A Journey to the Centre of the Earth

By

Jules Verne

www.freeclassicebooks.com

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1 - MY UNCLE MAKES A GREAT DISCOVERY.. 4

CHAPTER 2 - THE MYSTERIOUS PARCHMENT.. 13

CHAPTER 3 - AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY.. 20

CHAPTER 4 - WE START ON THE JOURNEY.. 33

CHAPTER 5 - First Lessons in Climbing. 40

CHAPTER 6 - Our Voyage to Iceland.. 46

CHAPTER 7 - Conversation and Discovery. 55

CHAPTER 8 - THE EIDER-DOWN HUNTER--OFF AT LAST.. 63

CHAPTER 9 - OUR START--WE MEET WITH ADVENTURES BY THE WAY.. 74

CHAPTER 10 - TRAVELING IN ICELAND.. 84

CHAPTER 11 - WE REACH MOUNT SNEFFELS--THE "REYKIR". 93

CHAPTER 12 - THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SNEFFELS.. 103

CHAPTER 13 - THE SHADOW OF SCARTARIS.. 115

CHAPTER 14 - THE REAL JOURNEY COMMENCES.. 126

CHAPTER 15 - WE CONTINUE OUR DESCENT.. 136

CHAPTER 16 - THE EASTERN TUNNEL.. 146

CHAPTER 17 - DEEPER AND DEEPER--THE COAL MINE.. 156

CHAPTER 18 - THE WRONG ROAD!. 165

CHAPTER 19 - THE WESTERN GALLERY--A NEW ROUTE.. 174

CHAPTER 20 - WATER, WHERE IS IT? A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT.. 180

CHAPTER 21 - UNDER THE OCEAN.. 190

CHAPTER 22 - SUNDAY BELOW GROUND.. 197

CHAPTER 23 - ALONE.. 207

CHAPTER 24 - LOST!. 213

CHAPTER 25 - THE WHISPERING GALLERY.. 220

CHAPTER 26 - A RAPID RECOVERY.. 233

CHAPTER 27 - THE CENTRAL SEA.. 241

CHAPTER 28 - LAUNCHING THE RAFT.. 253

CHAPTER 29 - ON THE WATERS--A RAFT VOYAGE.. 264

CHAPTER 30 - TERRIFIC SAURIAN COMBAT.. 278

CHAPTER 31 - THE SEA MONSTER.. 293

CHAPTER 32 - THE BATTLE OF THE ELEMENTS.. 302

CHAPTER 33 - OUR ROUTE REVERSED.. 313

CHAPTER 34 - A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY.. 326

CHAPTER 35 - DISCOVERY UPON DISCOVERY.. 335

CHAPTER 36 - WHAT IS IT?. 345

CHAPTER 37 - THE MYSTERIOUS DAGGER.. 352

CHAPTER 38 - NO OUTLET--BLASTING THE ROCK.. 358

CHAPTER 39 - THE EXPLOSION AND ITS RESULTS.. 368

CHAPTER 40 - THE APE GIGANS.. 378

CHAPTER 41 - HUNGER.. 389

CHAPTER 42 - THE VOLCANIC SHAFT.. 400

CHAPTER 43 - DAYLIGHT AT LAST.. 416

CHAPTER 44 - THE JOURNEY ENDED.. 427

CHAPTER 1 - MY UNCLE MAKES A GREAT DISCOVERY

Looking back to all that has occurred to me since that eventful day, I

am scarcely able to believe in the reality of my adventures. They were

truly so wonderful that even now I am bewildered when I think of them.

My uncle was a German, having married my mother's sister, an

Englishwoman. Being very much attached to his fatherless nephew, he

invited me to study under him in his home in the fatherland. This home

was in a large town, and my uncle a professor of philosophy, chemistry,

geology, mineralogy, and many other ologies.

One day, after passing some hours in the laboratory--my uncle being

absent at the time--I suddenly felt the necessity of renovating the

tissues--<i>i.e.</i>, I was hungry, and was about to rouse up our old French

cook, when my uncle, Professor Von Hardwigg, suddenly opened the street

door, and came rushing upstairs.

Now Professor Hardwigg, my worthy uncle, is by no means a bad sort of

man; he is, however, choleric and original. To bear with him means to

obey; and scarcely had his heavy feet resounded within our joint

domicile than he shouted for me to attend upon him.

"Harry--Harry--Harry--"

I hastened to obey, but before I could reach his room, jumping three

steps at a time, he was stamping his right foot upon the landing.

"Harry!" he cried, in a frantic tone, "are you coming up?"

Now to tell the truth, at that moment I was far more interested in the

question as to what was to constitute our dinner than in any problem of

science; to me soup was more interesting than soda, an omelette more

tempting than arithmetic, and an artichoke of ten times more value than

any amount of asbestos.

But my uncle was not a man to be kept waiting; so adjourning therefore

all minor questions, I presented myself before him.

He was a very learned man. Now most persons in this category supply

themselves with information, as peddlers do with goods, for the benefit

of others, and lay up stores in order to diffuse them abroad for the

benefit of society in general. Not so my excellent uncle, Professor

Hardwigg; he studied, he consumed the midnight oil, he pored over heavy

tomes, and digested huge quartos and folios in order to keep the

knowledge acquired to himself.

There was a reason, and it may be regarded as a good one, why my uncle

objected to display his learning more than was absolutely necessary: he

stammered; and when intent upon explaining the phenomena of the heavens,

was apt to find himself at fault, and allude in such a vague way to sun,

moon, and stars that few were able to comprehend his meaning. To tell

the honest truth, when the right word would not come, it was generally

replaced by a very powerful adjective.

In connection with the sciences there are many almost unpronounceable

names--names very much resembling those of Welsh villages; and my uncle

being very fond of using them, his habit of stammering was not thereby

improved. In fact, there were periods in his discourse when he would

finally give up and swallow his discomfiture--in a glass of water.

As I said, my uncle, Professor Hardwigg, was a very learned man; and I

now add a most kind relative. I was bound to him by the double ties of

affection and interest. I took deep interest in all his doings, and

hoped some day to be almost as learned myself. It was a rare thing for

me to be absent from his lectures. Like him, I preferred mineralogy to

all the other sciences. My anxiety was to gain real <i>knowledge of the

earth</i>. Geology and mineralogy were to us the sole objects of life, and

in connection with these studies many a fair specimen of stone, chalk,

or metal did we break with our hammers.

Steel rods, loadstones, glass pipes, and bottles of various acids were

oftener before us than our meals. My uncle Hardwigg was once known to

classify six hundred different geological specimens by their weight,

hardness, fusibility, sound, taste, and smell.

He corresponded with all the great, learned, and scientific men of the

age. I was, therefore, in constant communication with, at all events the

letters of, Sir Humphry Davy, Captain Franklin, and other great men.

But before I state the subject on which my uncle wished to confer with

me, I must say a word about his personal appearance. Alas! my readers

will see a very different portrait of him at a future time, after he has

gone through the fearful adventures yet to be related.

My uncle was fifty years old; tall, thin, and wiry. Large spectacles

hid, to a certain extent, his vast, round, and goggle eyes, while his

nose was irreverently compared to a thin file. So much indeed did it

resemble that useful article, that a compass was said in his presence to

have made considerable N (Nasal) deviation.

The truth being told, however, the only article really attracted to my

uncle's nose was tobacco.

Another peculiarity of his was, that he always stepped a yard at a time,

clenched his fists as if he were going to hit you, and was, when in one

of his peculiar humors, very far from a pleasant companion.

It is further necessary to observe that he lived in a very nice house,

in that very nice street, the Konigstrasse at Hamburg. Though lying in

the centre of a town, it was perfectly rural in its aspect--half wood,

half bricks, with old-fashioned gables--one of the few old houses spared

by the great fire of 1842.

When I say a nice house, I mean a handsome house--old, tottering, and

not exactly comfortable to English notions: a house a little off the

perpendicular and inclined to fall into the neighboring canal; exactly

the house for a wandering artist to depict; all the more that you could

scarcely see it for ivy and a magnificent old tree which grew over the

door.

My uncle was rich; his house was his own property, while he had a

considerable private income. To my notion the best part of his

possessions was his god-daughter, Gretchen. And the old cook, the young

lady, the Professor and I were the sole inhabitants.

I loved mineralogy, I loved geology. To me there was nothing like

pebbles--and if my uncle had been in a little less of a fury, we should

have been the happiest of families. To prove the excellent Hardwigg's

impatience, I solemnly declare that when the flowers in the drawing-room

pots began to grow, he rose every morning at four o'clock to make them

grow quicker by pulling the leaves!

Having described my uncle, I will now give an account of our interview.

He received me in his study; a perfect museum, containing every natural

curiosity that can well be imagined--minerals, however, predominating.

Every one was familiar to me, having been catalogued by my own hand. My

uncle, apparently oblivious of the fact that he had summoned me to his

presence, was absorbed in a book. He was particularly fond of early

editions, tall copies, and unique works.

"Wonderful!" he cried, tapping his forehead. "Wonderful--wonderful!"

It was one of those yellow-leaved volumes now rarely found on stalls,

and to me it appeared to possess but little value. My uncle, however,

was in raptures.

He admired its binding, the clearness of its characters, the ease with

which it opened in his hand, and repeated aloud, half a dozen times,

that it was very, very old.

To my fancy he was making a great fuss about nothing, but it was not my

province to say so. On the contrary, I professed considerable interest

in the subject, and asked him what it was about.

"It is the Heims-Kringla of Snorre Tarleson," he said, "the celebrated

Icelandic author of the twelfth century--it is a true and correct

account of the Norwegian princes who reigned in Iceland."

My next question related to the language in which it was written. I

hoped at all events it was translated into German. My uncle was

indignant at the very thought, and declared he wouldn't give a penny for

a translation. His delight was to have found the original work in the

Icelandic tongue, which he declared to be one of the most magnificent

and yet simple idioms in the world--while at the same time its

grammatical combinations were the most varied known to students.

"About as easy as German?" was my insidious remark.

My uncle shrugged his shoulders.

"The letters at all events," I said, "are rather difficult of

comprehension."

"It is a Runic manuscript, the language of the original population of

Iceland, invented by Odin himself," cried my uncle, angry at my

ignorance.

I was about to venture upon some misplaced joke on the subject, when a

small scrap of parchment fell out of the leaves. Like a hungry man

snatching at a morsel of bread the Professor seized it. It was about

five inches by three and was scrawled over in the most extraordinary

fashion.

The lines shown here are an exact facsimile of what was written on the

venerable piece of parchment--and have wonderful importance, as they

induced my uncle to undertake the most wonderful series of adventures

which ever fell to the lot of human beings.

My uncle looked keenly at the document for some moments and then

declared that it was Runic. The letters were similar to those in the

book, but then what did they mean? This was exactly what I wanted to

know.

Now as I had a strong conviction that the Runic alphabet and dialect

were simply an invention to mystify poor human nature, I was delighted

to find that my uncle knew as much about the matter as I did--which was

nothing. At all events the tremulous motion of his fingers made me think

so.

"And yet," he muttered to himself, "it is old Icelandic, I am sure of

it."

And my uncle ought to have known, for he was a perfect polyglot

dictionary in himself. He did not pretend, like a certain learned

pundit, to speak the two thousand languages and four thousand idioms

made use of in different parts of the globe, but he did know all the

more important ones.

It is a matter of great doubt to me now, to what violent measures my

uncle's impetuosity might have led him, had not the clock struck two,

and our old French cook called out to let us know that dinner was on the

table.

"Bother the dinner!" cried my uncle.

But as I was hungry, I sallied forth to the dining room, where I took up

my usual quarters. Out of politeness I waited three minutes, but no sign

of my uncle, the Professor. I was surprised. He was not usually so blind

to the pleasure of a good dinner. It was the acme of German

luxury--parsley soup, a ham omelette with sorrel trimmings, an oyster of

veal stewed with prunes, delicious fruit, and sparkling Moselle. For the

sake of poring over this musty old piece of parchment, my uncle forbore

to share our meal. To satisfy my conscience, I ate for both.

The old cook and housekeeper was nearly out of her mind. After taking so

much trouble, to find her master not appear at dinner was to her a sad

disappointment--which, as she occasionally watched the havoc I was

making on the viands, became also alarm. If my uncle were to come to

table after all?

Suddenly, just as I had consumed the last apple and drunk the last glass

of wine, a terrible voice was heard at no great distance. It was my

uncle roaring for me to come to him. I made very nearly one leap of

it--so loud, so fierce was his tone.

CHAPTER 2 - THE MYSTERIOUS PARCHMENT

[Illustration: Runic Glyphs]

"I Declare," cried my uncle, striking the table fiercely with his fist,

"I declare to you it is Runic--and contains some wonderful secret, which

I must get at, at any price."

I was about to reply when he stopped me.

"Sit down," he said, quite fiercely, "and write to my dictation."

I obeyed.

"I will substitute," he said, "a letter of our alphabet for that of the

Runic: we will then see what that will produce. Now, begin and make no

mistakes."

The dictation commenced with the following incomprehensible result:

mm.rnlls esruel seecJde

sgtssmf unteief niedrke

kt,samn atrateS Saodrrn

emtnaeI nuaect  rrilSa

Atvaar  .nscrc  ieaabs

ccdrmi  eeutul  frantu

dt,iac  oseibo  KediiY

Scarcely giving me time to finish, my uncle snatched the document from

my hands and examined it with the most rapt and deep attention.

"I should like to know what it means," he said, after a long period.

I certainly could not tell him, nor did he expect me to--his

conversation being uniformly answered by himself.

"I declare it puts me in mind of a cryptograph," he cried, "unless,

indeed, the letters have been written without any real meaning; and yet

why take so much trouble? Who knows but I may be on the verge of some

great discovery?"

My candid opinion was that it was all rubbish! But this opinion I kept

carefully to myself, as my uncle's choler was not pleasant to bear. All

this time he was comparing the book with the parchment.

"The manuscript volume and the smaller document are written in different

hands," he said, "the cryptograph is of much later date than the book;

there is an undoubted proof of the correctness of my surmise. [An

irrefragable proof I took it to be.] The first letter is a double M,

which was only added to the Icelandic language in the twelfth

century--this makes the parchment two hundred years posterior to the

volume."

The circumstances appeared very probable and very logical, but it was

all surmise to me.

"To me it appears probable that this sentence was written by some owner

of the book. Now who was the owner, is the next important question.

Perhaps by great good luck it may be written somewhere in the volume."

With these words Professor Hardwigg took off his spectacles, and, taking

a powerful magnifying glass, examined the book carefully.

On the fly leaf was what appeared to be a blot of ink, but on

examination proved to be a line of writing almost effaced by time. This

was what he sought; and, after some considerable time, he made out these

letters:

[Illustration: Runic Glyphs]

"Arne Saknussemm!" he cried in a joyous and triumphant tone, "that is

not only an Icelandic name, but of a learned professor of the sixteenth

century, a celebrated alchemist."

I bowed as a sign of respect.

"These alchemists," he continued, "Avicenna, Bacon, Lully, Paracelsus,

were the true, the only learned men of the day. They made surprising

discoveries. May not this Saknussemm, nephew mine, have hidden on this

bit of parchment some astounding invention? I believe the cryptograph to

have a profound meaning--which I must make out."

My uncle walked about the room in a state of excitement almost

impossible to describe.

"It may be so, sir," I timidly observed, "but why conceal it from

posterity, if it be a useful, a worthy discovery?"

"Why--how should I know? Did not Galileo make a secret of his

discoveries in connection with Saturn? But we shall see. Until I

discover the meaning of this sentence I will neither eat nor sleep."

"My dear uncle--" I began.

"Nor you neither," he added.

It was lucky I had taken double allowance that day.

"In the first place," he continued, "there must be a clue to the

meaning. If we could find that, the rest would be easy enough."

I began seriously to reflect. The prospect of going without food and

sleep was not a promising one, so I determined to do my best to solve

the mystery. My uncle, meanwhile, went on with his soliloquy.

"The way to discover it is easy enough. In this document there are one

hundred and thirty-two letters, giving seventy-nine consonants to

fifty-three vowels. This is about the proportion found in most southern

languages, the idioms of the north being much more rich in consonants.

We may confidently predict, therefore, that we have to deal with a

southern dialect."

Nothing could be more logical.

"Now," said Professor Hardwigg, "to trace the particular language."

"As Shakespeare says, 'that is the question,"' was my rather satirical

reply.

"This man Saknussemm," he continued, "was a very learned man: now as he

did not write in the language of his birthplace, he probably, like most

learned men of the sixteenth century, wrote in Latin. If, however, I

prove wrong in this guess, we must try Spanish, French, Italian, Greek,

and even Hebrew. My own opinion, though, is decidedly in favor of

Latin."

This proposition startled me. Latin was my favorite study, and it seemed

sacrilege to believe this gibberish to belong to the country of Virgil.

"Barbarous Latin, in all probability," continued my uncle, "but still

Latin."

"Very probably," I replied, not to contradict him.

"Let us see into the matter," continued my uncle; "here you see we have

a series of one hundred and thirty-two letters, apparently thrown

pell-mell upon paper, without method or organization. There are words

which are composed wholly of consonants, such as <i>mm.rnlls</i>, others

which are nearly all vowels, the fifth, for instance, which is unteief,

and one of the last oseibo. This appears an extraordinary combination.

Probably we shall find that the phrase is arranged according to some

mathematical plan. No doubt a certain sentence has been written out and

then jumbled up--some plan to which some figure is the clue. Now, Harry,

to show your English wit--what is that figure?"

I could give him no hint. My thoughts were indeed far away. While he was

speaking I had caught sight of the portrait of my cousin Gretchen, and

was wondering when she would return.

We were affianced, and loved one another very sincerely. But my uncle,

who never thought even of such sublunary matters, knew nothing of this.

Without noticing my abstraction, the Professor began reading the

puzzling cryptograph all sorts of ways, according to some theory of his

own. Presently, rousing my wandering attention, he dictated one precious

attempt to me.

I mildly handed it over to him. It read as follows:

<i>mmessunkaSenrA.icefdoK.segnittamurtn

ecertserrette,rotaivsadua,ednecsedsadne

lacartniiilrJsiratracSarbmutabiledmek

meretarcsilucoYsleffenSnI.</i>

I could scarcely keep from laughing, while my uncle, on the contrary,

got in a towering passion, struck the table with his fist, darted out of

the room, out of the house, and then taking to his heels was presently

lost to sight.

CHAPTER 3 - AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY

"What is the matter?" cried the cook, entering the room; "when will

master have his dinner?"

"Never."

"And, his supper?"

"I don't know. He says he will eat no more, neither shall I. My uncle

has determined to fast and make me fast until he makes out this

abominable inscription," I replied.

"You will be starved to death," she said.

I was very much of the same opinion, but not liking to say so, sent her

away, and began some of my usual work of classification. But try as I

might, nothing could keep me from thinking alternately of the stupid

manuscript and of the pretty Gretchen.

Several times I thought of going out, but my uncle would have been angry

at my absence. At the end of an hour, my allotted task was done. How to

pass the time? I began by lighting my pipe. Like all other students, I

delighted in tobacco; and, seating myself in the great armchair, I began

to think.

Where was my uncle? I could easily imagine him tearing along some

solitary road, gesticulating, talking to himself, cutting the air with

his cane, and still thinking of the absurd bit of hieroglyphics. Would

he hit upon some clue? Would he come home in better humor? While these

thoughts were passing through my brain, I mechanically took up the

execrable puzzle and tried every imaginable way of grouping the letters.

I put them together by twos, by threes, fours, and fives--in vain.

Nothing intelligible came out, except that the fourteenth, fifteenth,

and sixteenth made <i>ice</i> in English; the eighty-fourth, eighty-fifth,

and eighty-sixth, the word <i>sir</i>; then at last I seemed to find the

Latin words <i>rota, mutabile, ira, nec, atra</i>.

"Ha! there seems to be some truth in my uncle's notion," thought I.

Then again I seemed to find the word <i>luco</i>, which means sacred wood.

Then in the third line I appeared to make out <i>labiled</i>, a perfect

Hebrew word, and at the last the syllables mere, are, mer, which were

French.

It was enough to drive one mad. Four different idioms in this absurd

phrase. What connection could there be between ice, sir, anger, cruel,

sacred wood, changing, mother, are, and sea? The first and the last

might, in a sentence connected with Iceland, mean sea of ice. But what

of the rest of this monstrous cryptograph?

I was, in fact, fighting against an insurmountable difficulty; my brain

was almost on fire; my eyes were strained with staring at the parchment;

the whole absurd collection of letters appeared to dance before my

vision in a number of black little groups. My mind was possessed with

temporary hallucination--I was stifling. I wanted air. Mechanically I

fanned myself with the document, of which now I saw the back and then

the front.

Imagine my surprise when glancing at the back of the wearisome puzzle,

the ink having gone through, I clearly made out Latin words, and among

others craterem and terrestre.

I had discovered the secret!

It came upon me like a flash of lightning. I had got the clue. All you

had to do to understand the document was to read it backwards. All the

ingenious ideas of the Professor were realized; he had dictated it

rightly to me; by a mere accident I had discovered what he so much

desired.

My delight, my emotion may be imagined, my eyes were dazzled and I

trembled so that at first I could make nothing of it. One look, however,

would tell me all I wished to know.

"Let me read," I said to myself, after drawing a long breath.

I spread it before me on the table, I passed my finger over each letter,

I spelled it through; in my excitement I read it out.

What horror and stupefaction took possession of my soul. I was like a

man who had received a knock-down blow. Was it possible that I really

read the terrible secret, and it had really been accomplished! A man had

dared to do--what?

No living being should ever know.

"Never!" cried I, jumping up. "Never shall my uncle be made aware of the

dread secret. He would be quite capable of undertaking the terrible

journey. Nothing would check him, nothing stop him. Worse, he would

compel me to accompany him, and we should be lost forever. But no; such

folly and madness cannot be allowed."

I was almost beside myself with rage and fury.

"My worthy uncle is already nearly mad," I cried aloud. "This would

finish him. By some accident he may make the discovery; in which case,

we are both lost. Perish the fearful secret--let the flames forever bury

it in oblivion."

I snatched up book and parchment, and was about to cast them into the

fire, when the door opened and my uncle entered.

I had scarcely time to put down the wretched documents before my uncle

was by my side. He was profoundly absorbed. His thoughts were evidently

bent on the terrible parchment. Some new combination had probably struck

him while taking his walk.

He seated himself in his armchair, and with a pen began to make an

algebraical calculation. I watched him with anxious eyes. My flesh

crawled as it became probable that he would discover the secret.

His combinations I knew now were useless, I having discovered the one

only clue. For three mortal hours he continued without speaking a word,

without raising his head, scratching, rewriting, calculating over and

over again. I knew that in time he must hit upon the right phrase. The

letters of every alphabet have only a certain number of combinations.

But then years might elapse before he would arrive at the correct

solution.

Still time went on; night came, the sounds in the streets ceased--and

still my uncle went on, not even answering our worthy cook when she

called us to supper.

I did not dare to leave him, so waved her away, and at last fell asleep

on the sofa.

When I awoke my uncle was still at work. His red eyes, his pallid

countenance, his matted hair, his feverish hands, his hectically flushed

cheeks, showed how terrible had been his struggle with the impossible,

and what fearful fatigue he had undergone during that long sleepless

night. It made me quite ill to look at him. Though he was rather severe

with me, I loved him, and my heart ached at his sufferings. He was so

overcome by one idea that he could not even get in a passion! All his

energies were focused on one point. And I knew that by speaking one

little word all this suffering would cease. I could not speak it.

My heart was, nevertheless, inclining towards him. Why, then, did I

remain silent? In the interest of my uncle himself.

"Nothing shall make me speak," I muttered. "He will want to follow in

the footsteps of the other! I know him well. His imagination is a

perfect volcano, and to make discoveries in the interests of geology he

would sacrifice his life. I will therefore be silent and strictly keep

the secret I have discovered. To reveal it would be suicidal. He would

not only rush, himself, to destruction, but drag me with him."

I crossed my arms, looked another way and smoked--resolved never to

speak.

When our cook wanted to go out to market, or on any other errand, she

found the front door locked and the key taken away. Was this done

purposely or not? Surely Professor Hardwigg did not intend the old woman

and myself to become martyrs to his obstinate will. Were we to be

starved to death? A frightful recollection came to my mind. Once we had

fed on bits and scraps for a week while he sorted some curiosities. It

gave me the cramp even to think of it!

I wanted my breakfast, and I saw no way of getting it. Still my

resolution held good. I would starve rather than yield. But the cook

began to take me seriously to task. What was to be done? She could not

go out; and I dared not.

My uncle continued counting and writing; his imagination seemed to have

translated him to the skies. He neither thought of eating nor drinking.

In this way twelve o'clock came round. I was hungry, and there was

nothing in the house. The cook had eaten the last bit of bread. This

could not go on. It did, however, until two, when my sensations were

terrible. After all, I began to think the document very absurd. Perhaps

it might only be a gigantic hoax. Besides, some means would surely be

found to keep my uncle back from attempting any such absurd expedition.

On the other hand, if he did attempt anything so quixotic, I should not

be compelled to accompany him. Another line of reasoning partially

decided me. Very likely he would make the discovery himself when I

should have suffered starvation for nothing. Under the influence of

hunger this reasoning appeared admirable. I determined to tell all.

The question now arose as to how it was to be done. I was still dwelling

on the thought, when he rose and put on his hat.

What! go out and lock us in? Never!

"Uncle," I began.

He did not appear even to hear me.

"Professor Hardwigg," I cried.

"What," he retorted, "did you speak?"

"How about the key?"

"What key--the key of the door?"

"No--of these horrible hieroglyphics?"

He looked at me from under his spectacles, and started at the odd

expression of my face. Rushing forward, he clutched me by the arm and

keenly examined my countenance. His very look was an interrogation.

I simply nodded.

With an incredulous shrug of the shoulders, he turned upon his heel.

Undoubtedly he thought I had gone mad.

"I have made a very important discovery."

His eyes flashed with excitement. His hand was lifted in a menacing

attitude. For a moment neither of us spoke. It is hard to say which was

most excited.

"You don't mean to say that you have any idea of the meaning of the

scrawl?"

"I do," was my desperate reply. "Look at the sentence as dictated by

you."

"Well, but it means nothing," was the angry answer.

"Nothing if you read from left to right, but mark, if from right to

left--"

"Backwards!" cried my uncle, in wild amazement. "Oh most cunning

Saknussemm; and I to be such a blockhead!"

He snatched up the document, gazed at it with haggard eye, and read it

out as I had done.

It read as follows:

<i>In Sneffels Yoculis craterem kem delibat

umbra Scartaris Julii intra calendas descende,

audas viator, et terrestre centrum attinges.

Kod feci. Arne Saknussemm</i>

Which dog Latin being translated, reads as follows:

Descend into the crater of Yocul of Sneffels, which the shade of

Scartaris caresses, before the kalends of July, audacious traveler,

and you will reach the centre of the earth. I did it.

ARNE SAKNUSSEMM

My uncle leaped three feet from the ground with joy. He looked radiant

and handsome. He rushed about the room wild with delight and

satisfaction. He knocked over tables and chairs. He threw his books

about until at last, utterly exhausted, he fell into his armchair.

"What's o'clock?" he asked.

"About three."

"My dinner does not seem to have done me much good," he observed. "Let

me have something to eat. We can then start at once. Get my portmanteau

ready."

"What for?"

"And your own," he continued. "We start at once."

My horror may be conceived. I resolved however to show no fear.

Scientific reasons were the only ones likely to influence my uncle. Now,

there were many against this terrible journey. The very idea of going

down to the centre of the earth was simply absurd. I determined

therefore to argue the point after dinner.

My uncle's rage was now directed against the cook for having no dinner

ready. My explanation however satisfied him, and having gotten the key,

she soon contrived to get sufficient to satisfy our voracious appetites.

During the repast my uncle was rather gay than otherwise. He made some

of those peculiar jokes which belong exclusively to the learned. As

soon, however, as dessert was over, he called me to his study. We each

took a chair on opposite sides of the table.

"Henry," he said, in a soft and winning voice; "I have always believed

you ingenious, and you have rendered me a service never to be forgotten.

Without you, this great, this wondrous discovery would never have been

made. It is my duty, therefore, to insist on your sharing the glory."

"He is in a good humor," thought I; "I'll soon let him know my opinion

of glory."

"In the first place," he continued, "you must keep the whole affair a

profound secret. There is no more envious race of men than scientific

discoverers. Many would start on the same journey. At all events, we

will be the first in the field."

"I doubt your having many competitors," was my reply.

"A man of real scientific acquirements would be delighted at the chance.

We should find a perfect stream of pilgrims on the traces of Arne

Saknussemm, if this document were once made public."

"But, my dear sir, is not this paper very likely to be a hoax?" I urged.

"The book in which we find it is sufficient proof of its authenticity,"

he replied.

"I thoroughly allow that the celebrated Professor wrote the lines, but

only, I believe, as a kind of mystification," was my answer.

Scarcely were the words out of my mouth, when I was sorry I had uttered

them. My uncle looked at me with a dark and gloomy scowl, and I began to

be alarmed for the results of our conversation. His mood soon changed,

however, and a smile took the place of a frown.

"We shall see," he remarked, with decisive emphasis.

"But see, what is all this about Yocul, and Sneffels, and this

Scartaris? I have never heard anything about them."

"The very point to which I am coming. I lately received from my friend

Augustus Peterman, of Leipzig, a map. Take down the third atlas from the

second shelf, series Z, plate 4."

I rose, went to the shelf, and presently returned with the volume

indicated.

"This," said my uncle, "is one of the best maps of Iceland. I believe it

will settle all your doubts, difficulties and objections."

With a grim hope to the contrary, I stooped over the map.

CHAPTER 4 - WE START ON THE JOURNEY

"You see, the whole island is composed of volcanoes," said the

Professor, "and remark carefully that they all bear the name of Yocul.

The word is Icelandic, and means a glacier. In most of the lofty

mountains of that region the volcanic eruptions come forth from icebound

caverns. Hence the name applied to every volcano on this extraordinary

island."

"But what does this word Sneffels mean?"

To this question I expected no rational answer. I was mistaken.

"Follow my finger to the western coast of Iceland, there you see

Reykjavik, its capital. Follow the direction of one of its innumerable

fjords or arms of the sea, and what do you see below the sixty-fifth

degree of latitude?"

"A peninsula--very like a thighbone in shape."

