Through Space to Mars by Roy Rockwood (great novels to read .TXT) 📕

into it, will it?” inquired Jack.

“That’s just the trouble. We don’t know that it is gas,” said

Mr. Roumann. “It may be solid, and then to rush into it at

terrific speed would mean that we would be demolished. Also, if

the gas is flaming, you can easily imagine what would happen to

the Annihilator. There would be nothing left of it—or us—in

less than an instant.”

“But isn’t there some way of escaping it?” asked Mark.

“I’m going to try,” responded Mr. Roumann. “Jack, ask Professor

Henderson to step here. I wish to consult him.”

Jack delivered the message, and it was overheard by Washington

White. Something in Jack’s manner told the colored man that

there was trouble aboard.

“What’s de mattah?” he asked.

Jack saw no reason for concealing the danger from the cook.

“We’re heading into a comet,” he, said.

“What? One ob dem tings wid long, fiery tails, Massa Jack?”

The youth nodded.

“Am we gwine t’ hit it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, I hopes we does!” exclaimed Washington with great

earnestness. “I hopes we knocks it clean outen de universe,

dat’s what I hopes.”

“We’re a great deal more likely to be knocked out ourselves,

Wash.”

“No, sah! Don’t yo’ believe anyt’ing like dat!” exclaimed the

colored man. “I know dis airship. I helped build it, an’ it’s

de strongest one de perfesser eber made. A comet won’t be one,

two, six wid it. We’ll jest knock a piece of his tail off, at’s

what we’ll do. I don’t laik comets. Dey allers brings bad luck.

Onct, when I was a young feller, I had a ten-dollar gold piece.

Dat same year a comet was observed, an’ de fust t’ing I knowed

somebody done up an’ stole mah ten-dollar gold piece. Comets

brings bad luck, an’ I knows it; Golly! I want t’ see one ob ‘em

busted all t’ pieces.”

“I guess you don’t appreciate the danger,” said Jack gravely, as

he followed Professor Henderson back to the pilot room, where the

two scientists began to consult.

“We have decided on a plan, Mr. Henderson and myself,” said Mr.

Roumann. “The fact that so little is certainly known concerning

comets makes it difficult to know what to do. We might keep on

our course and come to no harm, merely pawing through a gaseous

mass which makes up the comet’s tail. But there is a danger that

we might strike the solid head of it, for that the head is solid,

and of a glowing, fiery mass, which gives off a train of sparks,

is my belief. To collide with a fiery ball, larger than the sun,

would indeed be terrible. So we have decided to try to pass

through the less dense part the tail of the comet.”

“Can’t we steer to one side, or above or below the comet?” asked

Jack.

“Impossible,” replied Mr. Roumann. “We have made some calculations,

and have ascertained that this is Donati’s comet—the one of 1858—and

the head of it is two hundred and fifty thousand miles in diameter.

The tail is many millions of miles long, and as many thick. To pass

entirely beyond it would consume much time. In fact, we could not move

quickly enough to escape it, as we are now being attracted out of our

course toward the comet.”

“How far off is it now?” asked Mark.

“About seven hundred and twenty thousand miles.”

“Then we’ll be up to it in about two hours,” went on Mark, making

a rapid calculation.

“I only hope we don’t get into it, as well as up to it,”

commented Jack.

“We all do,” observed Mr. Henderson. “But now, boys, we are

going to do our best to escape. Mr. Roumann will remain in the

pilot house to steer the projectile, while you and I will attend

to the Etherium, motor.”

“Try and see if you can get any more speed out of it,” advised

the German. “Use the accelerator plates, as I instructed you.

Perhaps we can pass so quickly through the gaseous tail, or a

portion of it, that we shall not be harmed.”

“Even if it blazes?” asked Jack.

“Even if it blazes. The gas between the two shells of our

projectile will absorb an enormous quantity of heat. It is our

only hope.”

