Mr. Julius Wendigee's Astonishing Message

When I had finished my account of my return to the earth at Littlestone, I wrote, “The End,” made a flourish, and threw my pen aside, fully believing that the whole story of the First Men in the Moon was done. Not only had I done this, but I had placed my manuscript in the hands of a literary agent, had permitted it to be sold, had seen the greater portion of it appear in the Strand Magazine, and was setting to work again upon the scenario of the play I had commenced at Lympne before I realised that the end was not yet. And then, following me from Amalfi to Algiers, there reached me (it is now about six months ago) one of the most astounding communications I have ever been fated to receive. Briefly, it informed me that Mr. Julius Wendigee, a Dutch electrician, who has been experimenting with certain apparatus akin to the apparatus used by Mr. Tesla in America, in the hope of discovering some method of communication with Mars, was receiving day by day a curiously fragmentary message in English, which was indisputably emanating from Mr. Cavor in the moon.

When I finished my account of my return to earth at Littlestone, I wrote “The End” with a flourish and threw my pen aside. I firmly believed that the whole story of the First Men in the Moon was over. I had even given my manuscript to a literary agent, allowed it to be sold, and seen most of it appear in the Strand Magazine. I was starting work again on the scenario for the play I had begun at Lympne before I realized the story was not over. Then one of the most astounding communications I have ever received followed me from Amalfi to Algiers. That was about six months ago. In brief, it told me that Mr. Julius Wendigee, a Dutch electrician, was receiving a strangely fragmentary message in English, day after day. It was indisputably coming from Mr. Cavor on the moon. Mr. Wendigee had been experimenting with apparatus similar to that used by Mr. Tesla in America, hoping to find a way to communicate with Mars.

At first I thought the thing was an elaborate practical joke by some one who had seen the manuscript of my narrative. I answered Mr. Wendigee jestingly, but he replied in a manner that put such suspicion altogether aside, and in a state of inconceivable excitement I hurried from Algiers to the little observatory upon the Monte Rosa in which he was working. In the presence of his record and his appliances—and above all of the messages from Cavor that were coming to hand—my lingering doubts vanished. I decided at once to accept a proposal he made to me to remain with him, assisting him to take down the record from day to day, and endeavouring with him to send a message back to the moon. Cavor, we learnt, was not only alive, but free, in the midst of an almost inconceivable community of these ant-like beings, these ant-men, in the blue darkness of the lunar caves. He was lamed, it seemed, but otherwise in quite good health—in better health, he distinctly said, than he usually enjoyed on earth. He had had a fever, but it had left no bad effects. But curiously enough he seemed to be labouring under a conviction that I was either dead in the moon crater or lost in the deep of space.

At first, I thought it was an elaborate practical joke by someone who had seen the manuscript of my account. I replied to Mr. Wendigee jokingly, but his answer completely dispelled my suspicion. In a state of unimaginable excitement, I hurried from Algiers to the little observatory on Monte Rosa where he worked. I saw his records and equipment, and above all, the messages arriving from Cavor. My remaining doubts vanished. I immediately decided to accept his invitation to stay with him. I would help him write down the daily record and try to send a message back to the moon. We learned that Cavor was not only alive, but free. He was living among an almost unimaginable community of these ant-like beings, these ant-men, in the blue darkness of the lunar caves. He seemed to have been left lame, but was otherwise in quite good health. He said clearly that he was in better health than he usually enjoyed on earth. He had had a fever, but it had left no lasting effects. But, strangely enough, he seemed convinced that I was either dead in the moon crater or lost in deep space.

His message began to be received by Mr. Wendigee when that gentleman was engaged in quite a different investigation. The reader will no doubt recall the little excitement that began the century, arising out of an announcement by Mr. Nikola Tesla, the American electrical celebrity, that he had received a message from Mars. His announcement renewed attention to a fact that had long been familiar to scientific people, namely: that from some unknown source in space, waves of electromagnetic disturbance, entirely similar to those used by Signor Marconi for his wireless telegraphy, are constantly reaching the earth. Besides Tesla quite a number of other observers have been engaged in perfecting apparatus for receiving and recording these vibrations, though few would go so far as to consider them actual messages from some extraterrestrial sender. Among that few, however, we must certainly count Mr. Wendigee. Ever since 1898 he had devoted himself almost entirely to this subject, and being a man of ample means he had erected an observatory on the flanks of Monte Rosa, in a position singularly adapted in every way for such observations.

Mr. Wendigee began receiving his message while he was engaged in a quite different investigation. The reader will no doubt recall the little excitement at the beginning of the century. It arose when Mr. Nikola Tesla, the famous American electrical inventor, announced that he had received a message from Mars. His announcement drew renewed attention to a fact long familiar to scientists. Waves of electromagnetic disturbance constantly reach the earth from some unknown source in space. They are entirely similar to those used by Signor Marconi for his wireless telegraphy. Besides Tesla, quite a few other observers have worked to improve equipment for receiving and recording these vibrations. Few, however, would go so far as to regard them as actual messages from a sender beyond Earth. Mr. Wendigee, though, must certainly be counted among those few. Ever since 1898, he had devoted himself almost entirely to this subject. He was a wealthy man, and he had built an observatory on the slopes of Monte Rosa. Its location was exceptionally well suited in every way to such observations.