"And in the centre of it--?"

"A mountain."

"Well, that's Sneffels."

I had nothing to say.

"That is Sneffels--a mountain about five thousand feet in height, one of

the most remarkable in the whole island, and certainly doomed to be the

most celebrated in the world, for through its crater we shall reach the

centre of the earth."

"Impossible!" cried I, startled and shocked at the thought.

"Why impossible?" said Professor Hardwigg in his severest tones.

"Because its crater is choked with lava, by burning rocks--by infinite

dangers."

"But if it be extinct?"

"That would make a difference."

"Of course it would. There are about three hundred volcanoes on the

whole surface of the globe--but the greater number are extinct. Of these

Sneffels is one. No eruption has occurred since 1219--in fact it has

ceased to be a volcano at all."

After this what more could I say? Yes,--I thought of another objection.

"But what is all this about Scartaris and the kalends of July--?"

My uncle reflected deeply. Presently he gave forth the result of his

reflections in a sententious tone. "What appears obscure to you, to me

is light. This very phrase shows how particular Saknussemm is in his

directions. The Sneffels mountain has many craters. He is careful

therefore to point the exact one which is the highway into the Interior

of the Earth. He lets us know, for this purpose, that about the end of

the month of June, the shadow of Mount Scartaris falls upon the one

crater. There can be no doubt about the matter."

My uncle had an answer for everything.

"I accept all your explanations" I said, "and Saknussemm is right. He

found out the entrance to the bowels of the earth, he has indicated

correctly, but that he or anyone else ever followed up the discovery is

madness to suppose."

"Why so, young man?"

"All scientific teaching, theoretical and practical, shows it to be

impossible."

"I care nothing for theories," retorted my uncle.

"But is it not well-known that heat increases one degree for every

seventy feet you descend into the earth? Which gives a fine idea of the

central heat. All the matters which compose the globe are in a state of

incandescence; even gold, platinum, and the hardest rocks are in a state

of fusion. What would become of us?"

"Don't be alarmed at the heat, my boy."

"How so?"

"Neither you nor anybody else know anything about the real state of the

earth's interior. All modern experiments tend to explode the older

theories. Were any such heat to exist, the upper crust of the earth

would be shattered to atoms, and the world would be at an end."

A long, learned and not uninteresting discussion followed, which ended

in this wise:

"I do not believe in the dangers and difficulties which you, Henry, seem

to multiply; and the only way to learn, is like Arne Saknussemm, to go

and see."

"Well," cried I, overcome at last, "let us go and see. Though how we can

do that in the dark is another mystery."

"Fear nothing. We shall overcome these, and many other difficulties.

Besides, as we approach the centre, I expect to find it luminous--"

"Nothing is impossible."

"And now that we have come to a thorough understanding, not a word to

any living soul. Our success depends on secrecy and dispatch."

Thus ended our memorable conference, which roused a perfect fever in me.

Leaving my uncle, I went forth like one possessed. Reaching the banks of

the Elbe, I began to think. Was all I had heard really and truly

possible? Was my uncle in his sober senses, and could the interior of

the earth be reached? Was I the victim of a madman, or was he a

discoverer of rare courage and grandeur of conception?

To a certain extent I was anxious to be off. I was afraid my enthusiasm

would cool. I determined to pack up at once. At the end of an hour,

however, on my way home, I found that my feelings had very much changed.

"I'm all abroad," I cried; "'tis a nightmare--I must have dreamed it."

At this moment I came face to face with Gretchen, whom I warmly

embraced.

"So you have come to meet me," she said; "how good of you. But what is

the matter?"

Well, it was no use mincing the matter, I told her all. She listened

with awe, and for some minutes she could not speak.

"Well?" I at last said, rather anxiously.

"What a magnificent journey. If I were only a man! A journey worthy of

the nephew of Professor Hardwigg. I should look upon it as an honor to

accompany him."

"My dear Gretchen, I thought you would be the first to cry out against

this mad enterprise."

"No; on the contrary, I glory in it. It is magnificent, splendid--an

idea worthy of my father. Henry Lawson, I envy you."

This was, as it were, conclusive. The final blow of all.

When we entered the house we found my uncle surrounded by workmen and

porters, who were packing up. He was pulling and hauling at a bell.

"Where have you been wasting your time? Your portmanteau is not

packed--my papers are not in order--the precious tailor has not brought

my clothes, nor my gaiters--the key of my carpet bag is gone!"

I looked at him stupefied. And still he tugged away at the bell.

"We are really off, then?" I said.

"Yes--of course, and yet you go out for a stroll, unfortunate boy!"

"And when do we go?"

"The day after tomorrow, at daybreak."

I heard no more; but darted off to my little bedchamber and locked

myself in. There was no doubt about it now. My uncle had been hard at

work all the afternoon. The garden was full of ropes, rope ladders,

torches, gourds, iron clamps, crowbars, alpenstocks, and

pickaxes--enough to load ten men.

I passed a terrible night. I was called early the next day to learn that

the resolution of my uncle was unchanged and irrevocable. I also found

my cousin and affianced wife as warm on the subject as was her father.

Next day, at five o'clock in the morning, the post chaise was at the

door. Gretchen and the old cook received the keys of the house; and,

scarcely pausing to wish anyone good-by, we started on our adventurous

journey into the centre of the earth.

CHAPTER 5 - First Lessons in Climbing

At Altona, a suburb of Hamburg, is the Chief Station of the Kiel

railway, which was to take us to the shores of the Belt. In twenty

minutes from the moment of our departure we were in Holstein, and our

carriage entered the station. Our heavy luggage was taken out, weighed,

labeled, and placed in a huge van. We then took our tickets, and exactly

at seven o'clock were seated opposite each other in a firstclass railway

carriage.

My uncle said nothing. He was too busy examining his papers, among which

of course was the famous parchment, and some letters of introduction

from the Danish consul which were to pave the way to an introduction to

the Governor of Iceland. My only amusement was looking out of the

window. But as we passed through a flat though fertile country, this

occupation was slightly monotonous. In three hours we reached Kiel, and

our baggage was at once transferred to the steamer.

We had now a day before us, a delay of about ten hours. Which fact put

my uncle in a towering passion. We had nothing to do but to walk about

the pretty town and bay. At length, however, we went on board, and at

half past ten were steaming down the Great Belt. It was a dark night,

with a strong breeze and a rough sea, nothing being visible but the

occasional fires on shore, with here and there a lighthouse. At seven in

the morning we left Korsor, a little town on the western side of

Seeland.

Here we took another railway, which in three hours brought us to the

capital, Copenhagen, where, scarcely taking time for refreshment, my

uncle hurried out to present one of his letters of introduction. It was

to the director of the Museum of Antiquities, who, having been informed

that we were tourists bound for Iceland, did all he could to assist us.

One wretched hope sustained me now. Perhaps no vessel was bound for such

distant parts.

Alas! a little Danish schooner, the <i>Valkyrie</i>, was to sail on the

second of June for Reykjavik. The captain, M. Bjarne, was on board, and

was rather surprised at the energy and cordiality with which his future

passenger shook him by the hand. To him a voyage to Iceland was merely a

matter of course. My uncle, on the other hand, considered the event of

sublime importance. The honest sailor took advantage of the Professor's

enthusiasm to double the fare.

"On Tuesday morning at seven o'clock be on board," said M. Bjarne,

handing us our receipts.

"Excellent! Capital! Glorious!" remarked my uncle as we sat down to a

late breakfast; "refresh yourself, my boy, and we will take a run

through the town."

Our meal concluded, we went to the Kongens-Nye-Torw; to the king's

magnificent palace; to the beautiful bridge over the canal near the

Museum; to the immense cenotaph of Thorwaldsen with its hideous naval

groups; to the castle of Rosenberg; and to all the other lions of the

place-none of which my uncle even saw, so absorbed was he in his

anticipated triumphs.

But one thing struck his fancy, and that was a certain singular steeple

situated on the Island of Amak, which is the southeast quarter of the

city of Copenhagen. My uncle at once ordered me to turn my steps that

way, and accordingly we went on board the steam ferry boat which does

duty on the canal, and very soon reached the noted dockyard quay.

In the first instance we crossed some narrow streets, where we met

numerous groups of galley slaves, with particolored trousers, grey and

yellow, working under the orders and the sticks of severe taskmasters,

and finally reached the Vor-Frelser's-Kirk.

This church exhibited nothing remarkable in itself; in fact, the worthy

Professor had only been attracted to it by one circumstance, which was,

that its rather elevated steeple started from a circular platform, after

which there was an exterior staircase, which wound round to the very

summit.

"Let us ascend," said my uncle.

"But I never could climb church towers," I cried, "I am subject to

dizziness in my head."

"The very reason why you should go up. I want to cure you of a bad

habit."

"But, my good sir--"

"I tell you to come. What is the use of wasting so much valuable time?"

It was impossible to dispute the dictatorial commands of my uncle. I

yielded with a groan. On payment of a fee, a verger gave us the key. He,

for one, was not partial to the ascent. My uncle at once showed me the

way, running up the steps like a schoolboy. I followed as well as I

could, though no sooner was I outside the tower, than my head began to

swim. There was nothing of the eagle about me. The earth was enough for

me, and no ambitious desire to soar ever entered my mind. Still things

did not go badly until I had ascended 150 steps, and was near the

platform, when I began to feel the rush of cold air. I could scarcely

stand, when clutching the railings, I looked upwards. The railing was

frail enough, but nothing to those which skirted the terrible winding

staircase, that appeared, from where I stood, to ascend to the skies.

"Now then, Henry."

"I can't do it!" I cried, in accents of despair.

"Are you, after all, a coward, sir?" said my uncle in a pitiless tone.

"Go up, I say!"

To this there was no reply possible. And yet the keen air acted

violently on my nervous system; sky, earth, all seemed to swim round,

while the steeple rocked like a ship. My legs gave way like those of a

drunken man. I crawled upon my hands and knees; I hauled myself up

slowly, crawling like a snake. Presently I closed my eyes, and allowed

myself to be dragged upwards.

"Look around you," said my uncle in a stern voice, "heaven knows what

profound abysses you may have to look down. This is excellent practice."

Slowly, and shivering all the while with cold, I opened my eyes. What

then did I see? My first glance was upwards at the cold fleecy clouds,

which as by some optical delusion appeared to stand still, while the

steeple, the weathercock, and our two selves were carried swiftly along.

Far away on one side could be seen the grassy plain, while on the other

lay the sea bathed in translucent light. The Sund, or Sound as we call

it, could be discovered beyond the point of Elsinore, crowded with white

sails, which, at that distance looked like the wings of seagulls; while

to the east could be made out the far-off coast of Sweden. The whole

appeared a magic panorama.

But faint and bewildered as I was, there was no remedy for it. Rise and

stand up I must. Despite my protestations my first lesson lasted quite

an hour. When, nearly two hours later, I reached the bosom of mother

earth, I was like a rheumatic old man bent double with pain.

"Enough for one day," said my uncle, rubbing his hands, "we will begin

again tomorrow."

There was no remedy. My lessons lasted five days, and at the end of that

period, I ascended blithely enough, and found myself able to look down

into the depths below without even winking, and with some degree of

pleasure.

CHAPTER 6 - Our Voyage to Iceland

The hour of departure came at last. The night before, the worthy Mr.

Thompson brought us the most cordial letters of introduction for Baron

Trampe, Governor of Iceland, for M. Pictursson, coadjutor to the bishop,

and for M. Finsen, mayor of the town of Reykjavik. In return, my uncle

nearly crushed his hands, so warmly did he shake them.

On the second of the month, at two in the morning, our precious cargo of

luggage was taken on board the good ship <i>Valkyrie</i>. We followed, and

were very politely introduced by the captain to a small cabin with two

standing bed places, neither very well ventilated nor very comfortable.

But in the cause of science men are expected to suffer.

"Well, and have we a fair wind?" cried my uncle, in his most mellifluous

accents.

"An excellent wind!" replied Captain Bjarne; "we shall leave the Sound,

going free with all sails set."

A few minutes afterwards, the schooner started before the wind, under

all the canvas she could carry, and entered the channel. An hour later,

the capital of Denmark seemed to sink into the waves, and we were at no

great distance from the coast of Elsinore. My uncle was delighted; for

myself, moody and dissatisfied, I appeared almost to expect a glimpse of

the ghost of Hamlet.

"Sublime madman," thought I, "you doubtless would approve our

proceedings. You might perhaps even follow us to the centre of the

earth, there to resolve your eternal doubts."

But no ghost or anything else appeared upon the ancient walls. The fact

is, the castle is much later than the time of the heroic prince of

Denmark. It is now the residence of the keeper of the Strait of the

Sound, and through that Sound more than fifteen thousand vessels of all

nations pass every year.

The castle of Kronborg soon disappeared in the murky atmosphere, as well

as the tower of Helsinborg, which raises its head on the Swedish Bank.

And here the schooner began to feel in earnest the breezes of the

Kattegat. The <i>Valkyrie</i> was swift enough, but with all sailing boats

there is the same uncertainty. Her cargo was coal, furniture, pottery,

woolen clothing, and a load of corn. As usual, the crew was small, five

Danes doing the whole of the work.

"How long will the voyage last?" asked my uncle.

"Well, I should think about ten days," replied the skipper, "unless,

indeed, we meet with some northeast gales among the Faroe Islands."

"At all events, there will be no very considerable delay," cried the

impatient Professor.

"No, Mr. Hardwigg," said the captain, "no fear of that. At all events,

we shall get there some day."

Towards evening the schooner doubled Cape Skagen, the northernmost part

of Denmark, crossed the Skagerrak during the night--skirted the extreme

point of Norway through the gut of Cape Lindesnes, and then reached the

Northern Seas. Two days later we were not far from the coast of

Scotland, somewhere near what Danish sailors call Peterhead, and then

the <i>Valkyrie</i> stretched out direct for the Faroe Islands, between

Orkney and Shetland. Our vessel now felt the full force of the ocean

waves, and the wind shifting, we with great difficulty made the Faroe

Isles. On the eighth day, the captain made out Myganness, the

westernmost of the isles, and from that moment headed direct for

Portland, a cape on the southern shores of the singular island for which

we were bound.

The voyage offered no incident worthy of record. I bore it very well,

but my uncle to his great annoyance, and even shame, was remarkably

seasick! This mal de mer troubled him the more that it prevented him

from questioning Captain Bjarne as to the subject of Sneffels, as to the

means of communication, and the facilities of transport. All these

explanations he had to adjourn to the period of his arrival. His time,

meanwhile, was spent lying in bed groaning, and dwelling anxiously on

the hoped--for termination of the voyage. I didn't pity him.

On the eleventh day we sighted Cape Portland, over which towered Mount

Myrdals Yokul, which, the weather being clear, we made out very readily.

The cape itself is nothing but a huge mount of granite standing naked

and alone to meet the Atlantic waves. The <i>Valkyrie</i> kept off the coast,

steering to the westward. On all sides were to be seen whole "schools"

of whales and sharks. After some hours we came in sight of a solitary

rock in the ocean, forming a mighty vault, through which the foaming

waves poured with intense fury. The islets of Westman appeared to leap

from the ocean, being so low in the water as scarcely to be seen until

you were right upon them. From that moment the schooner was steered to

the westward in order to round Cape Reykjanes, the western point of

Iceland.

My uncle, to his great disgust, was unable even to crawl on deck, so

heavy a sea was on, and thus lost the first view of the Land of Promise.

Forty-eight hours later, after a storm which drove us far to sea under

bare poles, we came once more in sight of land, and were boarded by a

pilot, who, after three hours of dangerous navigation, brought the

schooner safely to an anchor in the bay of Faxa before Reykjavik.

My uncle came out of his cabin pale, haggard, thin, but full of

enthusiasm, his eyes dilated with pleasure and satisfaction. Nearly the

whole population of the town was on foot to see us land. The fact was,

that scarcely any one of them but expected some goods by the periodical

vessel.

Professor Hardwigg was in haste to leave his prison, or rather as he

called it, his hospital; but before he attempted to do so, he caught

hold of my hand, led me to the quarterdeck of the schooner, took my arm

with his left hand, and pointed inland with his right, over the northern

part of the bay, to where rose a high two-peaked mountain--a double cone

covered with eternal snow.

"Behold he whispered in an awe-stricken voice, behold--Mount Sneffels!"

Then without further remark, he put his finger to his lips, frowned

darkly, and descended into the small boat which awaited us. I followed,

and in a few minutes we stood upon the soil of mysterious Iceland!

Scarcely were we fairly on shore when there appeared before us a man of

excellent appearance, wearing the costume of a military officer. He was,

however, but a civil servant, a magistrate, the governor of the

island--Baron Trampe. The Professor knew whom he had to deal with. He

therefore handed him the letters from Copenhagen, and a brief

conversation in Danish followed, to which I of course was a stranger,

and for a very good reason, for I did not know the language in which

they conversed. I afterwards heard, however, that Baron Trampe placed

himself entirely at the beck and call of Professor Hardwigg.

My uncle was most graciously received by M. Finsen, the mayor, who as

far as costume went, was quite as military as the governor, but also

from character and occupation quite as pacific. As for his coadjutor, M.

Pictursson, he was absent on an episcopal visit to the northern portion

of the diocese. We were therefore compelled to defer the pleasure of

being presented to him. His absence was, however, more than compensated

by the presence of M. Fridriksson, professor of natural science in the

college of Reykjavik, a man of invaluable ability. This modest scholar

spoke no languages save Icelandic and Latin. When, therefore, he

addressed himself to me in the language of Horace, we at once came to

understand one another. He was, in fact, the only person that I did

thoroughly understand during the whole period of my residence in this

benighted island.

Out of three rooms of which his house was composed, two were placed at

our service, and in a few hours we were installed with all our baggage,

the amount of which rather astonished the simple inhabitants of

Reykjavik.

"Now, Harry," said my uncle, rubbing his hands, "an goes well, the worse

difficulty is now over."

"How the worse difficulty over?" I cried in fresh amazement.

"Doubtless. Here we are in Iceland. Nothing more remains but to descend

into the bowels of the earth."

"Well, sir, to a certain extent you are right. We have only to go

down--but, as far as I am concerned, that is not the question. I want to

know how we are to get up again."

"That is the least part of the business, and does not in any way trouble

me. In the meantime, there is not an hour to lose. I am about to visit

the public library. Very likely I may find there some manuscripts from

the hand of Saknussemm. I shall be glad to consult them."

"In the meanwhile," I replied, "I will take a walk through the town.

Will you not likewise do so?"

"I feel no interest in the subject," said my uncle. "What for me is

curious in this island, is not what is above the surface, but what is

below."

I bowed by way of reply, put on my hat and furred cloak, and went out.

It was not an easy matter to lose oneself in the two streets of

Reykjavik; I had therefore no need to ask my way. The town lies on a

flat and marshy plain, between two hills. A vast field of lava skirts it

on one side, falling away in terraces towards the sea. On the other hand

is the large bay of Faxa, bordered on the north by the enormous glacier

of Sneffels, and in which bay the <i>Valkyrie</i> was then the only vessel at

anchor. Generally there were one or two English or French gunboats, to

watch and protect the fisheries in the offing. They were now, however,

absent on duty.

The longest of the streets of Reykjavik runs parallel to the shore. In

this street the merchants and traders live in wooden huts made with

beams of wood, painted red--mere log huts, such as you find in the wilds

of America. The other street, situated more to the west, runs toward a

little lake between the residences of the bishop and the other

personages not engaged in commerce.

I had soon seen all I wanted of these weary and dismal thoroughfares.

Here and there was a strip of discolored turf, like an old worn-out bit

of woolen carpet; and now and then a bit of kitchen garden, in which

grew potatoes, cabbage, and lettuce, almost diminutive enough to suggest

the idea of Lilliput.

In the centre of the new commercial street, I found the public cemetery,

enclosed by an earthen wall. Though not very large, it appeared not

likely to be filled for centuries. From hence I went to the house of the

Governor--a mere hut in comparison with the Mansion House of

Hamburg--but a palace alongside the other Icelandic houses. Between the

little lake and the town was the church, built in simple Protestant

style, and composed of calcined stones, thrown up by volcanic action. I

have not the slightest doubt that in high winds its red tiles were blown

out, to the great annoyance of the pastor and congregation. Upon an

eminence close at hand was the national school, in which were taught

Hebrew, English, French, and Danish.

In three hours my tour was complete. The general impression upon my mind

was sadness. No trees, no vegetation, so to speak--on all sides volcanic

peaks--the huts of turf and earth--more like roofs than houses. Thanks

to the heat of these residences, grass grows on the roof, which grass is

carefully cut for hay. I saw but few inhabitants during my excursion,

but I met a crowd on the beach, drying, salting and loading codfish, the

principal article of exportation. The men appeared robust but heavy;

fair-haired like Germans, but of pensive mien--exiles of a higher scale

in the ladder of humanity than the Eskimos, but, I thought, much more

unhappy, since with superior perceptions they are compelled to live

within the limits of the Polar Circle.

Sometimes they gave vent to a convulsive laugh, but by no chance did

they smile. Their costume consists of a coarse capote of black wool,

known in Scandinavian countries as the "vadmel," a broad-brimmed hat,

trousers of red serge, and a piece of leather tied with strings for a

shoe--a coarse kind of moccasin. The women, though sad-looking and

mournful, had rather agreeable features, without much expression. They

wear a bodice and petticoat of somber vadmel. When unmarried they wear a

little brown knitted cap over a crown of plaited hair; but when married,

they cover their heads with a colored handkerchief, over which they tie

a white scarf.

CHAPTER 7 - Conversation and Discovery

When I returned, dinner was ready. This meal was devoured by my worthy

relative with avidity and voracity. His shipboard diet had turned his

interior into a perfect gulf. The repast, which was more Danish than

Icelandic, was in itself nothing, but the excessive hospitality of our

host made us enjoy it doubly.

The conversation turned upon scientific matters, and M. Fridriksson

asked my uncle what he thought of the public library.

"Library, sir?" cried my uncle; "it appears to me a collection of

useless odd volumes, and a beggarly amount of empty shelves."

"What!" cried M. Fridriksson; "why, we have eight thousand volumes of

most rare and valuable works--some in the Scandinavian language, besides

all the new publications from Copenhagen."

"Eight thousand volumes, my dear sir--why, where are they?" cried my

uncle.

"Scattered over the country, Professor Hardwigg. We are very studious,

my dear sir, though we do live in Iceland. Every farmer, every laborer,

every fisherman can both read and write--and we think that books instead

of being locked up in cupboards, far from the sight of students, should

be distributed as widely as possible. The books of our library are

therefore passed from hand to hand without returning to the library

shelves perhaps for years."

"Then when foreigners visit you, there is nothing for them to see?"

"Well, sir, foreigners have their own libraries, and our first

consideration is, that our humbler classes should be highly educated.

Fortunately, the love of study is innate in the Icelandic people. In

1816 we founded a Literary Society and Mechanics' Institute; many

foreign scholars of eminence are honorary members; we publish books

destined to educate our people, and these books have rendered valuable

services to our country. Allow me to have the honor, Professor Hardwigg,

to enroll you as an honorary member?"

My uncle, who already belonged to nearly every literary and scientific

institution in Europe, immediately yielded to the amiable wishes of good

M. Fridriksson.

"And now," he said, after many expressions of gratitude and good will,

"if you will tell me what books you expected to find, perhaps I may be

of some assistance to you."

I watched my uncle keenly. For a minute or two he hesitated, as if

unwilling to speak; to speak openly was, perhaps, to unveil his

projects. Nevertheless, after some reflection, he made up his mind.

"Well, M. Fridriksson," he said in an easy, unconcerned kind of way, "I

was desirous of ascertaining, if among other valuable works, you had any

of the learned Arne Saknussemm."

"Arne Saknussemm!" cried the Professor of Reykjavik; "you speak of one

of the most distinguished scholars of the sixteenth century, of the

great naturalist, the great alchemist, the great traveler."

"Exactly so."

"One of the most distinguished men connected with Icelandic science and

literature."

"As you say, sir--"

"A man illustrious above all."

"Yes, sir, all this is true, but his works?"

"We have none of them."

"Not in Iceland?"

"There are none in Iceland or elsewhere," answered the other, sadly.

"Why so?"

"Because Arne Saknussemm was persecuted for heresy, and in 1573 his

works were publicly burnt at Copenhagen, by the hands of the common

hangman."

"Very good! capital!" murmured my uncle, to the great astonishment of

the worthy Icelander.

"You said, sir--"

"Yes, yes, all is clear, I see the link in the chain; everything is

explained, and I now understand why Arne Saknussemm, put out of court,

forced to hide his magnificent discoveries, was compelled to conceal

beneath the veil of an incomprehensible cryptograph, the secret--"

"What secret?"

"A secret--which," stammered my uncle.

"Have you discovered some wonderful manuscript?" cried M. Fridriksson.

"No! no, I was carried away by my enthusiasm. A mere supposition."

"Very good, sir. But, really, to turn to another subject, I hope you

will not leave our island without examining into its mineralogical

riches."

"Well, the fact is, I am rather late. So many learned men have been here

before me."

"Yes, yes, but there is still much to be done," cried M. Fridriksson.

"You think so," said my uncle, his eyes twinkling with hidden

satisfaction.

"Yes, you have no idea how many unknown mountains, glaciers, volcanoes

there are which remain to be studied. Without moving from where we sit,

I can show you one. Yonder on the edge of the horizon, you see

Sneffels."

"Oh yes, Sneffels," said my uncle.

"One of the most curious volcanoes in existence, the crater of which has

been rarely visited."

"Extinct?"

"Extinct, any time these five hundred years," was the ready reply.

"Well," said my uncle, who dug his nails into his flesh, and pressed his

knees tightly together to prevent himself leaping up with joy. "I have a

great mind to begin my studies with an examination of the geological

mysteries of this Mount Seffel--Feisel--what do you call it?"

"Sneffels, my dear sir."

This portion of the conversation took place in Latin, and I therefore

understood all that had been said. I could scarcely keep my countenance

when I found my uncle so cunningly concealing his delight and

satisfaction. I must confess that his artful grimaces, put on to conceal

his happiness, made him look like a new Mephistopheles.

"Yes, yes," he continued, "your proposition delights me. I will endeavor

to climb to the summit of Sneffels, and, if possible, will descend into

its crater."

"I very much regret," continued M. Fridriksson, "that my occupation will

entirely preclude the possibility of my accompanying you. It would have

been both pleasurable and profitable if I could have spared the time."

"No, no, a thousand times no," cried my uncle. "I do not wish to disturb

the serenity of any man. I thank you, however, with all my heart. The

presence of one so learned as yourself, would no doubt have been most

useful, but the duties of your office and profession before everything."

In the innocence of his simple heart, our host did not perceive the

irony of these remarks.

"I entirely approve your project," continued the Icelander after some

further remarks. "It is a good idea to begin by examining this volcano.

You will make a harvest of curious observations. In the first place, how

do you propose to get to Sneffels?"

"By sea. I shall cross the bay. Of course that is the most rapid route."

"Of course. But still it cannot be done."

"Why?"

"We have not an available boat in all Reykjavik," replied the other.

"What is to be done?"

"You must go by land along the coast. It is longer, but much more

interesting."

"Then I must have a guide."

"Of course; and I have your very man."

"Somebody on whom I can depend."

"Yes, an inhabitant of the peninsula on which Sneffels is situated. He

is a very shrewd and worthy man, with whom you will be pleased. He

speaks Danish like a Dane."

"When can I see him--today?"

"No, tomorrow; he will not be here before."

"Tomorrow be it," replied my uncle, with a deep sigh.

The conversation ended by compliments on both sides. During the dinner

my uncle had learned much as to the history of Arne Saknussemm, the

reasons for his mysterious and hieroglyphical document. He also became

aware that his host would not accompany him on his adventurous

expedition, and that next day we should have a guide.

CHAPTER 8 - THE EIDER-DOWN HUNTER--OFF AT LAST

That evening I took a brief walk on the shore near Reykjavik, after

which I returned to an early sleep on my bed of coarse planks, where I

slept the sleep of the just. When I awoke I heard my uncle speaking

loudly in the next room. I rose hastily and joined him. He was talking

in Danish with a man of tall stature, and of perfectly Herculean build.

This man appeared to be possessed of very great strength. His eyes,

which started rather prominently from a very large head, the face

belonging to which was simple and naive, appeared very quick and

intelligent. Very long hair, which even in England would have been

accounted exceedingly red, fell over his athletic shoulders. This native

of Iceland was active and supple in appearance, though he scarcely moved

his arms, being in fact one of those men who despise the habit of

gesticulation common to southern people.

Everything in this man's manner revealed a calm and phlegmatic

temperament. There was nothing indolent about him, but his appearance

spoke of tranquillity. He was one of those who never seemed to expect

anything from anybody, who liked to work when he thought proper, and

whose philosophy nothing could astonish or trouble.

I began to comprehend his character, simply from the way in which he

listened to the wild and impassioned verbiage of my worthy uncle. While

the excellent Professor spoke sentence after sentence, he stood with

folded arms, utterly still, motionless to all my uncle's gesticulations.

When he wanted to say No he moved his head from left to right; when he

acquiesced he nodded, so slightly that you could scarcely see the

undulation of his head. This economy of motion was carried to the length

of avarice.

Judging from his appearance I should have been a long time before I had

suspected him to be what he was, a mighty hunter. Certainly his manner

was not likely to frighten the game. How, then, did he contrive to get

at his prey?

My surprise was slightly modified when I knew that this tranquil and

solemn personage was only a hunter of the eider duck, the down of which

is, after all, the greatest source of the Icelanders' wealth.

In the early days of summer, the female of the eider, a pretty sort of

duck, builds its nest amid the rocks of the fjords--the name given to

all narrow gulfs in Scandinavian countries--with which every part of the

island is indented. No sooner has the eider duck made her nest than she

lines the inside of it with the softest down from her breast. Then comes

the hunter or trader, taking away the nest, the poor bereaved female

begins her task over again, and this continues as long as any eider down

is to be found.

When she can find no more the male bird sets to work to see what he can

do. As, however, his down is not so soft, and has therefore no

commercial value, the hunter does not take the trouble to rob him of his

nest lining. The nest is accordingly finished, the eggs are laid, the

little ones are born, and next year the harvest of eider down is again

collected.

Now, as the eider duck never selects steep rocks or aspects to build its

nest, but rather sloping and low cliffs near to the sea, the Icelandic

hunter can carry on his trade operations without much difficulty. He is

like a farmer who has neither to plow, to sow, nor to harrow, only to

collect his harvest.

