I discovered that Nah-ee-lah knew little about these islands,
practically nothing in fact, not even as to whether they were
inhabited; but we determined to explore one, and to this end we
selected an island of considerable extent that lay about ten miles
off shore. We reached it without difficulty and circled slowly above
it, scrutinizing its entire area carefully. About half of it was
quite hilly, but the balance was rolling and comparatively level. We
discovered three streams and two small lakes upon it, and an almost
riotous profusion of vegetable growth, but nowhere did we discern the
slightest indication that it was inhabited. And so at last, feeling
secure, we made our landing upon the plain, close to the beach.
It was a beautiful spot, a veritable Garden of Eden, where we two
might have passed the remainder of our lives in peace and security,
for though we later explored it carefully, we found not the slightest
evidence that it had ever known the foot of man.
Together we built a snug shelter against the storms. Together we
hunted for food, and during our long periods of idleness we lay upon
the soft sward beside the beach, and to pass the time away, I taught
Nah-ee-lah my own language. It was a lazy, indolent, happy life that
we spent upon this enchanted isle, and yet, though we were happy in
our love, each of us felt the futility of our existence, where our
lives must be spent in useless idleness.
We had, however, given up definitely hope for any other form of
existence. And thus we were lying one time, as was our wont after
eating, stretched in luxurious ease upon our backs on the soft lunar
grasses, I with my eyes closed, when Nah-ee-lah suddenly grasped me
by the arm.
“Julian,” she cried, “what is it? Look!”
I opened my eyes, to find her sitting up and gazing into the sky
toward the mainland, a slim forefinger indicating the direction of
the object that had attracted her attention and aroused her surprised
interest.
As my eyes rested upon the thing her pointing finger indicated, I
leaped to my feet with an exclamation of incredulity, for there,
sailing parallel with the coast at an altitude of not more than a
thousand feet, was a ship, the lines of which I knew as I had known
my mother’s face. It was _The Barsoom_.
Grasping Nah-ee-lah by the arm, I dragged her to her feet. “Come,
quick, Nah-ee-lah!” I cried, and urged her rapidly toward our hut,
where we had stored the wings and the gas bags which we had never
thought to use again, yet protected carefully, though why we knew
not.
There was still gas in the bags—enough to support us in the air, with
the assistance of our wings, but to fly thus for long distances would
have been most fatiguing, and there was even a question as to whether
we could cross the ten miles of sea that lay between us and the
mainland; yet I was determined to attempt it. Hastily we donned the
wings and bags, and rising together, flapped slowly in the direction
of the mainland.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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