Sunrise on the Moon

As we saw it first it was the wildest and most desolate of scenes. We were in an enormous amphitheatre, a vast circular plain, the floor of the giant crater. Its cliff-like walls closed us in on every side. From the westward the light of the unseen sun fell upon them, reaching to the very foot of the cliff, and showed a disordered escarpment of drab and greyish rock, lined here and there with banks and crevices of snow. This was perhaps a dozen miles away, but at first no intervening atmosphere diminished in the slightest the minutely detailed brilliancy with which these things glared at us. They stood out clear and dazzling against a background of starry blackness that seemed to our earthly eyes rather a gloriously spangled velvet curtain than the spaciousness of the sky.

When we first saw it, the scene was wild and desolate beyond anything we had seen. We were in an enormous amphitheater, a vast circular plain on the floor of a giant crater. Cliff-like walls enclosed us on every side. From the west, the light of the unseen sun fell on the walls, reaching their very base. It revealed a rugged slope of dull grayish rock, marked here and there by banks of snow and snow-filled crevices. The walls were perhaps a dozen miles away. But at first, no atmosphere between us and the walls dimmed their glaring brightness or obscured the smallest detail. They stood out clearly and dazzlingly against a background of starry blackness. To our earthly eyes, the darkness seemed less like the vast sky than a glorious velvet curtain sprinkled with stars.

The eastward cliff was at first merely a starless selvedge to the starry dome. No rosy flush, no creeping pallor, announced the commencing day. Only the Corona, the Zodiacal light, a huge cone-shaped, luminous haze, pointing up towards the splendour of the morning star, warned us of the imminent nearness of the sun.

At first, the cliff to the east was just a starless border beneath the starry sky. No rosy glow or growing light announced the start of day. Only the Corona, the Zodiacal light, warned us that the sun was about to appear. It was a huge, glowing, cone-shaped haze pointing toward the brilliance of the morning star.

Whatever light was about us was reflected by the westward cliffs. It showed a huge undulating plain, cold and grey, a grey that deepened eastward into the absolute raven darkness of the cliff shadow. Innumerable rounded grey summits, ghostly hummocks, billows of snowy substance, stretching crest beyond crest into the remote obscurity, gave us our first inkling of the distance of the crater wall. These hummocks looked like snow. At the time I thought they were snow. But they were not—they were mounds and masses of frozen air.

The light around us was reflected by the cliffs to the west. It revealed a vast, rolling plain, cold and grey. To the east, the grey deepened into the pitch-black darkness of the cliffs’ shadow. Countless rounded grey peaks, ghostly mounds, and waves of snowy material stretched into the distant darkness, one crest beyond another. They gave us our first hint of how far away the crater wall was. These mounds looked like snow. At the time, I thought they were snow. But they were not. They were heaps and masses of frozen air.

So it was at first; and then, sudden, swift, and amazing, came the lunar day.

That was how it was at first. Then the lunar day came, sudden, swift, and amazing.

The sunlight had crept down the cliff, it touched the drifted masses at its base and incontinently came striding with seven-leagued boots towards us. The distant cliff seemed to shift and quiver, and at the touch of the dawn a reek of grey vapour poured upward from the crater floor, whirls and puffs and drifting wraiths of grey, thicker and broader and denser, until at last the whole westward plain was steaming like a wet handkerchief held before the fire, and the westward cliffs were no more than refracted glare beyond.

The sunlight had crept down the cliff and touched the drifted masses at its base. Then it immediately came striding toward us in giant strides. The distant cliff seemed to shift and tremble. As dawn touched the crater floor, gray vapor poured up from it. The gray swirls, puffs, and drifting wisps grew thicker and broader. At last, the whole western plain was steaming like a wet handkerchief held before a fire. Beyond it, the western cliffs were nothing more than a distorted glare.

“It is air,” said Cavor. “It must be air—or it would not rise like this—at the mere touch of a sun-beam. And at this pace....”

“It is air,” said Cavor. “It must be air, or it would not rise like this at the mere touch of a sunbeam. And at this speed....”

He peered upwards. “Look!” he said.

He peered up. “Look!” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“What?” I asked.

“In the sky. Already. On the blackness—a little touch of blue. See! The stars seem larger. And the little ones and all those dim nebulosities we saw in empty space—they are hidden!”

“In the sky. Already. A little touch of blue against the blackness. Look! The stars seem larger. And the little ones and all those dim clouds we saw in empty space are hidden!”

Swiftly, steadily, the day approached us. Grey summit after grey summit was overtaken by the blaze, and turned to a smoking white intensity. At last there was nothing to the west of us but a bank of surging fog, the tumultuous advance and ascent of cloudy haze. The distant cliff had receded farther and farther, had loomed and changed through the whirl, and foundered and vanished at last in its confusion.