This grave, sententious, silent person, as phlegmatic as an Englishman

on the French stage, was named Hans Bjelke. He had called upon us in

consequence of the recommendation of M. Fridriksson. He was, in fact,

our future guide. It struck me that had I sought the world over, I could

not have found a greater contradiction to my impulsive uncle.

They, however, readily understood one another. Neither of them had any

thought about money; one was ready to take all that was offered him, the

other ready to offer anything that was asked. It may readily be

conceived, then, that an understanding was soon come to between them.

Now, the understanding was, that he was to take us to the village of

Stapi, situated on the southern slope of the peninsula of Sneffels, at

the very foot of the volcano. Hans, the guide, told us the distance was

about twenty-two miles, a journey which my uncle supposed would take

about two days.

But when my uncle came to understand that they were Danish miles, of

eight thousand yards each, he was obliged to be more moderate in his

ideas, and, considering the horrible roads we had to follow, to allow

eight or ten days for the journey.

Four horses were prepared for us, two to carry the baggage, and two to

bear the important weight of myself and uncle. Hans declared that

nothing ever would make him climb on the back of any animal. He knew

every inch of that part of the coast, and promised to take us the very

shortest way.

His engagement with my uncle was by no means to cease with our arrival

at Stapi; he was further to remain in his service during the whole time

required for the completion of his scientific investigations, at the

fixed salary of three rix-dollars a week, being exactly fourteen

shillings and twopence, minus one farthing, English currency. One

stipulation, however, was made by the guide--the money was to be paid to

him every Saturday night, failing which, his engagement was at an end.

The day of our departure was fixed. My uncle wished to hand the

eider-down hunter an advance, but he refused in one emphatic word--

"Efter."

Which being translated from Icelandic into plain English means--"After."

The treaty concluded, our worthy guide retired without another word.

"A splendid fellow," said my uncle; "only he little suspects the

marvelous part he is about to play in the history of the world."

"You mean, then," I cried in amazement, "that he should accompany us?"

"To the interior of the earth, yes," replied my uncle. "Why not?"

There were yet forty-eight hours to elapse before we made our final

start. To my great regret, our whole time was taken up in making

preparations for our journey. All our industry and ability were devoted

to packing every object in the most advantageous manner--the instruments

on one side, the arms on the other, the tools here and the provisions

there. There were, in fact, four distinct groups.

The instruments were of course of the best manufacture:

1. A centigrade thermometer of Eigel, counting up to 150 degrees, which

to me did not appear half enough--or too much. Too hot by half, if the

degree of heat was to ascend so high--in which case we should certainly

be cooked--not enough, if we wanted to ascertain the exact temperature

of springs or metal in a state of fusion.

2. A manometer worked by compressed air, an instrument used to ascertain

the upper atmospheric pressure on the level of the ocean. Perhaps a

common barometer would not have done as well, the atmospheric pressure

being likely to increase in proportion as we descended below the surface

of the earth.

3. A first-class chronometer made by Boissonnas, of Geneva, set at the

meridian of Hamburg, from which Germans calculate, as the English do

from Greenwich, and the French from Paris.

4. Two compasses, one for horizontal guidance, the other to ascertain

the dip.

5. A night glass.

6. Two Ruhmkorff coils, which, by means of a current of electricity,

would ensure us a very excellent, easily carried, and certain means of

obtaining light.

7. A voltaic battery on the newest principle.[1]

[1] Thermometer (<i>thermos</i>, and <i>metron</i>, measure); an instrument for

measuring the temperature of the air.--Manometer (<i>manos</i>,and <i>metron</i>,

measure); an instrument to show the density or rarity of

gases.--Chronometer (<i>chronos</i>. time, and <i>metros</i>, measure) a time

measurer, or superior watcg--Ruhmkorff's coil, an instrument for

producing currents of induced electricity of great intensity. It

consists of a coil of copper wire, insulated by being covered with silk,

surrounded by another coil of fine wire, also insulated, in which a

momentary current is induced when a current is passed through the inner

coil from a voltaic battery. When the apparatus is in action, the gas

becomes luminous, and produces a white and continued light. The battery

and wire are carried in a leather bag, which the traveler fastens by a

strap to his shoulders. The lantern is in front, and enables the

benighted wanderer to see in the most profound obscurity. He may venture

without fear of explosion into the midst of the most inflammable gases,

and the lantern will burn beneath the deepest waters. H. D. Ruhmkorff,

an able and learned chemist, discovered the induction coil. In 1864 he

won the quinquennial French prize of £2,000 for this ingenious

application of electricity--A voltaic battery, so called from Volta, its

designer, is an apparatus consisting of a series of metal plates

arranged in pairs and subjected to the action of saline solutions for

producing currents of electricity.

Our arms consisted of two rifles, with two revolving six-shooters. Why

these arms were provided it was impossible for me to say. I had every

reason to believe that we had neither wild beasts nor savage natives to

fear. My uncle, on the other hand, was quite as devoted to his arsenal

as to his collection of instruments, and above all was very careful with

his provision of fulminating or gun cotton, warranted to keep in any

climate, and of which the expansive force was known to be greater than

that of ordinary gunpowder.

Our tools consisted of two pickaxes, two crowbars, a silken ladder,

three iron-shod Alpine poles, a hatchet, a hammer, a dozen wedges, some

pointed pieces of iron, and a quantity of strong rope. You may conceive

that the whole made a tolerable parcel, especially when I mention that

the ladder itself was three hundred feet long!

Then there came the important question of provisions. The hamper was not

very large but tolerably satisfactory, for I knew that in concentrated

essence of meat and biscuit there was enough to last six months. The

only liquid provided by my uncle was Schiedam. Of water, not a drop. We

had, however, an ample supply of gourds, and my uncle counted on finding

water, and enough to fill them, as soon as we commenced our downward

journey. My remarks as to the temperature, the quality, and even as to

the possibility of none being found, remained wholly without effect.

To make up the exact list of our traveling gear--for the guidance of

future travelers--add, that we carried a medicine and surgical chest

with all apparatus necessary for wounds, fractures and blows; lint,

scissors, lancets--in fact, a perfect collection of horrible looking

instruments; a number of vials containing ammonia, alcohol, ether,

Goulard water, aromatic vinegar, in fact, every possible and impossible

drug--finally, all the materials for working the Ruhmkorff coil!

My uncle had also been careful to lay in a goodly supply of tobacco,

several flasks of very fine gunpowder, boxes of tinder, besides a large

belt crammed full of notes and gold. Good boots rendered watertight were

to be found to the number of six in the tool box.

"My boy, with such clothing, with such boots, and such general

equipment," said my uncle, in a state of rapturous delight, "we may hope

to travel far."

It took a whole day to put all these matters in order. In the evening we

dined with Baron Trampe, in company with the Mayor of Reykjavik, and

Doctor Hyaltalin, the great medical man of Iceland. M. Fridriksson was

not present, and I was afterwards sorry to hear that he and the governor

did not agree on some matters connected with the administration of the

island. Unfortunately, the consequence was, that I did not understand a

word that was said at dinner--a kind of semiofficial reception. One

thing I can say, my uncle never left off speaking.

The next day our labor came to an end. Our worthy host delighted my

uncle, Professor Hardwigg, by giving him a good map of Iceland, a most

important and precious document for a mineralogist.

Our last evening was spent in a long conversation with M. Fridriksson,

whom I liked very much--the more that I never expected to see him or

anyone else again. After this agreeable way of spending an hour or so, I

tried to sleep. In vain; with the exception of a few dozes, my night was

miserable.

At five o'clock in the morning I was awakened from the only real half

hour's sleep of the night by the loud neighing of horses under my

window. I hastily dressed myself and went down into the street. Hans was

engaged in putting the finishing stroke to our baggage, which he did in

a silent, quiet way that won my admiration, and yet he did it admirably

well. My uncle wasted a great deal of breath in giving him directions,

but worthy Hans took not the slightest notice of his words.

At six o'clock all our preparations were completed, and M. Fridriksson

shook hands heartily with us. My uncle thanked him warmly, in the

Icelandic language, for his kind hospitality, speaking truly from the

heart.

As for myself I put together a few of my best Latin phrases and paid him

the highest compliments I could. This fraternal and friendly duty

performed, we sallied forth and mounted our horses.

As soon as we were quite ready, M. Fridriksson advanced, and by way of

farewell, called after me in the words of Virgil--words which appeared

to have been made for us, travelers starting for an uncertain

destination:

"Et quacunque viam dederit fortuna sequamur."

("And whichsoever way thou goest, may fortune follow!")

CHAPTER 9 - OUR START--WE MEET WITH ADVENTURES BY THE WAY

The weather was overcast but settled, when we commenced our adventurous

and perilous journey. We had neither to fear fatiguing heat nor

drenching rain. It was, in fact, real tourist weather.

As there was nothing I liked better than horse exercise, the pleasure of

riding through an unknown country caused the early part of our

enterprise to be particularly agreeable to me.

I began to enjoy the exhilarating delight of traveling, a life of

desire, gratification and liberty. The truth is, that my spirits rose so

rapidly, that I began to be indifferent to what had once appeared to be

a terrible journey.

"After all," I said to myself, "what do I risk? Simply to take a journey

through a curious country, to climb a remarkable mountain, and if the

worst comes to the worst, to descend into the crater of an extinct

volcano."

There could be no doubt that this was all this terrible Saknussemm had

done. As to the existence of a gallery, or of subterraneous passages

leading into the interior of the earth, the idea was simply absurd, the

hallucination of a distempered imagination. All, then, that may be

required of me I will do cheerfully, and will create no difficulty.

It was just before we left Reykjavik that I came to this decision.

Hans, our extraordinary guide, went first, walking with a steady, rapid,

unvarying step. Our two horses with the luggage followed of their own

accord, without requiring whip or spur. My uncle and I came behind,

cutting a very tolerable figure upon our small but vigorous animals.

Iceland is one of the largest islands in Europe. It contains thirty

thousand square miles of surface, and has about seventy thousand

inhabitants. Geographers have divided it into four parts, and we had to

cross the southwest quarter which in the vernacular is called Sudvestr

Fjordungr.

Hans, on taking his departure from Reykjavik, had followed the line of

the sea. We took our way through poor and sparse meadows, which made a

desperate effort every year to show a little green. They very rarely

succeed in a good show of yellow.

The rugged summits of the rocky hills were dimly visible on the edge of

the horizon, through the misty fogs; every now and then some heavy

flakes of snow showed conspicuous in the morning light, while certain

lofty and pointed rocks were first lost in the grey low clouds, their

summits clearly visible above, like jagged reefs rising from a troublous

sea.

Every now and then a spur of rock came down through the arid ground,

leaving us scarcely room to pass. Our horses, however, appeared not only

well acquainted with the country, but by a kind of instinct, knew which

was the best road. My uncle had not even the satisfaction of urging

forward his steed by whip, spur, or voice. It was utterly useless to

show any signs of impatience. I could not help smiling to see him look

so big on his little horse; his long legs now and then touching the

ground made him look like a six-footed centaur.

"Good beast, good beast," he would cry. "I assure you, that I begin to

think no animal is more intelligent than an Icelandic horse. Snow,

tempest, impracticable roads, rocks, icebergs--nothing stops him. He is

brave; he is sober; he is safe; he never makes a false step; never

glides or slips from his path. I dare to say that if any river, any

fjord has to be crossed--and I have no doubt there will be many--you

will see him enter the water without hesitation like an amphibious

animal, and reach the opposite side in safety. We must not, however,

attempt to hurry him; we must allow him to have his own way, and I

will undertake to say that between us we shall do our ten leagues a

day."

"We may do so," was my reply, "but what about our worthy guide?"

"I have not the slightest anxiety about him: that sort of people go

ahead without knowing even what they are about. Look at Hans. He moves

so little that it is impossible for him to become fatigued. Besides, if

he were to complain of weariness, he could have the loan of my horse. I

should have a violent attack of the cramp if I were not to have some

sort of exercise. My arms are right--but my legs are getting a little

stiff."

All this while we were advancing at a rapid pace. The country we had

reached was already nearly a desert. Here and there could be seen an

isolated farm, some solitary bur, or Icelandic house, built of wood,

earth, fragments of lava--looking like beggars on the highway of life.

These wretched and miserable huts excited in us such pity that we felt

half disposed to leave alms at every door. In this country there are no

roads, paths are nearly unknown, and vegetation, poor as it was, slowly

as it reached perfection, soon obliterated all traces of the few

travelers who passed from place to place.

Nevertheless, this division of the province, situated only a few miles

from the capital, is considered one of the best cultivated and most

thickly peopled in all Iceland. What, then, must be the state of the

less known and more distant parts of the island? After traveling fully

half a Danish mile, we had met neither a farmer at the door of his hut,

nor even a wandering shepherd with his wild and savage flock.

A few stray cows and sheep were only seen occasionally. What, then, must

we expect when we come to the upheaved regions--to the districts broken

and roughened from volcanic eruptions and subterraneous commotions?

We were to learn this all in good time. I saw, however, on consulting

the map, that we avoided a good deal of this rough country, by following

the winding and desolate shores of the sea. In reality, the great

volcanic movement of the island, and all its attendant phenomena, are

concentrated in the interior of the island; there, horizontal layers or

strata of rocks, piled one upon the other, eruptions of basaltic origin,

and streams of lava, have given this country a kind of supernatural

reputation.

Little did I expect, however, the spectacle which awaited us when we

reached the peninsula of Sneffels, where agglomerations of nature's

ruins form a kind of terrible chaos.

Some two hours or more after we had left the city of Reykjavik, we

reached the little town called Aoalkirkja, or the principal church. It

consists simply of a few houses--not what in England or Germany we

should call a hamlet.

Hans stopped here one half hour. He shared our frugal breakfast,

answered Yes, and No to my uncle's questions as to the nature of the

road, and at last when asked where we were to pass the night was as

laconic as usual.

"Gardar!" was his one-worded reply.

I took occasion to consult the map, to see where Gardar was to be found.

After looking keenly I found a small town of that name on the borders of

the Hvalfjord, about four miles from Reykjavik. I pointed this out to my

uncle, who made a very energetic grimace.

"Only four miles out of twenty-two? Why it is only a little walk."

He was about to make some energetic observation to the guide, but Hans,

without taking the slightest notice of him, went in front of the horses,

and walked ahead with the same imperturbable phlegm he had always

exhibited.

Three hours later, still traveling over those apparently interminable

and sandy prairies, we were compelled to go round the Kollafjord, an

easier and shorter cut than crossing the gulfs. Shortly after we entered

a place of communal jurisdiction called Ejulberg, and the clock of which

would then have struck twelve, if any Icelandic church had been rich

enough to possess so valuable and useful an article. These sacred

edifices are, however, very much like these people, who do without

watches--and never miss them.

Here the horses were allowed to take some rest and refreshment, then

following a narrow strip of shore between high rocks and the sea, they

took us without further halt to the Aoalkirkja of Brantar, and after

another mile to Saurboer Annexia, a chapel of ease, situated on the

southern bank of the Hvalfjord.

It was four o'clock in the evening and we had traveled four Danish

miles, about equal to twenty English.

The fjord was in this place about half a mile in width. The sweeping and

broken waves came rolling in upon the pointed rocks; the gulf was

surrounded by rocky walls--a mighty cliff, three thousand feet in

height, remarkable for its brown strata, separated here and there by

beds of tufa of a reddish hue. Now, whatever may have been the

intelligence of our horses, I had not the slightest reliance upon them,

as a means of crossing a stormy arm of the sea. To ride over salt water

upon the back of a little horse seemed to me absurd.

"If they are really intelligent," I said to myself, "they will certainly

not make the attempt. In any case, I shall trust rather to my own

intelligence than theirs."

But my uncle was in no humor to wait. He dug his heels into the sides of

his steed, and made for the shore. His horse went to the very edge of

the water, sniffed at the approaching wave and retreated.

My uncle, who was, sooth to say, quite as obstinate as the beast he

bestrode, insisted on his making the desired advance. This attempt was

followed by a new refusal on the part of the horse which quietly shook

his head. This demonstration of rebellion was followed by a volley of

words and a stout application of whipcord; also followed by kicks on the

part of the horse, which threw its head and heels upwards and tried to

throw his rider. At length the sturdy little pony, spreading out his

legs, in a stiff and ludicrous attitude, got from under the Professor's

legs, and left him standing, with both feet on a separate stone, like

the Colossus of Rhodes.

"Wretched animal!" cried my uncle, suddenly transformed into a foot

passenger--and as angry and ashamed as a dismounted cavalry officer on

the field of battle.

"Farja," said the guide, tapping him familiarly on the shoulder.

"What, a ferry boat!"

"Der," answered Hans, pointing to where lay the boat in

question--"there."

"Well," I cried, quite delighted with the information; "so it is."

"Why did you not say so before," cried my uncle; "why not start at

once?"

"Tidvatten," said the guide.

"What does he say?" I asked, considerably puzzled by the delay and the

dialogue.

"He says tide," replied my uncle, translating the Danish word for my

information.

"Of course I understand--we must wait till the tide serves."

"For bida?" asked my uncle.

"Ja," replied Hans.

My uncle frowned, stamped his feet and then followed the horses to where

the boat lay.

I thoroughly understood and appreciated the necessity for waiting,

before crossing the fjord, for that moment when the sea at its highest

point is in a state of slack water. As neither the ebb nor flow can then

be felt, the ferry boat was in no danger of being carried out to sea, or

dashed upon the rocky coast.

The favorable moment did not come until six o'clock in the evening. Then

my uncle, myself, and guide, two boatmen and the four horses got into a

very awkward flat-bottom boat. Accustomed as I had been to the steam

ferry boats of the Elbe, I found the long oars of the boatmen but sorry

means of locomotion. We were more than an hour in crossing the fjord;

but at length the passage was concluded without accident.

Half an hour later we reached Gardar.

CHAPTER 10 - TRAVELING IN ICELAND

It ought, one would have thought, to have been night, even in the

sixty-fifth parallel of latitude; but still the nocturnal illumination

did not surprise me. For in Iceland, during the months of June and July,

the sun never sets.

The temperature, however, was very much lower than I expected. I was

cold, but even that did not affect me so much as ravenous hunger.

Welcome indeed, therefore, was the hut which hospitably opened its doors

to us.

It was merely the house of a peasant, but in the matter of hospitality,

it was worthy of being the palace of a king. As we alighted at the door

the master of the house came forward, held out his hand, and without any

further ceremony, signaled to us to follow him.

We followed him, for to accompany him was impossible. A long, narrow,

gloomy passage led into the interior of this habitation, made from beams

roughly squared by the ax. This passage gave ingress to every room. The

chambers were four in number--the kitchen, the workshop, where the

weaving was carried on, the general sleeping chamber of the family, and

the best room, to which strangers were especially invited. My uncle,

whose lofty stature had not been taken into consideration when the house

was built, contrived to knock his head against the beams of the roof.

We were introduced into our chamber, a kind of large room with a hard

earthen floor, and lighted by a window, the panes of which were made of

a sort of parchment from the intestines of sheep--very far from

transparent.

The bedding was composed of dry hay thrown into two long red wooden

boxes, ornamented with sentences painted in Icelandic. I really had no

idea that we should be made so comfortable. There was one objection to

the house, and that was, the very powerful odor of dried fish, of

macerated meat, and of sour milk, which three fragrances combined did

not at all suit my olfactory nerves.

As soon as we had freed ourselves from our heavy traveling costume, the

voice of our host was heard calling to us to come into the kitchen, the

only room in which the Icelanders ever make any fire, no matter how cold

it may be.

My uncle, nothing loath, hastened to obey this hospitable and friendly

invitation. I followed.

The kitchen chimney was made on an antique model. A large stone standing

in the middle of the room was the fireplace; above, in the roof, was a

hole for the smoke to pass through. This apartment was kitchen, parlor

and dining room all in one.

On our entrance, our worthy host, as if he had not seen us before,

advanced ceremoniously, uttered a word which means "be happy," and then

kissed both of us on the cheek.

His wife followed, pronounced the same word, with the same ceremonial,

then the husband and wife, placing their right hands upon their hearts,

bowed profoundly.

This excellent Icelandic woman was the mother of nineteen children, who,

little and big, rolled, crawled, and walked about in the midst of

volumes of smoke arising from the angular fireplace in the middle of the

room. Every now and then I could see a fresh white head, and a slightly

melancholy expression of countenance, peering at me through the vapor.

Both my uncle and myself, however, were very friendly with the whole

party, and before we were aware of it, there were three or four of these

little ones on our shoulders, as many on our boxes, and the rest hanging

about our legs. Those who could speak kept crying out saellvertu in

every possible and impossible key. Those who did not speak only made all

the more noise.

This concert was interrupted by the announcement of supper. At this

moment our worthy guide, the eider-duck hunter, came in after seeing to

the feeding and stabling of the horses--which consisted in letting them

loose to browse on the stunted green of the Icelandic prairies. There

was little for them to eat, but moss and some very dry and innutritious

grass; next day they were ready before the door, some time before we

were.

"Welcome," said Hans.

Then tranquilly, with the air of an automaton, without any more

expression in one kiss than another, he embraced the host and hostess

and their nineteen children.

This ceremony concluded to the satisfaction of all parties, we all sat

down to table, that is twenty-four of us, somewhat crowded. Those who

were best off had only two juveniles on their knees.

As soon, however, as the inevitable soup was placed on the table, the

natural taciturnity, common even to Icelandic babies, prevailed over all

else. Our host filled our plates with a portion of lichen soup of

Iceland moss, of by no means disagreeable flavor, an enormous lump of

fish floating in sour butter. After that there came some skyr, a kind of

curds and whey, served with biscuits and juniper-berry juice. To drink,

we had blanda, skimmed milk with water. I was hungry, so hungry, that by

way of dessert I finished up with a basin of thick oaten porridge.

As soon as the meal was over, the children disappeared, whilst the grown

people sat around the fireplace, on which was placed turf, heather, cow

dung and dried fish-bones. As soon as everybody was sufficiently warm, a

general dispersion took place, all retiring to their respective couches.

Our hostess offered to pull off our stockings and trousers, according to

the custom of the country, but as we graciously declined to be so

honored, she left us to our bed of dry fodder.

Next day, at five in the morning, we took our leave of these hospitable

peasants. My uncle had great difficulty in making them accept a

sufficient and proper remuneration.

Hans then gave the signal to start.

We had scarcely got a hundred yards from Gardar, when the character of

the country changed. The soil began to be marshy and boggy, and less

favorable to progress. To the right, the range of mountains was

prolonged indefinitely like a great system of natural fortifications, of

which we skirted the glacis. We met with numerous streams and rivulets

which it was necessary to ford, and that without wetting our baggage. As

we advanced, the deserted appearance increased, and yet now and then we

could see human shadows flitting in the distance. When a sudden turn of

the track brought us within easy reach of one of these specters, I felt

a sudden impulse of disgust at the sight of a swollen head, with shining

skin, utterly without hair, and whose repulsive and revolting wounds

could be seen through his rags. The unhappy wretches never came forward

to beg; on the contrary, they ran away; not so quick, however, but that

Hans was able to salute them with the universal saellvertu.

"Spetelsk," said he.

"A leper," explained my uncle.

The very sound of such a word caused a feeling of repulsion. The

horrible affliction known as leprosy, which has almost vanished before

the effects of modern science, is common in Iceland. It is not

contagious but hereditary, so that marriage is strictly prohibited to

these unfortunate creatures.

These poor lepers did not tend to enliven our journey, the scene of

which was inexpressibly sad and lonely. The very last tufts of grassy

vegetation appeared to die at our feet. Not a tree was to be seen,

except a few stunted willows about as big as blackberry bushes. Now and

then we watched a falcon soaring in the grey and misty air, taking his

flight towards warmer and sunnier regions. I could not help feeling a

sense of melancholy come over me. I sighed for my own Native Land, and

wished to be back with Gretchen.

We were compelled to cross several little fjords, and at last came to a

real gulf. The tide was at its height, and we were able to go over at

once, and reach the hamlet of Alftanes, about a mile farther.

That evening, after fording the Alfa and the Heta, two rivers rich in

trout and pike, we were compelled to pass the night in a deserted house,

worthy of being haunted by all the fays of Scandinavian mythology. The

King of Cold had taken up his residence there, and made us feel his

presence all night.

The following day was remarkable by its lack of any particular

incidents. Always the same damp and swampy soil; the same dreary

uniformity; the same sad and monotonous aspect of scenery. In the

evening, having accomplished the half of our projected journey, we slept

at the Annexia of Krosolbt.

For a whole mile we had under our feet nothing but lava. This

disposition of the soil is called <i>hraun</i>: the crumbled lava on the

surface was in some instances like ship cables stretched out

horizontally, in others coiled up in heaps; an immense field of lava

came from the neighboring mountains, all extinct volcanoes, but whose

remains showed what once they had been. Here and there could be made out

the steam from hot water springs.

There was no time, however, for us to take more than a cursory view of

these phenomena. We had to go forward with what speed we might. Soon the

soft and swampy soil again appeared under the feet of our horses, while

at every hundred yards we came upon one or more small lakes. Our journey

was now in a westerly direction; we had, in fact, swept round the great

bay of Faxa, and the twin white summits of Sneffels rose to the clouds

at a distance of less than five miles.

The horses now advanced rapidly. The accidents and difficulties of the

soil no longer checked them. I confess that fatigue began to tell

severely upon me; but my uncle was as firm and as hard as he had been on

the first day. I could not help admiring both the excellent Professor

and the worthy guide; for they appeared to regard this rugged expedition

as a mere walk!

On Saturday, the 20th June, at six o'clock in the evening, we reached

Budir, a small town picturesquely situated on the shore of the ocean;

and here the guide asked for his money. My uncle settled with him

immediately. It was now the family of Hans himself, that is to say, his

uncles, his cousins--german, who offered us hospitality. We were

exceedingly well received, and without taking too much advantage of the

goodness of these worthy people, I should have liked very much to have

rested with them after the fatigues of the journey. But my uncle, who

did not require rest, had no idea of anything of the kind; and despite

the fact that next day was Sunday, I was compelled once more to mount my

steed.

The soil was again affected by the neighborhood of the mountains, whose

granite peered out of the ground like tops of an old oak. We were

skirting the enormous base of the mighty volcano. My uncle never took

his eyes from off it; he could not keep from gesticulating, and looking

at it with a kind of sullen defiance as much as to say "That is the

giant I have made up my mind to conquer."

After four hours of steady traveling, the horses stopped of themselves

before the door of the presbytery of Stapi.

CHAPTER 11 - WE REACH MOUNT SNEFFELS--THE "REYKIR"

Stapi is a town consisting of thirty huts, built on a large plain of

lava, exposed to the rays of the sun, reflected from the volcano. It

stretches its humble tenements along the end of a little fjord,

surrounded by a basaltic wall of the most singular character.

Basalt is a brown rock of igneous origin. It assumes regular forms,

which astonish by their singular appearance. Here we found Nature

proceeding geometrically, and working quite after a human fashion, as if

she had employed the plummet line, the compass and the rule. If

elsewhere she produces grand artistic effects by piling up huge masses

without order or connection--if elsewhere we see truncated cones,

imperfect pyramids, with an odd succession of lines; here, as if wishing

to give a lesson in regularity, and preceding the architects of the

early ages, she has erected a severe order of architecture, which

neither the splendors of Babylon nor the marvels of Greece ever

surpassed.

I had often heard of the Giant's Causeway in Ireland, and of Fingal's

Cave in one of the Hebrides, but the grand spectacle of a real basaltic

formation had never yet come before my eyes.

This at Stapi gave us an idea of one in all its wonderful beauty and

grace.

The wall of the fjord, like nearly the whole of the peninsula, consisted

of a series of vertical columns, in height about thirty feet. These

upright pillars of stone, of the finest proportions, supported an

archivault of horizontal columns which formed a kind of half-vaulted

roof above the sea. At certain intervals, and below this natural basin,

the eye was pleased and surprised by the sight of oval openings through

which the outward waves came thundering in volleys of foam. Some banks

of basalt, torn from their fastenings by the fury of the waves, lay

scattered on the ground like the ruins of an ancient temple--ruins

eternally young, over which the storms of ages swept without producing

any perceptible effect!

This was the last stage of our journey. Hans had brought us along with

fidelity and intelligence, and I began to feel somewhat more comfortable

when I reflected that he was to accompany us still farther on our way.

When we halted before the house of the Rector, a small and incommodious

cabin, neither handsome nor more comfortable than those of his

neighbors, I saw a man in the act of shoeing a horse, a hammer in his

hand, and a leathern apron tied round his waist.

"Be happy," said the eider-down hunter, using his national salutation in

his own language.

"God dag--good day!" replied the former, in excellent Danish.

"Kyrkoherde," cried Hans, turning round and introducing him to my uncle.

"The Rector," repeated the worthy Professor; "it appears, my dear Harry,

that this worthy man is the Rector, and is not above doing his own

work."

During the speaking of these words the guide intimated to the Kyrkoherde

what was the true state of the case. The good man, ceasing from his

occupation, gave a kind of halloo, upon which a tall woman, almost a

giantess, came out of the hut. She was at least six feet high, which in

that region is something considerable.

My first impression was one of horror. I thought she had come to give us

the Icelandic kiss. I had, however, nothing to fear, for she did not

even show much inclination to receive us into her house.

The room devoted to strangers appeared to me to be by far the worst in

the presbytery; it was narrow, dirty and offensive. There was, however,

no choice about the matter. The Rector had no notion of practicing the

usual cordial and antique hospitality. Far from it. Before the day was

over, I found we had to deal with a blacksmith, a fisherman, a hunter, a

carpenter, anything but a clergyman. It must be said in his favor that

we had caught him on a weekday; probably he appeared to greater

advantage on the Sunday.

These poor priests receive from the Danish Government a most

ridiculously inadequate salary, and collect one quarter of the tithe of

their parish--not more than sixty marks current, or about L3 10s.

sterling. Hence the necessity of working to live. In truth, we soon

found that our host did not count civility among the cardinal virtues.

My uncle soon became aware of the kind of man he had to deal with.

Instead of a worthy and learned scholar, he found a dull ill-mannered

peasant. He therefore resolved to start on his great expedition as soon

as possible. He did not care about fatigue, and resolved to spend a few

days in the mountains.

