Making Cavorite for the First Time

But Cavor’s fears were groundless, so far as the actual making was concerned. On the 14th of October, 1899, this incredible substance was made!

But Cavor’s fears about making the substance were unfounded. On October 14, 1899, this incredible substance was made!

Oddly enough, it was made at last by accident, when Mr. Cavor least expected it. He had fused together a number of metals and certain other things—I wish I knew the particulars now!—and he intended to leave the mixture a week and then allow it to cool slowly. Unless he had miscalculated, the last stage in the combination would occur when the stuff sank to a temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit. But it chanced that, unknown to Cavor, dissension had arisen about the furnace tending. Gibbs, who had previously seen to this, had suddenly attempted to shift it to the man who had been a gardener, on the score that coal was soil, being dug, and therefore could not possibly fall within the province of a joiner; the man who had been a jobbing gardener alleged, however, that coal was a metallic or ore-like substance, let alone that he was cook. But Spargus insisted on Gibbs doing the coaling, seeing that he was a joiner and that coal is notoriously fossil wood. Consequently Gibbs ceased to replenish the furnace, and no one else did so, and Cavor was too much immersed in certain interesting problems concerning a Cavorite flying machine (neglecting the resistance of the air and one or two other points) to perceive that anything was wrong. And the premature birth of his invention took place just as he was coming across the field to my bungalow for our afternoon talk and tea.

Oddly enough, it was finally made by accident, when Mr. Cavor least expected it. He had melted together a number of metals and certain other things. I wish I knew the details now! He intended to leave the mixture for a week and then let it cool slowly. Unless he had miscalculated, the final stage of the combination would occur when the mixture reached 60 degrees Fahrenheit. But Cavor did not know that a dispute had broken out over tending the furnace. Gibbs, who had previously done this, suddenly tried to pass the job to the man who had been a gardener. He argued that coal was soil, since it was dug up, and therefore could not possibly be a joiner’s responsibility. The man who had been a jobbing gardener argued that coal was a metallic or ore-like substance. Besides, he was the cook. But Spargus insisted that Gibbs should add the coal, since he was a joiner and coal is famously fossilized wood. As a result, Gibbs stopped adding coal to the furnace, and no one else did it either. Cavor was too absorbed in some interesting problems concerning a Cavorite flying machine to notice that anything was wrong. He was ignoring air resistance and one or two other points. And so his invention was born prematurely, just as he was crossing the field to my bungalow for our afternoon talk and tea.

I remember the occasion with extreme vividness. The water was boiling, and everything was prepared, and the sound of his “zuzzoo” had brought me out upon the verandah. His active little figure was black against the autumnal sunset, and to the right the chimneys of his house just rose above a gloriously tinted group of trees. Remoter rose the Wealden Hills, faint and blue, while to the left the hazy marsh spread out spacious and serene. And then—

I remember that occasion vividly. The water was boiling, and everything was ready. The sound of his “zuzzoo” had brought me out onto the veranda. His lively little figure stood black against the autumn sunset. To the right, the chimneys of his house rose just above a group of brilliantly colored trees. Farther away, the Wealden Hills rose, faint and blue. To the left, the hazy marsh stretched out, broad and peaceful. And then...

The chimneys jerked heavenward, smashing into a string of bricks as they rose, and the roof and a miscellany of furniture followed. Then overtaking them came a huge white flame. The trees about the building swayed and whirled and tore themselves to pieces, that sprang towards the flare. My ears were smitten with a clap of thunder that left me deaf on one side for life, and all about me windows smashed, unheeded.

The chimneys shot upward, breaking into a stream of bricks as they rose. The roof and a jumble of furniture followed. Then a huge white flame overtook them. The trees around the building swayed and spun, tearing themselves to pieces that flew toward the blaze. A clap of thunder struck my ears, leaving me deaf in one ear for life. All around me, windows shattered, but I did not notice.

I took three steps from the verandah towards Cavor’s house, and even as I did so came the wind.

I took three steps from the porch toward Cavor’s house, and just then the wind came.

Instantly my coat tails were over my head, and I was progressing in great leaps and bounds, and quite against my will, towards him. In the same moment the discoverer was seized, whirled about, and flew through the screaming air. I saw one of my chimney pots hit the ground within six yards of me, leap a score of feet, and so hurry in great strides towards the focus of the disturbance. Cavor, kicking and flapping, came down again, rolled over and over on the ground for a space, struggled up and was lifted and borne forward at an enormous velocity, vanishing at last among the labouring, lashing trees that writhed about his house.

