Across the Zodiac: The Story of a Wrecked RecordGreg, Percy
Science
Across the Zodiac: The Story of a Wrecked Record
Greg, Percy
Science fiction
I woke about 4h. 30m., and on a scrutiny of the instruments, felt
satisfied that I was not far out in my calculations. A later hour,
however, would afford a more absolute certainty. I was about to turn
again to the interesting work of observation through the lens in the
floor, when my attention was diverted by the sight of something like
a whitish cloud visible through the upper window on my left hand.
Examined by the telescope, its widest diameter might be at most ten
degrees. It was faintly luminous, presenting an appearance very closely
resembling that of a star cluster or nebula just beyond the power of
resolution. As in many nebulae, there was a visible concentration
in one part; but this did not occupy the centre, but a position
more resembling that of the nucleus of a small tailless comet. The
cloudlet might be a distant comet, it might be a less distant body of
meteors clustering densely in some particular part of their orbit;
and, unfortunately, I was not likely to solve the problem. Gradually
the nebula changed its position, but not its form, seeming to move
downwards and towards the stern of my vessel, as if I were passing it
without approaching nearer. By the time that I was satisfied of this,
hunger and even faintness warned me that I must not delay preparing my
breakfast. When I had finished this meal and fulfilled some necessary
tasks, practical and arithmetical, the hand of the chronometer
indicated the eighth hour of my third day. I turned again somewhat
eagerly to the discometer, which showed an apparent distance of 360
terrestrial radii, and consequently a movement which had not materially
varied from the rate of 11¼ radii per hour. By this time the diameter
of the Earth was not larger in appearance than about 19', less than
two-thirds that of the Sun; and she consequently appeared as a black
disc covering somewhat more than one-third of his entire surface,
but by no means concentrical. The halo had of course completely
disappeared; but with the vernier it was possible to discern a narrow
band or line of hazy grey around the black limb of the planet. She was
moving, as seen from the Astronaut, very slightly to the north, and
more decidedly, though very slowly, to the eastward; the one motion due
to my deliberately chosen direction in space, the other to the fact
that as my orbit enlarged I was falling, though as yet slowly, behind
her. The sun now shone through, the various windows, and, reflected
from the walls, maintained a continuous daylight within the Astronaut,
as well diffused as by the atmosphere of Earth, strangely contrasting
the star-spangled darkness outside.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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