The preparations for our departure were made the very next day after our

arrival at Stapi; Hans now hired three Icelanders to take the place of

the horses--which could no longer carry our luggage. When, however,

these worthy islanders had reached the bottom of the crater, they were

to go back and leave us to ourselves. This point was settled before they

would agree to start.

On this occasion, my uncle partly confided in Hans, the eider-duck

hunter, and gave him to understand that it was his intention to continue

his exploration of the volcano to the last possible limits.

Hans listened calmly, and then nodded his head. To go there, or

elsewhere, to bury himself in the bowels of the earth, or to travel over

its summits, was all the same to him! As for me, amused and occupied by

the incidents of travel, I had begun to forget the inevitable future;

but now I was once more destined to realize the actual state of affairs.

What was to be done? Run away? But if I really had intended to leave

Professor Hardwigg to his fate, it should have been at Hamburg and not

at the foot of Sneffels.

One idea, above all others, began to trouble me: a very terrible idea,

and one calculated to shake the nerves of a man even less sensitive than

myself.

"Let us consider the matter," I said to myself; "we are going to ascend

the Sneffels mountain. Well and good. We are about to pay a visit to the

very bottom of the crater. Good, still. Others have done it and did not

perish from that course.

"That, however, is not the whole matter to be considered. If a road does

really present itself by which to descend into the dark and

subterraneous bowels of Mother Earth, if this thrice unhappy Saknussemm

has really told the truth, we shall be most certainly lost in the midst

of the labyrinth of subterraneous galleries of the volcano. Now, we have

no evidence to prove that Sneffels is really extinct. What proof have we

that an eruption is not shortly about to take place? Because the monster

has slept soundly since 1219, does it follow that he is never to wake?

"If he does wake what is to become of us?"

These were questions worth thinking about, and upon them I reflected

long and deeply. I could not lie down in search of sleep without

dreaming of eruptions. The more I thought, the more I objected to be

reduced to the state of dross and ashes.

I could stand it no longer; so I determined at last to submit the whole

case to my uncle, in the most adroit manner possible, and under the form

of some totally irreconcilable hypothesis.

I sought him. I laid before him my fears, and then drew back in order to

let him get his passion over at his ease.

"I have been thinking about the matter," he said, in the quietest tone

in the world.

What did he mean? Was he at last about to listen to the voice of reason?

Did he think of suspending his projects? It was almost too much

happiness to be true.

I however made no remark. In fact, I was only too anxious not to

interrupt him, and allowed him to reflect at his leisure. After some

moments he spoke out.

"I have been thinking about the matter," he resumed. "Ever since we have

been at Stapi, my mind has been almost solely occupied with the grave

question which has been submitted to me by yourself--for nothing would

be unwiser and more inconsistent than to act with imprudence."

"I heartily agree with you, my dear uncle," was my somewhat hopeful

rejoinder.

"It is now six hundred years since Sneffels has spoken, but though now

reduced to a state of utter silence, he may speak again. New volcanic

eruptions are always preceded by perfectly well-known phenomena. I have

closely examined the inhabitants of this region; I have carefully

studied the soil, and I beg to tell you emphatically, my dear Harry,

there will be no eruption at present."

As I listened to his positive affirmations, I was stupefied and could

say nothing.

"I see you doubt my word," said my uncle; "follow me."

I obeyed mechanically.

Leaving the presbytery, the Professor took a road through an opening in

the basaltic rock, which led far away from the sea. We were soon in open

country, if we could give such a name to a place all covered with

volcanic deposits. The whole land seemed crushed under the weight of

enormous stones--of trap, of basalt, of granite, of lava, and of all

other volcanic substances.

I could see many spouts of steam rising in the air. These white vapors,

called in the Icelandic language "reykir," come from hot water

fountains, and indicate by their violence the volcanic activity of the

soil. Now the sight of these appeared to justify my apprehension. I was,

therefore, all the more surprised and mortified when my uncle thus

addressed me.

"You see all this smoke, Harry, my boy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, as long as you see them thus, you have nothing to fear from the

volcano."

"How can that be?"

"Be careful to remember this," continued the Professor. "At the approach

of an eruption these spouts of vapor redouble their activity--to

disappear altogether during the period of volcanic eruption; for the

elastic fluids, no longer having the necessary tension, seek refuge in

the interior of the crater, instead of escaping through the fissures of

the earth. If, then, the steam remains in its normal or habitual state,

if their energy does not increase, and if you add to this, the remark

that the wind is not replaced by heavy atmospheric pressure and dead

calm, you may be quite sure that there is no fear of any immediate

eruption."

"But--"

"Enough, my boy. When science has sent forth her fiat--it is only to

hear and obey."

I came back to the house quite downcast and disappointed. My uncle had

completely defeated me with his scientific arguments. Nevertheless, I

had still one hope, and that was, when once we were at the bottom of the

crater, that it would be impossible in default of a gallery or tunnel,

to descend any deeper; and this, despite all the learned Saknussemms in

the world.

I passed the whole of the following night with a nightmare on my chest!

and, after unheard-of miseries and tortures, found myself in the very

depths of the earth, from which I was suddenly launched into planetary

space, under the form of an eruptive rock!

Next day, June 23d, Hans calmly awaited us outside the presbytery with

his three companions loaded with provisions, tools, and instruments. Two

iron-shod poles, two guns, and two large game bags, were reserved for my

uncle and myself. Hans, who was a man who never forgot even the minutest

precautions, had added to our baggage a large skin full of water, as an

addition to our gourds. This assured us water for eight days.

It was nine o'clock in the morning when we were quite ready. The rector

and his huge wife or servant, I never knew which, stood at the door to

see us off. They appeared to be about to inflict on us the usual final

kiss of the Icelanders. To our supreme astonishment their adieu took the

shape of a formidable bill, in which they even counted the use of the

pastoral house, really and truly the most abominable and dirty place I

ever was in. The worthy couple cheated and robbed us like a Swiss

innkeeper, and made us feel, by the sum we had to pay, the splendors of

their hospitality.

My uncle, however, paid without bargaining. A man who had made up his

mind to undertake a voyage into the Interior of the Earth, is not the

man to haggle over a few miserable rix-dollars.

This important matter settled, Hans gave the signal for departure, and

some few moments later we had left Stapi.

CHAPTER 12 - THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SNEFFELS

The huge volcano which was the first stage of our daring experiment is

above five thousand feet high. Sneffels is the termination of a long

range of volcanic mountains, of a different character to the system of

the island itself. One of its peculiarities is its two huge pointed

summits. From whence we started it was impossible to make out the real

outlines of the peak against the grey field of sky. All we could

distinguish was a vast dome of white, which fell downwards from the head

of the giant.

The commencement of the great undertaking filled me with awe. Now that

we had actually started, I began to believe in the reality of the

undertaking!

Our party formed quite a procession. We walked in single file, preceded

by Hans, the imperturbable eider-duck hunter. He calmly led us by narrow

paths where two persons could by no possibility walk abreast.

Conversation was wholly impossible. We had all the more opportunity to

reflect and admire the awful grandeur of the scene around.

Beyond the extraordinary basaltic wall of the fjord of Stapi we found

ourselves making our way through fibrous turf, over which grew a scanty

vegetation of grass, the residuum of the ancient vegetation of the

swampy peninsula. The vast mass of this combustible, the field of which

as yet is utterly unexplored, would suffice to warm Iceland for a whole

century. This mighty turf pit, measured from the bottom of certain

ravines, is often not less than seventy feet deep, and presents to the

eye the view of successive layers of black burned-up rocky detritus,

separated by thin streaks of porous sandstone.

The grandeur of the spectacle was undoubted, as well as its arid and

deserted air.

As a true nephew of the great Professor Hardwigg, and despite my

preoccupation and doleful fears of what was to come, I observed with

great interest the vast collection of mineralogical curiosities spread

out before me in this vast museum of natural history. Looking back to my

recent studies, I went over in thought the whole geological history of

Iceland.

This extraordinary and curious island must have made its appearance from

out of the great world of waters at a comparatively recent date. Like

the coral islands of the Pacific, it may, for aught we know, be still

rising by slow and imperceptible degrees.

If this really be the case, its origin can be attributed to only one

cause--that of the continued action of subterranean fires.

This was a happy thought.

If so, if this were true, away with the theories of Sir Humphry Davy;

away with the authority of the parchment of Arne Saknussemm; the

wonderful pretensions to discovery on the part of my uncle--and to our

journey!

All must end in smoke.

Charmed with the idea, I began more carefully to look about me. A

serious study of the soil was necessary to negative or confirm my

hypothesis. I took in every item of what I saw, and I began to

comprehend the succession of phenomena which had preceded its formation.

Iceland, being absolutely without sedimentary soil, is composed

exclusively of volcanic tufa; that is to say, of an agglomeration of

stones and of rocks of a porous texture. Long before the existence of

volcanoes, it was composed of a solid body of massive trap rock lifted

bodily and slowly out of the sea, by the action of the centrifugal force

at work in the earth.

The internal fires, however, had not as yet burst their bounds and

flooded the exterior cake of Mother Earth with hot and raging lava.

My readers must excuse this brief and somewhat pedantic geological

lecture. But it is necessary to the complete understanding of what

follows.

At a later period in the world's history, a huge and mighty fissure

must, reasoning by analogy, have been dug diagonally from the southwest

to the northeast of the island, through which by degrees flowed the

volcanic crust. The great and wondrous phenomenon then went on without

violence--the outpouring was enormous, and the seething fused matter,

ejected from the bowels of the earth, spread slowly and peacefully in

the form of vast level plains, or what are called mamelons or mounds.

It was at this epoch that the rocks called feldspars, syenites, and

porphyries appeared.

But as a natural consequence of this overflow, the depth of the island

increased. It can readily be believed what an enormous quantity of

elastic fluids were piled up within its centre, when at last it afforded

no other openings, after the process of cooling the crust had taken

place.

At length a time came when despite the enormous thickness and weight of

the upper crust, the mechanical forces of the combustible gases below

became so great, that they actually upheaved the weighty back and made

for themselves huge and gigantic shafts. Hence the volcanoes which

suddenly arose through the upper crust, and next the craters, which

burst forth at the summit of these new creations.

It will be seen that the first phenomena in connection with the

formation of the island were simply eruptive; to these, however, shortly

succeeded the volcanic phenomena.

Through the newly formed openings, escaped the marvelous mass of

basaltic stones with which the plain we were now crossing was covered.

We were trampling our way over heavy rocks of dark grey color, which,

while cooling, had been moulded into six-sided prisms. In the "back

distance" we could see a number of flattened cones, which formerly were

so many fire-vomiting mouths.

After the basaltic eruption was appeased and set at rest, the volcano,

the force of which increased with that of the extinct craters, gave free

passage to the fiery overflow of lava, and to the mass of cinders and

pumice stone, now scattered over the sides of the mountain, like

disheveled hair on the shoulders of a Bacchante.

Here, in a nutshell, I had the whole history of the phenomena from which

Iceland arose. All take their rise in the fierce action of interior

fires, and to believe that the central mass did not remain in a state of

liquid fire, white hot, was simply and purely madness.

This being satisfactorily proved (Q.E.D.), what insensate folly to

pretend to penetrate into the interior of the mighty earth!

This mental lecture delivered to myself while proceeding on a journey,

did me good. I was quite reassured as to the fate of our enterprise; and

therefore went, like a brave soldier mounting a bristling battery, to

the assault of old Sneffels.

As we advanced, the road became every moment more difficult. The soil

was broken and dangerous. The rocks broke and gave way under our feet,

and we had to be scrupulously careful in order to avoid dangerous and

constant falls.

Hans advanced as calmly as if he had been walking over Salisbury Plain;

sometimes he would disappear behind huge blocks of stone, and we

momentarily lost sight of him. There was a little period of anxiety and

then there was a shrill whistle, just to tell us where to look for him.

Occasionally he would take it into his head to stop to pick up lumps of

rock, and silently pile them up into small heaps, in order that we might

not lose our way on our return.

He had no idea of the journey we were about to undertake.

At all events, the precaution was a good one; though how utterly useless

and unnecessary--but I must not anticipate.

Three hours of terrible fatigue, walking incessantly, had only brought

us to the foot of the great mountain. This will give some notion of what

we had still to undergo.

Suddenly, however, Hans cried a halt--that is, he made signs to that

effect--and a summary kind of breakfast was laid out on the lava before

us. My uncle, who now was simply Professor Hardwigg, was so eager to

advance, that he bolted his food like a greedy clown. This halt for

refreshment was also a halt for repose. The Professor was therefore

compelled to wait the good pleasure of his imperturbable guide, who did

not give the signal for departure for a good hour.

The three Icelanders, who were as taciturn as their comrade, did not say

a word; but went on eating and drinking very quietly and soberly.

From this, our first real stage, we began to ascend the slopes of the

Sneffels volcano. Its magnificent snowy nightcap, as we began to call

it, by an optical delusion very common in mountains, appeared to me to

be close at hand; and yet how many long weary hours must elapse before

we reached its summit. What unheard-of fatigue must we endure!

The stones on the mountain side, held together by no cement of soil,

bound together by no roots or creeping herbs, gave way continually under

our feet, and went rushing below into the plains, like a series of small

avalanches.

In certain places the sides of this stupendous mountain were at an angle

so steep that it was impossible to climb upwards, and we were compelled

to get round these obstacles as best we might.

Those who understand Alpine climbing will comprehend our difficulties.

Often we were obliged to help each other along by means of our climbing

poles.

I must say this for my uncle, that he stuck as close to me as possible.

He never lost sight of me, and on many occasions his arm supplied me

with firm and solid support. He was strong, wiry, and apparently

insensible to fatigue. Another great advantage with him was that he had

the innate sentiment of equilibrium--for he never slipped or failed in

his steps. The Icelanders, though heavily loaded, climbed with the

agility of mountaineers.

Looking up, every now and then, at the height of the great volcano of

Sneffels, it appeared to me wholly impossible to reach to the summit on

that side; at all events, if the angle of inclination did not speedily

change.

Fortunately, after an hour of unheard-of fatigues, and of gymnastic

exercises that would have been trying to an acrobat, we came to a vast

field of ice, which wholly surrounded the bottom of the cone of the

volcano. The natives called it the tablecloth, probably from some such

reason as the dwellers in the Cape of Good Hope call their mountain

Table Mountain, and their roads Table Bay.

Here, to our mutual surprise, we found an actual flight of stone steps,

which wonderfully assisted our ascent. This singular flight of stairs

was, like everything else, volcanic. It had been formed by one of those

torrents of stones cast up by the eruptions, and of which the Icelandic

name is stina. If this singular torrent had not been checked in its

descent by the peculiar shape of the flanks of the mountain, it would

have swept into the sea, and would have formed new islands.

Such as it was, it served us admirably. The abrupt character of the

slopes momentarily increased, but these remarkable stone steps, a little

less difficult than those of the Egyptian pyramids, were the one simple

natural means by which we were enabled to proceed.

About seven in the evening of that day, after having clambered up two

thousand of these rough steps, we found ourselves overlooking a kind of

spur or projection of the mountain--a sort of buttress upon which the

conelike crater, properly so called, leaned for support.

The ocean lay beneath us at a depth of more than three thousand two

hundred feet--a grand and mighty spectacle. We had reached the region of

eternal snows.

The cold was keen, searching and intense. The wind blew with

extraordinary violence. I was utterly exhausted.

My worthy uncle, the Professor, saw clearly that my legs refused further

service, and that, in fact, I was utterly exhausted. Despite his hot and

feverish impatience, he decided, with a sigh, upon a halt. He called the

eider-duck hunter to his side. That worthy, however, shook his head.

"Ofvanfor," was his sole spoken reply.

"It appears," says my uncle with a woebegone look, "that we must go

higher."

He then turned to Hans, and asked him to give some reason for this

decisive response.

"Mistour," replied the guide.

"Ja, mistour--yes, the mistour," cried one of the Icelandic guides in a

terrified tone.

It was the first time he had spoken.

"What does this mysterious word signify?" I anxiously inquired.

"Look," said my uncle.

I looked down upon the plain below, and I saw a vast, a prodigious

volume of pulverized pumice stone, of sand, of dust, rising to the

heavens in the form of a mighty waterspout. It resembled the fearful

phenomenon of a similar character known to the travelers in the desert

of the great Sahara.

The wind was driving it directly towards that side of Sneffels on which

we were perched. This opaque veil standing up between us and the sun

projected a deep shadow on the flanks of the mountain. If this sand

spout broke over us, we must all be infallibly destroyed, crushed in its

fearful embraces. This extraordinary phenomenon, very common when the

wind shakes the glaciers, and sweeps over the arid plains, is in the

Icelandic tongue called "mistour."

"Hastigt, hastigt!" cried our guide.

Now I certainly knew nothing of Danish, but I thoroughly understood that

his gestures were meant to quicken us.

The guide turned rapidly in a direction which would take us to the back

of the crater, all the while ascending slightly.

We followed rapidly, despite our excessive fatigue.

A quarter of an hour later Hans paused to enable us to look back. The

mighty whirlwind of sand was spreading up the slope of the mountain to

the very spot where we had proposed to halt. Huge stones were caught up,

cast into the air, and thrown about as during an eruption. We were

happily a little out of the direction of the wind, and therefore out of

reach of danger. But for the precaution and knowledge of our guide, our

dislocated bodies, our crushed and broken limbs, would have been cast to

the wind, like dust from some unknown meteor.

Hans, however, did not think it prudent to pass the night on the bare

side of the cone. We therefore continued our journey in a zigzag

direction. The fifteen hundred feet which remained to be accomplished

took us at least five hours. The turnings and windings, the

no-thoroughfares, the marches and marches, turned that insignificant

distance into at least three leagues. I never felt such misery, fatigue

and exhaustion in my life. I was ready to faint from hunger and cold.

The rarefied air at the same time painfully acted upon my lungs.

At last, when I thought myself at my last gasp, about eleven at night,

it being in that region quite dark, we reached the summit of Mount

Sneffels! It was in an awful mood of mind, that despite my fatigue,

before I descended into the crater which was to shelter us for the

night, I paused to behold the sun rise at midnight on the very day of

its lowest declension, and enjoyed the spectacle of its ghastly pale

rays cast upon the isle which lay sleeping at our feet!

I no longer wondered at people traveling all the way from England to

Norway to behold this magical and wondrous spectacle.

CHAPTER 13 - THE SHADOW OF SCARTARIS

Our supper was eaten with ease and rapidity, after which everybody did

the best he could for himself within the hollow of the crater. The bed

was hard, the shelter unsatisfactory, the situation painful--lying in

the open air, five thousand feet above the level of the sea!

Nevertheless, it has seldom happened to me to sleep so well as I did on

that particular night. I did not even dream. So much for the effects of

what my uncle called "wholesome fatigue."

Next day, when we awoke under the rays of a bright and glorious sun, we

were nearly frozen by the keen air. I left my granite couch and made one

of the party to enjoy a view of the magnificent spectacle which

developed itself, panorama-like, at our feet.

I stood upon the lofty summit of Mount Sneffels' southern peak. Thence I

was able to obtain a view of the greater part of the island. The optical

delusion, common to all lofty heights, raised the shores of the island,

while the central portions appeared depressed. It was by no means too

great a flight of fancy to believe that a giant picture was stretched

out before me. I could see the deep valleys that crossed each other in

every direction. I could see precipices looking like sides of wells,

lakes that seemed to be changed into ponds, ponds that looked like

puddles, and rivers that were transformed into petty brooks. To my right

were glaciers upon glaciers, and multiplied peaks, topped with light

clouds of smoke.

The undulation of these infinite numbers of mountains, whose snowy

summits make them look as if covered by foam, recalled to my remembrance

the surface of a storm-beaten ocean. If I looked towards the west, the

ocean lay before me in all its majestic grandeur, a continuation as it

were, of these fleecy hilltops.

Where the earth ended and the sea began it was impossible for the eye to

distinguish.

I soon felt that strange and mysterious sensation which is awakened in

the mind when looking down from lofty hilltops, and now I was able to do

so without any feeling of nervousness, having fortunately hardened

myself to that kind of sublime contemplation.

I wholly forgot who I was, and where I was. I became intoxicated with a

sense of lofty sublimity, without thought of the abysses into which my

daring was soon about to plunge me. I was presently, however, brought

back to the realities of life by the arrival of the Professor and Hans,

who joined me upon the lofty summit of the peak.

My uncle, turning in a westerly direction, pointed out to me a light

cloud of vapor, a kind of haze, with a faint outline of land rising out

of the waters.

"Greenland!" said he.

"Greenland?" cried I in reply.

"Yes," continued my uncle, who always when explaining anything spoke as

if he were in a professor's chair; "we are not more than thirty-five

leagues distant from that wonderful land. When the great annual breakup

of the ice takes place, white bears come over to Iceland, carried by the

floating masses of ice from the north. This, however, is a matter of

little consequence. We are now on the summit of the great, the

transcendent Sneffels, and here are its two peaks, north and south. Hans

will tell you the name by which the people of Iceland call that on which

we stand."

My uncle turned to the imperturbable guide, who nodded, and spoke as

usual--one word.

"Scartaris."

My uncle looked at me with a proud and triumphant glance.

"A crater," he said, "you hear?"

I did hear, but I was totally unable to make reply.

The crater of Mount Sneffels represented an inverted cone, the gaping

orifice apparently half a mile across; the depth indefinite feet.

Conceive what this hole must have been like when full of flame and

thunder and lightning. The bottom of the funnel-shaped hollow was about

five hundred feet in circumference, by which it will be seen that the

slope from the summit to the bottom was very gradual, and we were

therefore clearly able to get there without much fatigue or difficulty.

Involuntarily, I compared this crater to an enormous loaded cannon; and

the comparison completely terrified me.

"To descend into the interior of a cannon," I thought to myself, "when

perhaps it is loaded, and will go off at the least shock, is the act of

a madman."

But there was no longer any opportunity for me to hesitate. Hans, with a

perfectly calm and indifferent air, took his usual post at the head of

the adventurous little band. I followed without uttering a syllable.

I felt like the lamb led to the slaughter.

In order to render the descent less difficult, Hans took his way down

the interior of the cone in rather a zigzag fashion, making, as the

sailors say, long tracks to the eastward, followed by equally long ones

to the west. It was necessary to walk through the midst of eruptive

rocks, some of which, shaken in their balance, went rolling down with

thundering clamor to the bottom of the abyss. These continual falls

awoke echoes of singular power and effect.

Many portions of the cone consisted of inferior glaciers. Hans, whenever

he met with one of these obstacles, advanced with a great show of

precaution, sounding the soil with his long iron pole in order to

discover fissures and layers of deep soft snow. In many doubtful or

dangerous places, it became necessary for us to be tied together by a

long rope in order that should any one of us be unfortunate enough to

slip, he would be supported by his companions. This connecting link was

doubtless a prudent precaution, but not by any means unattended with

danger.

Nevertheless, and despite all the manifold difficulties of the descent,

along slopes with which our guide was wholly unacquainted, we made

considerable progress without accident. One of our great parcels of rope

slipped from one of the Iceland porters, and rushed by a short cut to

the bottom of the abyss.

By midday we were at the end of our journey. I looked upwards, and saw

only the upper orifice of the cone, which served as a circular frame to

a very small portion of the sky--a portion which seemed to me singularly

beautiful. Should I ever again gaze on that lovely sunlit sky!

The only exception to this extraordinary landscape, was the Peak of

Scartaris, which seemed lost in the great void of the heavens.

The bottom of the crater was composed of three separate shafts, through

which, during periods of eruption, when Sneffels was in action, the

great central furnace sent forth its burning lava and poisonous vapors.

Each of these chimneys or shafts gaped open-mouthed in our path. I kept

as far away from them as possible, not even venturing to take the

faintest peep downwards.

As for the Professor, after a rapid examination of their disposition and

characteristics, he became breathless and panting. He ran from one to

the other like a delighted schoolboy, gesticulating wildly, and uttering

incomprehensible and disjointed phrases in all sorts of languages.

Hans, the guide, and his humbler companions seated themselves on some

piles of lava and looked silently on. They clearly took my uncle for a

lunatic; and--waited the result.

Suddenly the Professor uttered a wild, unearthly cry. At first I

imagined he had lost his footing, and was falling headlong into one of

the yawning gulfs. Nothing of the kind. I saw him, his arms spread out

to their widest extent, his legs stretched apart, standing upright

before an enormous pedestal, high enough and black enough to bear a

gigantic statue of Pluto. His attitude and mien were that of a man

utterly stupefied. But his stupefaction was speedily changed to the

wildest joy.

"Harry! Harry! come here!" he cried; "make haste--wonderful--wonderful!"

Unable to understand what he meant, I turned to obey his commands.

Neither Hans nor the other Icelanders moved a step.

"Look!" said the Professor, in something of the manner of the French

general, pointing out the pyramids to his army.

And fully partaking his stupefaction, if not his joy, I read on the

eastern side of the huge block of stone, the same characters, half eaten

away by the corrosive action of time, the name, to me a thousand times

accursed--

[Illustration: Runic Glyphs]

"Arne Saknussemm!" cried my uncle, "now, unbeliever, do you begin to

have faith?"

It was totally impossible for me to answer a single word. I went back to

my pile of lava, in a state of silent awe. The evidence was

unanswerable, overwhelming!

In a few moments, however, my thoughts were far away, back in my German

home, with Gretchen and the old cook. What would I have given for one of

my cousin's smiles, for one of the ancient domestic's omelettes, and for

my own feather bed!

How long I remained in this state I know not. All I can say is, that

when at last I raised my head from between my hands, there remained at

the bottom of the crater only myself, my uncle and Hans. The Icelandic

porters had been dismissed and were now descending the exterior slopes

of Mount Sneffels, on their way to Stapi. How heartily did I wish myself

with them!

Hans slept tranquilly at the foot of a rock in a kind of rill of lava,

where he had made himself a rough and ready bed. MY uncle was walking

about the bottom of the crater like a wild beast in a cage. I had no

desire, neither had I the strength, to move from my recumbent position.

Taking example by the guide, I gave way to a kind of painful somnolency,

during which I seemed both to hear and feel continued heavings and

shudderings in the mountain.

In this way we passed our first night in the interior of a crater.

Next morning, a grey, cloudy, heavy sky hung like a funereal pall over

the summit of the volcanic cone. I did not notice it so much from the

obscurity that reigned around us, as from the rage with which my uncle

was devoured.

I fully understood the reason, and again a glimpse of hope made my heart

leap with joy. I will briefly explain the cause.

Of the three openings which yawned beneath our steps, only one could

have been followed by the adventurous Saknussemm. According to the words

of the learned Icelander, it was only to be known by that one particular

mentioned in the cryptograph, that the shadow of Scartaris fell upon it,

just touching its mouth in the last days of the month of June.

We were, in fact, to consider the pointed peak as the stylus of an

immense sun-dial, the shadow of which pointed on one given day, like the

inexorable finger of fate, to the yawning chasm which led into the

interior of the earth.

Now, as often happens in these regions, should the sun fail to burst

through the clouds, no shadow. Consequently, no chance of discovering

the right aperture. We had already reached the 25th June. If the kindly

heavens would only remain densely clouded for six more days, we should

have to put off our voyage of discovery for another year, when certainly

there would be one person fewer in the party. I already had sufficient

of the mad and monstrous enterprise.

It would be utterly impossible to depict the impotent rage of Professor

Hardwigg. The day passed away, and not the faintest outline of a shadow

could be seen at the bottom of the crater. Hans the guide never moved

from his place. He must have been curious to know what we were about, if

indeed he could believe we were about anything. As for my uncle, he

never addressed a word to me. He was nursing his wrath to keep it warm!

His eyes fixed on the black and foggy atmosphere, his complexion hideous

with suppressed passion. Never had his eyes appeared so fierce, his nose

so aquiline, his mouth so hard and firm.

On the 26th no change for the better. A mixture of rain and snow fell

during the whole day. Hans very quietly built himself a hut of lava into

which he retired like Diogenes into his tub. I took a malicious delight

in watching the thousand little cascades that flowed down the side of

the cone, carrying with them at times a stream of stones into the "vasty

deep" below.

My uncle was almost frantic: to be sure, it was enough to make even a

patient man angry. He had reached to a certain extent the goal of his

desires, and yet he was likely to be wrecked in port.

But if the heavens and the elements are capable of causing us much pain

and sorrow, there are two sides to a medal. And there was reserved for

Professor Hardwigg a brilliant and sudden surprise which was to

compensate him for all his sufferings.

Next day the sky was still overcast, but on Sunday, the 28th, the last

day but two of the month, with a sudden change of wind and a new moon

there came a change of weather. The sun poured its beaming rays to the

very bottom of the crater.

Each hillock, every rock, every stone, every asperity of the soil had

its share of the luminous effulgence, and its shadow fell heavily on the

soil. Among others, to his insane delight, the shadow of Scartaris was

marked and clear, and moved slowly with the radiant start of day.

My uncle moved with it in a state of mental ecstasy.

At twelve o'clock exactly, when the sun had attained its highest

altitude for the day, the shadow fell upon the edge of the central pit!

"Here it is," gasped the Professor in an agony of joy, "here it is--we

have found it. Forward, my friends, into the Interior of the Earth."

I looked curiously at Hans to see what reply he would make to this

terrific announcement.

"Forut," said the guide tranquilly.

"Forward it is," answered my uncle, who was now in the seventh heaven of

delight.

When we were quite ready, our watches indicated thirteen minutes past

one!

CHAPTER 14 - THE REAL JOURNEY COMMENCES

Our real journey had now commenced. Hitherto our courage and

determination had overcome all difficulties. We were fatigued at times;

and that was all. Now we were about to encounter unknown and fearful

dangers.

I had not as yet ventured to take a glimpse down the horrible abyss into

which in a few minutes more I was about to plunge. The fatal moment had,

however, at last arrived. I had still the option of refusing or

accepting a share in this foolish and audacious enterprise. But I was

ashamed to show more fear than the eider-duck hunter. Hans seemed to

accept the difficulties of the journey so tranquilly, with such calm

indifference, with such perfect recklessness of all danger, that I

actually blushed to appear less of a man than he!

Had I been alone with my uncle, I should certainly have sat down and

argued the point fully; but in the presence of the guide I held my

tongue. I gave one moment to the thought of my charming cousin, and then

I advanced to the mouth of the central shaft.