Their hearts filled with apprehension, the two boys accompanied

Professor Henderson back to the engine-room. There the scientist

changed the plates on the motor, and made some adjustments, as

suggested by Mr. Roumann, so that more speed would develop.

Anxiously they watched the gages, to see if the motor did work

any faster.

“It’s increasing!” cried Jack, as he watched the needle swing,

until it indicated a rate of one hundred and thirty miles a

second. “We are going faster than we ever went before.”

“And we need to,” observed Mr. Henderson. “A comet is a terrible

mass to escape from.”

In spite of the increased speed of the projectile, it could not

be noticed by those within it. For all they could tell they were

stationary, but they were really flying through the ether at

enormous velocity. For over an hour the motor was worked at the

increased rate. Then, leaving the boys in charge for a few

minutes, Mr. Henderson went to the pilot house to ask Mr. Roumann

if there was any chance of escape. He met the German coming

toward the engine-room.

“Well?” inquired the professor.

“No, not well—bad,” was the gloomy answer.

“Why so?”

“I can’t force the Annihilator to one side or the other. I have

tried, time and again, to steer it away from the comet’s head and

into the less dense part of the tail, but, so far, without

success. The rudder arrangement appears to be affected by the

comet and will not work.”

“What can we do?”

“Nothing, unless, perhaps, we can get a little more speed out of

the motor. The rudder might work then.”

They tried, but without success. Not a bit more speed could the

Etherium machine be induced to give out. Indeed, Mr. Roumann

admitted that it was working faster than he had ever expected it

would.

“I’ll go back and make one more attempt to steer out of the way,”

he said.

He was gone for perhaps ten minutes. In that time Mr. Henderson,

aided by Jack and Mark, tried to adjust the motor differently,

but unavailingly. Mr. Roumann came hurrying back from the pilot

house.

“It’s of no use!” he exclaimed. “We are heading right toward the

point of the comet. We must prepare for the worst!”

There was silence for a moment. It was an awful fate to meet,

and they realized it. Then Washington White, looking into the

engine-room from his kitchen, exclaimed:

“Now, don’t yo’ all go t’ worryin’ ‘bout dat ole comet. It can’t

hurt us, an’ we’ll knock it into smithereens!”

“You talk that way because you know nothing of comets,” said Mr.

Roumann solemnly.

“I don’t know nuffin’ ‘bout ‘em?” demanded the colored man. “I

knows too much ob ‘em, dat’s what I does. Didn’t I lose mah ten

dollars?”

He stopped suddenly. From without there came a terrible roaring

sound, that grew louder and louder.

“The comet!” cried Mr. Roumann. “We are almost upon it. That

roaring is caused by the flaming gases!”

There was nothing that could be done. There was no place to go—no

place to run to—no place in which to hide. They could only

stand there and wait for total annihilation, which they expected

every moment.

The roaring grew louder. It was like the howling of a mighty

mind. The projectile seemed to tremble.

Then there came a brilliant light, rivaling even that of the sun,

in the rays of which they constantly were. The light streamed in

through the plate-glass ports in the engine-room. It showed

violet rays, purple, orange, green, yellow—all the colors of the

rainbow.

“We’ll be consumed in a moment!” murmured Mr. Roumann. “We are

in the midst of the comet!”

Several seconds passed. There was no increase in temperature.

After all, would the wonderful gas in the space between the two

shells of the projectile absorb the terrific heat?

The light faded away. Only the glow of the sun remained. The

Annihilator shot onward.

Mr. Roumann rushed to the pilot house. He uttered a cry.

“We have escaped the comet!” he called to the boys and Professor

Henderson, who followed him. “We went right through a small

section of the tail. And I was mistaken in thinking it was

composed of flaming gases. It is only nebulous light. There is

no harm in a comet, after all!”

“Dat’s what I said all along,” remarked Washington White, as he

went back to his kitchen. “All a comet is good fer is t’ bring

bad luck. Look at mah ten dollars. I wish we’d batted dis one

inter pieces!”