Cromie - A Plunge Into Space

This edition would not be possible without the generous
support of Steve D.C. Phil Fenwick and Simon Larsen.

A Plunge
Into Space

by Robert Cromie

With an introduction by Jules Verne

A Plunge Into Space

by Robert Cromie

Originally Published in 1891 by Frederick Warne and Co., London and New York.

This Edition and Additional Material Copyright 2012 by Reversity Media, LLC, All Rights Reserved, and May Not Be Reproduced Without Permission.

Cover Artwork Copyright 2012 by Matthew Rex Downham

ISBN-13: 978-1-938536-01-4

ISBN-10: 1938536010

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The spelling, grammar and punctuation chosen by the author in the

1891 edition of this book has been preserved in this edition.

TO

JULES VERNE,

To whom I am Indebted for many delightful and marvellous excursionsnotably, a voyage from the earth to the moon, a trip twenty thousand leagues under the sea and a journey round the world in eighty daysand who, in return has now courteously consented to accompany me to the planet Mars, at the rate of fifty thousand miles a minute,

I DEDICATE THIS BOOK.

ROBERT CROMIE.

BELFAST.

February, 1891.

TO

MY ENGLISH READERS,

Especially to those who have followed me on my far journeys, I have pleasure in introducing a pupil. With him I have just made a voyage, weird and wild. He pointed out many interesting things on the way. For myself, I should perhaps, preferred more details, more facts and figures in connection with the stupendous phenomena we encountered. But the pace at which we travelled was not favourable to minute inquiryone does not reckon the wavelets when one estimates the strengths of the tides.

With this brief introduction I must leave the voyage in the Steel Globe to those who choose to make it. Certainly, it is a terrible venture, but they need not fear; their guide is skilful and bold. They may trust themselves in his hands. He will serve them well.

JULES VERNE.

AMIENS.

IT moves at last! MacGregor, it moves!

Why not? Let it move again, by all means. After a few moments silence MacGregor said in the same careless voice, which contrasted strongly with the quivering breathless accents of the first speaker:

Come out of that wizards cave, Barnett, and be social. Consider that it is more than three years since I have seen your profoundly scientific face. Let that thing, whatever it is, move as much as it likes, and let me have a look at you.

From an inner room opening off that in which MacGregor sat, the excited voice came nervously:

Hush, for mercys sake; just one minute more! Then, at the sound of MacGregors footsteps crossing the room, there was almost a scream: Dont come near me, MacGregor. Dont stir for your life. Remain where you are at your peril.

I am not at all likely to visit you, I assure you, Alexander MacGregor muttered. I dont want to blow up half the square by treading on the spring of one of your infernal machines, or by brushing my head inadvertently against some of your wires, knobs, buttons, or batteriesBeard a lion in his den! Whats a lions den to a scientists laboratory!

With this reflection Mr. MacGregor settled himself comfortably on a low couch by a bright fire in the cosy little room, lit his pipe, and waited for his eccentric host to appear. It was pleasant enough to lie there and smoke, and listen lazily to the faint clickclickhissand anon a tiny explosion which sounded incessantly in the inner room, and watch with drowsy eyes the curious flashes of blue, red, or white light which sparkled through the curtained doorway. The reclining guest was neither surprised nor hurt at the cool reception he had received. In fact, he was rather amused. It was so characteristic of Barnett.

What a strange creature he is! came dreamily through the smoke wreaths. Here am I, just arrived in London, from Tibet, where I have been exploring for three years, and have been reported as dead at least a dozen times. I enter the house of my oldest friend. He tells me not to stir for my life; not to come near him at my peril! Hospitable, certainly! But its all right; he is inventing something; he will have a lucid interval presently. Meantime, I am very comfortable.

The explorer had almost dropped asleep, when a stifled exclamation, more like a sob than a sentence, in the laboratory aroused him. As he listened to the deep breathing of his friend, who was now oblivious of every thing but his experiment, MacGregor said half sadly to himself:

Poor Barnett; what a splendid fellow he was at Cambridge long ago! That den of his will be his death!

The den, indeed, was an excellent specimen of those factories incidental to civilisation, where you put in raw material, in the shape of human beings, at one end, and turn out an equal number of perfect machines at the otherexcepting, of course, those brittle souls which go to smash in the process.

Henry Barnett had spent the best years of his life in this room. He had disappeared into it, some twenty years before, a straight, muscular young man, with a rather large head. He now emerged from it to greet MacGregor, a stooped and wasted middle-aged man, with a head out of all proportion to his shrivelled frame.

Whatever is the matter with you, Barnett? MacGregor asked anxiously.

The singular host did not shake hands with his guest, nor extend to him the slightest form of welcome. He trembled visibly, and his breath came in broken gasps as he said, without a word of explanation:

MacGregor, you have arrived at an opportune moment.

Humph! It looks like it. I have been here an hour.

Yes, MacGregor, Henry Barnett went on, without noticing the interruption; l am grateful for your visit this evening of all others.

Dont mention it, Barnett. Your instinct of hospitality is too keen, the explorer remarked coolly, as he refilled his pipe.

Barnett went to a sideboard, poured out a glass of water, and drank it off. Then he mopped his forehead with his handkerchief and wiped his moist and trembling hands.

Hes out of his mind, as sure as fate. I must carry him off to the seaside for a month, MacGregor reflected.

The scientist re-crossed the room, and said impressively:

Alexander MacGregor, come with me into my work shop.

This new trick of ceremoniously addressing the companion of half a lifetime confirmed MacGregors suspicions.

IIwould rather not, Barnett. I am not much of a coward, but II dont like those confounded wires and springs and things. Ill be certain to blow up some of your electric devilries.

Ho, no, there is no danger. Come with me.

Ahem!Well, I suppose I must.

The two men entered the inner room together. To the casual observer their movements would have suggested burglary. Barnett walked unsteadily; his failing constitution had just received a severe shock. His limbs hardly supported him. And MacGregor, great brown-bearded, stern-eyed, leather-visaged traveller as he washero of a hundred fights with man and beast and natural forces, bears in the Rockies, blacks in the Congo, simooms in Arabia, and cyclones in the China seashe wriggled along in a ridiculous tiptoe fashion.

The laboratory was not very terrifying in appearance. It was a dusty little chamber. Cleaning up was unknown to it. The voice of the painter had not been heard in it for many a day, or year. Even the evidence of the more humble plasterers handicraft was sadly lacking. But what it wanted in decoration it made up for in the quaintness of its furniture. Here were tiers of little moth-eaten drawers. There lay great coils of wire. Wide-mouthed bottles, glass tubes of various shapes, air-pumps, chemical balances, crucibles, and spirit lamps were strewn about in great confusion. Electric machines of novel design were ranged beside the types familiar to every student. Fragments of a curious grey substance were lying amid pieces of metallic leaf and little balls of elder-pith and downy feathers. The room was a medley of ordinary and extraordinary devices.