In an instant, my coat tails flew over my head. Against my will, I was carried toward him in great leaps and bounds. At the same moment, the discoverer was seized, spun around, and sent flying through the screaming air. I saw one of my chimney pots hit the ground within six yards of me. It bounced twenty feet into the air, then hurried in great strides toward the center of the disturbance. Cavor came down again, kicking and flapping, and rolled over and over on the ground for a while. He struggled to his feet, then was lifted and carried forward at enormous speed. At last, he vanished among the straining, lashing trees that twisted around his house.

A mass of smoke and ashes, and a square of bluish shining substance rushed up towards the zenith. A large fragment of fencing came sailing past me, dropped edgeways, hit the ground and fell flat, and then the worst was over. The aerial commotion fell swiftly until it was a mere strong gale, and I became once more aware that I had breath and feet. By leaning back against the wind I managed to stop, and could collect such wits as still remained to me.

A mass of smoke and ashes and a square of shiny bluish material rushed up toward the sky. A large piece of fencing sailed past me. It dropped edge first, hit the ground, and fell flat. Then the worst was over. The violent wind quickly died down until it was only a strong gale. I realized I could breathe and feel my feet again. By leaning back against the wind, I managed to stop and collect what wits I had left.

In that instant the whole face of the world had changed. The tranquil sunset had vanished, the sky was dark with scurrying clouds, everything was flattened and swaying with the gale. I glanced back to see if my bungalow was still in a general way standing, then staggered forwards towards the trees amongst which Cavor had vanished, and through whose tall and leaf-denuded branches shone the flames of his burning house.

In that instant, the whole world had changed. The peaceful sunset had vanished. The sky was dark with racing clouds, and everything was flattened and swaying in the gale. I glanced back to see if my bungalow was still more or less standing. Then I staggered towards the trees where Cavor had disappeared. Through their tall, bare branches, I could see the flames of his burning house.

I entered the copse, dashing from one tree to another and clinging to them, and for a space I sought him in vain. Then amidst a heap of smashed branches and fencing that had banked itself against a portion of his garden wall I perceived something stir. I made a run for this, but before I reached it a brown object separated itself, rose on two muddy legs, and protruded two drooping, bleeding hands. Some tattered ends of garment fluttered out from its middle portion and streamed before the wind.

I entered the grove, rushing from one tree to another and clinging to them. For a while, I looked for him in vain. Then I saw something move among a heap of smashed branches and fencing piled against part of his garden wall. I ran toward it, but before I reached it, a brown object emerged. It rose on two muddy legs and held out two drooping, bleeding hands. Tattered scraps of clothing fluttered from its middle and streamed in the wind.

For a moment I did not recognise this earthy lump, and then I saw that it was Cavor, caked in the mud in which he had rolled. He leant forward against the wind, rubbing the dirt from his eyes and mouth.

For a moment I did not recognize the muddy lump. Then I saw that it was Cavor, covered in mud from rolling in it. He leaned forward against the wind, rubbing the dirt from his eyes and mouth.

He extended a muddy lump of hand, and staggered a pace towards me. His face worked with emotion, little lumps of mud kept falling from it. He looked as damaged and pitiful as any living creature I have ever seen, and his remark therefore amazed me exceedingly.

He held out a muddy lump of a hand and staggered a step toward me. His face twisted with emotion, and little lumps of mud kept falling from it. He looked as hurt and pitiful as any living creature I have ever seen. So his remark amazed me.

“Gratulate me,” he gasped; “gratulate me!”

“Congratulate me,” he gasped. “Congratulate me!”

“Congratulate you!” said I. “Good heavens! What for?”

“Congratulate you!” I said. “Good heavens! What for?”

“I’ve done it.”

“I’ve done it.”

“You have. What on earth caused that explosion?”

“You have. What on earth caused that explosion?”

A gust of wind blew his words away. I understood him to say that it wasn’t an explosion at all. The wind hurled me into collision with him, and we stood clinging to one another.

A gust of wind blew his words away. I thought he said it wasn't an explosion at all. The wind blew me into him, and we stood there clinging to each other.

“Try and get back—to my bungalow,” I bawled in his ear. He did not hear me, and shouted something about “three martyrs—science,” and also something about “not much good.” At the time he laboured under the impression that his three attendants had perished in the whirlwind. Happily this was incorrect. Directly he had left for my bungalow they had gone off to the public-house in Lympne to discuss the question of the furnaces over some trivial refreshment.

“Try to get back to my bungalow,” I yelled in his ear. He did not hear me. He shouted something about “three martyrs for science,” and also something about “not much good.” At the time, he believed his three attendants had died in the whirlwind. Luckily, he was wrong. As soon as he had left for my bungalow, they had gone to the pub in Lympne. There they discussed the furnaces over a little refreshment.

