The Red Journey Back Read Online Free

the black-out, and swam back to life through a
red throbbing of pain, it was to find myself exulting in a wild triumph. We had
proved, again we had proved the splendor of Andrew McGillivray’s achievement in
designing the gleaming Albatross —we had demonstrated to a
doubting world that man could leave the very world, release himself forever
from its bonds. And if the world itself knew nothing of the occasion, that
somehow intensified the triumph’s savor!
    To a casual
passer-by, a wanderer in the Pitlochry hills that day, it would have seemed as
if the shining fishlike shape of the great projectile had poised itself for a
moment above the launching ramp in the stockade near Dr. McGillivray’s
house—had lingered tremblingly, spouting fierce fire; and then had vanished
into the empyrean in a dispersing trail of white vapor raggedly drifting across
the bright summer scene. With no other trace than that thin cloud, we were
gone. Behind—already far, far behind—were all bitternesses, all jealousies, all
unworthy doubts; before us the deep blue-black immensity of the void where all
human weakness—all human strength and glory, even—dwindle to meaninglessness . . . !

    As this great
thought smoothed away the unworthiness of my first sense of triumph, I lay
languidly on the soft mattress which had protected me from the immense first
shock of the start-off and watched McGillivray at work.
    He had plainly
recovered consciousness a little before I had—had already pulled himself
forward to the instrument panel. Through the perspex of the automatic oxygen
mask which had been pumping life into our lungs during our period of
helplessness, I saw his eyes in a bright gleam of excitement—no doubt a
lingering triumph comparable to my own. He watched the instrument panel
closely—and suddenly, with a swift energy, threw over the small lever which
would release the secondary fuel . . . then fell back again
himself on the absorbent mattress.
    I closed my
eyes—and steeled myself for the second bout of brief unconsciousness. A
powerful, dangerous-seeming shuddering ran through all the ship. You will know,
of course, the great principle on which the Albatross operated. To achieve the fabulous speed necessary to escape from Earth’s
gravity pull, so much power would be required as to strike dead in the very
moment of take-off any human travelers in the spaceship—to say nothing of
subjecting the outer envelope of the rocket itself to an intolerable friction
from the atmosphere belt. The Doctor had therefore designed two separate sets
of tuyères to come into
operation—two separate types of fuel were used. The first was a highly
concentrated essence of acetylene gas to effect the initial great “leap” at a
speed powerful enough to remove us from Earth, but not so powerful as to
destroy life in the travelers—only to render them unconscious, as I have
described it. Then, at some distance from the Earth’s surface, when
everything—including the human body—is very much lighter, a second fuel was
touched off, a fuel of the Doctor’s own development (an adaptation, as I
understand it, of the highly dangerous atomic hydrogen). By the time the Earth’s
atmosphere had been left behind, at a distance of some 200 miles from the
surface, the total desired speed could be reached without discomfort—a speed
well above the pull of gravity (seven miles per second). At this point the
motors could be shut off altogether, leaving the rocket to go on traveling for
as long as was necessary—until, in short, the tuyères had to be
brought into operation again either for steering or braking purposes.
    The second
bout of black-out was shorter than the first—was hardly more than a momentary
swimming giddiness, coupled with a bewildering sense of utter lightness. By the
time it had passed it was possible for us both to rise from the sorbo
mattresses—indeed, it was almost impossible for us not to rise from
them!—For by this time