WHEN THE MOON FELL

                         BY MORRISON COLLADAY

                     Science Fiction Series No. 6

                             Published By
                    STELLAR PUBLISHING CORPORATION
                           96-98 PARK PLACE
                               NEW YORK

                ©1929 _By Gernsback Publications, Inc._

                         (Printed in U. S. A.)

      [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any
  evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]




                               CHAPTER I

                            A Changed World


Now that we who survived have reconstructed a civilization on a
rational basis, we want to preserve for future generations as many
accounts as possible by the actual witnesses of the catastrophe that
overtook the world.

In 1929 certain curious aberrations in the motion of the moon were
noticed by astronomers, and attempts to explain them were made by
suggesting that the solar system had been invaded by an unknown visitor
which had not yet been discovered. It is still believed that this
is the most likely explanation of what occurred. When this invader
approached the earth, it probably passed between it and the moon. Its
velocity must have been so great that it continued on its course in
spite of the attraction of the earth. However, it disturbed the balance
of forces sufficiently to draw the moon from its orbit and start its
headlong progress toward us.

I was away in Labrador when all this occurred, and it is due to that
fact that I am alive today. The things that happened in the densely
inhabited portions of the globe will be recounted by survivors who
were eye witnesses. It is sufficient to say that when the news of the
impending catastrophe became known a universal apathy seemed to settle
over humanity. It was apparently overwhelmed by the hopelessness of
any effort to escape. The religious people of the period regarded the
coming event as fulfillment of a prophecy of the destruction of the
world in the Last Day. People who had never before been religious
became so in an hour.

       *       *       *       *       *

                           First Intimations

It is well that I begin on my personal experiences:

As I said before I was in Labrador when the moon first showed an
aberration in its motion. It will be remembered that in April, 1928,
three aviators, two Germans and one Irish, started on a flight across
the ocean from Ballycombe, Ireland, to New York. They succeeded in
crossing the ocean from east to west, a feat which had not been
accomplished before, but owing to fog and storms they lost their way,
and landed on a little island off the coast of Labrador.

The locality was absolutely inaccessible except by air. The aviators
had damaged their plane in landing, and it was necessary to get to them
with spare parts. The Associated Press, as well as some of the larger
dailies, thought it was equally important that their stories should
reach the world. There was a wireless station on the mainland fifteen
miles away, but for some reason the operator did not get the sort of
news the papers wanted. The Canadian Government started a steamer
toward the island, but it was soon caught fast in the ice.

I had been a flyer during the war and continued to fly a plane for
the pleasure it gave me. In that world which now seems so distant, I
had some reputation as a writer. The Associated Press suggested that
I fly to Greenly Island and get the stories of the marooned aviators.
Perhaps I am spending more time on this episode than it deserves. It is
sufficient to say that I got the stories and got them back to New York.

If that had been all there was to the adventure, there is a strong
probability that I would have perished some months later with most of
the other inhabitants of the United States. It happened, however, that
there were other flyers planning east-to-west hops. It occurred to the
powers who decided such things, that it might be a good idea to have
me fly back to Labrador and make it my headquarters and establish an
observation post while transatlantic flights were being attempted.

Accordingly, I flew back to Labrador whenever a transatlantic flight
was rumored, and made my headquarters at Point Amour on the mainland.
The wireless station was here, and about a hundred people. Little
Greenly Island was some fifteen miles across Belle Isle Strait. I was
getting rather bored waiting for something to happen, when one night
Jim Daley, the wireless operator, came running to the cottage where I
stayed, too excited to wait until nine o'clock, when I always strolled
over to the wireless station for a game of chess.

I stared at him in astonishment. "What's all the excitement about?" I
inquired.

He had been running so fast that for a moment he could not get his
breath to talk.

"You wait until you hear," he gasped. "I bet you'll be as excited as I
am. The world's coming to an end next week!"

I laughed.

"No, I mean it," he said. "It's not a joke. Here's a bulletin issued by
the Smithsonian. I copied it as it came in." He handed me a sheet of
paper.

       *       *       *       *       *

                          The News Comes Out

As far as I know, this bulletin was the first intimation of the coming
catastrophe sent out over the radio. I assume that every effort was
made to keep the matter quiet, until it became evident that no escape
was possible.

Consequently up there in Labrador we had heard none of the rumors that
had spread over the civilized world, and had seen no references to the
strange lunar phenomenon which in a sense had prepared most people for
the announcement of some unusual event.

At this time there had been no change in the moon's course or size
visible to the naked eye. In the parts of the world where newspapers
were printed and read, there had been the usual few lines on a back
page that were given to any astronomical phenomenon, such as the birth
of a Nova or the discovery of a telescopic comet.

Some days before, astronomers in Colorado and South Africa had
simultaneously announced the aberration in the moon's motion.
There were occasional facetious references to the moon's
skittishness--emanating from the pens of bored columnists. The next day
there was nothing new from the astronomers, but the third day there was
an announcement that caused faint stirrings of anxiety among those who
read between the lines.

It was on the fourth day that announcements were made in England and
America on the joint authority of the Smithsonian Institution and the
British Royal Society, that some unknown force had displaced the moon
from its orbit, and that it was feared, though calculations were not
yet complete, that it would collide with or at least brush the earth,
resulting in a disaster of the first magnitude.