I repeated my suggestion of getting back to my bungalow, and this time he understood. We clung arm-in-arm and started, and managed at last to reach the shelter of as much roof as was left to me. For a space we sat in arm-chairs and panted. All the windows were broken, and the lighter articles of furniture were in great disorder, but no irrevocable damage was done. Happily the kitchen door had stood the pressure upon it, so that all my crockery and cooking materials had survived. The oil stove was still burning, and I put on the water to boil again for tea. And that prepared, I could turn on Cavor for his explanation.

I suggested again that we go back to my bungalow, and this time he understood. We clung to each other, arm in arm, and set off. At last, we managed to reach the shelter of what was left of my roof. We sat in armchairs for a while, panting. All the windows were broken, and the lighter furniture was in great disorder. But no permanent damage had been done. Luckily, the kitchen door had held against the pressure, so all my dishes and cooking supplies had survived. The oil stove was still burning, and I put the water on to boil again for tea. Once the tea was ready, I could turn to Cavor for his explanation.

“Quite correct,” he insisted; “quite correct. I’ve done it, and it’s all right.”

“That’s right,” he insisted. “That’s right. I’ve done it, and it’s all right.”

“But,” I protested. “All right! Why, there can’t be a rick standing, or a fence or a thatched roof undamaged for twenty miles round....”

“But,” I protested. “All right! There can’t be a haystack left standing or an undamaged fence or thatched roof for twenty miles around....”

“It’s all right—really. I didn’t, of course, foresee this little upset. My mind was preoccupied with another problem, and I’m apt to disregard these practical side issues. But it’s all right—”

“It’s all right, really. Of course, I didn’t expect this little problem. I was thinking about another problem, and I tend to overlook practical details like these. But it’s all right.”

“My dear sir,” I cried, “don’t you see you’ve done thousands of pounds’ worth of damage?”

“Sir,” I cried, “don’t you realize you’ve caused thousands of pounds’ worth of damage?”

“There, I throw myself on your discretion. I’m not a practical man, of course, but don’t you think they will regard it as a cyclone?”

“There, I leave that to your judgment. I’m not a practical man, of course, but don’t you think they’ll see it as a cyclone?”

“But the explosion—”

“But the explosion...”

“It was not an explosion. It’s perfectly simple. Only, as I say, I’m apt to overlook these little things. It’s that zuzzoo business on a larger scale. Inadvertently I made this substance of mine, this Cavorite, in a thin, wide sheet....”

“It was not an explosion. It’s perfectly simple. But as I say, I tend to overlook these little things. It’s that zuzzoo business on a larger scale. Without realizing it, I made my substance, Cavorite, in a thin, wide sheet....”

He paused. “You are quite clear that the stuff is opaque to gravitation, that it cuts off things from gravitating towards each other?”

He paused. “Are you sure the material blocks gravity? Does it stop things from attracting each other?”

“Yes,” said I. “Yes.”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes.”

“Well, so soon as it reached a temperature of 60 degrees Fahrenheit, and the process of its manufacture was complete, the air above it, the portions of roof and ceiling and floor above it ceased to have weight. I suppose you know—everybody knows nowadays—that, as a usual thing, the air has weight, that it presses on everything at the surface of the earth, presses in all directions, with a pressure of fourteen and a half pounds to the square inch?”

“Well, as soon as it reached 60 degrees Fahrenheit and its manufacture was complete, the air above it lost its weight. So did the parts of the roof, ceiling, and floor above it. I suppose you know that air usually has weight. Everybody knows that nowadays. Air presses on everything at the earth’s surface. It presses in all directions, at fourteen and a half pounds per square inch, doesn’t it?”

“I know that,” said I. “Go on.”

“I know that,” I said. “Go on.”

“I know that too,” he remarked. “Only this shows you how useless knowledge is unless you apply it. You see, over our Cavorite this ceased to be the case, the air there ceased to exert any pressure, and the air round it and not over the Cavorite was exerting a pressure of fourteen pounds and a half to the square inch upon this suddenly weightless air. Ah! you begin to see! The air all about the Cavorite crushed in upon the air above it with irresistible force. The air above the Cavorite was forced upward violently, the air that rushed in to replace it immediately lost weight, ceased to exert any pressure, followed suit, blew the ceiling through and the roof off....

