"This," said Torrence, turning toward me with great solemnity, "is the
Palæocrystic Sea—the sea of ancient ice—the sea which man has never
crossed. We have passed the limits of the known; beyond lies the
mystery of the undiscovered world. A world which you will soon admit is
greater, and of far more importance than our own!"
Although I could not gather his meaning, there was an import in his
words that appalled me.
* * * * *
And now the scene grew more terrible with each mile of advance. Ages of
freezing and thawing, accumulations of snow and ice, had produced a
spectacle more awful than words can picture. A sea of mountains and
valleys; of cañons black in eternal night. A sea of silence. A sea of
death.
* * * * *
But I will not dwell upon the horrors that separate the known from the
unknown. The Palæocrystic is simply an unexplored belt of ice
surrounding the poles. Indeed it is not known to be unbroken, or to be
of equal severity throughout. It might be termed a ribbon of ice
mountains, which has been ages in forming, and which probably will not
average more than fifty miles in breadth, and at some points, doubtless
much narrower. Beyond it we came upon free ice again, and further
reached the open polar sea.
Here was a marked change in the temperature, and as the air currents
were from the north, the frozen area had little effect. Our thermometer
showed a few degrees above freezing, and a tendency to rise still
higher.
We now felt that we were fairly launched into an unknown world. A
placid ocean stretched beneath to an unexplored horizon.
"Now!" exclaimed Torrence with enthusiasm; "if there are any discoveries
to be made, we ought soon to make them."
Taking out a pair of field glasses we searched the skyline from the
upper deck.
"No land in sight!" said Torrence; "but if I am not mistaken, yonder is
a flock of wild geese, leading our course, and not more than half a mile
ahead.
"They might be petrels!" I suggested.
"Whatever they are, I propose to give them a chase. A bird or two for
dinner wouldn’t be a bad idea!"
Although I had never hunted wild geese in an air ship, I agreed that it
ought to be good sport.
*XIII.*
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account