The formal announcement of the two scientific societies was broadcast
that night, and I was reading the part of it that Jim had written down.

I still have that piece of paper. Even as I look at it to copy it here,
I get again that thrill of horror, that for a moment paralyzed me that
night.

    OFFICIAL BULLETIN: Issued by the Smithsonian Institution of
    Washington, D. C., and the British Royal Society. Broadcast by all
    means possible. Recent aberrations of motion of the moon have been
    caused by its being thrown from its orbit by some unknown force.
    Incomplete calculations indicate that it will collide with the
    earth somewhere in the central Pacific region, on Thursday between
    eleven and twelve at night. It is believed that the disaster
    will be complete and there is no possible way of escape. Further
    bulletins will be issued every few hours and will be broadcast
    immediately. There is always the possibility that some force
    similar to the one which threw the moon from its orbit may again
    change its course. It is urged that all persons meet the crisis as
    calmly as possible.

"Well?" asked Jim eagerly, when I had finished reading it.

"If it's not a hoax, I guess it means we're done for," I said slowly.
"Suppose we go over to the station and see what more comes in."

When we left the house I looked up at the moon, hanging full in the
sky, and Jim's apprehensive glance followed mine. I imagined it
was distinctly larger than usual and that it shone with a sinister
orange-colored glow instead of its usual silvery light. It was probably
not imagination, for people all over the world reported the same thing
that night.

We entered the wireless house and Jim sat down with the receivers
clamped to his ears. He began to take down a message which was coming
in and when he had finished, handed it to me.

    BULLETIN: Tidal wave in the Pacific overwhelmed many low-lying
    islands with great loss of life. All communications with Hawaii cut
    off. Smithsonian announces that tidal waves following course of
    moon will within the next twenty-four hours sweep far inland.

Jim was taking down another message. I read it over his shoulder.

    BULLETIN: There is possibility that life near the poles may
    survive. It will probably be possible to use airplanes for the next
    twenty-four hours; after that, constantly increasing gales reaching
    hitherto unheard of force, will make travel of any kind impossible.
    Any survivors of the catastrophe should endeavor to preserve a
    record of the phenomena that occur immediately before the impact of
    the moon and immediately thereafter.




                              CHAPTER II

                          A Start for Safety


Everyone knows now how that group of scientists scattered over the
world, knowing there was no escape for them, calmly continued their
observations and calculations and announced them over the radio. They
were undoubtedly the real heroes of the catastrophe. Our new world
honors their memory as scientists were never honored in those days.

Jim watched me as I read the last bulletin. When I had finished he
asked, "Well, what do we do? Stay here and take what's coming, or make
a try for the north?"

I thought for a few minutes. "In the first place, I don't believe it is
worth while alarming the natives," I said. "They can't do anything for
themselves, and we can't do anything for them. As for us, I think we'd
better load as much gasoline and food in the plane as she can carry,
and make for the interior."

"Not go farther north? We might be safer on the ice than on land."

"How long do you suppose the ice will last? Even if we survive the
collision, the heat generated will melt all ice, even up here."

Jim looked at me a little helplessly. "Don't forget that Labrador has
water on three sides. If we go into the interior, I don't believe we'll
escape the tidal waves they're predicting."

"Probably not," I rejoined cheerfully, "but the chances are a thousand
to one we'll be snuffed out one way or another before the collision
occurs, so what difference does it make?"

There was another message coming in and Jim turned to take it.

"Don't waste time doing that," I said. "Hear that wind rising now?
Let's load up and start."

Doing that was quite simple. The hangar contained all the fuel we could
carry. When we rolled the machine out I looked over the little village,
rather conscience-stricken for a moment at leaving them in ignorance of
what was coming. They couldn't reach the interior in time, I reflected,
even if we did tell them, and they might as well remain happy as long
as they could.

"Where are we headed for?" asked Jim.

I pointed to the Laurentian Mountains which extend along the Labrador
coast. "Anywhere the other side of those."

Jim whirled the propeller and kicked the blocks from in front of the
wheels. Then he climbed on board. We should have had skids on the
undercarriage instead of wheels, to land on the snow, but we would have
to do the best we could with what we had. The roar of the motor brought
some of the inhabitants out-of-doors, and they watched us, wonderingly,
as we took off into the night with that sinister orange moon gazing
down at us.

The mountains are not high and we crossed them without difficulty.
Presently the sky became gray in the east, and the moon, still in the
sky, looked menacing. By the time the sun rose over the horizon we were
almost cheerful.

I had been looking for a place to land, and decided to take a chance on
the broad plateau at the top of the northern end of the mountain chain.
Here the rocks were not old Laurentian but sandstone. The place we came
down on was as flat as a table top and had been blown clear of snow by
the wind, which had become high enough to make landing difficult. There
was no shelter on the plateau, and we had to hang on to the wings of
the plane to steady it.

Finally we reached a little rocky valley. It was really only a
depression in the surface of the mountain, but it was deep enough to
shelter the plane and us from the increasing fury of the wind. We
anchored the plane as well as we could, and then made a breakfast on
canned beans.