Swiftly and steadily, daylight approached us. One grey summit after another was overtaken by the blaze and turned intensely white, with smoke rising from it. At last, there was nothing west of us but a bank of surging fog. The cloudy haze rolled forward and upward in turmoil. The distant cliff seemed to retreat farther and farther, looming and changing through the swirling haze. At last it was swallowed up and vanished in the confusion.

Nearer came that steaming advance, nearer and nearer, coming as fast as the shadow of a cloud before the south-west wind. About us rose a thin anticipatory haze.

The steaming front came closer and closer, moving as fast as a cloud’s shadow in a southwest wind. A thin haze rose around us ahead of it.

Cavor gripped my arm. “What?” I said.

Cavor gripped my arm. “What?” I said.

“Look! The sunrise! The sun!”

“Look! The sunrise! The sun!”

He turned me about and pointed to the brow of the eastward cliff, looming above the haze about us, scarce lighter than the darkness of the sky. But now its line was marked by strange reddish shapes, tongues of vermilion flame that writhed and danced. I fancied it must be spirals of vapour that had caught the light and made this crest of fiery tongues against the sky, but indeed it was the solar prominences I saw, a crown of fire about the sun that is forever hidden from earthly eyes by our atmospheric veil.

He turned me around and pointed to the top of the eastern cliff. It loomed above the haze around us, barely lighter than the dark sky. But now strange reddish shapes lined its edge, tongues of vivid red flame that twisted and danced. I thought they must be spirals of vapor catching the light, making a crest of fiery tongues against the sky. But I was actually seeing solar prominences, a crown of fire around the sun. Earth's atmosphere forever hides that crown from our eyes.

And then—the sun!

And then, the sun!

Steadily, inevitably came a brilliant line, came a thin edge of intolerable effulgence that took a circular shape, became a bow, became a blazing sceptre, and hurled a shaft of heat at us as though it was a spear.

Steadily and inevitably, a brilliant line appeared, a thin edge of unbearable light. It curved into a bow, then became a blazing scepter. It hurled a shaft of heat at us like a spear.

It seemed verily to stab my eyes! I cried aloud and turned about blinded, groping for my blanket beneath the bale.

It seemed to stab my eyes! I cried out and turned around, blinded, feeling for my blanket beneath the bale.

And with that incandescence came a sound, the first sound that had reached us from without since we left the earth, a hissing and rustling, the stormy trailing of the aerial garment of the advancing day. And with the coming of the sound and the light the sphere lurched, and blinded and dazzled we staggered helplessly against each other. It lurched again, and the hissing grew louder. I had shut my eyes perforce, I was making clumsy efforts to cover my head with my blanket, and this second lurch sent me helplessly off my feet. I fell against the bale, and opening my eyes had a momentary glimpse of the air just outside our glass. It was running—it was boiling—like snow into which a white-hot rod is thrust. What had been solid air had suddenly at the touch of the sun become a paste, a mud, a slushy liquefaction, that hissed and bubbled into gas.

With that glow came a sound, the first we had heard from outside since leaving Earth. It was a hissing and rustling, like the stormy trailing of the advancing day’s cloak of air. As the sound and light arrived, the sphere lurched. Blinded and dazzled, we staggered helplessly against each other. It lurched again, and the hissing grew louder. I had been forced to shut my eyes and was clumsily trying to cover my head with my blanket. The second lurch knocked me off my feet. I fell against the bale and opened my eyes. For a moment, I glimpsed the air just outside our glass. It was flowing, boiling, like snow with a white-hot rod thrust into it. At the sun’s touch, what had been solid air had suddenly become a paste, a mud, a slushy liquid. It hissed and bubbled into gas.

There came a still more violent whirl of the sphere and we had clutched one another. In another moment we were spun about again. Round we went and over, and then I was on all fours. The lunar dawn had hold of us. It meant to show us little men what the moon could do with us.

The sphere spun even more violently, and we grabbed each other. A moment later, we were spinning again. We went round and over, and then I was on all fours. The lunar dawn had us in its grip. It meant to show us little men what the moon could do with us.

I caught a second glimpse of things without, puffs of vapour, half liquid slush, excavated, sliding, falling, sliding. We dropped into darkness. I went down with Cavor’s knees in my chest. Then he seemed to fly away from me, and for a moment I lay with all the breath out of my body staring upward. A toppling crag of the melting stuff had splashed over us, buried us, and now it thinned and boiled off us. I saw the bubbles dancing on the glass above. I heard Cavor exclaiming feebly.

I caught another glimpse outside. Puffs of vapor and half-liquid slush had been dug up and were sliding and falling. We dropped into darkness. As I fell, Cavor’s knees struck my chest. Then he seemed to fly away from me. For a moment I lay staring upward, with all the breath knocked out of me. A falling mass of the melting stuff had splashed over us and buried us. Now it was thinning and boiling away. I saw bubbles dancing on the glass above me. I heard Cavor cry out weakly.