“I know that too,” he said. “But this shows how useless knowledge is unless you apply it. You see, the air above our Cavorite was no longer exerting any pressure. The air around it, but not above the Cavorite, pressed on this suddenly weightless air. The pressure was fourteen and a half pounds per square inch. Ah! You’re beginning to see! The air all around the Cavorite crushed in on the air above it with irresistible force. The air above the Cavorite was forced violently upward. The air that rushed in to replace it immediately lost weight and stopped exerting pressure. It followed the air above it upward, blowing through the ceiling and blowing off the roof....

“You perceive,” he said, “it formed a sort of atmospheric fountain, a kind of chimney in the atmosphere. And if the Cavorite itself hadn’t been loose and so got sucked up the chimney, does it occur to you what would have happened?”

“You see,” he said, “it formed a kind of fountain, a chimney in the atmosphere. The Cavorite was loose, so it was sucked up the chimney. Have you thought about what would have happened if it hadn’t been?”

I thought. “I suppose,” I said, “the air would be rushing up and up over that infernal piece of stuff now.”

I thought. “I suppose,” I said, “the air would be rushing up and up over that damned piece of stuff now.”

“Precisely,” he said. “A huge fountain—”

“Exactly,” he said. “A huge fountain...”

“Spouting into space! Good heavens! Why, it would have squirted all the atmosphere of the earth away! It would have robbed the world of air! It would have been the death of all mankind! That little lump of stuff!”

“Spewing into space! Good heavens! It would have blasted the earth’s entire atmosphere away! It would have robbed the world of air! It would have killed all mankind! That little lump of stuff!”

“Not exactly into space,” said Cavor, “but as bad—practically. It would have whipped the air off the world as one peels a banana, and flung it thousands of miles. It would have dropped back again, of course—but on an asphyxiated world! From our point of view very little better than if it never came back!”

“Not exactly into space,” said Cavor, “but practically as bad. It would have stripped the air off the world like peeling a banana and flung it thousands of miles away. Of course, the air would have fallen back, but the world would have suffocated! From our point of view, that would be little better than if it had never come back!”

I stared. As yet I was too amazed to realise how all my expectations had been upset. “What do you mean to do now?” I asked.

I stared. I was still too amazed to realize how completely my expectations had been overturned. “What do you plan to do now?” I asked.

“In the first place if I may borrow a garden trowel I will remove some of this earth with which I am encased, and then if I may avail myself of your domestic conveniences I will have a bath. This done, we will converse more at leisure. It will be wise, I think”—he laid a muddy hand on my arm—“if nothing were said of this affair beyond ourselves. I know I have caused great damage—probably even dwelling-houses may be ruined here and there upon the country-side. But on the other hand, I cannot possibly pay for the damage I have done, and if the real cause of this is published, it will lead only to heartburning and the obstruction of my work. One cannot foresee everything, you know, and I cannot consent for one moment to add the burthen of practical considerations to my theorising. Later on, when you have come in with your practical mind, and Cavorite is floated—floated is the word, isn’t it?—and it has realised all you anticipate for it, we may set matters right with these persons. But not now—not now. If no other explanation is offered, people, in the present unsatisfactory state of meteorological science, will ascribe all this to a cyclone; there might be a public subscription, and as my house has collapsed and been burnt, I should in that case receive a considerable share in the compensation, which would be extremely helpful to the prosecution of our researches. But if it is known that I caused this, there will be no public subscription, and everybody will be put out. Practically I should never get a chance of working in peace again. My three assistants may or may not have perished. That is a detail. If they have, it is no great loss; they were more zealous than able, and this premature event must be largely due to their joint neglect of the furnace. If they have not perished, I doubt if they have the intelligence to explain the affair. They will accept the cyclone story. And if during the temporary unfitness of my house for occupation, I may lodge in one of the untenanted rooms of this bungalow of yours—”

“First, if I may borrow a garden trowel, I will remove some of the earth covering me. Then, if I may use your bathroom, I will have a bath. After that, we can talk more comfortably. I think it would be wise,” he said, laying a muddy hand on my arm, “to keep this affair between ourselves. I know I have caused great damage. Even houses may have been ruined here and there in the countryside. But I cannot possibly pay for the damage I have done. And if the real cause is made public, it will only cause resentment and interfere with my work. One cannot foresee everything, you know. I cannot agree for one moment to burden my theorizing with practical considerations. Later, when you have joined me with your practical mind, we can put matters right with these people. That will be when Cavorite is floated. Floated is the word, isn’t it? And it must have brought in all the money you expect from it. But not now, not now. “If no other explanation is offered, people will blame all this on a cyclone. After all, the science of meteorology is still in an unsatisfactory state. There might be a public collection. And since my house has collapsed and burned down, I would then receive a considerable share of the compensation. That would be extremely helpful in carrying on our research. But if people know that I caused this, there will be no public collection, and everyone will be inconvenienced. In practice, I would never have a chance to work in peace again. “My three assistants may or may not have died. That is a detail. If they have died, it is no great loss. They were more eager than capable. And this premature event must be largely due to their shared neglect of the furnace. If they have not died, I doubt they have the intelligence to explain the affair. They will accept the cyclone story. And while my house is temporarily unfit to live in, perhaps I may stay in one of the empty rooms of your bungalow.”