"What next?" asked Jim when we had finished. "Maybe you'd better try to
get some sleep while I watch."

I shook my head. "We'll both try to sleep now. There's nothing to watch
for, and tonight we'll probably both want to be awake."

We crawled into our sleeping bags and the last thing I remember was
the thought that the increasingly shrill screeching of the wind was
an improvement on the noise made by the sirens of the New York Fire
Department.

I do not know what wakened me. I instinctively looked at my watch and
saw it was three o'clock. At first I was not sure whether I was awake
or whether I was in the middle of one of the half-waking nightmares we
sometimes have. Lying in the depression in the mountain, I could see
neither horizon but only the sky overhead. I rubbed my eyes and looked
again.

       *       *       *       *       *

                           Nearer and Nearer

Instead of the usual blue, the sky was a burnished copper. The wind
was blowing a hurricane with a steady intensity from east to west.
All aviators are able to judge wind velocities pretty accurately,
but this was something entirely beyond my experience. I had felt a
hundred-and-fifty mile an hour gale during the Miami hurricane, but
this was vastly greater.

I could see flickering shadows overhead and it took me some time to
realize that they were solid objects carried by the wind. In addition
to the shrieking wind like an enormous siren, there was now a steady
roar like thunder in the mountains. I crawled out of my sleeping bag
and shivered to the intense cold. When we went to sleep the thermometer
I judge was about twenty above. Now I knew it must be away below zero.

Jim was still sleeping when I bent over and shook his shoulder. He
slowly opened his eyes. I put my mouth close to his ear to make him
hear in the uproar of the wind.

"Better get up," I said. "Something's happening."

He glanced at the copper sky and scrambled out of his sleeping bag.
"Brrrr, it's cold!" he said, shivering. "What does it all mean?"

"I imagine it means the moon is rising over the horizon and is pretty
close to us."

"How are we going to keep from freezing?"

"Get into the cabin, I guess. If the wind doesn't reach the plane we'll
be just as safe as we are here, and if it does it will tear us to
pieces wherever we are."

We had worked the plane into the deepest part of the depression between
the sandstone ridges and it looked safe enough, unless the mountain
itself should be demolished. We gathered up our sleeping bags and
scrambled through the little door.

It was soon after we got inside that the moon appeared overhead. Jim
and I have never been able to agree as to how big it actually looked
that second night. I suppose we thought it was bigger than it really
was, because it had increased so much in size since the previous night.
It came over the sandstone ridge, a great scarlet globe mottled with
black.

"Gad, it's right on top of us!" exclaimed Jim.

"No it isn't," I replied, "but it probably will be tomorrow."

"Do you suppose we'll be alive then?" asked Jim, gazing in awe at the
great sphere, with its mountains and valleys, now floating almost above
our heads.

"It doesn't look like it now," I replied, "but still you never can
tell."

It was that night that the headlong plunge toward the earth was
arrested, and the next day saw the scarlet sphere no larger when it
appeared. We immediately became hopeful that we might escape. We had
grown used to the sound of the wind and we had slept under the plane.
We had the cabin so full of gasoline cans and food that there was no
room for us to stretch out.

The sky had retained its burnished copper hue, but after the moon had
passed over the western ridge, the wind and changed sky were the only
things to remind us of what was happening. Then, as I said, when we
found the next morning that the moon was no larger, we were distinctly
encouraged.

It took only fifteen hours to encircle the earth, that time.

"I believe I can calculate how near us it is," I said.

I figured for a few minutes on a scrap of paper and decided that the
moon and the earth were at that moment ninety thousand miles apart. It
seems that I was ten thousand miles out of the way, but as my result
was based on a purely mathematical calculation, without any help from
observation other than the moon's time of revolution around the earth,
my error was excusable.

       *       *       *       *       *

                          Waiting for the End

There was no slackening of the wind after the moon had disappeared
beneath the western cliff which was our horizon. It was then eleven
o'clock in the morning. The sky kept its burnished copper tint and the
sun was not visible. In fact, we did not see the sun during this entire
period. Day was a little brighter than night, but there was nothing
that corresponded to ordinary daylight.

"Now if the moon doesn't come up for fifteen hours," I said to Jim,
"we'll know that the worst is not going to happen."

"Why?"

"It will mean that the force that flung it in the direction of the
earth has been neutralized in some way, and that it will continue to
revolve around the earth about 90,000 miles away instead of 240,000."

Jim looked cheerful for the first time in two days.

"We'll know by two o'clock tomorrow morning, then?"

"If the news is bad, we'll know it before that."

There was no possibility of our venturing out of the depression between
the two sandstone cliffs where we were sheltered from the wind. There
was nothing to do except wait. As the half light, that we called day,
faded, Jim and I began to watch the eastern cliff. Six o'clock, seven
o'clock, eight o'clock passed.

Jim turned to me with a half grin. "Seems funny to be watching for the
moon and frightened to death for fear we'll see it."

"Well I guess we're safe if we don't see it for the next six hours."

I climbed into the cabin of the plane and began going over the engine.
Suddenly I heard a shout from Jim. I jumped out of the door to the
ground and saw him pointing to the eastern cliff.

