Lost on the Moon, Roy Rockwood [best reads of all time .txt] 📗

when it

was turned upside down it immediately stopped, and the projectile,

deprived of its motive power, at once began falling through space.

 

“What has happened? What caused it?” cried Mark, as he crawled over to

where Jack sat on the ceiling, with a dazed look on his face.

 

“I don’t know. Something went wrong. Here comes Professor Henderson and

Mr. Roumann. We’ll ask them.”

 

The two scientists were observed approaching from the pilothouse. They

walked along what had been the ceiling, and when they came to the

engine room they had to climb over the top part of the door frame.

 

“What’s wrong?” asked Jack.

 

“Our center of gravity has become displaced,” answered Mr. Henderson.

“The gravity machine has either broken, or some one has been tampering

with it. Did either of you boys touch it?”

 

“No, indeed!” cried Mark, and his chum echoed his words.

 

“I wonder if Washington could have meddled with it?” went on the

scientist.

 

At that moment the colored cook came along, making his way cautiously

into the engine room. He was an odd sight. Bits of carrots, turnips and

potatoes were in his hair, while from one ear dangled a bunch of

macaroni, and his clothes were dripping wet.

 

“My kitchen done turned upside down on me!” wailed Washington, “an’ a

whole kettle ob soup emptied on my head! Oh, golly! What happened?”

 

The aged scientist looked toward the German. The latter was gazing up

at the motionless Cardite motor over his head.

 

“There is but one way,” he answered. “We must restore our centre of

gravity to where it was before. Then the projectile will right

herself.”

 

“Can it be done?” asked Mark.

 

“It will be quite an undertaking, but we must attempt it. Bring some

tables and chairs, so I can stand up and reach the equilibrium

machine.”

 

From where they had fallen to the ceiling, which was now the floor,

Jack and Mark brought tables and chairs, and made a sort of stepladder.

On this Professor Roumann mounted, and at once began the readjusting of

the centre of gravity.

 

It was hard work, for he had to labor with his arms stretched up in the

air, and any one who has even put up pictures knows what that means.

The muscles are unaccustomed to the strain. The German scientist,

though a strong man, had to rest at frequent intervals.

 

“We’re falling rapidly,” announced Jack, in a low voice, as he looked

at the height gauge.

 

“I am doing all I can,” answered Mr. Roumann. “I think I will soon be

able to right the craft.”

 

He labored desperately, but he was at a disadvantage, for the

Annihilator was not now moving smoothly through space. With the

stopping of the motor she was falling like some wobbly balloon, swaying

hither and thither in the ether currents.

 

But Professor Roumann was not one to give up easily. He kept at his

task, aided occasionally by Professor Henderson and by the boys

whenever they could do anything.

 

Finally the German cried out:

 

“Ah, I have discovered the trouble. It is that scoundrel Axtell! See!”

And reaching into the interior of the machine he pulled out a small

magnet. To it was attached a card, on which was written:

 

“I told you I would have my revenge!” It was signed with Axtell’s name.

 

“This was the dastardly plot he evolved,” said Professor Roumann. “He

slipped this magnet into the equilibrium machine, knowing that in time

it would cause a deflection of the delicate needles, and so shift the

centre of gravity. He must have done this as a last resort, and to

provide for his revenge in case we discovered him on board after we

started. It was a cruel revenge, for had I not discovered it we would

soon all be killed.”

 

“Is the machine all right now?” asked Jack.

 

“It will be in a few minutes. Here, take this magnet and put it as far

away from the engine room as possible.”

 

It was the work of but a few minutes, now that the disturbing element

was removed, to readjust the gravity machine, and Mr. Roumann called:

 

“Look out, now, everybody! We’re going to turn right side up again!”

 

As he spoke he turned a small valve wheel. There was a clanging of

heavy ballast weights, which slid down their rods to the proper places.

Then, like some great fish turning over in the water, the Annihilator

turned over in the ether, and was once more on her proper keel, if such

a shaped craft can be said to have a keel.

 

Of course, the occupants of the space ship went slipping and sliding

back, even as they had fallen ceilingward before, but they were

prepared for it, and no one was hurt. From the galley came a chorus of

cries, as pots and pans once more scattered about Washington, but there

was no more soup to spill.

 

As soon as the Annihilator was righted, the Cardite motor began to

work automatically, and once more the projectile, with the seekers of

the moon, was shooting through space at their former speed. They had

lost considerable distance, but it was easy to make it up.

 

“Well, that was an experience,” remarked Jack, as he and his chum

began picking up the tools and other objects that were scattered all

about by the change in equilibrium.

 

“I should say yes,” agreed Mark. “I’m glad it didn’t happen at dinner

time. That fellow Axtell is a fiend to think of such a thing.”