It measured about a hundred feet in diameter, which made about three

hundred in circumference. I leaned over a rock which stood on its edge,

and looked down. My hair stood on end, my teeth chattered, my limbs

trembled. I seemed utterly to lose my centre of gravity, while my head

was in a sort of whirl, like that of a drunken man. There is nothing

more powerful than this attraction towards an abyss. I was about to fall

headlong into the gaping well, when I was drawn back by a firm and

powerful hand. It was that of Hans. I had not taken lessons enough at

the Frelser's-Kirk of Copenhagen in the art of looking down from lofty

eminences without blinking!

However, few as the minutes were during which I gazed down this

tremendous and even wondrous shaft, I had a sufficient glimpse of it to

give me some idea of its physical conformation. Its sides, which were

almost as perpendicular as those of a well, presented numerous

projections which doubtless would assist our descent.

It was a sort of wild and savage staircase, without bannister or fence.

A rope fastened above, near the surface, would certainly support our

weight and enable us to reach the bottom, but how, when we had arrived

at its utmost depth, were we to loosen it above? This was, I thought, a

question of some importance.

My uncle, however, was one of those men who are nearly always prepared

with expedients. He hit upon a very simple method of obviating this

difficulty. He unrolled a cord about as thick as my thumb, and at least

four hundred feet in length. He allowed about half of it to go down the

pit and catch in a hitch over a great block of lava which stood on the

edge of the precipice. This done, he threw the second half after the

first.

Each of us could now descend by catching the two cords in one hand. When

about two hundred feet below, all the explorer had to do was to let go

one end and pull away at the other, when the cord would come falling at

his feet. In order to go down farther, all that was necessary was to

continue the same operation.

This was a very excellent proposition, and no doubt, a correct one.

Going down appeared to me easy enough; it was the coming up again that

now occupied my thoughts.

"Now," said my uncle, as soon as he had completed this important

preparation, "let us see about the baggage. It must be divided into

three separate parcels, and each of us must carry one on his back. I

allude to the more important and fragile articles."

My worthy and ingenious uncle did not appear to consider that we came

under the denomination.

"Hans," he continued, "you will take charge of the tools and some of the

provisions; you, Harry, must take possession of another third of the

provisions and of the arms. I will load myself with the rest of the

eatables, and with the more delicate instruments."

"But," I exclaimed, "our clothes, this mass of cord and ladders--who

will undertake to carry them down?"

"They will go down of themselves."

"And how so?" I asked.

"You shall see."

My uncle was not fond of half measures, nor did he like anything in the

way of hesitation. Giving his orders to Hans he had the whole of the

nonfragile articles made up into one bundle; and the packet, firmly and

solidly fastened, was simply pitched over the edge of the gulf.

I heard the moaning of the suddenly displaced air, and the noise of

falling stones. My uncle leaning over the abyss followed the descent of

his luggage with a perfectly self-satisfied air, and did not rise until

it had completely disappeared from sight.

"Now then," he cried, "it is our turn."

I put it in good faith to any man of common sense--was it possible to

hear this energetic cry without a shudder?

The Professor fastened his case of instruments on his back. Hans took

charge of the tools, I of the arms. The descent then commenced in the

following order: Hans went first, my uncle followed, and I went last.

Our progress was made in profound silence--a silence only troubled by

the fall of pieces of rock, which breaking from the jagged sides, fell

with a roar into the depths below.

I allowed myself to slide, so to speak, holding frantically on the

double cord with one hand and with the other keeping myself off the

rocks by the assistance of my iron-shod pole. One idea was all the time

impressed upon my brain. I feared that the upper support would fail me.

The cord appeared to me far too fragile to bear the weight of three such

persons as we were, with our luggage. I made as little use of it as

possible, trusting to my own agility and doing miracles in the way of

feats of dexterity and strength upon the projecting shelves and spurs of

lava which my feet seemed to clutch as strongly as my hands.

The guide went first, I have said, and when one of the slippery and

frail supports broke from under his feet he had recourse to his usual

monosyllabic way of speaking.

"Gif akt--"

"Attention--look out," repeated my uncle.

In about half an hour we reached a kind of small terrace formed by a

fragment of rock projecting some distance from the sides of the shaft.

Hans now began to haul upon the cord on one side only, the other going

as quietly upward as the other came down. It fell at last, bringing with

it a shower of small stones, lava and dust, a disagreeable kind of rain

or hail.

While we were seated on this extraordinary bench I ventured once more to

look downwards. With a sigh I discovered that the bottom was still

wholly invisible. Were we, then, going direct to the interior of the

earth?

The performance with the cord recommenced, and a quarter of an hour

later we had reached to the depth of another two hundred feet.

I have very strong doubts if the most determined geologist would, during

that descent, have studied the nature of the different layers of earth

around him. I did not trouble my head much about the matter; whether we

were among the combustible carbon, Silurians, or primitive soil, I

neither knew nor cared to know.

Not so the inveterate Professor. He must have taken notes all the way

down, for, at one of our halts, he began a brief lecture.

"The farther we advance," said he, "the greater is my confidence in the

result. The disposition of these volcanic strata absolutely confirms the

theories of Sir Humphry Davy. We are still within the region of the

primordial soil, the soil in which took place the chemical operation of

metals becoming inflamed by coming in contact with the air and water. I

at once regret the old and now forever exploded theory of a central

fire. At all events, we shall soon know the truth."

Such was the everlasting conclusion to which he came. I, however, was

very far from being in humor to discuss the matter. I had something else

to think of. My silence was taken for consent; and still we continued to

go down.

At the expiration of three hours, we were, to all appearance, as far off

as ever from the bottom of the well. When I looked upwards, however, I

could see that the upper orifice was every minute decreasing in size.

The sides of the shaft were getting closer and closer together, we were

approaching the regions of eternal night!

And still we continued to descend!

At length, I noticed that when pieces of stone were detached from the

sides of this stupendous precipice, they were swallowed up with less

noise than before. The final sound was sooner heard. We were approaching

the bottom of the abyss!

As I had been very careful to keep account of an the changes of cord

which took place, I was able to tell exactly what was the depth we had

reached, as well as the time it had taken.

We had shifted the rope twenty-eight times, each operation taking a

quarter of an hour, which in all made seven hours. To this had to be

added twenty-eight pauses; in all ten hours and a half. We started at

one, it was now, therefore, about eleven o'clock at night.

It does not require great knowledge of arithmetic to know that

twenty-eight times two hundred feet makes five thousand six hundred feet

in all (more than an English mile).

While I was making this mental calculation a voice broke the silence. It

was the voice of Hans.

"Halt!" he cried.

I checked myself very suddenly, just at the moment when I was about to

kick my uncle on the head.

"We have reached the end of our journey," said the worthy Professor in a

satisfied tone.

"What, the interior of the earth?" said I, slipping down to his side.

"No, you stupid fellow! but we have reached the bottom of the well."

"And I suppose there is no farther progress to be made?" I hopefully

exclaimed.

"Oh, yes, I can dimly see a sort of tunnel, which turns off obliquely to

the right. At all events, we must see about that tomorrow. Let us sup

now, and seek slumber as best we may."

I thought it time, but made no observations on that point. I was fairly

launched on a desperate course, and all I had to do was to go forward

hopefully and trustingly.

It was not even now quite dark, the light filtering down in a most

extraordinary manner.

We opened the provision bag, ate a frugal supper, and each did his best

to find a bed amid the pile of stones, dirt, and lava which had

accumulated for ages at the bottom of the shaft.

I happened to grope out the pile of ropes, ladders, and clothes which we

had thrown down; and upon them I stretched myself. After such a day's

labor, my rough bed seemed as soft as down!

For a while I lay in a sort of pleasant trance.

Presently, after lying quietly for some minutes, I opened my eyes and

looked upwards. As I did so I made out a brilliant little dot, at the

extremity of this long, gigantic telescope.

It was a star without scintillating rays. According to my calculation,

it must be Beta in the constellation of the Little Bear.

After this little bit of astronomical recreation, I dropped into a sound

sleep.

CHAPTER 15 - WE CONTINUE OUR DESCENT

At eight o'clock the next morning, a faint kind of dawn of day awoke us.

The thousand and one prisms of the lava collected the light as it passed

and brought it to us like a shower of sparks.

We were able with ease to see objects around us.

"Well, Harry, my boy," cried the delighted Professor, rubbing his hands

together, "what say you now? Did you ever pass a more tranquil night in

our house in the Konigstrasse? No deafening sounds of cart wheels, no

cries of hawkers, no bad language from boatmen or watermen!"

"Well, Uncle, we are quite at the bottom of this well--but to me there

is something terrible in this calm."

"Why," said the Professor hotly, "one would say you were already

beginning to be afraid. How will you get on presently? Do you know, that

as yet, we have not penetrated one inch into the bowels of the earth."

"What can you mean, sir?" was my bewildered and astonished reply.

"I mean to say that we have only just reached the soil of the island

itself. This long vertical tube, which ends at the bottom of the crater

of Sneffels, ceases here just about on a level with the sea."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Quite sure. Consult the barometer."

It was quite true that the mercury, after rising gradually in the

instrument, as long as our descent was taking place, had stopped

precisely at twenty-nine degrees.

"You perceive," said the Professor, "we have as yet only to endure the

pressure of air. I am curious to replace the barometer by the

manometer."

The barometer, in fact, was about to become useless--as soon as the

weight of the air was greater than what was calculated as above the

level of the ocean.

"But," said I, "is it not very much to be feared that this

ever-increasing pressure may not in the end turn out very painful and

inconvenient?"

"No," said he. "We shall descend very slowly, and our lungs will be

gradually accustomed to breathe compressed air. It is well known that

aeronauts have gone so high as to be nearly without air at all--why,

then, should we not accustom ourselves to breathe when we have, say, a

little too much of it? For myself, I am certain I shall prefer it. Let

us not lose a moment. Where is the packet which preceded us in our

descent?"

I smilingly pointed it out to my uncle. Hans had not seen it, and

believed it caught somewhere above us: "Huppe" as he phrased it.

"Now," said my uncle, "let us breakfast, and break fast like people who

have a long day's work before them."

Biscuit and dried meat, washed down by some mouthfuls of water flavored

with Schiedam, was the material of our luxurious meal.

As soon as it was finished, my uncle took from his pocket a notebook

destined to be filled by memoranda of our travels. He had already placed

his instruments in order, and this is what he wrote:

Monday, June 29th

Chronometer, 8h. 17m. morning.

Barometer, 29.6 inches.

Thermometer, 6 degrees [43 degrees Fahr.]

Direction, E.S.E.

This last observation referred to the obscure gallery, and was indicated

to us by the compass.

"Now, Harry," cried the Professor, in an enthusiastic tone of voice, "we

are truly about to take our first step into the Interior of the Earth;

never before visited by man since the first creation of the world. You

may consider, therefore, that at this precise moment our travels really

commence."

As my uncle made this remark, he took in one hand the Ruhmkorff coil

apparatus, which hung round his neck, and with the other he put the

electric current into communication with the worm of the lantern. And a

bright light at once illumined that dark and gloomy tunnel!

The effect was magical!

Hans, who carried the second apparatus, had it also put into operation.

This ingenious application of electricity to practical purposes enabled

us to move along by the light of an artificial day, amid even the flow

of the most inflammable and combustible gases.

"Forward!" cried my uncle. Each took up his burden. Hans went first, my

uncle followed, and I going third, we entered the somber gallery!

Just as we were about to engulf ourselves in this dismal passage, I

lifted up my head, and through the tubelike shaft saw that Iceland sky I

was never to see again!

Was it the last I should ever see of any sky?

The stream of lava flowing from the bowels of the earth in 1219 had

forced itself a passage through the tunnel. It lined the whole of the

inside with its thick and brilliant coating. The electric light added

very greatly to the brilliancy of the effect.

The great difficulty of our journey now began. How were we to prevent

ourselves from slipping down the steeply inclined plane? Happily some

cracks, abrasures of the soil, and other irregularities, served the

place of steps; and we descended slowly; allowing our heavy luggage to

slip on before, at the end of a long cord.

But that which served as steps under our feet became in other places

stalactites. The lava, very porous in certain places, took the form of

little round blisters. Crystals of opaque quartz, adorned with limpid

drops of natural glass suspended to the roof like lusters, seemed to

take fire as we passed beneath them. One would have fancied that the

genii of romance were illuminating their underground palaces to receive

the sons of men.

"Magnificent, glorious!" I cried in a moment of involuntary enthusiasm,

"What a spectacle, Uncle! Do you not admire these variegated shades of

lava, which run through a whole series of colors, from reddish brown to

pale yellow--by the most insensible degrees? And these crystals, they

appear like luminous globes."

"You are beginning to see the charms of travel, Master Harry," cried my

uncle. "Wait a bit, until we advance farther. What we have as yet

discovered is nothing--onwards, my boy, onwards!"

It would have been a far more correct and appropriate expression, had he

said, "let us slide," for we were going down an inclined plane with

perfect ease. The compass indicated that we were moving in a

southeasterly direction. The flow of lava had never turned to the right

or the left. It had the inflexibility of a straight line.

Nevertheless, to my surprise, we found no perceptible increase in heat.

This proved the theories of Humphry Davy to be founded on truth, and

more than once I found myself examining the thermometer in silent

astonishment.

Two hours after our departure it only marked fifty-four degrees

Fahrenheit. I had every reason to believe from this that our descent was

far more horizontal than vertical. As for discovering the exact depth to

which we had attained, nothing could be easier. The Professor as he

advanced measured the angles of deviation and inclination; but he kept

the result of his observations to himself.

About eight o'clock in the evening, my uncle gave the signal for

halting. Hans seated himself on the ground. The lamps were hung to

fissures in the lava rock. We were now in a large cavern where air was

not wanting. On the contrary, it abounded. What could be the cause of

this--to what atmospheric agitation could be ascribed this draught? But

this was a question which I did not care to discuss just then. Fatigue

and hunger made me incapable of reasoning. An unceasing march of seven

hours had not been kept up without great exhaustion. I was really and

truly worn out; and delighted enough I was to hear the word Halt.

Hans laid out some provisions on a lump of lava, and we each supped with

keen relish. One thing, however, caused us great uneasiness--our water

reserve was already half exhausted. My uncle had full confidence in

finding subterranean resources, but hitherto we had completely failed in

so doing. I could not help calling my uncle's attention to the

circumstance.

"And you are surprised at this total absence of springs?" he said.

"Doubtless--I am very uneasy on the point. We have certainly not enough

water to last us five days."

"Be quite easy on that matter," continued my uncle. "I answer for it we

shall find plenty of water--in fact, far more than we shall want."

"But when?"

"When we once get through this crust of lava. How can you expect springs

to force their way through these solid stone walls?"

"But what is there to prove that this concrete mass of lava does not

extend to the centre of the earth? I don't think we have as yet done

much in a vertical way."

"What puts that into your head, my boy?" asked my uncle mildly.

"Well, it appears to me that if we had descended very far below the

level of the sea--we should find it rather hotter than we have."

"According to your system," said my uncle; "but what does the

thermometer say?"

"Scarcely fifteen degrees by Reaumur, which is only an increase of nine

since our departure."

"Well, and what conclusion does that bring you to?" inquired the

Professor.

"The deduction I draw from this is very simple. According to the most

exact observations, the augmentation of the temperature of the interior

of the earth is one degree for every hundred feet. But certain local

causes may considerably modify this figure. Thus at Yakoust in Siberia,

it has been remarked that the heat increases a degree every thirty-six

feet. The difference evidently depends on the conductibility of certain

rocks. In the neighborhood of an extinct volcano, it has been remarked

that the elevation of temperature was only one degree in every

five-and-twenty feet. Let us, then, go upon this calculation--which is

the most favorable--and calculate."

"Calculate away, my boy."

"Nothing easier," said I, pulling out my notebook and pencil. "Nine

times one hundred and twenty-five feet make a depth of eleven hundred

and twenty-five feet."

"Archimedes could not have spoken more geometrically."

"Well?"

"Well, according to my observations, we are at least ten thousand feet

below the level of the sea."

"Can it be possible?"

"Either my calculation is correct, or there is no truth in figures."

The calculations of the Professor were perfectly correct. We were

already six thousand feet deeper down in the bowels of the earth than

anyone had ever been before. The lowest known depth to which man had

hitherto penetrated was in the mines of Kitzbuhel, in the Tirol, and

those of Wurttemberg.

The temperature, which should have been eighty-one, was in this place

only fifteen. This was a matter for serious consideration.

CHAPTER 16 - THE EASTERN TUNNEL

The next day was Tuesday, the 30th of June--and at six o'clock in the

morning we resumed our journey.

We still continued to follow the gallery of lava, a perfect natural

pathway, as easy of descent as some of those inclined planes which, in

very old German houses, serve the purpose of staircases. This went on

until seventeen minutes past twelve, the precise instant at which we

rejoined Hans, who, having been somewhat in advance, had suddenly

stopped.

"At last," cried my uncle, "we have reached the end of the shaft."

I looked wonderingly about me. We were in the centre of four cross

paths--somber and narrow tunnels. The question now arose as to which it

was wise to take; and this of itself was no small difficulty.

My uncle, who did not wish to appear to have any hesitation about the

matter before myself or the guide, at once made up his mind. He pointed

quietly to the eastern tunnel; and, without delay, we entered within its

gloomy recesses.

Besides, had he entertained any feeling of hesitation it might have been

prolonged indefinitely, for there was no indication by which to

determine on a choice. It was absolutely necessary to trust to chance

and good fortune!

The descent of this obscure and narrow gallery was very gradual and

winding. Sometimes we gazed through a succession of arches, its course

very like the aisles of a Gothic cathedral. The great artistic sculptors

and builders of the Middle Ages might have here completed their studies

with advantage. Many most beautiful and suggestive ideas of

architectural beauty would have been discovered by them. After passing

through this phase of the cavernous way, we suddenly came, about a mile

farther on, upon a square system of arch, adopted by the early Romans,

projecting from the solid rock, and keeping up the weight of the roof.

Suddenly we would come upon a series of low subterranean tunnels which

looked like beaver holes, or the work of foxes--through whose narrow and

winding ways we had literally to crawl!

The heat still remained at quite a supportable degree. With an

involuntary shudder, I reflected on what the heat must have been when

the volcano of Sneffels was pouring its smoke, flames, and streams of

boiling lava--all of which must have come up by the road we were now

following. I could imagine the torrents of hot seething stone darting

on, bubbling up with accompaniments of smoke, steam, and sulphurous

stench!

"Only to think of the consequences," I mused, "if the old volcano were

once more to set to work."

I did not communicate these rather unpleasant reflections to my uncle.

He not only would not have understood them, but would have been

intensely disgusted. His only idea was to go ahead. He walked, he slid,

he clambered over piles of fragments, he rolled down heaps of broken

lava, with an earnestness and conviction it was impossible not to

admire.

At six o'clock in the evening, after a very wearisome journey, but one

not so fatiguing as before, we had made six miles towards the southward,

but had not gone more than a mile downwards.

My uncle, as usual, gave the signal to halt. We ate our meal in

thoughtful silence, and then retired to sleep.

Our arrangements for the night were very primitive and simple. A

traveling rug, in which each rolled himself, was all our bedding. We had

no necessity to fear cold or any unpleasant visit. Travelers who bury

themselves in the wilds and depths of the African desert, who seek

profit and pleasure in the forests of the New World, are compelled to

take it in turn to watch during the hours of sleep; but in this region

of the earth absolute solitude and complete security reigned supreme.

We had nothing to fear either from savages or from wild beasts.

After a night's sweet repose, we awoke fresh and ready for action. There

being nothing to detain us, we started on our journey. We continued to

burrow through the lava tunnel as before. It was impossible to make out

through what soil we were making way. The tunnel, moreover, instead of

going down into the bowels of the earth, became absolutely horizontal.

I even thought, after some examination, that we were actually tending

upwards. About ten o'clock in the day this state of things became so

clear that, finding the change very fatiguing, I was obliged to slacken

my pace and finally come to a halt.

"Well," said the Professor quickly, "what is the matter?"

"The fact is, I am dreadfully tired," was my earnest reply.

"What," cried my uncle, "tired after a three hours' walk, and by so easy

a road?"

"Easy enough, I dare say, but very fatiguing."

"But how can that be, when all we have to do is to go downwards."

"I beg your pardon, sir. For some time I have noticed that we are going

upwards."

"Upwards," cried my uncle, shrugging his shoulders, "how can that be?"

"There can be no doubt about it. For the last half hour the slopes have

been upward--and if we go on in this way much longer we shall find

ourselves back in Iceland."

My uncle shook his head with the air of a man who does not want to be

convinced. I tried to continue the conversation. He would not answer me,

but once more gave the signal for departure. His silence I thought was

only caused by concentrated ill-temper.

However this might be, I once more took up my load, and boldly and

resolutely followed Hans, who was now in advance of my uncle. I did not

like to be beaten or even distanced. I was naturally anxious not to lose

sight of my companions. The very idea of being left behind, lost in that

terrible labyrinth, made me shiver as with the ague.

Besides, if the ascending path was more arduous and painful to clamber,

I had one source of secret consolation and delight. It was to all

appearance taking us back to the surface of the earth. That of itself

was hopeful. Every step I took confirmed me in my belief, and I began

already to build castles in the air in relation to my marriage with my

pretty little cousin.

About twelve o'clock there was a great and sudden change in the aspect

of the rocky sides of the gallery. I first noticed it from the

diminution of the rays of light which cast back the reflection of the

lamp. From being coated with shining and resplendent lava, it became

living rock. The sides were sloping walls, which sometimes became quite

vertical.

We were now in what the geological professors call a state of

transition, in the period of Silurian stones, so called because this

specimen of early formation is very common in England in the counties

formerly inhabited by the Celtic nation known as Silures.

"I can see clearly now," I cried; "the sediment from the waters which

once covered the whole earth formed during the second period of its

existence these schists and these calcareous rocks. We are turning our

backs on the granite rocks, and are like people from Hamburg who would

go to Lubeck by way of Hanover."

I might just as well have kept my observations to myself. My geological

enthusiasm got the better, however, of my cooler judgment, and Professor

Hardwigg heard my observations.

"What is the matter now?" he said, in a tone of great gravity.

"Well," cried I, "do you not see these different layers of calcareous

rocks and the first indication of slate strata?"

"Well; what then?"

"We have arrived at that period of the world's existence when the first

plants and the first animals made their appearance."

"You think so?"

"Yes, look; examine and judge for yourself."

I induced the Professor with some difficulty to cast the light of his

lamp on the sides of the long winding gallery. I expected some

exclamation to burst from his lips. I was very much mistaken. The worthy

Professor never spoke a word.

It was impossible to say whether he understood me or not. Perhaps it was

possible that in his pride--my uncle and a learned professor--he did not

like to own that he was wrong in having chosen the eastern tunnel, or

was he determined at any price to go to the end of it? It was quite

evident we had left the region of lava, and that the road by which we

were going could not take us back to the great crater of Mount Sneffels.

As we went along I could not help ruminating on the whole question, and

asked myself if I did not lay too great a stress on these sudden and

peculiar modifications of the earth's crust.

After all, I was very likely to be mistaken--and it was within the range

of probability and possibility that we were not making our way through

the strata of rocks which I believed I recognized piled on the lower

layer of granitic formation.

"At all events, if I am right," I thought to myself, "I must certainly

find some remains of primitive plants, and it will be absolutely

necessary to give way to such indubitable evidence. Let us have a good

search."

I accordingly lost no opportunity of searching, and had not gone more

than about a hundred yards, when the evidence I sought for cropped up in

the most incontestable manner before my eyes. It was quite natural that

I should expect to find these signs, for during the Silurian period the

seas contained no fewer than fifteen hundred different animal and

vegetable species. My feet, so long accustomed to the hard and arid lava

soil, suddenly found themselves treading on a kind of soft dust, the

remains of plants and shells.

Upon the walls themselves I could clearly make out the outline, as plain

as a sun picture, of the fucus and the lycopods. The worthy and

excellent Professor Hardwigg could not of course make any mistake about

the matter; but I believe he deliberately closed his eyes, and continued

on his way with a firm and unalterable step.

I began to think that he was carrying his obstinacy a great deal too

far. I could no longer act with prudence or composure. I stooped on a

sudden and picked up an almost perfect shell, which had undoubtedly

belonged to some animal very much resembling some of the present day.

Having secured the prize, I followed in the wake of my uncle.

"Do you see this?" I said.

"Well, said the Professor, with the most imperturbable tranquillity, "it

is the shell of a crustaceous animal of the extinct order of the

trilobites; nothing more, I assure you."

"But," cried I, much troubled at his coolness, "do you draw no

conclusion from it?"

"Well, if I may ask, what conclusion do you draw from it yourself?"

"Well, I thought--"

"I know, my boy, what you would say, and you are right, perfectly and

incontestably right. We have finally abandoned the crust of lava and the

road by which the lava ascended. It is quite possible that I may have

been mistaken, but I shall be unable to discover my error until I get to

the end of this gallery."

"You are quite right as far as that is concerned," I replied, "and I

should highly approve of your decision, if we had not to fear the

greatest of all dangers."

"And what is that?"

"Want of water."

"Well, my dear Henry, it can't be helped. We must put ourselves on

rations."

And on he went.

CHAPTER 17 - DEEPER AND DEEPER--THE COAL MINE

In truth, we were compelled to put ourselves upon rations. Our supply

would certainly last not more than three days. I found this out about

supper time. The worst part of the matter was that, in what is called

the transition rocks, it was hardly to be expected we should meet with

water!

I had read of the horrors of thirst, and I knew that where we were, a

brief trial of its sufferings would put an end to our adventures--and

our lives! But it was utterly useless to discuss the matter with my

uncle. He would have answered by some axiom from Plato.

During the whole of next day we proceeded on our journey through this

interminable gallery, arch after arch, tunnel after tunnel. We journeyed

without exchanging a word. We had become as mute and reticent as Hans,

our guide.

The road had no longer an upward tendency; at all events, if it had, it

was not to be made out very clearly. Sometimes there could be no doubt

that we were going downwards. But this inclination was scarcely to be

distinguished, and was by no means reassuring to the Professor, because

the character of the strata was in no wise modified, and the transition

character of the rocks became more and more marked.

It was a glorious sight to see how the electric light brought out the

sparkles in the walls of the calcareous rocks, and the old red

sandstone. One might have fancied oneself in one of those deep cuttings

in Devonshire, which have given their name to this kind of soil. Some

magnificent specimens of marble projected from the sides of the gallery:

some of an agate grey with white veins of variegated character, others

of a yellow spotted color, with red veins; farther off might be seen

samples of color in which cherry-tinted seams were to be found in all

their brightest shades.

The greater number of these marbles were stamped with the marks of

primitive animals. Since the previous evening, nature and creation had

made considerable progress. Instead of the rudimentary trilobites, I

perceived the remains of a more perfect order. Among others, the fish in

which the eye of a geologist has been able to discover the first form of

the reptile.

The Devonian seas were inhabited by a vast number of animals of this

species, which were deposited in tens of thousands in the rocks of new

formation.

It was quite evident to me that we were ascending the scale of animal

life of which man forms the summit. My excellent uncle, the Professor,

appeared not to take notice of these warnings. He was determined at any

risk to proceed.

He must have been in expectation of one of two things; either that a

vertical well was about to open under his feet, and thus allow him to

continue his descent, or that some insurmountable obstacle would compel

us to stop and go back by the road we had so long traveled. But evening

came again, and, to my horror, neither hope was doomed to be realized!

On Friday, after a night when I began to feel the gnawing agony of

thirst, and when in consequence appetite decreased, our little band rose

and once more followed the turnings and windings, the ascents and

descents, of this interminable gallery. All were silent and gloomy. I

could see that even my uncle had ventured too far.

After about ten hours of further progress--a progress dull and

monotonous to the last degree--I remarked that the reverberation, and

reflection of our lamps upon the sides of the tunnel, had singularly

diminished. The marble, the schist, the calcareous rocks, the red

sandstone, had disappeared, leaving in their places a dark and gloomy

wall, somber and without brightness. When we reached a remarkably narrow

part of the tunnel, I leaned my left hand against the rock.

When I took my hand away, and happened to glance at it, it was quite

black. We had reached the coal strata of the Central Earth.

"A coal mine!" I cried.

"A coal mine without miners," responded my uncle, a little severely.

"How can we tell?"

"I can tell," replied my uncle, in a sharp and doctorial tone. "I am

perfectly certain that this gallery through successive layers of coal

was not cut by the hand of man. But whether it is the work of nature or

not is of little concern to us. The hour for our evening meal has

come--let us sup."

Hans, the guide, occupied himself in preparing food. I had come to that

point when I could no longer eat. All I cared about were the few drops

of water which fell to my share. What I suffered it is useless to

record. The guide's gourd, not quite half full, was all that was left

for us three!

Having finished their repast, my two companions laid themselves down

upon their rugs, and found in sleep a remedy for their fatigue and

sufferings. As for me, I could not sleep, I lay counting the hours until

morning.

The next morning, Saturday, at six o'clock, we started again. Twenty

minutes later we suddenly came upon a vast excavation. From its mighty

extent I saw at once that the hand of man could have had nothing to do

with this coal mine; the vault above would have fallen in; as it was, it

was only held together by some miracle of nature.

This mighty natural cavern was about a hundred feet wide, by about a

hundred and fifty high. The earth had evidently been cast apart by some

violent subterranean commotion. The mass, giving way to some prodigious

upheaving of nature, had split in two, leaving the vast gap into which

we inhabitants of the earth had penetrated for the first time.

The whole singular history of the coal period was written on those dark

and gloomy walls. A geologist would have been able easily to follow the

different phases of its formation. The seams of coal were separated by

strata of sandstone, a compact clay, which appeared to be crushed down

by the weight from above.

At that period of the world which preceded the secondary epoch, the

earth was covered by a coating of enormous and rich vegetation, due to

the double action of tropical heat and perpetual humidity. A vast

atmospheric cloud of vapor surrounded the earth on all sides, preventing

the rays of the sun from ever reaching it.

Hence the conclusion that these intense heats did not arise from this

new source of caloric.

Perhaps even the star of day was not quite ready for its brilliant

work--to illumine a universe. Climates did not as yet exist, and a level

heat pervaded the whole surface of the globe--the same heat existing at

the North Pole as at the equator.

Whence did it come? From the interior of the earth?

In spite of all the learned theories of Professor Hardwigg, a fierce and

vehement fire certainly burned within the entrails of the great

spheroid. Its action was felt even to the very topmost crust of the

earth; the plants then in existence, being deprived of the vivifying

rays of the sun, had neither buds, nor flowers, nor odor, but their

roots drew a strong and vigorous life from the burning earth of early

days.