There was a line of molten gold above it, too dazzling to look at.

It was at that moment that we had our first earthquake. There had been
many earlier ones in other parts of the world. I was thrown violently
to the ground and the sideways motion was so strong that I tried to
find something on the bare rocky surface to hang on to. By the time I
was able to raise myself to a sitting posture, a great blinding segment
of a sphere had appeared in the sky.

[Illustration: A great blinding segment of a sphere appeared in the
sky. I realized that it was the moon travelling toward the earth at a
terrific velocity.]

Of course I realized immediately that it was the moon, which must now
be approaching the earth at a terrific velocity. Why the reflected
light from it was so dazzling I have never been able to determine.
As far as I know, in other parts of the world persons advantageously
placed were able to observe it without difficulty, almost to the
moment of impact. The only possible explanation seems to be that there
was a vast amount of light reflected from the snow-covered surface of
the ground, and even that explanation is not quite satisfactory. The
fact remains that neither Jim nor I was able to observe the surface of
the moon as it passed above us. It would have been as easy to look at
the sun.

From the moment of this first earthquake, time in the ordinary sense
of the word had no meaning for us. We stayed as close to each other
and the plane as we could. There was now no distinction between night
and day. The sky was a burnished copper color, when it was not being
traversed by the brilliantly blazing moon, and, each time the moon
appeared over our rocky horizon, it nearly filled the heavens.

I think we ate from time to time. I know we became extra-ordinarily
thirsty and were continually drinking. I assume that the wind exhausted
all the moisture in the air around us, and the air exhausted it from
our bodies. I do not even know whether that is a possible explanation,
but I give it for what it is worth. I am not quite sure what we would
have done for water if there had not been an abundance of snow in our
rocky valley. We knew enough not to try to eat it, but we melted it
over our little primus stove.

We could tell when the moon was going to appear by the increasing
intensity of the earthquakes. They became nearly continuous, and we
adjusted ourselves to them as people do to the motion of a ship. We
would not have been able to accept them so philosophically if we had
not been on top of a mountain where there was nothing to fall on us.

The intervals between the moon's appearances became shorter and shorter.




                              CHAPTER III

                           The Moon "Falls"


There came, finally, the thing I had been dreading, and if we had been
even a few feet nearer the sea level, we should have perished. The moon
filled the sky above us and we felt moisture falling on us.

"Rain!" exclaimed Jim. "No, it can't be. It's salt!"

"Tidal wave," I said, "and it's reached almost to the tops of the
mountains. We'll get more of it the next time the moon comes around."

A few hours later there was a new sound added to the roaring and
screeching of the wind. We looked at each other.

"It's come," I said. "Let's get inside the cabin. We'll be as safe
there as anywhere."

We had barely scrambled in and closed the door when simultaneously
with the first golden line of the moon over our eastern horizon there
appeared a white wall of turbulent water. It seemed higher because we
were looking up at it, but I believe now it was not more than six feet.
It poured down toward us while we wondered what it would do to us. As
it happened, it did nothing of consequence. It swept around the lower
part of the plane and came up over the cabin floor. Then it swept on,
following the rapidly moving moon toward the west.

"Next time it's going to get us," I remarked to Jim.

But there was no next time. We had seen the moon for the last time,
though of course we did not then know it.

It was about four hours later that the moon and the earth collided.
Fortunately for us, we were lying flat on the rocks in our sleeping
bags. It was our only way of keeping warm, and besides, we had thought
it better to get what rest we could before the moon appeared again
with its accompanying tidal wave. As I said, we had got so used to
earthquakes that we did not notice them.

Then it happened....

When I recovered consciousness, at first, I could not think where I
was. I looked around in bewilderment and at the same moment realized
that a warm rain was drenching me. My bones ached terribly. A few feet
away Jim lay as if he were dead.

I crawled out of my sleeping bag and went over and shook him. He opened
his eyes and looked at me blankly for a moment. Then he groaned and
tried to grin. "So we're not dead after all?"

"We'll be drowned if we stay here." I said wearily. "Let's try to get
inside the cabin. My, it's hot!"

"Hot?" questioned Jim, trying to rise. "So it is. I think all my bones
are broken."

After half rising and half crawling we made our way to the plane.

There was not a trace of ice or snow. The sky was covered with heavy
low-lying clouds from which the rain was pouring, but the burnished
copper glow had entirely disappeared. It was a perfectly normal sky, or
would have been in the tropics. It was daylight, but there was no sun
to be seen.

We had neither of us any clothes except those we wore. We stripped off
our dripping outer things and let them lie where they fell. There was
nothing else to do with them until the rain stopped. We found that
heavy woolen under-clothing was not much more comfortable than furs in
that temperature. We settled down in the cabin and proceeded to make
the best of things, quite content to be alive.

It was evident that the moon and the earth had met, and that the
earth had come out of the encounter with less damage than anyone had
anticipated. The rise in temperature had been expected. Undoubtedly it
was much greater elsewhere than in the Arctic.