My scientific attainments, I must admit, are not great, but so far as they enable me to judge, Mr. Wendigee’s contrivances for detecting and recording any disturbances in the electromagnetic conditions of space are singularly original and ingenious. And by a happy combination of circumstances they were set up and in operation about two months before Cavor made his first attempt to call up the earth. Consequently we have fragments of his communication even from the beginning. Unhappily, they are only fragments, and the most momentous of all the things that he had to tell humanity—the instructions, that is, for the making of Cavorite, if, indeed, he ever transmitted them—have throbbed themselves away unrecorded into space. We never succeeded in getting a response back to Cavor. He was unable to tell, therefore, what we had received or what we had missed; nor, indeed, did he certainly know that any one on earth was really aware of his efforts to reach us. And the persistence he displayed in sending eighteen long descriptions of lunar affairs—as they would be if we had them complete—shows how much his mind must have turned back towards his native planet since he left it two years ago.

I must admit that I know little about science. But as far as I can judge, Mr. Wendigee’s devices are remarkably original and ingenious. They detect and record any disturbances in the electromagnetic conditions of space. By a happy coincidence, they were set up and working about two months before Cavor first tried to contact the earth. As a result, we have fragments of his communication from the very beginning. Unfortunately, we have only fragments. The most momentous thing he had to tell humanity was how to make Cavorite. If he ever transmitted those instructions, they pulsed away into space without being recorded. We never managed to send a response back to Cavor. So he could not know what we had received or missed. He did not even know for certain whether anyone on earth was aware that he was trying to reach us. He persisted in sending eighteen accounts of lunar affairs, each of which would be long if we had it complete. This shows how much his thoughts must have returned to his native planet since he left it two years ago.

You can imagine how amazed Mr. Wendigee must have been when he discovered his record of electromagnetic disturbances interlaced by Cavor’s straightforward English. Mr. Wendigee knew nothing of our wild journey moonward, and suddenly—this English out of the void!

You can imagine how amazed Mr. Wendigee must have been to find Cavor’s plain English mixed into his record of electromagnetic disturbances. Mr. Wendigee knew nothing of our wild journey to the moon. And suddenly, here was English coming out of the void!

It is well the reader should understand the conditions under which it would seem these messages were sent. Somewhere within the moon Cavor certainly had access for a time to a considerable amount of electrical apparatus, and it would seem he rigged up—perhaps furtively—a transmitting arrangement of the Marconi type. This he was able to operate at irregular intervals: sometimes for only half an hour or so, sometimes for three or four hours at a stretch. At these times he transmitted his earthward message, regardless of the fact that the relative position of the moon and points upon the earth’s surface is constantly altering. As a consequence of this and of the necessary imperfections of our recording instruments his communication comes and goes in our records in an extremely fitful manner; it becomes blurred; it “fades out” in a mysterious and altogether exasperating way. And added to this is the fact that he was not an expert operator; he had partly forgotten, or never completely mastered, the code in general use, and as he became fatigued he dropped words and misspelt in a curious manner.

The reader should understand the conditions under which these messages appear to have been sent. Somewhere inside the moon, Cavor certainly had access for a time to a considerable amount of electrical equipment. It seems he set up a Marconi type transmitter, perhaps secretly. He was able to operate it at irregular intervals. Sometimes he operated it for only half an hour or so, and sometimes for three or four hours at a stretch. During those periods, he sent his message toward Earth. He did so regardless of the constantly changing positions of the moon and points on Earth’s surface. As a result, and because our recording instruments were necessarily imperfect, his communication comes and goes in our records in an extremely erratic way. It becomes blurred. It “fades out” in a mysterious and utterly exasperating way. On top of this, he was not an expert operator. He had partly forgotten the code in general use, or had never fully mastered it. As he grew tired, he left out words and misspelled others in a curious way.

Altogether we have probably lost quite half of the communications he made, and much we have is damaged, broken, and partly effaced. In the abstract that follows the reader must be prepared therefore for a considerable amount of break, hiatus, and change of topic. Mr. Wendigee and I are collaborating in a complete and annotated edition of the Cavor record, which we hope to publish, together with a detailed account of the instruments employed, beginning with the first volume in January next. That will be the full and scientific report, of which this is only the popular transcript. But here we give at least sufficient to complete the story I have told, and to give the broad outlines of the state of that other world so near, so akin, and yet so dissimilar to our own.

Altogether, we have probably lost half the messages he sent. Much of what we have is damaged, broken, and partly erased. Readers should therefore expect many gaps, interruptions, and changes of subject in the summary that follows. Mr. Wendigee and I are working together on a complete edition of the Cavor record, with explanatory notes. We hope to publish the first volume next January, along with a detailed account of the instruments used. That will be the full scientific report. This is only a version for general readers. But here we give enough to complete the story I have told. We also give a broad picture of that other world, so near and so like our own, yet so different.