and shipwrecked people. You see the lights; this one under us, and the one toward the west, and those two to the east. Ah! there is another! see it? away down on the horizon. That makes five. By Jove! I doubt if ever before five of these lights have been seen at the same time by one person!” with a pleased expression on his face.

Cobb viewed for a moment the brilliant light, which was apparently gently swaying to right and left just beneath him, and then his eyes passed along the line made by the others. The second light was quite bright also, but the third seemed faint. The fourth light appeared as a star lying just on the edge of the ocean. Indeed, were it not for the fact that the Orion lay exactly in the line of the stations, and for the further fact that no stars were visible so low down toward the horizon, the light might not have been noticed at all.

“How far apart are these stations?” he asked.

“They are placed at intervals of fifty miles,” returned the other.

“Then, that light away down near the horizon is nearly 150 miles from us?”

“Yes.”

“And our elevation now is 10,000 feet, you say?”

“So I observed it, as I told you, some fifteen or twenty minutes ago.”

Then, after a moment’s silence, Cobb exclaimed: “We are rising. We cannot be less than 12,500 feet above the ocean.”

“How do you make that out, Junius?” asked Hugh. “I don’t think we have ascended 2,500 feet since my last observation.”

“It is easily answered,” said the other. “The curvature of the earth and the refraction of light necessitate an elevation of 1,430 feet for one to see an object on the surface at a distance of fifty miles. To see this light, distant 150 miles, our altitude must be at least 11,500 feet.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Let us go inside, and see if I am not correct, and then I want you to tell me about these stations,” touching the other on the arm, and then moving aft.

Once in the cabin, the barometer was consulted, and found to read 19.29 inches, or an elevation of 11,581 feet. Cobb again asked his friend to enlighten him concerning this new invention, the lights of which he had seen twinkling and scintillating away toward the east.