       *       *       *       *       *

                             Two Survivors

Jim and I compared notes as to our actual experiences at the moment
of the collision. We both remembered the terrible shock and then had
known nothing further. We agreed that except for the shaking up we
felt no bad effects from the spell of unconsciousness. Scientists have
since assumed that in addition to the shock there was the result of
the sudden displacement of the fluids in the inner ear which establish
equilibrium. There is no reason to suppose that the experience was not
universal among those who survived.

Sitting in our monoplane cabin on the top of a Labrador mountain,
wiping the perspiration from our faces and waiting for the rain to
cease, we had no knowledge of the fearful destruction which almost
wiped out all human and animal life. Others have told of tidal waves of
boiling water, of the mountains that melted and the great craters which
opened in the earth, belching forth molten lava. We knew nothing of
this.

The first thing beside the temperature, that told us we were in a
different world, was that night did not come. We had let our watches
run down, but as the hours passed and daylight remained with us, we
began to wonder. Later in the year we would have expected short nights
in this latitude, but now there should be six hours of darkness out of
the twenty-four.

However, it did not grow dark, and it continued to rain. The idea of
what had actually occurred dawned on me even before we got our first
glimpse of the sun. That the revolution of a planet on its axis should
correspond with the period of its revolution around the sun was quite
easily understandable as a theoretical proposition. Its actual effect,
the axial revolution of the earth becoming 365 days, could hardly have
been predicted.

While the rain continued, Jim and I made no effort to leave our
mountain top. I think it was several hours after we had returned to
consciousness that we noticed the wind was no longer blowing. We had
got so used to its sound that we rather took it for granted, I suppose,
and paid no attention to it.

We were sitting in the cabin, listening to the beating rain, when Jim
suddenly exclaimed, "Where's that wind?"

"What?" I began, and then paused. There was a dead silence outside.

"It's stopped, apparently," I said after a moment. "I suppose that
means we can see what's happened without being blown to pieces. Come
on."

I jumped out of the cabin and raced through the pelting rain up the
slope of the depression in which we were sheltered. I am not certain
what I expected to see when I looked eastward, but it was certainly not
that which lay before me.

The ocean had swept over all the land east of the mountains. It had
risen at least three thousand feet, and angry waves were tossing fifty
feet below the surface of our mountain. They were beaten down by the
rain, or the spray would have warned us of the ocean's nearness before
we saw it.

The rain made it difficult to see for any distance, but it was
evident that desolation lay before us. Still, we were prepared for
that and not discouraged. The steaming water was an evidence that the
water's temperature was higher than that of the air. We had no way of
determining what the exact temperature was, but I am sure it did not
become high enough in that region to destroy marine life. We stood for
some time looking out over the ocean in silence.

"It's sure dreary looking," said Jim presently. "I suppose they were
all drowned," sweeping his hand in the direction of the settlements we
had left. "I'd got to know them well enough so I liked them all," he
continued rather sadly.

"No use thinking about it," I answered. "They at least had a gorgeous
funeral. It isn't at all certain yet that we're much better off."

"Why? We're alive."

I had been looking west, over valleys and hills steaming like the
ocean. I pointed in that direction. "We don't know whether there is
anything left except ocean and some land like that. I doubt whether we
could subsist very long here."

"There must be animals of some sort we could hunt."

"How long will they live, do you suppose? As soon as these clouds
clear away the temperature will go up to an enormous figure, with the
sun beating down continuously and no night."

"How hot do you suppose it will get?"

"You can guess about it as well as I can. A hundred-and-fifty degrees,
maybe higher. Certainly hot enough to kill all animal and vegetable
life."

       *       *       *       *       *

                           Off to a New Land

The tragedy seemed so overwhelming, as I stood on that sandstone cliff
and looked out over the water which had buried Newfoundland and Nova
Scotia and, as far as I knew, the whole civilized world, that it hardly
seemed worth-while for Jim and me to make an effort to survive.

He looked at me curiously. "Buck up, old boy. Things can't be any worse
than they seem, and they may be better. We can die fighting, anyway."

"I suppose we'll have to do that, but it hardly seems worth the
effort." I thought over the situation for a moment. "I guess the first
thing to do is to get the plane in condition to take off as soon as it
stops raining. We'll fly toward the pole."

"Maybe we'll find some other people who escaped," he suggested.

"Probably," I replied as we started back to the plane.

I taxied up the gently sloping top of the mountain to a position where
we would have room for the take-off. Then we went over it inch by inch
without finding anything wrong. I tuned up the engine and it ran as
smoothly as a tabby cat purring. We had food enough for several weeks
and fuel to carry us about fifteen hundred miles.

When we had satisfied ourselves that we could leave when we wanted to,
Jim and I sat down on the rocks and lighted our pipes. We had become
skilful in doing that in a driving rain even when the tobacco was damp.
There had been no opportunity to dry clothes, and we did not care to
wear wet ones even in that steaming temperature. Sickness was one thing
we could not afford to risk. Deprived of his normal senses it does
not take man long to revert to savagery. As it happened, after the
first feeling of strangeness, going without clothes seemed a perfectly
natural and sensible thing to do.

Other inhibitions carried over from the destroyed world were harder to
get rid of, as our conscientious lawmakers found out later, when they
began to reconstruct a civilization based on reason alone. However,
such considerations were far enough from the thoughts of Jim and me
as we sat there, looking at the sky where the clouds were beginning to
break away.