There were but few of what may be called trees--only herbaceous plants,

immense turfs, briers, mosses, rare families, which, however, in those

days were counted by tens and tens of thousands.

It is entirely to this exuberant vegetation that coal owes its origin.

The crust of the vast globe still yielded under the influence of the

seething, boiling mass, which was forever at work beneath. Hence arose

numerous fissures, and continual falling in of the upper earth. The

dense mass of plants being beneath the waters, soon formed themselves

into vast agglomerations.

Then came about the action of natural chemistry; in the depths of the

ocean the vegetable mass at first became turf, then, thanks to the

influence of gases and subterranean fermentation, they underwent the

complete process of mineralization.

In this manner, in early days, were formed those vast and prodigious

layers of coal, which an ever--increasing consumption must utterly use

up in about three centuries more, if people do not find some more

economic light than gas, and some cheaper motive power than steam.

All these reflections, the memories of my school studies, came to my

mind while I gazed upon these mighty accumulations of coal, whose

riches, however, are scarcely likely to be ever utilized. The working of

these mines could only be carried out at an expense that would never

yield a profit.

The matter, however, is scarcely worthy consideration, when coal is

scattered over the whole surface of the globe, within a few yards of the

upper crust. As I looked at these untouched strata, therefore, I knew

they would remain as long as the world lasts.

While we still continued our journey, I alone forgot the length of the

road, by giving myself up wholly to these geological considerations. The

temperature continued to be very much the same as while we were

traveling amid the lava and the schists. On the other hand my sense of

smell was much affected by a very powerful odor. I immediately knew that

the gallery was filled to overflowing with that dangerous gas the miners

call fire damp, the explosion of which has caused such fearful and

terrible accidents, making a hundred widows and hundreds of orphans in a

single hour.

Happily, we were able to illumine our progress by means of the Ruhmkorff

apparatus. If we had been so rash and imprudent as to explore this

gallery, torch in hand, a terrible explosion would have put an end to

our travels, simply because no travelers would be left.

Our excursion through this wondrous coal mine in the very bowels of the

earth lasted until evening. My uncle was scarcely able to conceal his

impatience and dissatisfaction at the road continuing still to advance

in a horizontal direction.

The darkness, dense and opaque a few yards in advance and in the rear,

rendered it impossible to make out what was the length of the gallery.

For myself, I began to believe that it was simply interminable, and

would go on in the same manner for months.

Suddenly, at six o'clock, we stood in front of a wall. To the right, to

the left above, below, nowhere was there any passage. We had reached a

spot where the rocks said in unmistakable accents--No Thoroughfare.

I stood stupefied. The guide simply folded his arms. My uncle was

silent.

"Well, well, so much the better," cried my uncle, at last, "I now know

what we are about. We are decidedly not upon the road followed by

Saknussemm. All we have to do is to go back. Let us take one night's

good rest, and before three days are over, I promise you we shall have

regained the point where the galleries divided."

"Yes, we may, if our strength lasts as long," I cried, in a lamentable

voice.

"And why not?"

"Tomorrow, among us three, there will not be a drop of water. It is just

gone."

"And your courage with it," said my uncle, speaking in a severe tone.

What could I say? I turned round on my side, and from sheer exhaustion

fell into a heavy sleep disturbed by dreams of water! And I awoke

unrefreshed.

I would have bartered a diamond mine for a glass of pure spring water!

CHAPTER 18 - THE WRONG ROAD!

Next day, our departure took place at a very early hour. There was no

time for the least delay. According to my account, we had five days'

hard work to get back to the place where the galleries divided.

I can never tell all the sufferings we endured upon our return. My uncle

bore them like a man who has been in the wrong--that is, with

concentrated and suppressed anger; Hans, with all the resignation of his

pacific character; and I--I confess that I did nothing but complain, and

despair. I had no heart for this bad fortune.

But there was one consolation. Defeat at the outset would probably upset

the whole journey!

As I had expected from the first, our supply of water gave completely

out on our first day's march. Our provision of liquids was reduced to

our supply of Schiedam; but this horrible--nay, I will say it--this

infernal liquor burnt the throat, and I could not even bear the sight of

it. I found the temperature to be stifling. I was paralyzed with

fatigue. More than once I was about to fall insensible to the ground.

The whole party then halted, and the worthy Icelander and my excellent

uncle did their best to console and comfort me. I could, however,

plainly see that my uncle was contending painfully against the extreme

fatigues of our journey, and the awful torture generated by the absence

of water.

At length a time came when I ceased to recollect anything--when all was

one awfull hideous, fantastic dream!

At last, on Tuesday, the seventh of the month of July, after crawling on

our hands and knees for many hours, more dead than alive, we reached the

point of junction between the galleries. I lay like a log, an inert mass

of human flesh on the arid lava soil. It was then ten in the morning.

Hans and my uncle, leaning against the wall, tried to nibble away at

some pieces of biscuit, while deep groans and sighs escaped from my

scorched and swollen lips. Then I fell off into a kind of deep lethargy.

Presently I felt my uncle approach, and lift me up tenderly in his arms.

"Poor boy," I heard him say in a tone of deep commiseration.

I was profoundly touched by these words, being by no means accustomed to

signs of womanly weakness in the Professor. I caught his trembling hands

in mine and gave them a gentle pressure. He allowed me to do so without

resistance, looking at me kindly all the time. His eyes were wet with

tears.

I then saw him take the gourd which he wore at his side. To my surprise,

or rather to my stupefaction, he placed it to my lips.

"Drink, my boy," he said.

Was it possible my ears had not deceived me? Was my uncle mad? I looked

at him, with, I am sure, quite an idiotic expression. I could not

believe him. I too much feared the counteraction of disappointment.

"Drink," he said again.

Had I heard aright? Before, however, I could ask myself the question a

second time, a mouthful of water cooled my parched lips and throat--one

mouthful, but I do believe it brought me back to life.

I thanked my uncle by clasping my hands. My heart was too full to speak.

"Yes," said he, "one mouthful of water, the very last--do you hear, my

boy--the very last! I have taken care of it at the bottom of my bottle

as the apple of my eye. Twenty times, a hundred times, I have resisted

the fearful desire to drink it. But--no--no, Harry, I saved it for you."

"My dear uncle," I exclaimed, and the big tears rolled down my hot and

feverish cheeks.

"Yes, my poor boy, I knew that when you reached this place, this

crossroad in the earth, you would fall down half dead, and I saved my

last drop of water in order to restore you."

"Thanks," I cried; "thanks from my heart."

As little as my thirst was really quenched, I had nevertheless partially

recovered my strength. The contracted muscles of my throat relaxed--and

the inflammation of my lips in some measure subsided. At all events, I

was able to speak.

"Well," I said, "there can be no doubt now as to what we have to do.

Water has utterly failed us; our journey is therefore at an end. Let us

return."

While I spoke thus, my uncle evidently avoided my face: he held down his

head; his eyes were turned in every possible direction but the right

one.

"Yes," I continued, getting excited by my own words, "we must go back to

Sneffels. May heaven give us strength to enable us once more to revisit

the light of day. Would that we now stood on the summit of the crater."

"Go back," said my uncle, speaking to himself, "and must it be so?"

"Go back--yes, and without losing a single moment," I vehemently cried.

For some moments there was silence under that dark and gloomy vault.

"So, my dear Harry," said the Professor in a very singular tone of

voice, "those few drops of water have not sufficed to restore your

energy and courage."

"Courage!" I cried.

"I see that you are quite as downcast as before--and still give way to

discouragement and despair."

What, then, was the man made of, and what other projects were entering

his fertile and audacious brain!

"You are not discouraged, sir?"

"What! Give up just as we are on the verge of success?" he cried.

"Never, never shall it be said that Professor Hardwigg retreated."

"Then we must make up our minds to perish," I cried with a helpless

sigh.

"No, Harry, my boy, certainly not. Go, leave me, I am very far from

desiring your death. Take Hans with you. <i>I will go on alone.</i>"

"You ask us to leave you?"

"Leave me, I say. I have undertaken this dangerous and perilous

adventure. I will carry it to the end--or I will never return to the

surface of Mother Earth. Go, Harry--once more I say to you--go!"

My uncle as he spoke was terribly excited. His voice, which before had

been tender, almost womanly, became harsh and menacing. He appeared to

be struggling with desperate energy against the impossible. I did not

wish to abandon him at the bottom of that abyss, while, on the other

hand, the instinct of preservation told me to fly.

Meanwhile, our guide was looking on with profound calmness and

indifference. He appeared to be an unconcerned party, and yet he

perfectly well knew what was going on between us. Our gestures

sufficiently indicated the different roads each wished to follow--and

which each tried to influence the other to undertake. But Hans appeared

not to take the slightest interest in what was really a question of life

and death for us all, but waited quite ready to obey the signal which

should say go aloft, or to resume his desperate journey into the

interior of the earth.

How then I wished with all my heart and soul that I could make him

understand my words. My representations, my sighs and groans, the

earnest accents in which I should have spoken would have convinced that

cold, hard nature. Those fearful dangers and perils of which the stolid

guide had no idea, I would have pointed them out to him--I would have,

as it were, made him see and feel. Between us, we might have convinced

the obstinate Professor. If the worst had come to the worst, we could

have compelled him to return to the summit of Sneffels.

I quietly approached Hans. I caught his hand in mine. He never moved a

muscle. I indicated to him the road to the top of the crater. He

remained motionless. My panting form, my haggard countenance, must have

indicated the extent of my sufferings. The Icelander gently shook his

head and pointed to my uncle.

"Master," he said.

The word is Icelandic as well as English.

"The master!" I cried, beside myself with fury--"madman! no--I tell you

he is not the master of our lives; we must fly! we must drag him with

us! do you hear me? Do you understand me, I say?"

I have already explained that I held Hans by the arm. I tried to make

him rise from his seat. I struggled with him and tried to force him

away. My uncle now interposed.

"My good Henry, be calm," he said. "You will obtain nothing from my

devoted follower; therefore, listen to what I have to say."

I folded my arms, as well as I could, and looked my uncle full in the

face.

"This wretched want of water," he said, "is the sole obstacle to the

success of my project. In the entire gallery, made of lava, schist, and

coal, it is true we found not one liquid molecule. It is quite possible

that we may be more fortunate in the western tunnel."

My sole reply was to shake my head with an air of deep incredulity.

"Listen to me to the end," said the Professor in his well-known

lecturing voice. "While you lay yonder without life or motion, I

undertook a reconnoitering journey into the conformation of this other

gallery. I have discovered that it goes directly downwards into the

bowels of the earth, and in a few hours will take us to the old granitic

formation. In this we shall undoubtedly find innumerable springs. The

nature of the rock makes this a mathematical certainty, and instinct

agrees with logic to say that it is so. Now, this is the serious

proposition which I have to make to you. When Christopher Columbus asked

of his men three days to discover the land of promise, his men ill,

terrified, and hopeless, yet gave him three days--and the New World was

discovered. Now I, the Christopher Columbus of this subterranean region,

only ask of you one more day. If, when that time is expired, I have not

found the water of which we are in search, I swear to you, I will give

up my mighty enterprise and return to the earth's surface."

Despite my irritation and despair, I knew how much it cost my uncle to

make this proposition, and to hold such conciliatory language. Under the

circumstances, what could I do but yield?

"Well," I cried, "let it be as you wish, and may heaven reward your

superhuman energy. But as, unless we discover water, our hours are

numbered, let us lose no time, but go ahead."

CHAPTER 19 - THE WESTERN GALLERY--A NEW ROUTE

Our descent was now resumed by means of the second gallery. Hans took up

his post in front as usual. We had not gone more than a hundred yards

when the Professor carefully examined the walls.

"This is the primitive formation--we are on the right road--onwards is

our hope!"

When the whole earth got cool in the first hours of the world's morning,

the diminution of the volume of the earth produced a state of

dislocation in its upper crust, followed by ruptures, crevasses and

fissures. The passage was a fissure of this kind, through which, ages

ago, had flowed the eruptive granite. The thousand windings and turnings

formed an inextricable labyrinth through the ancient soil.

As we descended, successions of layers composing the primitive soil

appeared with the utmost fidelity of detail. Geological science

considers this primitive soil as the base of the mineral crust, and it

has recognized that it is composed of three different strata or layers,

all resting on the immovable rock known as granite.

No mineralogists had even found themselves placed in such a marvelous

position to study nature in all her real and naked beauty. The sounding

rod, a mere machine, could not bring to the surface of the earth the

objects of value for the study of its internal structure, which we were

about to see with our own eyes, to touch with our own hands.

Remember that I am writing this after the journey.

Across the streak of the rocks, colored by beautiful green tints, wound

metallic threads of copper, of manganese, with traces of platinum and

gold. I could not help gazing at these riches buried in the entrails of

Mother Earth, and of which no man would have the enjoyment to the end of

time! These treasures--mighty and inexhaustible, were buried in the

morning of the earth's history, at such awful depths, that no crowbar or

pickax will ever drag them from their tomb!

The light of our Ruhmkorff's coil, increased tenfold by the myriad of

prismatic masses of rock, sent its jets of fire in every direction, and

I could fancy myself traveling through a huge hollow diamond, the rays

of which produced myriads of extraordinary effects.

Towards six o'clock, this festival of light began sensibly and visibly

to decrease, and soon almost ceased. The sides of the gallery assumed a

crystallized tint, with a somber hue; white mica began to commingle more

freely with feldspar and quartz, to form what may be called the true

rock--the stone which is hard above all, that supports, without being

crushed, the four stories of the earth's soil.

We were walled by an immense prison of granite!

It was now eight o'clock, and still there was no sign of water. The

sufferings I endured were horrible. My uncle now kept at the head of our

little column. Nothing could induce him to stop. I, meanwhile, had but

one real thought. My ear was keenly on the watch to catch the sound of a

spring. But no pleasant sound of falling water fell upon my listening

ear.

But at last the time came when my limbs refused to carry me longer. I

contended heroically against the terrible tortures I endured, because I

did not wish to compel my uncle to halt. To him I knew this would be the

last fatal stroke.

Suddenly I felt a deadly faintness come over me. My eyes could no longer

see; my knees shook. I gave one despairing cry--and fell!

"Help, help, I am dying!"

My uncle turned and slowly retraced his steps. He looked at me with

folded arms, and then allowed one sentence to escape, in hollow accents,

from his lips:

"All is over."

The last thing I saw was a face fearfully distorted with pain and

sorrow; and then my eyes closed.

When I again opened them, I saw my companions lying near me, motionless,

wrapped in their huge traveling rugs. Were they asleep or dead? For

myself, sleep was wholly out of the question. My fainting fit over, I

was wakeful as the lark. I suffered too much for sleep to visit my

eyelids--the more, that I thought myself sick unto death--dying. The

last words spoken by my uncle seemed to be buzzing in my ears--all is

over! And it was probable that he was right. In the state of prostration

to which I was reduced, it was madness to think of ever again seeing the

light of day.

Above were miles upon miles of the earth's crust. As I thought of it, I

could fancy the whole weight resting on my shoulders. I was crushed,

annihilated! and exhausted myself in vain attempts to turn in my granite

bed.

Hours upon hours passed away. A profound and terrible silence reigned

around us--a silence of the tomb. Nothing could make itself heard

through these gigantic walls of granite. The very thought was

stupendous.

Presently, despite my apathy, despite the kind of deadly calm into which

I was cast, something aroused me. It was a slight but peculiar noise.

While I was watching intently, I observed that the tunnel was becoming

dark. Then gazing through the dim light that remained, I thought I saw

the Icelander taking his departure, lamp in hand.

Why had he acted thus? Did Hans the guide mean to abandon us? My uncle

lay fast asleep--or dead. I tried to cry out, and arouse him. My voice,

feebly issuing from my parched and fevered lips, found no echo in that

fearful place. My throat was dry, my tongue stuck to the roof of my

mouth. The obscurity had by this time become intense, and at last even

the faint sound of the guide's footsteps was lost in the blank distance.

My soul seemed filled with anguish, and death appeared welcome, only let

it come quickly.

"Hans is leaving us," I cried. "Hans--Hans, if you are a man, come

back."

These words were spoken to myself. They could not be heard aloud.

Nevertheless, after the first few moments of terror were over, I was

ashamed of my suspicions against a man who hitherto had behaved so

admirably. Nothing in his conduct or character justified suspicion.

Moreover, a moment's reflection reassured me. His departure could not be

a flight. Instead of ascending the gallery, he was going deeper down

into the gulf. Had he had any bad design, his way would have been

upwards.

This reasoning calmed me a little and I began to hope!

The good, and peaceful, and imperturbable Hans would certainly not have

arisen from his sleep without some serious and grave motive. Was he bent

on a voyage of discovery? During the deep, still silence of the night

had he at last heard that sweet murmur about which we were all so

anxious?

CHAPTER 20 - WATER, WHERE IS IT? A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT

During a long, long, weary hour, there crossed my wildly delirious brain

all sorts of reasons as to what could have aroused our quiet and

faithful guide. The most absurd and ridiculous ideas passed through my

head, each more impossible than the other. I believe I was either half

or wholly mad.

Suddenly, however, there arose, as it were from the depths of the earth,

a voice of comfort. It was the sound of footsteps! Hans was returning.

Presently the uncertain light began to shine upon the walls of the

passage, and then it came in view far down the sloping tunnel. At length

Hans himself appeared.

He approached my uncle, placed his hand upon his shoulder, and gently

awakened him. My uncle, as soon as he saw who it was, instantly arose.

"Well!" exclaimed the Professor.

"Vatten," said the hunter.

I did not know a single word of the Danish language, and yet by a sort

of mysterious instinct I understood what the guide had said.

"Water, water!" I cried, in a wild and frantic tone, clapping my hands,

and gesticulating like a madman.

"Water!" murmured my uncle, in a voice of deep emotion and gratitude.

"Hvar?" ("Where?")

"Nedat." ("Below.")

"Where? below!" I understood every word. I had caught the hunter by the

hands, and I shook them heartily, while he looked on with perfect

calmness.

The preparations for our departure did not take long, and we were soon

making a rapid descent into the tunnel.

An hour later we had advanced a thousand yards, and descended two

thousand feet.

At this moment I heard an accustomed and well-known sound running along

the floors of the granite rock--a kind of dull and sullen roar, like

that of a distant waterfall.

During the first half hour of our advance, not finding the discovered

spring, my feelings of intense suffering appeared to return. Once more I

began to lose all hope. My uncle, however, observing how downhearted I

was again becoming, took up the conversation.

"Hans was right," he exclaimed enthusiastically; "that is the dull

roaring of a torrent."

"A torrent," I cried, delighted at even hearing the welcome words.

"There's not the slightest doubt about it," he replied, "a subterranean

river is flowing beside us."

I made no reply, but hastened on, once more animated by hope. I began

not even to feel the deep fatigue which hitherto had overpowered me. The

very sound of this glorious murmuring water already refreshed me. We

could hear it increasing in volume every moment. The torrent, which for

a long time could be heard flowing over our heads, now ran distinctly

along the left wall, roaring, rushing, spluttering, and still falling.

Several times I passed my hand across the rock hoping to find some trace

of humidity--of the slightest percolation. Alas! in vain.

Again a half hour passed in the same weary toil. Again we advanced.

It now became evident that the hunter, during his absence, had not been

able to carry his researches any farther. Guided by an instinct peculiar

to the dwellers in mountain regions and water finders, he "smelt" the

living spring through the rock. Still he had not seen the precious

liquid. He had neither quenched his own thirst, nor brought us one drop

in his gourd.

Moreover, we soon made the disastrous discovery that, if our progress

continued, we should soon be moving away from the torrent, the sound of

which gradually diminished. We turned back. Hans halted at the precise

spot where the sound of the torrent appeared nearest.

I could bear the suspense and suffering no longer, and seated myself

against the wall, behind which I could hear the water seething and

effervescing not two feet away. But a solid wall of granite still

separated us from it!

Hans looked keenly at me, and, strange enough, for once I thought I saw

a smile on his imperturbable face.

He rose from a stone on which he had been seated, and took up the lamp.

I could not help rising and following. He moved slowly along the firm

and solid granite wall. I watched him with mingled curiosity and

eagerness. Presently he halted and placed his ear against the dry stone,

moving slowly along and listening with the most extreme care and

attention. I understood at once that he was searching for the exact spot

where the torrent's roar was most plainly heard. This point he soon

found in the lateral wall on the left side, about three feet above the

level of the tunnel floor.

I was in a state of intense excitement. I scarcely dared believe what

the eider-duck hunter was about to do. It was, however, impossible in a

moment more not to both understand and applaud, and even to smother him

in my embraces, when I saw him raise the heavy crowbar and commence an

attack upon the rock itself.

"Saved!" I cried.

"Yes," cried my uncle, even more excited and delighted than myself;

"Hans is quite right. Oh, the worthy, excellent man! We should never

have thought of such an idea."

And nobody else, I think, would have done so. Such a process, simple as

it seemed, would most certainly not have entered our heads. Nothing

could be more dangerous than to begin to work with pickaxes in that

particular part of the globe. Supposing while he was at work a break-up

were to take place, and supposing the torrent once having gained an inch

were to take an ell, and come pouring bodily through the broken rock!

Not one of these dangers was chimerical. They were only too real. But at

that moment no fear of falling in of the roof, or even of inundation was

capable of stopping us. Our thirst was so intense that to quench it we

would have dug below the bed of old Ocean itself.

Hans went quietly to work--a work which neither my uncle nor I would

have undertaken at any price. Our impatience was so great that if we had

once begun with pickax and crowbar, the rock would soon have split into

a hundred fragments. The guide, on the contrary, calm, ready, moderate,

wore away the hard rock by little steady blows of his instrument, making

no attempt at a larger hole than about six inches. As I stood, I heard,

or I thought I heard, the roar of the torrent momentarily increasing in

loudness, and at times I almost felt the pleasant sensation of water

upon my parched lips.

At the end of what appeared an age, Hans had made a hole which enabled

his crowbar to enter two feet into the solid rock. He had been at work

exactly an hour. It appeared a dozen. I was getting wild with

impatience. My uncle began to think of using more violent measures. I

had the greatest difficulty in checking him. He had indeed just got hold

of his crowbar when a loud and welcome hiss was heard. Then a stream, or

rather jet, of water burst through the wall and came out with such force

as to hit the opposite side!

Hans, the guide, who was half upset by the shock, was scarcely able to

keep down a cry of pain and grief. I understood his meaning when,

plunging my hands into the sparkling jet, I myself gave a wild and

frantic cry. The water was scalding hot!

"Boiling," I cried, in bitter disappointment.

"Well, never mind," said my uncle, "it will soon get cool."

The tunnel began to be filled by clouds of vapor, while a small stream

ran away into the interior of the earth. In a short time we had some

sufficiently cool to drink. We swallowed it in huge mouthfuls.

Oh! what exalted delight--what rich and incomparable luxury! What was

this water, whence did it come? To us what was that? The simple fact

was--it was water; and, though still with a tingle of warmth about it,

it brought back to the heart, that life which, but for it, must surely

have faded away. I drank greedily, almost without tasting it.

When, however, I had almost quenched my ravenous thirst, I made a

discovery.

"Why, it is chalybeate water!"

"A most excellent stomachic," replied my uncle, "and highly mineralized.

Here is a journey worth twenty to Spa."

"It's very good," I replied.

"I should think so. Water found six miles under ground. There is a

peculiarly inky flavor about it, which is by no means disagreeable. Hans

may congratulate himself on having made a rare discovery. What do you

say, nephew, according to the usual custom of travelers, to name the

stream after him?"

"Good," said I. And the name of "Hansbach" ("Hans Brook") was at once

agreed upon.

Hans was not a bit more proud after hearing our determination than he

was before. After having taken a very small modicum of the welcome

refreshment, he had seated himself in a corner with his usual

imperturbable gravity.

"Now," said I, "it is not worth while letting this water run to waste."

"What is the use," replied my uncle, "the source from which this river

rises is inexhaustible."

"Never mind," I continued, "let us fill our goatskin and gourds, and

then try to stop the opening up."

My advice, after some hesitation, was followed or attempted to be

followed. Hans picked up all the broken pieces of granite he had knocked

out, and using some tow he happened to have about him, tried to shut up

the fissure he had made in the wall. All he did was to scald his hands.

The pressure was too great, and all our attempts were utter failures.

"It is evident," I remarked, "that the upper surface of these springs is

situated at a very great height above--as we may fairly infer from the

great pressure of the jet."

"That is by no means doubtful," replied my uncle, "if this column of

water is about thirty-two thousand feet high, the atmospheric pressure

must be something enormous. But a new idea has just struck me."

"And what is that?"

"Why be at so much trouble to close this aperture?"

"Because--"

I hesitated and stammered, having no real reason.

"When our water bottles are empty, we are not at all sure that we shall

be able to fill them," observed my uncle.

"I think that is very probable."

"Well, then, let this water run. It will, of course, naturally follow in

our track, and will serve to guide and refresh us."

"I think the idea a good one," I cried in reply, "and with this rivulet

as a companion, there is no further reason why we should not succeed in

our marvelous project."

"Ah, my boy," said the Professor, laughing, "after all, you are coming

round."

"More than that, I am now confident of ultimate success."

"One moment, nephew mine. Let us begin by taking some hours of repose."

I had utterly forgotten that it was night. The chronometer, however,

informed me of the fact. Soon we were sufficiently restored and

refreshed, and had all fallen into a profound sleep.

CHAPTER 21 - UNDER THE OCEAN

By the next day we had nearly forgotten our past sufferings. The first

sensation I experienced was surprise at not being thirsty, and I

actually asked myself the reason. The running stream, which flowed in

rippling wavelets at my feet, was the satisfactory reply.

We breakfasted with a good appetite, and then drank our fill of the

excellent water. I felt myself quite a new man, ready to go anywhere my

uncle chose to lead. I began to think. Why should not a man as seriously

convinced as my uncle, succeed, with so excellent a guide as worthy

Hans, and so devoted a nephew as myself? These were the brilliant ideas

which now invaded my brain. Had the proposition now been made to go back

to the summit of Mount Sneffels, I should have declined the offer in a

most indignant manner.

But fortunately there was no question of going up. We were about to

descend farther into the interior of the earth.

"Let us be moving," I cried, awakening the echoes of the old world.

We resumed our march on Thursday at eight o'clock in the morning. The

great granite tunnel, as it went round by sinuous and winding ways,

presented every now and then sharp turns, and in fact all the appearance

of a labyrinth. Its direction, however, was in general towards the

southwest. My uncle made several pauses in order to consult his compass.

The gallery now began to trend downwards in a horizontal direction, with

about two inches of fall in every furlong. The murmuring stream flowed

quietly at our feet. I could not but compare it to some familiar spirit,

guiding us through the earth, and I dabbled my fingers in its tepid

water, which sang like a naiad as we progressed. My good humor began to

assume a mythological character.

As for my uncle he began to complain of the horizontal character of the

road. His route, he found, began to be indefinitely prolonged, instead

of "sliding down the celestial ray," according to his expression.

But we had no choice; and as long as our road led towards the

centre--however little progress we made, there was no reason to

complain.

Moreover, from time to time the slopes were much greater, the naiad sang

more loudly, and we began to dip downwards in earnest.

As yet, however, I felt no painful sensation. I had not got over the

excitement of the discovery of water.

That day and the next we did a considerable amount of horizontal, and

relatively very little vertical, traveling.

On Friday evening, the tenth of July, according to our estimation, we

ought to have been thirty leagues to the southeast of Reykjavik, and

about two leagues and a half deep. We now received a rather startling

surprise.

Under our feet there opened a horrible well. My uncle was so delighted

that he actually clapped his hands--as he saw how steep and sharp was

the descent.

"Ah, ah!" he cried, in rapturous delight; "this take us a long way. Look

at the projections of the rock. Hah!" he exclaimed, "it's a fearful

staircase!"

Hans, however, who in all our troubles had never given up the ropes,

took care so to dispose of them as to prevent any accidents. Our descent

then began. I dare not call it a perilous descent, for I was already too

familiar with that sort of work to look upon it as anything but a very

ordinary affair.

This well was a kind of narrow opening in the massive granite of the

kind known as a fissure. The contraction of the terrestrial scaffolding,

when it suddenly cooled, had been evidently the cause. If it had ever

served in former times as a kind of funnel through which passed the

eruptive masses vomited by Sneffels, I was at a loss to explain how it

had left no mark. We were, in fact, descending a spiral, something like

those winding staircases in use in modern houses.

We were compelled every quarter of an hour or thereabouts to sit down in

order to rest our legs. Our calves ached. We then seated ourselves on

some projecting rock with our legs hanging over, and gossiped while we

ate a mouthful--drinking still from the pleasantly warm running stream

which had not deserted us.

It is scarcely necessary to say that in this curiously shaped fissure

the Hansbach had become a cascade to the detriment of its size. It was

still, however, sufficient, and more, for our wants. Besides we knew

that, as soon as the declivity ceased to be so abrupt, the stream must

resume its peaceful course. At this moment it reminded me of my uncle,

his impatience and rage, while when it flowed more peacefully, I

pictured to myself the placidity of the Icelandic guide.

During the whole of two days, the sixth and seventh of July, we followed

the extraordinary spiral staircase of the fissure, penetrating two

leagues farther into the crust of the earth, which put us five leagues

below the level of the sea. On the eighth, however, at twelve o'clock in

the day, the fissure suddenly assumed a much more gentle slope still

trending in a southeast direction.

The road now became comparatively easy, and at the same time dreadfully

monotonous. It would have been difficult for matters to have turned out

otherwise. Our peculiar journey had no chance of being diversified by

landscape and scenery. At all events, such was my idea.

At length, on Wednesday the fifteenth, we were actually seven leagues

(twenty-one miles) below the surface of the earth, and fifty leagues

distant from the mountain of Sneffels. Though, if the truth be told, we

were very tired, our health had resisted all suffering, and was in a

most satisfactory state. Our traveler's box of medicaments had not even

been opened.

My uncle was careful to note every hour the indications of the compass,

of the manometer, and of the thermometer, all which he afterwards

published in his elaborate philosophical and scientific account of our

remarkable voyage. He was therefore able to give an exact relation of

the situation. When, therefore, he informed me that we were fifty

leagues in a horizontal direction distant from our starting point, I

could not suppress a loud exclamation.

"What is the matter now?" cried my uncle.

"Nothing very important, only an idea has entered my head," was my

reply.

"Well, out with it, My boy."