He paused and regarded me.

He paused and looked at me.

A man of such possibilities, I reflected, is no ordinary guest to entertain.

I thought that a man with such potential was no ordinary guest to have.

“Perhaps,” said I, rising to my feet, “we had better begin by looking for a trowel,” and I led the way to the scattered vestiges of the greenhouse.

“Perhaps we should start by looking for a trowel,” I said, getting to my feet. I led the way to the scattered remains of the greenhouse.

And while he was having his bath I considered the entire question alone. It was clear there were drawbacks to Mr. Cavor’s society I had not foreseen. The absentmindedness that had just escaped depopulating the terrestrial globe, might at any moment result in some other grave inconvenience. On the other hand I was young, my affairs were in a mess, and I was in just the mood for reckless adventure—with a chance of something good at the end of it. I had quite settled in my mind that I was to have half at least in that aspect of the affair. Fortunately I held my bungalow, as I have already explained, on a three-year agreement, without being responsible for repairs; and my furniture, such as there was of it, had been hastily purchased, was unpaid for, insured, and altogether devoid of associations. In the end I decided to keep on with him, and see the business through.

While he was having his bath, I considered the whole question alone. Clearly, there were drawbacks to Mr. Cavor’s company that I had not foreseen. His absentmindedness had just barely avoided wiping out the earth’s population. At any moment, it might cause some other serious inconvenience. On the other hand, I was young, my affairs were a mess, and I was in just the mood for a reckless adventure, with a chance of something good at the end. I had already decided that I was to have at least half of whatever good came of it. Fortunately, as I have explained, I had a three-year lease on my bungalow and was not responsible for repairs. What little furniture I had was hastily bought, unpaid for, insured, and held no sentimental value for me. In the end, I decided to stay with him and see the business through.

Certainly the aspect of things had changed very greatly. I no longer doubted at all the enormous possibilities of the substance, but I began to have doubts about the gun-carriage and the patent boots. We set to work at once to reconstruct his laboratory and proceed with our experiments. Cavor talked more on my level than he had ever done before, when it came to the question of how we should make the stuff next.

Things had certainly changed a great deal. I no longer had any doubt about the substance’s enormous potential. But I began to doubt the gun carriage and the patented boots. We set to work at once, rebuilding his laboratory and continuing our experiments. When we discussed how to make the substance next, Cavor spoke more at my level than ever before.

“Of course we must make it again,” he said, with a sort of glee I had not expected in him, “of course we must make it again. We have caught a Tartar, perhaps, but we have left the theoretical behind us for good and all. If we can possibly avoid wrecking this little planet of ours, we will. But—there must be risks! There must be. In experimental work there always are. And here, as a practical man, you must come in. For my own part it seems to me we might make it edgeways, perhaps, and very thin. Yet I don’t know. I have a certain dim perception of another method. I can hardly explain it yet. But curiously enough it came into my mind, while I was rolling over and over in the mud before the wind, and very doubtful how the whole adventure was to end, as being absolutely the thing I ought to have done.”

“Of course we must make it again,” he said, with a kind of delight I had not expected from him. “Of course we must make it again. Perhaps we have taken on more than we bargained for, but we have left theory behind us for good. If we can possibly avoid wrecking this little planet of ours, we will. But there must be risks! There must be. There always are in experimental work. And this is where you, as a practical man, must come in. For my part, I think perhaps we could make it edgeways, and very thin. But I don’t know. I have a vague idea of another method. I can hardly explain it yet. Curiously enough, it came to me while I was rolling over and over in the mud before the wind. I was very unsure how the whole adventure would end. Yet I realized that this other method was exactly what I should have done.”

Even with my aid we found some little difficulty, and meanwhile we kept at work restoring the laboratory. There was plenty to do before it became absolutely necessary to decide upon the precise form and method of our second attempt. Our only hitch was the strike of the three labourers, who objected to my activity as a foreman. But that matter we compromised after two days’ delay.

Even with my help, we had some difficulty. Meanwhile, we kept working to restore the laboratory. There was plenty to do before we had to decide exactly how to make our second attempt. Our only setback was a strike by the three workers, who objected to my work as a foreman. But after a two-day delay, we reached a compromise.