"The rain's stopping," I said. "We won't be able to stay here much
longer." Even as I spoke there was a gleam of sunshine.

"That means we've got to decide exactly what we'd better do," said Jim.

"Yes, and we can't afford to make a mistake. If we had enough fuel
we might try for Norway. Extreme northern Europe had a better chance
of surviving than the rest of the world. No use talking about that,
though."

Jim was silent for a minute. "You'll have to decide what's best
yourself. Whatever it is will be all right with me."

It seemed likely that if any concerted effort to escape had been made
by persons who had access to airplanes and dirigibles--and I had no
doubt there had been such an effort--they would have laid a course for
Greenland. Settlements on the coast of that great island had doubtless
been destroyed by the tidal waves, but the interior would have been a
refuge for anyone able to reach it. As far as I could remember, there
was not much known of the interior, except that it was mountainous
and permanently covered with glaciers. Even an ice covering like that
could not long survive the temperatures we were now experiencing. It
was possible that it would now be entirely habitable and that there we
might find refugees from the United States.

The nearest settlement on Greenland to our present location was
Frederiksdal, at the southern point of the island. I had not much hope
that it had escaped destruction, and I decided to set a course that
would bring us to one of the northern settlements. I outlined my plans
to Jim and he agreed that there was nothing to be done that seemed more
promising.

I remember that I had a feeling almost of panic as the plane arose and
sailed over the strange, turbulent steaming ocean. I felt as if we had
been carried back to the early days of the world, before continents
were formed and life emerged from chaos.

That feeling lasted only for a few minutes. The plane rose higher and
the ocean began to look as oceans always had looked. The clouds were
scattered and the sun was shining down on us.




                              CHAPTER IV

                            Fears and Hopes


I turned in my seat and grinned at Jim and he grinned back. This was
the first time that I had felt that life might still be worth living.

We were so near the north magnetic pole that a compass was almost
useless. I found myself thinking that I would be guided by the sun as
long as daylight lasted, and then suddenly realized that now the sun
was stationary in the heavens.

I knew there was not much chance of missing an island fourteen hundred
miles long if I flew anywhere in its general direction. I set a course
of north-north-east with the idea of striking land somewhere about the
settlement of Upernavik. I decided that it would be less likely to have
been affected by the catastrophe than Godhavn, the capital of North
Greenland. Godhavn was the largest town, but it was located on a small
island off the coast, and I thought it might have been swept away by
tidal waves. We found out later that every settlement on the coast had
disappeared, except Upernavik.

It must be remembered that the Greenland of those days was very
different from the present flourishing center of the world's government
and civilization. Eighty-six percent of its 826,000 square miles was
covered by an ice-cap which in some places was two thousand feet
thick. There were frowning cliffs coming down to the ocean's edge and
the center of the island was a high plateau. That was really all most
people knew about it.

It was entirely by accident that I knew a little more. I had once a
Danish mechanician working for me who had travelled from Iceland to
Greenland before he finally landed in New York looking for a job. There
is a mineral called _cryolite_ which is used in making a certain kind
of porcelain and is found only in Greenland. A Pennsylvania concern
held the mining concession and shipped the ore to Philadelphia.
Jens Jensen came down on one of their steamers and hired out as a
mechanician with the idea of getting a plane to fly back.

It seems he had discovered deposits of copper. He tried to interest me
in developing them and he told me about Greenland. At first I did not
believe him when he told of great stretches of country covered with
shrubs and flowering plants and dwarf trees. When he said that there
were four hundred varieties of plants and over a hundred types of
birds I was so openly skeptical that he gazed at me reproachfully and
then left the room. In a few minutes he came back with a volume of an
encyclopedia open at the article on Greenland.

So Jensen was responsible for my knowing more about Greenland than most
people did. I knew there were about five hundred white people on the
island, as well as fifteen thousand natives. With radio warning of what
was about to happen, there was no reason why most of them should not
have retreated to the central plateau and have escaped destruction.

As we flew, hour after hour, without sight of land, I began to get
worried. The gasoline supply was getting low and there was nothing in
sight but the tumbling ocean. It finally dawned on me that I must have
set a course far south of the one I intended, unless Greenland had
disappeared beneath the waves.

I wrote a note and passed it to Jim, telling him that I had probably
made a mistake in direction and that I intended to turn at right angles
to our present course and fly directly north. He nodded his head in
approval after he had read the note, and I swept around in a wide curve
for a final desperate effort to reach land.

I am not sure what the result would have been if we had not got help.
I was staring steadily ahead when I felt a touch on my shoulder. I
glanced back and saw Jim pointing to an object in the sky a few miles
away, but approaching rapidly. For a moment I thought it was a bird,
and then I saw it was a gigantic Fokker monoplane. It circled above us
and I saw a man leaning out of the cabin window, making motions to us.

Jim handed me a piece of paper on which he had written, "I think he
wants us to follow them."

I silently nodded my head and started in their direction. As soon as
the observer noticed this he drew his head back into the cabin and the
last stage of our journey began.

Following the big Fokker was a simple matter, as long as our gas held
out. When an hour passed and then a second hour without sight of land,
I began to get nervous. If we dropped into the sea there was not much
chance of our being rescued.

