The Lost Continent | Page 3

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The Lost Continent was originally published under the title Beyond
Thirty
THE LOST CONTINENT
Edgar Rice Burroughs

1
Since earliest childhood I have been strangely fascinated by the
mystery surrounding the history of the last days of twentieth century
Europe. My interest is keenest, perhaps, not so much in relation to
known facts as to speculation upon the unknowable of the two
centuries that have rolled by since human intercourse between the
Western and Eastern Hemispheres ceased--the mystery of Europe's
state following the termination of the Great War--provided, of course,
that the war had been terminated.
From out of the meagerness of our censored histories we learned that
for fifteen years after the cessation of diplomatic relations between the

United States of North America and the belligerent nations of the Old
World, news of more or less doubtful authenticity filtered, from time to
time, into the Western Hemisphere from the Eastern.
Then came the fruition of that historic propaganda which is best
described by its own slogan: "The East for the East-- the West for the
West," and all further intercourse was stopped by statute.
Even prior to this, transoceanic commerce had practically ceased,
owing to the perils and hazards of the mine-strewn waters of both the
Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Just when submarine activities ended we
do not know but the last vessel of this type sighted by a Pan-American
merchantman was the huge Q 138, which discharged twenty-nine
torpedoes at a Brazilian tank steamer off the Bermudas in the fall of
1972. A heavy sea and the excellent seamanship of the master of the
Brazilian permitted the Pan-American to escape and report this last of a
long series of outrages upon our commerce. God alone knows how
many hundreds of our ancient ships fell prey to the roving steel sharks
of blood-frenzied Europe. Countless were the vessels and men that
passed over our eastern and western horizons never to return; but
whether they met their fates before the belching tubes of submarines or
among the aimlessly drifting mine fields, no man lived to tell.
And then came the great Pan-American Federation which linked the
Western Hemisphere from pole to pole under a single flag, which
joined the navies of the New World into the mightiest fighting force
that ever sailed the seven seas-- the greatest argument for peace the
world had ever known.
Since that day peace had reigned from the western shores of the Azores
to the western shores of the Hawaiian Islands, nor has any man of
either hemisphere dared cross 30dW. or 175dW. From 30d to 175d is
ours--from 30d to 175d is peace, prosperity and happiness.
Beyond was the great unknown. Even the geographies of my boyhood
showed nothing beyond. We were taught of nothing beyond.
Speculation was discouraged. For two hundred years the Eastern
Hemisphere had been wiped from the maps and histories of

Pan-America. Its mention in fiction, even, was forbidden.
Our ships of peace patrol thirty and one hundred seventy- five. What
ships from beyond they have warned only the secret archives of
government show; but, a naval officer myself, I have gathered from the
traditions of the service that it has been fully two hundred years since
smoke or sail has been sighted east of 30d or west of 175d. The fate of
the relinquished provinces which lay beyond the dead lines we could
only speculate upon. That they were taken by the military power, which
rose so suddenly in China after the fall of the republic, and which
wrested Manchuria and Korea from Russia and Japan, and also
absorbed the Philippines, is quite within the range of possibility.
It was the commander of a Chinese man-of-war who received a copy of
the edict of 1972 from the hand of my illustrious ancestor, Admiral
Turck, on one hundred seventy-five, two hundred and six years ago,
and from the yellowed pages of the admiral's diary I learned that