Chapter 15: Mother Earth

“There is something sad,” said Cortlandt, “about the end of everything, but I am more sorry to leave Saturn than I have ever been in taking leave of any other place.”

When beyond the limits of the atmosphere they applied the full current, and were soon once more cleaving the ether at cometary speed, their motion towards the sun being aided by that great body itself.

They quickly passed beyond the outer edge of the vast silvery rings, and then crossed one after another the orbits of the moons, from the last of which, Iapetus, they obtained their final course in the direction of the earth. They had an acute feeling of homesickness for the mysterious planet on which, while yet mortal, they had found paradise, and had communed with spirits as no modern men ever did.

Without deviating from their almost straight line, they passed within a million miles of Jupiter, which had gained in its smaller orbit on Saturn, and a few days later crossed the track of Mars.

As the earth had completed nearly half a revolution in its orbit since their departure, they here turned somewhat to the right by attracting the ruddy planet, in order to avoid passing too near the sun.

“On some future expedition,” said Ayrault, “and when we have a supply of blue glasses, we can take a trip to Venus, if we can find a possible season in her year. Compared with this journey, it would be only like going round the block.”

Two days later they had rounded the sun, and laid their course in pursuit of the earth.

That the astronomers in the dark hemisphere were at their posts and saw them, was evident; for a brilliant beam of light again flashed forth, this time from a point a little south of the arctic circle, and after shining one minute, telegraphed this message: “Rejoiced to see you again. Hope all are well.”

Since they were not sufficiently near the moon’s shadow, they directed their light-beam into their own, which trailed off on one side, and answered: “All well, thank you. Have wonderful things to relate.”

The men at the telescopes then, as before, read the message, and telephoned the light this next question: “When are you coming down, that we may notify the newspapers?”

“We wish one more sight of the earth from this height, by daylight. We are now swinging to get between it and the sun.”

“We have erected a monument in Van Cortlandt Park, and engraved upon it, ‘At this place James Bearwarden, Henry Chelmsford Cortlandt, and Richard Rokeby Ayrault left earth, December 21, A. D. 2000, to visit Jupiter.’”

“Add to it, ‘They returned on the 10th of the following June.’”

Soon the Callisto came nearly between the earth and the sun, when the astronomers could see it only through darkened glasses, and it appeared almost as a crescent. The sight the travellers then beheld was superb. It was about 11 A. M. in London, and Europe was spread before them like a map. All its peninsulas and islands, enclosed blue seas, and bays came out in clear relief. Gradually Russia, Germany, France, the British Isles, and Spain moved towards the horizon, as in grand procession, and at the same time the Western hemisphere appeared. The hour of day at the longitude above which they hung was about the same as when they set out, but the sun shone far more directly upon the Northern hemisphere than then, and instead of bleak December, this was the leafy month of June.