When a blue haze appeared on the horizon and rapidly grew into a land
of great frowning mountains, I breathed a sigh of relief. Greenland
rose out of the ocean, with precipitous cliffs hundreds of feet high
against which we could see immense breakers dashing themselves into
spray.

       *       *       *       *       *

                         We Start A Settlement

We continued to follow the Fokker, rising over range after range of
mountains. Some of the peaks must have been about eleven thousand feet
above the former sea level and stood out now bare and bleak with no
covering mantle of trees and vegetation. From the earliest history of
the world, they had been covered by the ice-cap, which had now melted.
There were great rivers and waterfalls in the valleys, and in sheltered
spots we could see masses of green which might be vegetation, though we
were too high in the air to distinguish details.

Suddenly Jim touched me on the arm and pointed ahead to a spot he had
been watching through field glasses. At first I could not see what had
attracted his attention in the wide valley down which a river flowed.
Then a moment later I saw houses.

The Fokker began to descend. We were passing over a fairly large
settlement and making for what was certainly a landing field. There
were hangars and dozens of planes in the open. Men began running toward
us as presently we taxied down the field.

They paid no attention to the big Fokker, which made a good landing a
hundred yards away, but raced toward us. Almost before we had stopped
I threw open the cabin door and Jim and I climbed out. We had felt for
some time the possibility that we were the only men left alive in the
world. Now the mere sight of other men had become a wildly exciting
adventure.

There was something familiar about the man nearest to us when we
landed. I looked at him again.

"Billy Matthews!" I shouted. "How did you get here?"

I had gone to college with Billy and we had been in the same company
in France. He had been connected with the government air mail service
during the past few years.

He threw his arm around my shoulders. "I was afraid you'd gone like
most of the boys, young fella." He stood off and looked me over. "You
look pretty fit," he said.

"Oh, I'm all right," I said impatiently. "I want to know what happened?
I've been stuck up in Labrador and don't know anything. This is Jimmy
Nelson, by the way. He was wireless operator where I was stationed."

The two men shook hands. Meanwhile a crowd had gathered around us.

"There's no time to talk about that now. You come with me and get a
little sleep, and then we'll have to put you to work."

I laughed. "All right. What kind of work?"

"Finding people who escaped the catastrophe and are now starving to
death.

"No, not here, of course. We have plenty of supplies and are getting
more all the time. This settlement is practically part of Upernavik.
The town proper was too near the coast to be quite safe. All of us
who could get away from the United States made for this point. The
scientists agreed that there would be more chance of escaping here than
any place else we could reach."

"How many got away?"

He shook his head. "No way of telling. People started in everything
that could fly and came down all over. Most of them are done for. Those
who succeeded in landing in out-of-the-way places are the ones we are
trying to rescue now."

"How many reached here?"

"About three thousand."

"Everybody else in the United States dead?"

"Most of them, I'm afraid, though we don't know definitely yet. There
are six hundred planes here, and we're using them to locate any people
still living. That is, we're using about half of them for that. The
others we have to use in getting fuel and supplies."

"Where are you getting them from?"

"Iceland and Spitzbergen. Neither island was seriously hurt. Of course
there was no danger of our starving, even if we hadn't been able to
get anything from outside. Greenland had a population of about twenty
thousand people. They could easily take care of us."

"What's happened to Europe? I suppose it wasn't hurt as badly as the
United States?"

Billy shook his head gravely. "We're not absolutely certain yet, of
course, but we think it's all gone except northern Norway, Sweden and
northern Russia."

By this time we had reached a house that had apparently not been
damaged by the earthquakes. It was curious to see furniture again and
a bed with mattresses and sheets. I wanted to hear more, but Billy
insisted that we must get some sleep before we did anything else. I was
inclined to rebel, but it did no good.

       *       *       *       *       *

                             A New Danger

"There's something I didn't intend to tell you until tomorrow. We have
a few astronomers and scientists here, and they brought some of their
instruments. The seismographs have been acting funny for the past
forty-eight hours."

"Well, what about it? What's another earthquake after all we've been
through?" I asked flippantly.

Billy remained grave. "It's something more than that, but what we don't
know. Two days ago the seismographs began to record a steady vibration
which has been increasing in intensity hour by hour. We're probably all
right for the next twelve hours. After that--" he paused significantly.
"Anyhow, I want you fellows to get three hours' sleep. You'll need to
be in good shape. I'll call you if things get worse."

I did not realize how tired I was until I threw myself on the bed. I
had a vivid dream of hunting lions in Africa and wounding one. The lion
was not killed and springing at me, caught my shoulder in his jaws. He
was shaking me to and fro when I awoke and found Billy standing over me.

"I thought I'd never get you awake. Get up and come to the flying
field."

I was suddenly conscious of a trembling beneath me, as if I were on the
deck of a boat near the engine. Jim was already up and we both looked
questioningly at Billy's grave face.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Possibly a new cataclysm that will wipe all surviving human beings
from the face of the earth. You know about as much as any of us."

By this time I was wide awake. "What are we to do when we get to the
flying field?"