Then some huge landslip in the thawing air had caught us, and spluttering expostulation, we began to roll down a slope, rolling faster and faster, leaping crevasses and rebounding from banks, faster and faster, westward into the white-hot boiling tumult of the lunar day.

Then a huge landslide in the thawing air caught us. We sputtered in protest as we began rolling down a slope. We rolled faster and faster, leaping over crevasses and bouncing off banks. Faster and faster we rolled westward into the white-hot, boiling turmoil of the lunar day.

Clutching at one another we spun about, pitched this way and that, our bale of packages leaping at us, pounding at us. We collided, we gripped, we were torn asunder—our heads met, and the whole universe burst into fiery darts and stars! On the earth we should have smashed one another a dozen times, but on the moon, luckily for us, our weight was only one-sixth of what it is terrestrially, and we fell very mercifully. I recall a sensation of utter sickness, a feeling as if my brain were upside down within my skull, and then—

Clutching each other, we spun around and tumbled this way and that. Our bundle of packages leaped at us and pounded us. We collided, grabbed hold of each other, and were torn apart. Our heads struck together, and the whole universe burst into fiery sparks and stars! On Earth, we would have smashed each other a dozen times. But on the moon, luckily for us, we weighed only one-sixth as much as on Earth. So we fell much more gently. I remember feeling utterly sick, as if my brain were upside down inside my skull, and then...

Something was at work upon my face, some thin feelers worried my ears. Then I discovered the brilliance of the landscape around was mitigated by blue spectacles. Cavor bent over me, and I saw his face upside down, his eyes also protected by tinted goggles. His breath came irregularly, and his lip was bleeding from a bruise. “Better?” he said, wiping the blood with the back of his hand.

Something was moving against my face, and thin feelers were bothering my ears. Then I realized that blue glasses were dimming the bright landscape around me. Cavor bent over me, and I saw his face upside down. His eyes were also protected by tinted goggles. His breathing was uneven, and his bruised lip was bleeding. “Better?” he said, wiping away the blood with the back of his hand.

Everything seemed swaying for a space, but that was simply my giddiness. I perceived that he had closed some of the shutters in the outer sphere to save me—from the direct blaze of the sun. I was aware that everything about us was very brilliant.

Everything seemed to sway for a while, but that was just my dizziness. I realized he had closed some shutters in the outer sphere to protect me from the sun’s direct glare. Everything around us was very bright.

“Lord!” I gasped. “But this—”

“Lord!” I gasped. “But this…”

I craned my neck to see. I perceived there was a blinding glare outside, an utter change from the gloomy darkness of our first impressions. “Have I been insensible long?” I asked.

I stretched my neck to see. Outside, a blinding glare had replaced the gloomy darkness we had first seen. “Have I been unconscious long?” I asked.

“I don’t know—the chronometer is broken. Some little time.... My dear chap! I have been afraid...”

“I don’t know. The clock is broken. A little while.... My dear friend! I’ve been afraid...”

I lay for a space taking this in. I saw his face still bore evidences of emotion. For a while I said nothing. I passed an inquisitive hand over my contusions, and surveyed his face for similar damages. The back of my right hand had suffered most, and was skinless and raw. My forehead was bruised and had bled. He handed me a little measure with some of the restorative—I forget the name of it—he had brought with us. After a time I felt a little better. I began to stretch my limbs carefully. Soon I could talk.

I lay there for a while, taking this in. His face still showed signs of emotion. For a while, I said nothing. I ran a curious hand over my bruises and examined his face for similar injuries. The back of my right hand had suffered most. The skin was gone, leaving it raw. My forehead was bruised and had bled. He gave me a small measure of the restorative we had brought with us. I forget its name. After a while, I felt a little better. I began to stretch my limbs carefully. Soon I could talk.

“It wouldn’t have done,” I said, as though there had been no interval.

“It wouldn’t have worked,” I said, as if no time had passed.

“No! it wouldn’t.”

“No! it wouldn’t.”

He thought, his hands hanging over his knees. He peered through the glass and then stared at me. “Good Lord!” he said. “No!”

He thought, with his hands hanging over his knees. He looked through the glass and then stared at me. “Good Lord!” he said. “No!”

“What has happened?” I asked after a pause. “Have we jumped to the tropics?”

“What happened?” I asked after a pause. “Have we jumped to the tropics?”

“It was as I expected. This air has evaporated—if it is air. At any rate, it has evaporated, and the surface of the moon is showing. We are lying on a bank of earthy rock. Here and there bare soil is exposed. A queer sort of soil!”

“It was just as I expected. This air has evaporated, if it is air. In any case, it has evaporated, and the surface of the moon is showing. We are lying on a bank of earthy rock. Bare soil is exposed here and there. What strange soil!”

It occurred to him that it was unnecessary to explain. He assisted me into a sitting position, and I could see with my own eyes.

He realized there was no need to explain. He helped me sit up, and I could see for myself.