Steampunk Prime_ A Vintage Steampunk Reader - Mike Ashley [47]
The Professor, who was naturally in command, allowed the Brenda to drift for two-and-a-half hours at a carefully calculated wind-speed of twenty miles all hour. Then he said to Princeps, “You can deflate the balloons now, I think. We must be near the centre. I will see to the parachute.”
They had been thinking and talking of this journey, with all its apparent impossibilities and terrific risks, until they had become almost commonplace to them. But for all that, they looked at each other as they had never done before, as the Professor gave the fateful order. Even his lips tightened and his brows came together a little as he turned to cast loose the fine wire cables which held the ribs of the parachute.
The powerful little engine got to work, and the gas from the balloons hissed back into the cylinders. Then the envelopes were hauled in and stowed away. Through the side windows, Brenda saw a dim, far-away horizon rise up all round, and through the top window and the circular hole in the parachute, she saw the full disc of the moon growing smaller and smaller, and so she knew that they had begun their fall of 41,708,711 feet.
Taking this at 7,000 miles, in round numbers, the Professor, reckoning on an average speed of fifty to sixty miles an hour, expected to make the passage from Pole to Pole in about six days, granted always that the tunnel was clear all through. If it wasn’t, their fates were on the knees of the Gods, and there was nothing more to say. As events proved, they made it in a good deal less.
For the first thirty-six hours everything went with perfect smoothness. The wind-gauges at each side showed a speed of fifty-one miles an hour, and the Brenda continued her fall with perfect steadiness.
Suddenly, just as they were about to say “Good night” for the second time, they heard a sharp snapping and rending sound break through the smooth swish of the air past the outer wall of their vehicle. The next instant it rocked violently from side to side, and the indicators of the gauges began to fly round into invisibility.
“Heavens, uncle! What has happened?” Gasped Brenda, clinging to the seat into which she had been slung.
“It can only be one thing,” replied the Professor, steadying himself against the opposite wall. “Some of the stays have given way, and the parachute has split or broken up. God forgive me! Why did I not think of that before?”
“Of what?” Said Princeps, dropping into the seat beside Brenda and putting his arm round her.
“The increasing pull of gravitation as we get nearer to the earth’s centre. I calculated for a uniform pull only. They must have been bearing a tremendous strain before they parted.”
While he was speaking, the vehicle had become steady again. The wind-gauges whirled till the spindles screeched and smoked in their sockets. The rush of the wind past the outside wall deepened to a roar and then rose to a shrill, whistling scream.
Long, uncounted minutes of sheer speechless, thoughtless terror passed. The inside air grew hot and stifling. Even the uninflammable walls began to crinkle and crack under the fearful heat developed by the friction of the rushing air.
Brenda gasped two or three times for breath, and then, slipping out of her husband’s arms, fell fainting in a heap on the floor. Mechanically both he and the Professor stooped to lift her up. To their amazement, the effort they made to do so threw her unconscious form nearly to the top of the conical roof. She floated in mid-air for a moment and then sank gently back into their arms.
“The centre of the Earth!” Gasped the Professor. “The point of equal attraction! If we can breathe for the next hour, we have a chance. Quick, Arthur, give us more air! The evaporation will reduce the temperature.