"There is a dispute among the fliers as to whether it would be better
to take to the air in the machines with as many passengers as they can
carry, or await developments here with the planes sheltered as much as
possible. They want your advice."

A few minutes later we were making our way to the center of a
gesticulating crowd of men. The majority seemed to think that the best
thing to do was to take to the air and trust to luck that there would
be no wind storms, as there had been during the previous calamity.
I had done considerable writing on aeronautics and had a certain
reputation as an expert. Both parties had agreed that my decision as to
the best course of action would be accepted by all concerned.

I stood there bracing my feet firmly as the trembling of the earth
increased and the rumbling became louder. I looked at the sky which had
become overcast with fast hurrying clouds. If any sky ever indicated
wind, that one did. I made my decision.

"Get the planes to sheltered valleys immediately. We won't be safe on
land, but we'll be safer than we would be in the air, with the wind
that's coming. Quick! There's no time to waste."

The crowd scattered, some of them joyously and more with sullen
resentment expressed in their gloomy faces.

Jim and I hurried over to our place. The wind was rapidly rising as I
started the motor, but it was a relief to get in the air away from the
swaying earth.

We flew over the town and followed a number of other planes to make a
rather hazardous landing in a narrow transverse valley which was almost
like a ravine. The precipitous sides rose perpendicularly and it would
be a bad place to be in a cloud-burst, but it afforded almost perfect
shelter from wind. There was a chance that the rocky walls might
precipitate themselves on us if the earth tremblings became much more
violent.

The other aviators gathered around and we consulted as to the next
thing to do. The planes were as safe as they could be anywhere, but
none of us liked the idea of staying in the valley ourselves.

Finally after considerable discussion, one of the men who had his wife
and a ten-year-old youngster with him announced, "You fellows can do
what you want to, but it looks to me as if hell was going to break
loose any minute now. If I get killed, it's going to be on top of this
mountain instead of underneath it."

"There's nothing more we can do here now," I answered. "I guess we'd
better all try to reach the top before things get any worse."

It was a hard climb, especially for the women, most of whom were pretty
badly frightened. Both men and women were a selected lot, but all
had been through so much recently that nerves had gone back on them.
Besides, it was a very terrifying situation.

       *       *       *       *       *

                          A New World Arises

We had got used to the constant light and heat of the sun. It was
now covered by heavy clouds which were scurrying across the sky at
hurricane speed. They had become so heavy and dark that we could
hardly see one another a few feet apart. All heat from the sun seemed
to have been shut off and the temperature had fallen so rapidly that we
were suffering from the cold.

The roaring of the wind was now so loud that we could not hear each
other's voices, unless we shouted. The trembling and swaying of the
earth was becoming more pronounced every minute, and some of the people
actually became seasick.

Jim and I lay flat on our faces on the highest point we could reach.
The swaying of the earth had made even my stomach feel a little uneasy.
My scientific ardor was momentarily dampened by my physical discomfort.
Therefore Jim got the first glimpse of what was happening.

"Good Lord, look!" he suddenly exclaimed in an awed voice.

I raised my head and then rubbed my eyes. The whole central Greenland
plateau seemed to be rapidly sinking, and all around the horizon great
mountain ranges were lifting themselves toward the sky. We were lying
on a rock, two infinitely small insects, watching a new continent being
born.

As far as scientists have since been able to determine, the central
Greenland plateau was not lowered, but the effect was caused by the
entire surrounding region being forced out of the ocean high into
the air. Then we did not know what was happening. It was at least a
week later before the first trip in a plane showed us that the entire
ocean floor, extending from Labrador to Norway and northward to the
pole, had been elevated to an average height of ten thousand feet
above sea level. The continent thus formed is the seat of present day
civilization.

The swaying of the earth gradually ceased and all went back to the
town. Again we took hope that the worst was over and we were going to
survive. This time, our faith seems to have been justified. The final
upheaval was a successful effort of the mass of the earth to attain a
position of equilibrium. Five years have passed, and there have been no
evidences of further convulsions.

We have organized our life on the assumption that terrestrial
conditions are now reasonably stable. Our country is a great island
extending from the region of the former Ural mountains to the former
Hudson Bay. It includes northern Russia, Finland, northern Norway and
Sweden, Iceland and Greenland and part of Canada. It extends northward
to the pole and it is bounded on all sides by the great mountain
ranges which rose from the sea.

Our civilization is largely English speaking, and the seat of
government is Upernavik in Greenland. Our population is small,
considering the geographical extent of the country, and we are
encouraging in every way the production of large families.

The catastrophe which destroyed our old world was so overwhelming that
it is impossible to grieve over the smaller things that we have lost.
We are all working cheerfully to build a better world.

The world we are living in is a very interesting one. Even the most
adventurous among us have learned little about it as yet. The entire
Pacific region has never been visited since the moon crashed. Jim and
I often speculate about the conditions on the other side of the earth.
We are having a huge metallic dirigible constructed, and when it is
completed we intend to go on an exploring expedition. We expect to be
the first to look upon the destroyed world.

Of course, no one can tell what dangers we may encounter, or even
whether we will survive. It is for that reason I have related our
experiences at the time of the great catastrophe, so they may be
preserved in case neither Jim nor I return.


THE END.