"It is my opinion that if your calculations are correct we are no longer

under Iceland."

"Do you think so?"

"We can very easily find out," I replied, pulling out a map and

compasses.

"You see," I said, after careful measurement, "that I am not mistaken.

We are far beyond Cape Portland; and those fifty leagues to the

southeast will take us into the open sea."

"Under the open sea," cried my uncle, rubbing his hands with a delighted

air.

"Yes," I cried, "no doubt old Ocean flows over our heads!"

"Well, my dear boy, what can be more natural! Do you not know that in

the neighborhood of Newcastle there are coal mines which have been

worked far out under the sea?"

Now my worthy uncle, the Professor, no doubt regarded this discovery as

a very simple fact, but to me the idea was by no means a pleasant one.

And yet when one came to think the matter over seriously, what mattered

it whether the plains and mountains of Iceland were suspended over our

devoted heads, or the mighty billows of the Atlantic Ocean? The whole

question rested on the solidity of the granite roof above us. However, I

soon got used to the ideal for the passage now level, now running down,

and still always to the southeast, kept going deeper and deeper into the

profound abysses of Mother Earth.

Three days later, on the eighteenth day of July, on a Saturday, we

reached a kind of vast grotto. My uncle here paid Hans his usual

rix-dollars, and it was decided that the next day should be a day of

rest.

CHAPTER 22 - SUNDAY BELOW GROUND

I Awoke on Sunday morning without any sense of hurry and bustle

attendant on an immediate departure. Though the day to be devoted to

repose and reflection was spent under such strange circumstances, and in

so wonderful a place, the idea was a pleasant one. Besides, we all began

to get used to this kind of existence. I had almost ceased to think of

the sun, of the moon, of the stars, of the trees, houses, and towns; in

fact, about any terrestrial necessities. In our peculiar position we

were far above such reflections.

The grotto was a vast and magnificent hall. Along its granitic soil the

stream flowed placidly and pleasantly. So great a distance was it now

from its fiery source that its water was scarcely lukewarm, and could be

drunk without delay or difficulty.

After a frugal breakfast, the Professor made up his mind to devote some

hours to putting his notes and calculations in order.

"In the first place," he said, "I have a good many to verify and prove,

in order that we may know our exact position. I wish to be able on our

return to the upper regions to make a map of our journey, a kind of

vertical section of the globe, which will be, as it were, the profile of

the expedition."

"That would indeed be a curious work, Uncle; but can you make your

observations with anything like certainty and precision?"

"I can. I have never on any occasion failed to note with great care the

angles and slopes. I am certain as to having made no mistake. Take the

compass and examine how she points."

I looked at the instrument with care.

"East one quarter southeast."

"Very good," resumed the Professor, noting the observation, and going

through some rapid calculations. "I make out that we have journeyed two

hundred and fifty miles from the point of our departure."

"Then the mighty waves of the Atlantic are rolling over our heads?"

"Certainly."

"And at this very moment it is possible that fierce tempests are raging

above, and that men and ships are battling against the angry blasts just

over our heads?"

"It is quite within the range of possibility," rejoined my uncle,

smiling.

"And that whales are playing in shoals, thrashing the bottom of the sea,

the roof of our adamantine prison?"

"Be quite at rest on that point; there is no danger of their breaking

through. But to return to our calculations. We are to the southeast, two

hundred and fifty miles from the base of Sneffels, and, according to my

preceding notes, I think we have gone sixteen leagues in a downward

direction."

"Sixteen leagues--fifty miles!" I cried.

"I am sure of it."

"But that is the extreme limit allowed by science for the thickness of

the earth's crust," I replied, referring to my geological studies.

"I do not contravene that assertion," was his quiet answer.

"And at this stage of our journey, according to all known laws on the

increase of heat, there should be here a temperature of <i>fifteen hundred

degrees of Reaumur</i>."

"There should be--you say, my boy."

"In which case this granite would not exist, but be in a state of

fusion."

"But you perceive, my boy, that it is not so, and that facts, as usual,

are very stubborn things, overruling all theories."

"I am forced to yield to the evidence of my senses, but I am

nevertheless very much surprised."

"What heat does the thermometer really indicate?" continued the

philosopher.

"Twenty-seven six-tenths."

"So that science is wrong by fourteen hundred and seventy-four degrees

and four-tenths. According to which, it is demonstrated that the

proportional increase in temperature is an exploded error. Humphry Davy

here shines forth in all his glory. He is right, and I have acted wisely

to believe him. Have you any answer to make to this statement?"

Had I chosen to have spoken, I might have said a great deal. I in no way

admitted the theory of Humphry Davy--I still held out for the theory of

proportional increase of heat, though I did not feel it.

I was far more willing to allow that this chimney of an extinct volcano

was covered by lava of a kind refractory to heat--in fact a bad

conductor--which did not allow the great increase of temperature to

percolate through its sides. The hot water jet supported my view of the

matter.

But without entering on a long and useless discussion, or seeking for

new arguments to controvert my uncle, I contented myself with taking up

facts as they were.

"Well, sir, I take for granted that all your calculations are correct,

but allow me to draw from them a rigorous and definite conclusion."

"Go on, my boy--have your say," cried my uncle goodhumoredly.

"At the place where we now are, under the latitude of Iceland, the

terrestrial depth is about fifteen hundred and eighty-three leagues."

"Fifteen hundred eighty-three and a quarter."

"Well, suppose we say sixteen hundred in round numbers. Now, out of a

voyage of sixteen hundred leagues we have completed sixteen."

"As you say, what then?"

"At the expense of a diagonal journey of no less than eighty-five

leagues."

"Exactly."

"We have been twenty days about it."

"Exactly twenty days."

"Now sixteen is the hundredth part of our contemplated expedition. If we

go on in this way we shall be two thousand days, that is about five

years and a half, going down."

The Professor folded his arms, listened, but did not speak.

"Without counting that if a vertical descent of sixteen leagues costs us

a horizontal of eighty-five, we shall have to go about eight thousand

leagues to the southeast, and we must therefore come out somewhere in

the circumference long before we can hope to reach the centre."

"Bother your calculations," cried my uncle in one of his old rages. "On

what basis do they rest? How do you know that this passage does not take

us direct to the end we require? Moreover, I have in my favor,

fortunately, a precedent. What I have undertaken to do, another has

done, and he having succeeded, why should I not be equally successful?"

"I hope, indeed, you will, but still, I suppose I may be allowed to--"

"You are allowed to hold your tongue," cried Professor Hardwigg, "when

you talk so unreasonably as this."

I saw at once that the old doctorial Professor was still alive in my

uncle--and fearful to rouse his angry passions, I dropped the unpleasant

subject.

"Now, then," he explained, "consult the manometer. What does that

indicate?"

"A considerable amount of pressure."

"Very good. You see, then, that by descending slowly, and by gradually

accustoming ourselves to the density of this lower atmosphere, we shall

not suffer."

"Well, I suppose not, except it may be a certain amount of pain in the

ears," was my rather grim reply.

"That, my dear boy, is nothing, and you will easily get rid of that

source of discomfort by bringing the exterior air in communication with

the air contained in your lungs."

"Perfectly," said I, for I had quite made up my mind in no wise to

contradict my uncle. "I should fancy almost that I should experience a

certain amount of satisfaction in making a plunge into this dense

atmosphere. Have you taken note of how wonderfully sound is propagated?"

"Of course I have. There can be no doubt that a journey into the

interior of the earth would be an excellent cure for deafness."

"But then, Uncle," I ventured mildly to observe, "this density will

continue to increase."

"Yes--according to a law which, however, is scarcely defined. It is true

that the intensity of weight will diminish just in proportion to the

depth to which we go. You know very well that it is on the surface of

the earth that its action is most powerfully felt, while on the

contrary, in the very centre of the earth bodies cease to have any

weight at all."

"I know that is the case, but as we progress will not the atmosphere

finally assume the density of water?"

"I know it; when placed under the pressure of seven hundred and ten

atmospheres," cried my uncle with imperturbable gravity.

"And when we are still lower down?" I asked with natural anxiety.

"Well, lower down, the density will become even greater."

"Then how shall we be able to make our way through this atmospheric

fog?"

"Well, my worthy nephew, we must ballast ourselves by filling our

pockets with stones," said Professor Hardwigg.

"Faith, Uncle, you have an answer for everything," was my only reply.

I began to feel that it was unwise of me to go any farther into the wide

field of hypotheses for I should certainly have revived some difficulty,

or rather impossibility, that would have enraged the Professor.

It was evident, nevertheless, that the air under a pressure which might

be multiplied by thousands of atmospheres, would end by becoming

perfectly solid, and that then admitting our bodies resisted the

pressure, we should have to stop, in spite of all the reasonings in the

world. Facts overcome all arguments.

But I thought it best not to urge this argument. My uncle would simply

have quoted the example of Saknussemm. Supposing the learned Icelander's

journey ever really to have taken place--there was one simple answer to

be made:

In the sixteenth century neither the barometer nor the manometer had

been invented--how, then, could Saknussemm have been able to discover

when he did reach the centre of the earth?

This unanswerable and learned objection I, however, kept to myself and,

bracing up my courage, awaited the course of events--little aware of how

adventurous yet were to be the incidents of our remarkable journey.

The rest of this day of leisure and repose was spent in calculation and

conversation. I made it a point to agree with the Professor in

everything; but I envied the perfect indifference of Hans, who, without

taking any such trouble about the cause and effect, went blindly onwards

wherever destiny chose to lead him.

CHAPTER 23 - ALONE

It must in all truth be confessed, things as yet had gone on well, and I

should have acted in bad taste to have complained. If the true medium of

our difficulties did not increase, it was within the range of

possibility that we might ultimately reach the end of our journey. Then

what glory would be ours! I began in the newly aroused ardor of my soul

to speak enthusiastically to the Professor. Well, was I serious? The

whole state in which we existed was a mystery--and it was impossible to

know whether or not I was in earnest.

For several days after our memorable halt, the slopes became more

rapid--some were even of a most frightful character--almost vertical, so

that we were forever going down into the solid interior mass. During

some days, we actually descended a league and a half, even two leagues

towards the centre of the earth. The descents were sufficiently

perilous, and while we were engaged in them we learned fully to

appreciate the marvelous coolness of our guide, Hans. Without him we

should have been wholly lost. The grave and impassible Icelander devoted

himself to us with the most incomprehensible sang-froid and ease; and,

thanks to him, many a dangerous pass was got over, where, but for him,

we should inevitably have stuck fast.

His silence increased every day. I think that we began to be influenced

by this peculiar trait in his character. It is certain that the

inanimate objects by which you are surrounded have a direct action on

the brain. It must be that a man who shuts himself up between four walls

must lose the faculty of associating ideas and words. How many persons

condemned to the horrors of solitary confinement have gone mad--simply

because the thinking faculties have lain dormant!

During the two weeks that followed our last interesting conversation,

there occurred nothing worthy of being especially recorded.

I have, while writing these memoirs, taxed my memory in vain for one

incident of travel during this particular period.

But the next event to be related is terrible indeed. Its very memory,

even now, makes my soul shudder, and my blood run cold.

It was on the seventh of August. Our constant and successive descents

had taken us quite thirty leagues into the interior of the earth, that

is to say that there were above us thirty leagues, nearly a hundred

miles, of rocks, and oceans, and continents, and towns, to say nothing

of living inhabitants. We were in a southeasterly direction, about two

hundred leagues from Iceland.

On that memorable day the tunnel had begun to assume an almost

horizontal course.

I was on this occasion walking on in front. My uncle had charge of one

of the Ruhmkorff coils, I had possession of the other. By means of its

light I was busy examining the different layers of granite. I was

completely absorbed in my work.

Suddenly halting and turning round, I found that I was alone!

"Well," thought I to myself, "I have certainly been walking too fast--or

else Hans and my uncle have stopped to rest. The best thing I can do is

to go back and find them. Luckily, there is very little ascent to tire

me."

I accordingly retraced my steps and, while doing so, walked for at least

a quarter of an hour. Rather uneasy, I paused and looked eagerly around.

Not a living soul. I called aloud. No reply. My voice was lost amid the

myriad cavernous echoes it aroused!

I began for the first time to feel seriously uneasy. A cold shiver shook

my whole body, and perspiration, chill and terrible, burst upon my skin.

"I must be calm," I said, speaking aloud, as boys whistle to drive away

fear. "There can be no doubt that I shall find my companions. There

cannot be two roads. It is certain that I was considerably ahead; all I

have to do is to go back."

Having come to this determination I ascended the tunnel for at least

half an hour, unable to decide if I had ever seen certain landmarks

before. Every now and then I paused to discover if any loud appeal was

made to me, well knowing that in that dense and intensified atmosphere I

should hear it a long way off. But no. The most extraordinary silence

reigned in this immense gallery. Only the echoes of my own footsteps

could be heard.

At last I stopped. I could scarcely realize the fact of my isolation. I

was quite willing to think that I had made a mistake, but not that I was

lost. If I had made a mistake, I might find my way; if lost--I shuddered

to think of it.

"Come, come," said I to myself, "since there is only one road, and they

must come by it, we shall at last meet. All I have to do is still to go

upwards. Perhaps, however, not seeing me, and forgetting I was ahead,

they may have gone back in search of me. Still, even in this case, if I

make haste, I shall get up to them. There can be no doubt about the

matter."

But as I spoke these last words aloud, it would have been quite clear to

any listener--had there been one--that I was by no means convinced of

the fact. Moreover in order to associate together these simple ideas and

to reunite them under the form of reasoning, required some time. I could

not all at once bring my brain to think.

Then another dread doubt fell upon my soul. After all, was I ahead? Of

course I was. Hans was no doubt following behind preceded by my uncle. I

perfectly recollected his having stopped for a moment to strap his

baggage on his shoulder. I now remembered this trifling detail. It was,

I believe, just at that very moment that I had determined to continue My

route.

"Again," thought I, reasoning as calmly as was possible, "there is

another sure means of not losing my way, a thread to guide me through

the labyrinthine subterraneous retreat--one which I had forgotten--my

faithful river."

This course of reasoning roused my drooping spirits, and I resolved to

resume my journey without further delay. No time was to be lost.

It was at this moment that I had reason to bless the thoughtfulness of

my uncle, when he refused to allow the eider hunter to close the

orifices of the hot spring--that small fissure in the great mass of

granite. This beneficent spring after having saved us from thirst during

so many days would now enable me to regain the right road.

Having come to this mental decision, I made up my mind, before I started

upwards, that ablution would certainly do me a great deal of good.

I stopped to plunge my hands and forehead in the pleasant water of the

Hansbach stream, blessing its presence as a certain consolation.

Conceive my horror and stupefaction!--I was treading a hard, dusty,

shingly road of granite. The stream on which I reckoned had wholly

disappeared!

CHAPTER 24 - LOST!

No words in any human language can depict my utter despair. I was

literally buried alive; with no other expectation before me but to die

in all the slow horrible torture of hunger and thirst.

Mechanically I crawled about, feeling the dry and arid rock. Never to my

fancy had I ever felt anything so dry.

But, I frantically asked myself, how had I lost the course of the

flowing stream? There could be no doubt it had ceased to flow in the

gallery in which I now was. Now I began to understand the cause of the

strange silence which prevailed when last I tried if any appeal from my

companions might perchance reach my ear.

It so happened that when I first took an imprudent step in the wrong

direction, I did not perceive the absence of the all-important stream.

It was now quite evident that when we halted, another tunnel must have

received the waters of the little torrent, and that I had unconsciously

entered a different gallery. To what unknown depths had my companions

gone? Where was I?

How to get back! Clue or landmark there was absolutely none! My feet

left no signs on the granite and shingle. My brain throbbed with agony

as I tried to discover the solution of this terrible problem. My

situation, after all sophistry and reflection, had finally to be summed

up in three awful words--

<i>Lost!</i> Lost!! LOST!!!

Lost at a depth which, to my finite understanding, appeared to be

immeasurable.

These thirty leagues of the crust of the earth weighed upon my shoulders

like the globe on the shoulders of Atlas. I felt myself crushed by the

awful weight. It was indeed a position to drive the sanest man to

madness!

I tried to bring my thoughts back to the things of the world so long

forgotten. It was with the greatest difficulty that I succeeded in doing

so. Hamburg, the house on the Konigstrasse, my dear cousin Gretchen--all

that world which had before vanished like a shadow floated before my now

vivid imagination.

There they were before me, but how unreal. Under the influence of a

terrible hallucination I saw all the incidents of our journey pass

before me like the scenes of a panorama. The ship and its inmates,

Iceland, M. Fridriksson, and the great summit of Mount Sneffels! I said

to myself that, if in my position I retained the most faint and shadowy

outline of a hope, it would be a sure sign of approaching delirium. It

were better to give way wholly to despair!

In fact, did I but reason with calmness and philosophy, what human power

was there in existence able to take me back to the surface of the earth,

and ready, too, to split asunder, to rend in twain those huge and mighty

vaults which stand above my head? Who could enable me to find my

road--and regain my companions?

Insensate folly and madness to entertain even a shadow of hope!

"Oh, Uncle!" was my despairing cry.

This was the only word of reproach which came to my lips; for I

thoroughly understood how deeply and sorrowfully the worthy Professor

would regret my loss, and how in his turn he would patiently seek for

me.

When I at last began to resign myself to the fact that no further aid

was to be expected from man, and knowing that I was utterly powerless to

do anything for my own salvation, I kneeled with earnest fervor and

asked assistance from Heaven. The remembrance of my innocent childhood,

the memory of my mother, known only in my infancy, came welling forth

from my heart. I had recourse to prayer. And little as I had a right to

be remembered by Him whom I had forgotten in the hour of prosperity, and

whom I so tardily invoked, I prayed earnestly and sincerely.

This renewal of my youthful faith brought about a much greater amount of

calm, and I was enabled to concentrate all my strength and intelligence

on the terrible realities of my unprecedented situation.

I had about me that which I had at first wholly forgotten--three days'

provisions. Moreover, my water bottle was quite full. Nevertheless, the

one thing which it was impossible to do was to remain alone. Try to find

my companions I must, at any price. But which course should I take?

Should I go upwards, or again descend? Doubtless it was right to retrace

my steps in an upward direction.

By doing this with care and coolness, I must reach the point where I had

turned away from the rippling stream. I must find the fatal bifurcation

or fork. Once at this spot, once the river at my feet, I could, at all

events, regain the awful crater of Mount Sneffels. Why had I not thought

of this before? This, at last, was a reasonable hope of safety. The most

important thing, then, to be done was to discover the bed of the

Hansbach.

After a slight meal and a draught of water, I rose like a giant

refreshed. Leaning heavily on my pole, I began the ascent of the

gallery. The slope was very rapid and rather difficult. But I advanced

hopefully and carefully, like a man who at last is making his way out of

a forest, and knows there is only one road to follow.

During one whole hour nothing happened to check my progress. As I

advanced, I tried to recollect the shape of the tunnel--to recall to my

memory certain projections of rocks--to persuade myself that I had

followed certain winding routes before. But no one particular sign could

I bring to mind, and I was soon forced to allow that this gallery would

never take me back to the point at which I had separated myself from my

companions. It was absolutely without issue--a mere blind alley in the

earth.

The moment at length came when, facing the solid rock, I knew my fate,

and fell inanimate on the arid floor!

To describe the horrible state of despair and fear into which I then

fell would now be vain and impossible. My last hope, the courage which

had sustained me, drooped before the sight of this pitiless granite

rock!

Lost in a vast labyrinth, the sinuosities of which spread in every

direction, without guide, clue or compass, I knew it was a vain and

useless task to attempt flight. All that remained to me was to lie down

and die. To lie down and die the most cruel and horrible of deaths!

In my state of mind, the idea came into my head that one day perhaps,

when my fossil bones were found, their discovery so far below the level

of the earth might give rise to solemn and interesting scientific

discussions.

I tried to cry aloud, but hoarse, hollow, and inarticulate sounds alone

could make themselves heard through my parched lips. I literally panted

for breath.

In the midst of all these horrible sources of anguish and despair, a new

horror took possession of my soul. My lamp, by falling down, had got out

of order. I had no means of repairing it. Its light was already becoming

paler and paler, and soon would expire.

With a strange sense of resignation and despair, I watched the luminous

current in the coil getting less and less. A procession of shadows moved

flashing along the granite wall. I scarcely dared to lower my eyelids,

fearing to lose the last spark of this fugitive light. Every instant it

seemed to me that it was about to vanish and to leave me forever--in

utter darkness!

At last, one final trembling flame remained in the lamp; I followed it

with all my power of vision; I gasped for breath; I concentrated upon it

all the power of my soul, as upon the last scintillation of light I was

ever destined to see: and then I was to be lost forever in Cimmerian and

tenebrous shades.

A wild and plaintive cry escaped my lips. On earth during the most

profound and comparatively complete darkness, light never allows a

complete destruction and extinction of its power. Light is so diffuse,

so subtle, that it permeates everywhere, and whatever little may remain,

the retina of the eye will succeed in finding it. In this place

nothing--the absolute obscurity made me blind in every sense.

My head was now wholly lost. I raised my arms, trying the effects of the

feeling in getting against the cold stone wall. It was painful in the

extreme. Madness must have taken possession of me. I knew not what I

did. I began to run, to fly, rushing at haphazard in this inextricable

labyrinth, always going downwards, running wildly underneath the

terrestrial crust, like an inhabitant of the subterranean furnaces,

screaming, roaring, howling, until bruised by the pointed rocks, falling

and picking myself up all covered with blood, seeking madly to drink the

blood which dripped from my torn features, mad because this blood only

trickled over my face, and watching always for this horrid wall which

ever presented to me the fearful obstacle against which I could not dash

my head.

Where was I going? It was impossible to say. I was perfectly ignorant of

the matter.

Several hours passed in this way. After a long time, having utterly

exhausted my strength, I fell a heavy inert mass along the side of the

tunnel, and lost consciousness.

CHAPTER 25 - THE WHISPERING GALLERY

When at last I came back to a sense of life and being, my face was wet,

but wet, as I soon knew, with tears. How long this state of

insensibility lasted, it is quite impossible for me now to say. I had no

means left to me of taking any account of time. Never since the creation

of the world had such a solitude as mine existed. I was completely

abandoned.

After my fall I lost much blood. I felt myself flooded with the

life-giving liquid. My first sensation was perhaps a natural one. Why

was I not dead? Because I was alive, there was something left to do. I

tried to make up my mind to think no longer. As far as I was able, I

drove away all ideas, and utterly overcome by pain and grief, I crouched

against the granite wall.

I just commenced to feel the fainting coming on again, and the sensation

that this was the last struggle before complete annihilation--when, on a

sudden, a violent uproar reached my ears. It had some resemblance to the

prolonged rumbling voice of thunder, and I clearly distinguished

sonorous voices, lost one after the other, in the distant depths of the

gulf.

Whence came this noise? Naturally, it was to be supposed from new

phenomena which were taking place in the bosom of the solid mass of

Mother Earth! The explosion of some gaseous vapors, or the fall of some

solid, of the granitic or other rock.

Again I listened with deep attention. I was extremely anxious to hear if

this strange and inexplicable sound was likely to be renewed! A whole

quarter of an hour elapsed in painful expectation. Deep and solemn

silence reigned in the tunnel. So still that I could hear the beatings

of my own heart! I waited, waited with a strange kind of hopefulness.

Suddenly my ear, which leaned accidentally against the wall, appeared to

catch, as it were, the faintest echo of a sound. I thought that I heard

vague, incoherent and distant voices. I quivered all over with

excitement and hope!

"It must be hallucination," I cried. "It cannot be! it is not true!"

But no! By listening more attentively, I really did convince myself that

what I heard was truly the sound of human voices. To make any meaning

out of the sound, however, was beyond my power. I was too weak even to

hear distinctly. Still it was a positive fact that someone was speaking.

Of that I was quite certain.

There was a moment of fear. A dread fell upon my soul that it might be

my own words brought back to me by a distant echo. Perhaps without

knowing it, I might have been crying aloud. I resolutely closed my lips,

and once more placed my ear to the huge granite wall.

Yes, for certain. It was in truth the sound of human voices.

I now by the exercise of great determination dragged myself along the

sides of the cavern, until I reached a point where I could hear more

distinctly. But though I could detect the sound, I could only make out

uncertain, strange, and incomprehensible words. They reached my ear as

if they had been spoken in a low tone--murmured, as it were, afar off.

At last, I made out the word forlorad repeated several times in a tone

betokening great mental anguish and sorrow.

What could this word mean, and who was speaking it? It must be either my

uncle or the guide Hans! If, therefore, I could hear them, they must

surely be able to hear me.

"Help," I cried at the top of my voice; "help, I am dying!"

I then listened with scarcely a breath; I panted for the slightest sound

in the darkness--a cry, a sigh, a question! But silence reigned supreme.

No answer came! In this way some minutes passed. A whole flood of ideas

flashed through my mind. I began to fear that my voice, weakened by

sickness and suffering, could not reach my companions who were in search

of me.

"It must be they," I cried; "who else could by any possibility be buried

a hundred miles below the level of the earth?" The mere supposition was

preposterous.

I began, therefore, to listen again with the most breathless attention.

As I moved my ears along the side of the place I was in, I found a

mathematical point as it were, where the voices appeared to attain their

maximum of intensity. The word forlorad again distinctly reached my ear.

Then came again that rolling noise like thunder which had awakened me

out of torpor.

"I begin to understand," I said to myself after some little time devoted

to reflection; "it is not through the solid mass that the sound reaches

my ears. The walls of my cavernous retreat are of solid granite, and the

most fearful explosion would not make uproar enough to penetrate them.

The sound must come along the gallery itself. The place I was in must

possess some peculiar acoustic properties of its own."

Again I listened; and this time--yes, this time--I heard my name

distinctly pronounced: cast as it were into space.

It was my uncle, the Professor, who was speaking. He was in conversation

with the guide, and the word which had so often reached my ears,

forlorad, was a Danish expression.

Then I understood it all. In order to make myself heard, I too must

speak as it were along the side of the gallery, which would carry the

sound of my voice just as the wire carries the electric fluid from point

to point.

But there was no time to lose. If my companions were only to remove a

few feet from where they stood, the acoustic effect would be over, my

Whispering Gallery would be destroyed. I again therefore crawled towards

the wall, and said as clearly and distinctly as I could:

"Uncle Hardwigg."

I then awaited a reply.

Sound does not possess the property of traveling with such extreme

rapidity. Besides the density of the air at that depth from light and

motion was very far from adding to the rapidity of circulation. Several

seconds elapsed, which to my excited imagination, appeared ages; and

these words reached my eager ears, and moved my wildly beating heart:

"Harry, my boy, is that you?"

A short delay between question and answer.

"Yes--yes."

..........

"Where are you?"

..........

"Lost!"

..........

"And your lamp?"

..........

"Out."

..........

"But the guiding stream?"

..........

"Is lost!"

..........

"Keep your courage, Harry. We will do our best."

..........

"One moment, my uncle," I cried; "I have no longer strength to answer

your questions. But--for heaven's sake--do you--continue--to speak--to

me!" Absolute silence, I felt, would be annihilation.

"Keep up your courage," said my uncle. "As you are so weak, do not

speak. We have been searching for you in all directions, both by going

upwards and downwards in the gallery. My dear boy, I had begun to give

over all hope--and you can never know what bitter tears of sorrow and

regret I have shed. At last, supposing you to be still on the road

beside the Hansbach, we again descended, firing off guns as signals.

Now, however, that we have found you, and that our voices reach each

other, it may be a long time before we actually meet. We are conversing

by means of some extraordinary acoustic arrangement of the labyrinth.

But do not despair, my dear boy. It is something gained even to hear

each other."

While he was speaking, my brain was at work reflecting. A certain

undefined hope, vague and shapeless as yet, made my heart beat wildly.

In the first place, it was absolutely necessary for me to know one

thing. I once more, therefore, leaned my head against the wall, which I

almost touched with my lips, and again spoke.

"Uncle."

..........

"My boy?" was his answer after a few moments.

..........

"It is of the utmost consequence that we should know how far we are

asunder."

..........

"That is not difficult."

..........

"You have your chronometer at hand?" I asked.

..........

"Certainly."

..........

"Well, take it into your hand. Pronounce my name, noting exactly the

second at which you speak. I will reply as soon as I hear your

words--and you will then note exactly the moment at which my reply

reaches you."

..........

"Very good; and the mean time between my question and your answer will

be the time occupied by my voice in reaching you."

..........

"That is exactly what I mean, Uncle," was my eager reply.

..........

"Are you ready?"

..........

"Yes."

..........

"Well, make ready, I am about to pronounce your name," said the

Professor.

I applied my ear close to the sides of the cavernous gallery, and as

soon as the word "Harry" reached my ear, I turned round and, placing my

lips to the wall, repeated the sound.

..........

"Forty seconds," said my uncle. "There has elapsed forty seconds between

the two words. The sound, therefore, takes twenty seconds to ascend.

Now, allowing a thousand and twenty feet for every second--we have

twenty thousand four hundred feet--a league and a half and one-eighth."

These words fell on my soul like a kind of death knell.

"A league and a half," I muttered in a low and despairing voice.

..........

"It shall be got over, my boy," cried my uncle in a cheery tone; "depend

on us."

..........

"But do you know whether to ascend or descend?" I asked faintly enough.

..........

"We have to descend, and I will tell you why. You have reached a vast

open space, a kind of bare crossroad, from which galleries diverge in

every direction. That in which you are now lying must necessarily bring

you to this point, for it appears that all these mighty fissures, these

fractures of the globe's interior, radiate from the vast cavern which we

at this moment occupy. Rouse yourself, then, have courage and continue

your route. Walk if you can, if not drag yourself along--slide, if

nothing else is possible. The slope must be rather rapid--and you will

find strong arms to receive you at the end of your journey. Make a

start, like a good fellow."

These words served to rouse some kind of courage in my sinking frame.

"Farewell for the present, good uncle, I am about to take my departure.

As soon as I start, our voices will cease to commingle. Farewell, then,

until we meet again."

..........

"Adieu, Harry--until we say Welcome." Such were the last words which

reached my anxious ears before I commenced my weary and almost hopeless

journey.

This wonderful and surprising conversation which took place through the

vast mass of the earth's labyrinth, these words exchanged, the speakers

being about five miles apart--ended with hopeful and pleasant

expressions. I breathed one more prayer to Heaven, I sent up words of

thanksgiving--believing in my inmost heart that He had led me to the

only place where the voices of my friends could reach my ears.

