“But that is not a New Moon, it is a Full Moon, which should not be seen for fourteen days yet,” I objected.
“Pardon me, it is a New Moon,” he insisted. “That inner rim of brightness is all the sunlight she reflects. The paler glimmer is Earth-light, which she reflects. When she is really a Full Moon, she will be perfectly dark to us.”
Then I explained to him the first umbrella appearance, and its gradual swelling and final disappearance.
“Rainbow colours around the edge and a gradual changing of the shape, you say? That means refraction. The Earth’s atmosphere has been playing tricks on you. The umbrella of dull red light was a refracted view of the Moon before she really came into sight. Rays of light from the hidden Moon were bent around to you. Then, as she gradually moved from behind the Earth, her appearance was magnified by the convex lens formed by the atmosphere, bent over that planet. Presently it diminished and went out altogether, you say?”
“Yes, but that was because I steered away from her,” I replied.
“No; you could hardly lose her so easily,” he answered. “Did you ever try holding an object behind a water-bottle or a gold-fish jar? There is a place near the edge of the jar where a thing cannot be seen, though the glass and water are perfectly transparent. The rays of light from the object are bent around, through the glass and water, away from the eyes of the observer. It was like that with the Moon when she disappeared. She was really drawing out from the Earth all the time. Finally, when her light passed beyond the atmosphere altogether, she became suddenly visible in a different place and shining with another colour. What we see now is the real Moon in her true place. The other appearances were all tricks of refraction.”
“But when I had turned away,” I explained, “there came a thin rim of bright light on the other side of the Earth, and a gradually appearing umbrella shape there too.”
“Ah, then you steered far enough out of your course to see part of the illuminated surface of the Earth. That was the real danger light. And if it began to assume the umbrella shape, detached from the Earth, that was due to atmospheric refraction of sunlight. This great shadow we are travelling in has an illuminated core, which we shall encounter when we have proceeded a little further. I tell you of it now, so it may not give you another shock. Have you ever noticed the small bright spot which illuminates the centre of the shadow cast by a glass of water? That is partly the same as the core of light which exists in the heart of this shadow. Rays from the sun, passing on all sides of the Earth, are refracted through the atmosphere and bent inward. You must have steered over into some of these rays just now, and then turned back from them. Somewhat farther on all these refracted rays will meet at a common centre, which they will illuminate, and we shall have an oasis of rainbow-tinged sunlight in this great desert of shadow. The sun will then appear to us to be an enormous circle of dull light entirely surrounding the Earth.”
“I don’t fancy running into that at all,” said I. “Can’t we avoid it by steering out?”
“Avoid it!” exclaimed the doctor. “We must investigate it, and photograph the peculiar appearance of the sun. Light seems to have more terrors for you than anything else just now. You must get over your rush-and-do tendency; you must stifle your emotions and impulses, and learn to think of things in a more calm and scientific manner.”
“But that is not so easy for me, Doctor. Whenever I am left alone, a feeling of dread possesses me. I am used to having many people, bustling noises, and confused movement all about me. The silence of Space stifles me, and the loneliness of the ether oppresses and overcomes me strangely.”
“I prescribe a change of air for you,” answered the doctor. “You will do better in a rarer atmosphere. Let us send what we have been breathing back to Whiting, and make a new one to suit ourselves.”
CHAPTER X
The Twilight of Space
“Shall I come up into your compartment for the operation?” I asked.
“No; for this first time we will pump out my compartment, as I wish to observe from the rear port-hole the action of the air which we set free.”
The bulkhead, with its bevelled edge, was therefore fitted into the opening between the compartments, and I took the first turn at the lever handle of the air-pump, while the doctor observed from the window. I had given the handle less than a dozen vigorous strokes when the doctor suddenly exclaimed,—
“Stop! Wait a moment;” and he began pulling at the bulkhead, which was already rather tightly wedged in by the air pressure. “I have left the rabbit inside,” he said, when he found breath to speak. And poor little bunny’s heart was beginning to beat fast when he was rescued.
Then we began again. The doctor watched the escaping air for some time, evidently forgetting that I was at all interested in it.
“All quite as I expected,” he said at last. “Only I had forgotten about the snow.”
“Nothing will ever be very new or interesting to you,” I put in; “but pray remember I am here, and rapidly getting empty of breath and full of curiosity.”
Then he relieved me at the pump handle, and this is what I saw from the port-hole: The air escaping from the discharge pipe of the air-pump was visible, and looked like dull, grey steam. Immediately on being set free it swelled and expanded greatly, and sank away from us slowly. But at the instant of its expansion the cold thus produced froze the moisture of the air into a fine fleecy snow, which lasted but a second as it sank away from us and melted in the heat, which the thermometer showed to be close upon ninety-five degrees. This miniature snowstorm was seen for an instant only after each down motion of the pump handle.
“Where is this air going?” I inquired. “The little clouds of it seem to drop away from us like lead; but that must be because of our speed.”
“It is falling back to the Earth, to join the outer layer of rare atmosphere there. If we had a positive current instead of a negative one, the air would not leave us, but we should gradually be surrounded by an atmosphere of our own, which we should retain until some planet, whose gravitational attraction is vastly stronger than ours, stole it from us. When we begin to fall into Mars, we shall acquire such an enveloping atmosphere; and we can draw upon it and re-compress it if our inner supply should become exhausted.”
“If this air is falling home to earth,” said I, “we could send messages back in that manner.”
“We can drop them back at any time, regardless of the air,” he answered, and then added suddenly, “but it will make a beautiful experiment to drop out a bottle now.”
He ceased pumping, and opening a bottle of asparagus tips, he placed them in a bowl, and prepared to drop out the bottle. I took my pencil and wrote this message to go inside,—“Behold, I have decreed a judgment upon the Earth; for it shall rain pickle bottles and biscuit tins for the period of forty days, because of the wickedness of the world, unless she repent!” And I pictured to myself the perplexity of the poor devil who should see this message come straight down from heaven!
In order to make his experiment more successful, the doctor put in half a dozen bullets from one of the rifles, to make the weight more perceptible. Then he put the bottle into the discharging cylinder, and preparing to push it out he stooped over the port-hole. At a signal from him I gave the pump handle several quick, successive motions, and at the same instant he let drop the bottle. At once he cried out,—
“Beautiful! and just as I thought.”
“But I didn’t see it!” I protested. “What was it?”
“The instant the bottle was released the discharged air was immediately attracted toward it, and gradually surrounded it entirely. It was like a little planet with an atmosphere of its own, as they fell back to the Earth together.”