Chapter 21 — Mr. Bedford at Littlestone

           MylineofflightwasaboutparallelwiththesurfaceasIcameintotheupperair.Thetemperatureofthespherebegantoriseforthwith.Iknewitbehovedmetodropatonce.Farbelowme,inadarklingtwilight,stretchedagreatexpanseofsea.IopenedeverywindowIcould,andfell—outofsunshineintoevening,andoutofeveningintonight.Vastergrewtheearthandvaster,swallowingupthestars,andthesilverytranslucentstarlitveilofclouditworespreadouttocatchme.Atlasttheworldseemednolongeraspherebutflat,andthenconcave.Itwasnolongeraplanetinthesky,buttheworldofMan.Ishutallbutaninchorsoofearthwardwindow,anddroppedwithaslackeningvelocity.Thebroadeningwater,nowsonearthatIcouldseethedarkglitterofthewaves,rusheduptomeetme.Thespherebecameveryhot.Isnappedthelaststripofwindow,andsatscowlingandbitingmyknuckles,waitingfortheimpact....

           Thespherehitthewaterwithahugesplash:itmusthavesentitfathomshigh.AtthesplashIflungtheCavoriteshuttersopen.DownIwent,butslowerandslower,andthenIfeltthespherepressingagainstmyfeet,andsodroveupagainasabubbledrives.AndatthelastIwasfloatingandrockinguponthesurfaceofthesea,andmyjourneyinspacewasatanend.

           Thenightwasdarkandovercast.Twoyellowpinpointsfarawayshowedthepassingofaship,andnearerwasaredglarethatcameandwent.Hadnottheelectricityofmyglow-lampexhausteditself,Icouldhavegotpickedupthatnight.