was awaiting the result of our discussion, and we soon left the moon far below us.
CHAPTER VII
WE RESUME OUR VOYAGE—THE SUN AND THE SKY AS SEEN FROM SPACE
All the time the Areonal had been near the moon some of our machines were storing up fresh power, and we had accumulated a supply amply sufficient to meet any extra requirements in the event of our arrival upon Mars being unduly delayed.
We now turned and looked back at the earth; and, as the moon was so near to it at that time, the earth’s disc appeared very nearly two degrees in diameter, or nearly four times the usual apparent diameter of the full moon as seen from the earth. The crescent of light on its right-hand side was rather wider than when we last looked at it; but so many clouds hung over it, that we could not see what countries were comprised in the lighted portion of its surface. Owing to the light of the stars behind the earth being diffused by the dense atmosphere—in the same way as it would be diffused by a large lens—there was a ring of brilliant light like a halo all round the earth’s disc.
Having passed away from the moon, I now gave M’Allister the necessary directions in order to keep the Areonal on a course which would enable us to head off the planet Mars at, as near as I could reckon, the point it would reach in fifty days’ time. The course having been set, M’Allister was free to join us again, as the machinery required very little attention.
When he did so, M’Allister at once asked me a question. “Professor, can you tell me when it’s going to be daylight? The sun has been shining for hours and hours, yet it’s still night; the sky is blacker than the blackest night I ever saw, and the stars are all out!”
John laughed heartily, and said, “M’Allister, this is daylight! and all the daylight you will get until we reach Mars.”
M’Allister turned to me with a perplexed look on his face and asked, “Is that right, Professor, or is he trying to pull my leg, as he said he would?”
“Oh yes! It’s quite right, M’Allister,” I replied. “It is now full daylight, and we shall have no more night until we reach Mars. That, as you know, will be seven weeks from the present time.”
“Well, Professor,” he exclaimed, “then how is it the sky is so densely black and the stars all shining so brightly? I never saw the stars in the daytime before, yet these are shining brighter than they do on the earth at night.”
“Simply,” I said, “because upon the earth we were surrounded by a dense atmosphere, which so diffused the sun’s light that the whole sky appeared bright. The stars were there all the time, but their light was so overpowered by the brilliancy of the atmosphere that they were quite invisible to us.
“Now, we are out in space where there is no atmosphere at all, so the sky appears a very dense black; and the stars, having nothing to obscure their light, shine out more brilliantly than they do on the earth. They appear as bright points of light, and even the sun does not shed a general light over the sky, there being no atmosphere to diffuse it.”
“Yes,” he persisted, “but you said we should have no more night until we got to Mars!”
“Certainly,” I answered. “Surely, M’Allister, you must have forgotten that night is brought about by the earth’s rotation on its axis, and that the part which is turned away from the sun is in darkness because its light is hidden by the solid body of the earth, while the earth’s shadow darkens all the sky. When, by the earth’s rotation, that part is again turned to the sun then it becomes daylight. Remember we are not now on the earth, but out in space!”
“Of course I did know all that, Professor,” he exclaimed, “but, just for the time, I had forgotten.”
“Never mind, M’Allister, we all forget such matters sometimes, and this is quite a new experience for you. But just take a good look at the sun—have you noticed any difference in its appearance?”
“Yes, Professor, it doesn’t look the same colour as when we saw it from the earth; it seems to have a violet tinge, like some of the electric lights in our streets. There are also long streamers of light around it, and coloured fringes close to the sun!”
“Yes, that is so,” I said; “and we can see all those things now because there is no atmosphere. No doubt you have noticed that on the earth the sun appeared red when low down in the sky, and during a fog it appeared redder and duskier still.”
“Oh yes, I’ve often noticed that,” he answered.
“That was caused by our atmosphere which, when thick, absorbs all but the red rays of light. On a clear day the sun appears an extremely pale yellow, or very nearly white; still the atmosphere absorbs some of the light rays, so we cannot see its true colour as we do now. Those coloured fringes round the edges can only be seen from the earth by the aid of a special instrument, and then they do not show all their true colours.
“That pearly light all round the sun, and the long streamers that give it the appearance of an enormous star with six long points, form what is termed the solar corona, and this can only be seen from our earth during the very few minutes when an eclipse of the sun is at its totality. It is to see the corona and other surroundings of the sun, in order to study them, that astronomers go such very long distances—often thousands of miles—when there is a total eclipse expected, and not merely to see the eclipse itself. They hope, in time, to learn much from such observations; but if it happens that the sky is over-clouded during the period of total eclipse, then all their expense, and the time spent in preparations and rehearsals of their procedure, are, unfortunately, entirely wasted.
“Now, M’Allister, if you will take my glass you will be able to look at the sun and examine it without any risk to your eyesight, for it is provided with a dark glass to shut out all the dangerous glare. You will then see what the fringes and inner and outer coronas really are like.”
He took the glass and looked for a long time at the sun, and, judging from his exclamations of surprise and astonishment, he was extremely interested and delighted with what he saw. John was also examining it at the same time through his own glass.
Presently the latter turned to me saying, “Professor, I no longer wonder that astronomers are prepared to travel long distances, and to risk a great deal of discomfort, and even hardship, in order to view and study the sun’s surroundings. Of course to them it is not merely a sight to be seen, but the only means by which they can acquire a knowledge of solar physics. Merely as a sight, however, it is most wonderful. At many places all round the edge of the sun’s disc I can see what look like coloured flames—pink, pea-green, carmine, orange, or yellow, all in incessant movement—shooting out at times, or waving and shimmering in a manner that is indescribable. The changes in form and colour are as sudden, yet as definite, as the changes produced by turning a kaleidoscope; while the intermingling of the various colours frequently produces an effect which I can only compare to the iridescent colours on mother o’ pearl. Then all around and beyond the coloured fringe there is the light of the pearly inner corona; beyond that are pearly and violet-tinged rays curling away in both directions from the poles, whilst outside all are the long, pearly, and violet-tinted streamers which assume the shape of a large many-pointed star; and even these do not seem at rest. Though astronomers cannot see all that we do now, there must be sufficient visible to them to afford opportunity for a most interesting study.”
“That is indeed the case, John,” I replied. “Those coloured flames, for instance, form a study in themselves, which some observers make their particular hobby. As seen from the earth, they all appear some tint of red; and, normally, according to measurements, they seem to extend a distance of some 20,000 miles above the sun. They shift their position very rapidly indeed; movements at the rate of 100 miles a second are quite moderate compared with some which have been noted, yet one can scarcely realise such rapidity of motion. Frequently, however, these flames are seen to rise in immense masses to tremendous heights above the sun’s surface, evidently driven upwards by explosions of the most intense energy. In 1888, for instance, one was observed which, in the course of two hours, rose to a height of 350,000 miles before it broke up; that is, at the rate of 50 miles a second all the time; but, as the force would become less and less as the distance increased, at the earlier part of the time the movement must have been far more rapid. When the impetus derived from the explosive force is quite exhausted, the top part of the mass of flame often spreads out like the top of a tree, then breaks up and falls back into the sun in large flakes of flame.
“It is supposed that these violent explosions are the cause of the spots we so often see on the sun when