 

“Indeed, he is! But we’re all right now, though it did feel funny to be

turned upside down.”

 

An inspection of the projectile was made, but they could discover no

particular damage done. She seemed to be moving along the same as

before, and, except for the upsetting of things in the store-room, it

would hardly have been known, an hour later, that a dreadful accident

was narrowly averted.

 

Washington made more soup, and soon had a fine meal ready, over which

the travellers discussed their recent experience.

 

“And when do you think we will arrive?” asked Jack of Mr. Henderson.

 

“We ought to be at the moon inside of two days now. We have not made

quite the speed we calculated on, but that does not matter. I think we

will go even more slowly on the remainder of the trip, as I wish to

take some scientific observations.”

 

“Yes, and so do I,” added Mr. Roumann. “I think if we make fifteen

miles a second from now on we will be moving fast enough.”

 

Accordingly the Cardite motor was slowed down, and the projectile shot

through space at slightly reduced speed, while the two scientists made

several observations, and did some intricate calculating about ether

pressure, the distance of heavenly bodies and other matters of interest

only to themselves.

 

It was on the afternoon of the third day following the turning turtle

of the Annihilator that Mark, who was looking through a telescope in

the pilothouse, called out: “I say, Jack, look here!”

 

“What’s the matter?” asked his chum.

 

“Why, we’re rushing right at the moon! I can see the mountains and

craters on it as plain as though we were but five miles away!”

 

“Then we must be nearly there,” observed Jack. “Let’s tell the others,

Mark.”

 

They hurried to inform the two professors, who at once left their

tables of figures and entered the steering chamber. Then, after gazing

through the glass, Mr. Henderson announced: “Friends, we will land on

the moon in half an hour. Get ready.”

 

“Are we really going to be walking around the moon inside of thirty

minutes?” asked Mark.

 

“I don’t know about walking around on it,” answered the German. “We

first have to see if there is an atmosphere there for us to breathe,

and whether the temperature is such as we can stand. But the

Annihilator will soon be there.”

 

The speed of the Cardite motor was increased, and so rapidly did the

projectile approach Luna that glasses were no longer needed to

distinguish the surface of the moon.

 

There she floated in space, a great, silent ball, but not like the

earth, pleasantly green, with lakes and rivers scattered about in

verdant forests. No, for the moon presented a desolate surface to the

gaze of the travellers. Great, rugged mountain peaks arose all about

immense caverns that seemed hundreds of miles deep. The surface was

cracked and seamed, as if by a moonquake. Silence and terrible

loneliness seemed to confront them.

 

“Maybe it’s better on some other part of the surface,” said Jack, in a

low voice.

 

“Perhaps,” agreed Mark. “It’s certainly not inviting there.”

 

Nearer and nearer they came to the moon. It no longer looked like a

great sphere, for they were so close that their vision could only take

in part of the surface, and it began to flatten out, as the earth does

to a balloonist.

 

And the nearer they came to it the more rugged, the more terrible, the

more desolate did it appear. Would they be able to find a place to

land, or would they go hurtling down into some awful crater, or be

dashed upon the sharp peak of some mountain of the moon?

 

It was a momentous question, and anxious were the faces of the two

professors.

 

“Mr. Henderson, if you will undertake to steer to some level place, I

will take charge of the motor,” suggested Mr. Roumann. “I will

gradually reduce the speed, and get the repelling machine in readiness,

so as to render our landing gentle.”

 

“Very well,” responded the aged scientist, as he grasped the steering

wheel.

 

The progress of the Annihilator was gradually checked. More and more

slowly it approached the moon. The mountains seemed even higher now,

and the craters deeper.

 

“What a terrible place,” murmured Jack. “I shouldn’t want to live

there.”

 

“Me either,” said Mark.

 

“Can you see a place to land?” called Professor Roumann through the

speaking-tube from the engine room to the steering tower.

 

“Yes, we seem to be approaching a fairly level plateau,” was Mr.

Henderson’s reply.

 

“Very well, then, I’ll start the repelling machine.”

 

The Cardite motor was stopped. The projectile was now being drawn

toward the moon by the gravity force of the dead ball that once had

been a world like ours. Slowly and more slowly moved the great

projectile.

 

There was a moment of suspense. Mr. Henderson threw over the steering

wheel. The Annihilator moved more slowly. Then came a gentle shock.

The dishes in the galley rattled, and there was the clank of machinery.

The Shanghai rooster crowed.

 

“We’re on the moon at last!” cried jack, peering from an observation

window at the rugged surface outside.

 

“Yes; and now to see what it’s like,” added Mark. “We’ll go outside,

and–-”

 

“Wait,” cautioned Professor Roumann. “First we must see if we can

breathe on the moon, and whether the temperature will support life. I

must make some tests before we venture out of the projectile.”