This apparently astounding acoustic mystery is easily explainable by

simple natural laws; it arose from the conductibility of the rock. There

are many instances of this singular propagation of sound which are not

perceptible in its less mediate positions. In the interior gallery of

St. Paul's, and amid the curious caverns in Sicily, these phenomena are

observable. The most marvelous of them all is known as the Ear of

Dionysius.

These memories of the past, of my early reading and studies, came fresh

to my thoughts. Moreover, I began to reason that if my uncle and I could

communicate at so great a distance, no serious obstacle could exist

between us. All I had to do was to follow the direction whence the sound

had reached me; and logically putting it, I must reach him if my

strength did not fail.

I accordingly rose to my feet. I soon found, however, that I could not

walk; that I must drag myself along. The slope as I expected was very

rapid; but I allowed myself to slip down.

Soon the rapidity of the descent began to assume frightful proportions;

and menaced a fearful fall. I clutched at the sides; I grasped at

projections of rocks; I threw myself backwards. All in vain. My weakness

was so great I could do nothing to save myself.

Suddenly earth failed me.

I was first launched into a dark and gloomy void. I then struck against

the projecting asperities of a vertical gallery, a perfect well. My head

bounded against a pointed rock, and I lost all knowledge of existence.

As far as I was concerned, death had claimed me for his own.

CHAPTER 26 - A RAPID RECOVERY

When I returned to the consciousness of existence, I found myself

surrounded by a kind of semiobscurity, lying on some thick and soft

coverlets. My uncle was watching--his eyes fixed intently on my

countenance, a grave expression on his face, a tear in his eye. At the

first sigh which struggled from my bosom, he took hold of my hand. When

he saw my eyes open and fix themselves upon his, he uttered a loud cry

of joy. "He lives! he lives!"

"Yes, my good uncle," I whispered.

"My dear boy," continued the grim Professor, clasping me to his heart,

"you are saved!"

I was deeply and unaffectedly touched by the tone in which these words

were uttered, and even more by the kindly care which accompanied them.

The Professor, however, was one of those men who must be severely tried

in order to induce any display of affection or gentle emotion. At this

moment our friend Hans, the guide, joined us. He saw my hand in that of

my uncle, and I venture to say that, taciturn as he was, his eyes beamed

with lively satisfaction.

"God dag," he said.

"Good day, Hans, good day," I replied, in as hearty a tone as I could

assume, "and now, Uncle, that we are together, tell me where we are. I

have lost all idea of our position, as of everything else."

"Tomorrow, Harry, tomorrow," he replied. "Today you are far too weak.

Your head is surrounded with bandages and poultices that must not be

touched. Sleep, my boy, sleep, and tomorrow you will know all that you

require."

"But," I cried, "let me know what o'clock it is--what day it is?"

"It is now eleven o'clock at night, and this is once more Sunday. It is

now the ninth of the month of August. And I distinctly prohibit you from

asking any more questions until the tenth of the same."

I was, if the truth were told, very weak indeed, and my eyes soon closed

involuntarily. I did require a good night's rest, and I went off

reflecting at the last moment that my perilous adventure in the interior

of the earth, in total darkness, had lasted four days!

On the morning of the next day, at my awakening, I began to look around

me. My sleeping place, made of all our traveling bedding, was in a

charming grotto, adorned with magnificent stalagmites, glittering in all

the colors of the rainbow, the floor of soft and silvery sand.

A dim obscurity prevailed. No torch, no lamp was lighted, and yet

certain unexplained beams of light penetrated from without, and made

their way through the opening of the beautiful grotto.

I, moreover, heard a vague and indefinite murmur, like the ebb and flow

of waves upon a strand, and sometimes I verily believed I could hear the

sighing of the wind.

I began to believe that, instead of being awake, I must be dreaming.

Surely my brain had not been affected by my fall, and all that occurred

during the last twenty-four hours was not the frenzied visions of

madness? And yet after some reflection, a trial of my faculties, I came

to the conclusion that I could not be mistaken. Eyes and ears could not

surely both deceive me.

"It is a ray of the blessed daylight," I said to myself, "which has

penetrated through some mighty fissure in the rocks. But what is the

meaning of this murmur of waves, this unmistakable moaning of the

salt-sea billows? I can hear, too, plainly enough, the whistling of the

wind. But can I be altogether mistaken? If my uncle, during my illness,

has but carried me back to the surface of the earth! Has he, on my

account, given up his wondrous expedition, or in some strange manner has

it come to an end?"

I was puzzling my brain over these and other questions, when the

Professor joined me.

"Good day, Harry," he cried in a joyous tone. "I fancy you are quite

well."

"I am very much better," I replied, actually sitting up in my bed.

"I knew that would be the end of it, as you slept both soundly and

tranquilly. Hans and I have each taken turn to watch, and every hour we

have seen visible signs of amelioration."

"You must be right, Uncle," was my reply, "for I feel as if I could do

justice to any meal you could put before me."

"You shall eat, my boy, you shall eat. The fever has left you. Our

excellent friend Hans has rubbed your wounds and bruises with I know not

what ointment, of which the Icelanders alone possess the secret. And

they have healed your bruises in the most marvelous manner. Ah, he's a

wise fellow is Master Hans."

While he was speaking, my uncle was placing before me several articles

of food, which, despite his earnest injunctions, I readily devoured. As

soon as the first rage of hunger was appeased, I overwhelmed him with

questions, to which he now no longer hesitated to give answers.

I then learned, for the first time, that my providential fall had

brought me to the bottom of an almost perpendicular gallery. As I came

down, amidst a perfect shower of stones, the least of which falling on

me would have crushed me to death, they came to the conclusion that I

had carried with me an entire dislocated rock. Riding as it were on this

terrible chariot, I was cast headlong into my uncle's arms. And into

them I fell, insensible and covered with blood.

"It is indeed a miracle," was the Professor's final remark, "that you

were not killed a thousand times over. But let us take care never to

separate; for surely we should risk never meeting again."

"Let us take care never again to separate."

These words fell with a sort of chill upon my heart. The journey, then,

was not over. I looked at my uncle with surprise and astonishment. My

uncle, after an instant's examination of my countenance, said: "What is

the matter, Harry?"

"I want to ask you a very serious question. You say that I am all right

in health?"

"Certainly you are."

"And all my limbs are sound and capable of new exertion?" I asked.

"Most undoubtedly."

"But what about my head?" was my next anxious question.

"Well, your head, except that you have one or two contusions, is exactly

where it ought to be--on your shoulders," said my uncle, laughing.

"Well, my own opinion is that my head is not exactly right. In fact, I

believe myself slightly delirious."

"What makes you think so?"

"I will explain why I fancy I have lost my senses," I cried. "Have we

not returned to the surface of Mother Earth?"

"Certainly not."

"Then truly I must be mad, for do I not see the light of day? do I not

hear the whistling of the wind? and can I not distinguish the wash of a

great sea?"

"And that is all that makes you uneasy?" said my uncle, with a smile.

"Can you explain?"

"I will not make any attempt to explain; for the whole matter is utterly

inexplicable. But you shall see and judge for yourself. You will then

find that geological science is as yet in its infancy--and that we are

doomed to enlighten the world."

"Let us advance, then," I cried eagerly, no longer able to restrain my

curiosity.

"Wait a moment, my dear Harry," he responded; "you must take precautions

after your illness before going into the open air."

"The open air?"

"Yes, my boy. I have to warn you that the wind is rather violent--and I

have no wish for you to expose yourself without necessary precautions."

"But I beg to assure you that I am perfectly recovered from my illness."

"Have just a little patience, my boy. A relapse would be inconvenient to

all parties. We have no time to lose--as our approaching sea voyage may

be of long duration."

"Sea voyage?" I cried, more bewildered than ever.

"Yes. You must take another day's rest, and we shall be ready to go on

board by tomorrow," replied my uncle, with a peculiar smile.

"Go on board!" The words utterly astonished me.

Go on board--what and how? Had we come upon a river, a lake, had we

discovered some inland sea? Was a vessel lying at anchor in some part of

the interior of the earth?

My curiosity was worked up to the very highest pitch. My uncle made vain

attempts to restrain me. When at last, however, he discovered that my

feverish impatience would do more harm than good--and that the

satisfaction of my wishes could alone restore me to a calm state of

mind--he gave way.

I dressed myself rapidly--and then taking the precaution to please my

uncle, of wrapping myself in one of the coverlets, I rushed out of the

grotto.

CHAPTER 27 - THE CENTRAL SEA

At first I saw absolutely nothing. My eyes, wholly unused to the

effulgence of light, could not bear the sudden brightness; and I was

compelled to close them. When I was able to reopen them, I stood still,

far more stupefied than astonished. Not all the wildest effects of

imagination could have conjured up such a scene! "The sea--the sea," I

cried.

"Yes," replied my uncle, in a tone of pardonable pride; "the Central

Sea. No future navigator will deny the fact of my having discovered it;

and hence of acquiring a right of giving it a name."

It was quite true. A vast, limitless expanse of water, the end of a lake

if not of an ocean, spread before us, until it was lost in the distance.

The shore, which was very much indented, consisted of a beautiful soft

golden sand, mixed with small shells, the long-deserted home of some of

the creatures of a past age. The waves broke incessantly--and with a

peculiarly sonorous murmur, to be found in underground localities. A

slight frothy flake arose as the wind blew along the pellucid waters;

and many a dash of spray was blown into my face. The mighty

superstructure of rock which rose above to an inconceivable height left

only a narrow opening--but where we stood, there was a large margin of

strand. On all sides were capes and promontories and enormous cliffs,

partially worn by the eternal breaking of the waves, through countless

ages! And as I gazed from side to side, the mighty rocks faded away like

a fleecy film of cloud.

It was in reality an ocean, with an the usual characteristics of an

inland sea, only horribly wild--so rigid, cold and savage.

One thing startled and puzzled me greatly. How was it that I was able to

look upon that vast sheet of water instead of being plunged in utter

darkness? The vast landscape before me was lit up like day. But there

was wanting the dazzling brilliancy, the splendid irradiation of the

sun; the pale cold illumination of the moon; the brightness of the

stars. The illuminating power in this subterranean region, from its

trembling and Rickering character, its clear dry whiteness, the very

slight elevation of its temperature, its great superiority to that of

the moon, was evidently electric; something in the nature of the aurora

borealis, only that its phenomena were constant, and able to light up

the whole of the ocean cavern.

The tremendous vault above our heads, the sky, so to speak, appeared to

be composed of a conglomeration of nebulous vapors, in constant motion.

I should originally have supposed that, under such an atmospheric

pressure as must exist in that place, the evaporation of water could not

really take place, and yet from the action of some physical law, which

escaped my memory, there were heavy and dense clouds rolling along that

mighty vault, partially concealing the roof. Electric currents produced

astonishing play of light and shade in the distance, especially around

the heavier clouds. Deep shadows were cast beneath, and then suddenly,

between two clouds, there would come a ray of unusual beauty, and

remarkable intensity. And yet it was not like the sun, for it gave no

heat.

The effect was sad and excruciatingly melancholy. Instead of a noble

firmament of blue, studded with stars, there was above me a heavy roof

of granite, which seemed to crush me.

Gazing around, I began to think of the theory of the English captain who

compared the earth to a vast hollow sphere in the interior of which the

air is retained in a luminous state by means of atmospheric pressure,

while two stars, Pluto and Proserpine, circled there in their mysterious

orbits. After all, suppose the old fellow was right!

In truth, we were imprisoned--bound as it were, in a vast excavation.

Its width it was impossible to make out; the shore, on either hand,

widening rapidly until lost to sight; while its length was equally

uncertain. A haze on the distant horizon bounded our view. As to its

height, we could see that it must be many miles to the roof. Looking

upward, it was impossible to discover where the stupendous roof began.

The lowest of the clouds must have been floating at an elevation of two

thousand yards, a height greater than that of terrestrial vapors, which

circumstance was doubtless owing to the extreme density of the air.

I use the word "cavern" in order to give an idea of the place. I cannot

describe its awful grandeur; human language fails to convey an idea of

its savage sublimity. Whether this singular vacuum had or had not been

caused by the sudden cooling of the earth when in a state of fusion, I

could not say. I had read of most wonderful and gigantic caverns--but,

none in any way like this.

The great grotto of Guachara, in Colombia, visited by the learned

Humboldt; the vast and partially explored Mammoth Cave in Kentucky--what

were these holes in the earth to that in which I stood in speechless

admiration! with its vapory clouds, its electric light, and the mighty

ocean slumbering in its bosom! Imagination, not description, can alone

give an idea of the splendor and vastness of the cave.

I gazed at these marvels in profound silence. Words were utterly wanting

to indicate the sensations of wonder I experienced. I seemed, as I stood

upon that mysterious shore, as if I were some wandering inhabitant of a

distant planet, present for the first time at the spectacle of some

terrestrial phenomena belonging to another existence. To give body and

existence to such new sensations would have required the coinage of new

words--and here my feeble brain found itself wholly at fault. I looked

on, I thought, I reflected, I admired, in a state of stupefaction not

altogether unmingled with fear!

The unexpected spectacle restored some color to my pallid cheeks. I

seemed to be actually getting better under the influence of this

novelty. Moreover, the vivacity of the dense atmosphere reanimated my

body by inflating my lungs with unaccustomed oxygen.

It will be readily conceived that after an imprisonment of forty-seven

days, in a dark and miserable tunnel it was with infinite delight that I

breathed this saline air. It was like the genial, reviving influence of

the salt sea waves.

My uncle had already got over the first surprise.

With the Latin poet Horace his idea was that--

Not to admire is all the art I know,

To make man happy and to keep him so.

"Well," he said, after giving me time thoroughly to appreciate the

marvels of this underground sea, "do you feel strong enough to walk up

and down?"

"Certainly," was my ready answer, "nothing would give me greater

pleasure."

"Well then, my boy," he said, "lean on my arm, and we will stroll along

the beach."

I accepted his offer eagerly, and we began to walk along the shores of

this extraordinary lake. To our left were abrupt rocks, piled one upon

the other--a stupendous titanic pile; down their sides leaped

innumerable cascades, which at last, becoming limpid and murmuring

streams, were lost in the waters of the lake. Light vapors, which rose

here and there, and floated in fleecy clouds from rock to rock,

indicated hot springs, which also poured their superfluity into the vast

reservoir at our feet.

Among them I recognized our old and faithful stream, the Hansbach,

which, lost in that wild basin, seemed as if it had been flowing since

the creation of the world.

"We shall miss our excellent friend," I remarked, with a deep sigh.

"Bah!" said my uncle testily, "what matters it? That or another, it is

all the same."

I thought the remark ungrateful, and felt almost inclined to say so; but

I forbore.

At this moment my attention was attracted by an unexpected spectacle.

After we had gone about five hundred yards, we suddenly turned a steep

promontory, and found ourselves close to a lofty forest! It consisted of

straight trunks with tufted tops, in shape like parasols. The air seemed

to have no effect upon these trees--which in spite of a tolerable breeze

remained as still and motionless as if they had been petrified.

I hastened forward. I could find no name for these singular formations.

Did they not belong to the two thousand and more known trees--or were we

to make the discovery of a new growth? By no means. When we at last

reached the forest, and stood beneath the trees, my surprise gave way to

admiration.

In truth, I was simply in the presence of a very ordinary product of the

earth, of singular and gigantic proportions. My uncle unhesitatingly

called them by their real names.

"It is only," he said, in his coolest manner, "a forest of mushrooms."

On close examination I found that he was not mistaken. Judge of the

development attained by this product of damp hot soils. I had heard that

the Lycoperdon giganteum reaches nine feet in circumference, but here

were white mushrooms, nearly forty feet high, and with tops of equal

dimensions. They grew in countless thousands--the light could not make

its way through their massive substance, and beneath them reigned a

gloomy and mystic darkness.

Still I wished to go forward. The cold in the shades of this singular

forest was intense. For nearly an hour we wandered about in this visible

darkness. At length I left the spot, and once more returned to the

shores of the lake, to light and comparative warmth.

But the amazing vegetation of subterraneous land was not confined to

gigantic mushrooms. New wonders awaited us at every step. We had not

gone many hundred yards, when we came upon a mighty group of other trees

with discolored leaves--the common humble trees of Mother Earth, of an

exorbitant and phenomenal size: lycopods a hundred feet high; flowering

ferns as tall as pines; gigantic grasses!

"Astonishing, magnificent, splendid!" cried my uncle; "here we have

before us the whole flora of the second period of the world, that of

transition. Behold the humble plants of our gardens, which in the first

ages of the world were mighty trees. Look around you, my dear Harry. No

botanist ever before gazed on such a sight!"

My uncle's enthusiasm, always a little more than was required, was now

excusable.

"You are right, Uncle," I remarked. "Providence appears to have designed

the preservation in this vast and mysterious hothouse of antediluvian

plants, to prove the sagacity of learned men in figuring them so

marvelously on paper."

"Well said, my boy--very well said; it is indeed a mighty hothouse. But

you would also be within the bounds of reason and common sense, if you

added that it is also a vast menagerie."

I looked rather anxiously around. If the animals were as exaggerated as

the plants, the matter would certainly be serious.

"A menagerie?"

"Doubtless. Look at the dust we are treading under foot--behold the

bones with which the whole soil of the seashore is covered--"

"Bones," I replied, "yes, certainly, the bones of antediluvian animals."

I stooped down as I spoke, and picked up one or two singular remains,

relics of a bygone age. It was easy to give a name to these gigantic

bones, in some instances as big as trunks of trees.

"Here is, clearly, the lower jawbone of a mastodon," I cried, almost as

warmly and enthusiastically as my uncle; "here are the molars of the

Dinotherium; here is a leg bone which belonged to the Megatherium. You

are right, Uncle, it is indeed a menagerie; for the mighty animals to

which these bones once belonged, have lived and died on the shores of

this subterranean sea, under the shadow of these plants. Look, yonder

are whole skeletons--and yet--"

"And yet, nephew?" said my uncle, noticing that I suddenly came to a

full stop.

"I do not understand the presence of such beasts in granite caverns,

however vast and prodigious," was my reply.

"Why not?" said my uncle, with very much of his old professional

impatience.

"Because it is well known that animal life only existed on earth during

the secondary period, when the sedimentary soil was formed by the

alluviums, and thus replaced the hot and burning rocks of the primitive

age."

"I have listened to you earnestly and with patience, Harry, and I have a

simple and clear answer to your objections: and that is, that this

itself is a sedimentary soil."

"How can that be at such enormous depth from the surface of the earth?"

"The fact can be explained both simply and geologically. At a certain

period, the earth consisted only of an elastic crust, liable to

alternative upward and downward movements in virtue of the law of

attraction. It is very probable that many a landslip took place in those

days, and that large portions of sedimentary soil were cast into huge

and mighty chasms."

"Quite possible," I dryly remarked. "But, Uncle, if these antediluvian

animals formerly lived in these subterranean regions, what more likely

than that one of these monsters may at this moment be concealed behind

one of yonder mighty rocks."

As I spoke, I looked keenly around, examining with care every point of

the horizon; but nothing alive appeared to exist on these deserted

shores.

I now felt rather fatigued, and told my uncle so. The walk and

excitement were too much for me in my weak state. I therefore seated

myself at the end of a promontory, at the foot of which the waves broke

in incessant rolls. I looked round a bay formed by projections of vast

granitic rocks. At the extreme end was a little port protected by huge

pyramids of stones. A brig and three or four schooners might have lain

there with perfect ease. So natural did it seem, that every minute my

imagination induced me to expect a vessel coming out under all sail and

making for the open sea under the influence of a warm southerly breeze.

But the fantastic illusion never lasted more than a minute. We were the

only living creatures in this subterranean world!

During certain periods there was an utter cessation of wind, when a

silence deeper, more terrible than the silence of the desert fell upon

these solitary and arid rocks--and seemed to hang like a leaden weight

upon the waters of this singular ocean. I sought, amid the awful

stillness, to penetrate through the distant fog, to tear down the veil

which concealed the mysterious distance. What unspoken words were

murmured by my trembling lips--what questions did I wish to ask and did

not! Where did this sea end--to what did it lead? Should we ever be able

to examine its distant shores?

But my uncle had no doubts about the matter. He was convinced that our

enterprise would in the end be successful. For my part, I was in a state

of painful indecision--I desired to embark on the journey and to

succeed, and still I feared the result.

After we had passed an hour or more in silent contemplation of the

wondrous spectacle, we rose and went down towards the bank on our way to

the grotto, which I was not sorry to gain. After a slight repast, I

sought refuge in slumber, and at length, after many and tedious

struggles, sleep came over my weary eyes.

CHAPTER 28 - LAUNCHING THE RAFT

On the morning of the next day, to my great surprise, I awoke completely

restored. I thought a bath would be delightful after my long illness and

sufferings. So, soon after rising, I went and plunged into the waters of

this new Mediterranean. The bath was cool, fresh and invigorating.

I came back to breakfast with an excellent appetite. Hans, our worthy

guide, thoroughly understood how to cook such eatables as we were able

to provide; he had both fire and water at discretion, so that he was

enabled slightly to vary the weary monotony of our ordinary repast.

Our morning meal was like a capital English breakfast, with coffee by

way of a windup. And never had this delicious beverage been so welcome

and refreshing.

My uncle had sufficient regard for my state of health not to interrupt

me in the enjoyment of the meal, but he was evidently delighted when I

had finished.

"Now then," said he, "come with me. It is the height of the tide, and I

am anxious to study its curious phenomena."

"What!"' I cried, rising in astonishment, "did you say the tide, Uncle?"

"Certainly I did."

"You do not mean to say," I replied, in a tone of respectful doubt,

"that the influence of the sun and moon is felt here below."

"And pray why not? Are not all bodies influenced by the law of universal

attraction? Why should this vast underground sea be exempt from the

general law, the rule of the universe? Besides, there is nothing like

that which is proved and demonstrated. Despite the great atmospheric

pressure down here, you will notice that this inland sea rises and falls

with as much regularity as the Atlantic itself."

As my uncle spoke, we reached the sandy shore, and saw and heard the

waves breaking monotonously on the beach. They were evidently rising.

"This is truly the flood," I cried, looking at the water at my feet.

"Yes, my excellent nephew," replied my uncle, rubbing his hands with the

gusto of a philosopher, "and you see by these several streaks of foam

that the tide rises at least ten or twelve feet."

"It is indeed marvelous."

"By no means," he responded; "on the contrary, it is quite natural."

"It may appear so in your eyes, my dear uncle," was my reply, "but all

the phenomena of the place appear to me to partake of the marvelous. It

is almost impossible to believe that which I see. Who in his wildest

dreams could have imagined that, beneath the crust of our earth, there

could exist a real ocean, with ebbing and flowing tides, with its

changes of winds, and even its storms! I for one should have laughed the

suggestion to scorn."

"But, Harry, my boy, why not?" inquired my uncle, with a pitying smile;

"is there any physical reason in opposition to it?"

"Well, if we give up the great theory of the central heat of the earth,

I certainly can offer no reasons why anything should be looked upon as

impossible."

"Then you will own," he added, "that the system of Sir Humphry Davy is

wholly justified by what we have seen?"

"I allow that it is--and that point once granted, I certainly can see no

reason for doubting the existence of seas and other wonders, even

countries, in the interior of the globe."

"That is so--but of course these varied countries are uninhabited?"

"Well, I grant that it is more likely than not: still, I do not see why

this sea should not have given shelter to some species of unknown fish."

"Hitherto we have not discovered any, and the probabilities are rather

against our ever doing so," observed the Professor.

I was losing my skepticism in the presence of these wonders.

"Well, I am determined to solve the question. It is my intention to try

my luck with my fishing line and hook."

"Certainly; make the experiment," said my uncle, pleased with my

enthusiasm. "While we are about it, it will certainly be only proper to

discover all the secrets of this extraordinary region."

"But, after all, where are we now?" I asked; "all this time I have quite

forgotten to ask you a question, which, doubtless, your philosophical

instruments have long since answered."

"Well," replied the Professor, "examining the situation from only one

point of view, we are now distant three hundred and fifty leagues from

Iceland."

"So much?" was my exclamation.

"I have gone over the matter several times, and am sure not to have made

a mistake of five hundred yards," replied my uncle positively.

"And as to the direction--are we still going to the southeast?"

"Yes, with a western declination[2] of nineteen degrees, forty-two

minutes, just as it is above. As for the inclination[3] I have

discovered a very curious fact."

[2] The declination is the variation of the needle from the true

meridian of a place.

[3] Inclination is the dip of the magnetic needle with a tendency to

incline towards the earth.

"What may that be, Uncle? Your information interests me."

"Why, that the needle instead of dipping towards the pole as it does on

earth, in the northern hemisphere, has an upward tendency."

"This proves," I cried, "that the great point of magnetic attraction

lies somewhere between the surface of the earth and the spot we have

succeeded in reaching."

"Exactly, my observant nephew," exclaimed my uncle, elated and

delighted, "and it is quite probable that if we succeed in getting

toward the polar regions--somewhere near the seventy-third degree of

latitude, where Sir James Ross discovered the magnetic pole, we shall

behold the needle point directly upward. We have therefore discovered by

analogy, that this great centre of attraction is not situated at a very

great depth."

"Well," said I, rather surprised, "this discovery will astonish

experimental philosophers. It was never suspected."

"Science, great, mighty and in the end unerring," replied my uncle

dogmatically, "science has fallen into many errors--errors which have

been fortunate and useful rather than otherwise, for they have been the

steppingstones to truth."

After some further discussion, I turned to another matter.

"Have you any idea of the depth we have reached?"

"We are now," continued the Professor, "exactly thirty-five

leagues--above a hundred miles--down into the interior of the earth."

"So," said I, after measuring the distance on the map, "we are now

beneath the Scottish Highlands, and have over our heads the lofty

Grampian Hills."

"You are quite right," said the Professor, laughing; "it sounds very

alarming, the weight being heavy--but the vault which supports this vast

mass of earth and rock is solid and safe; the mighty Architect of the

Universe has constructed it of solid materials. Man, even in his highest

flights of vivid and poetic imagination, never thought of such things!

What are the finest arches of our bridges, what the vaulted roofs of our

cathedrals, to that mighty dome above us, and beneath which floats an

ocean with its storms and calms and tides!"

"I admire it all as much as you can, Uncle, and have no fear that our

granite sky will fall upon our heads. But now that we have discussed

matters of science and discovery, what are your future intentions? Are

you not thinking of getting back to the surface of our beautiful earth?"

This was said more as a feeler than with any hope of success.

"Go back, nephew," cried my uncle in a tone of alarm, "you are not

surely thinking of anything so absurd or cowardly. No, my intention is

to advance and continue our journey. We have as yet been singularly

fortunate, and henceforth I hope we shall be more so."

"But," said I, "how are we to cross yonder liquid plain?"

"It is not my intention to leap into it head foremost, or even to swim

across it, like Leander over the Hellespont. But as oceans are, after

all, only great lakes, inasmuch as they are surrounded by land, so does

it stand to reason, that this central sea is circumscribed by granite

surroundings."

"Doubtless," was my natural reply.

"Well, then, do you not think that when once we reach the other end, we

shall find some means of continuing our journey?"

"Probably, but what extent do you allow to this internal ocean?"

"Well, I should fancy it to extend about forty or fifty leagues--more or

less."

"But even supposing this approximation to be a correct one--what then?"

I asked.

"My dear boy, we have no time for further discussion. We shall embark

tomorrow."

I looked around with surprise and incredulity. I could see nothing in

the shape of boat or vessel.

"What!" I cried, "we are about to launch out upon an unknown sea; and

where, if I may ask, is the vessel to carry us?"

"Well, my dear boy, it will not be exactly what you would call a vessel.

For the present we must be content with a good and solid raft."

"A raft," I cried, incredulously, "but down here a raft is as impossible

of construction as a vessel--and I am at a loss to imagine--"

"My good Harry--if you were to listen instead of talking so much, you

would hear," said my uncle, waxing a little impatient.

"I should hear?"

"Yes--certain knocks with the hammer, which Hans is now employing to

make the raft. He has been at work for many hours."

"Making a raft?"

"Yes."

"But where has he found trees suitable for such a construction?"

"He found the trees all ready to his hand. Come, and you shall see our

excellent guide at work."

More and more amazed at what I heard and saw, I followed my uncle like

one in a dream.

After a walk of about a quarter of an hour, I saw Hans at work on the

other side of the promontory which formed our natural port. A few

minutes more and I was beside him. To my great surprise, on the sandy

shore lay a half-finished raft. It was made from beams of a very

peculiar wood, and a great number of limbs, joints, boughs, and pieces

lay about, sufficient to have constructed a fleet of ships and boats.

I turned to my uncle, silent with astonishment and awe.

"Where did all this wood come from?" I cried; "what wood is it?"

"Well, there is pinewood, fir, and the palms of the northern regions,

mineralized by the action of the sea," he replied, sententiously.

"Can it be possible?"

"Yes," said the learned Professor, "what you see is called fossil wood."

"But then," cried I, after reflecting for a moment, "like the lignites,

it must be as hard and as heavy as iron, and therefore will certainly

not float."

"Sometimes that is the case. Many of these woods have become true

anthracites, but others again, like those you see before you, have only

undergone one phase of fossil transformation. But there is no proof like

demonstration," added my uncle, picking one or two of these precious

waifs and casting them into the sea.

The piece of wood, after having disappeared for a moment, came to the

surface, and floated about with the oscillation produced by wind and

tide.

"Are you convinced?" said my uncle, with a self-satisfied smile.

"I am convinced," I cried, "that what I see is incredible."

The fact was that my journey into the interior of the earth was rapidly

changing all preconceived notions, and day by day preparing me for the

marvelous.

I should not have been surprised to have seen a fleet of native canoes

afloat upon that silent sea.

The very next evening, thanks to the industry and ability of Hans, the

raft was finished. It was about ten feet long and five feet wide. The

beams bound together with stout ropes, were solid and firm, and once

launched by our united efforts, the improvised vessel floated tranquilly

upon the waters of what the Professor had well named the Central Sea.

CHAPTER 29 - ON THE WATERS--A RAFT VOYAGE

On the thirteenth of August we were up betimes. There was no time to be

lost. We now had to inaugurate a new kind of locomotion, which would

have the advantage of being rapid and not fatiguing.

A mast, made of two pieces of wood fastened together, to give additional

strength, a yard made from another one, the sail a linen sheet from our

bed. We were fortunately in no want of cordage, and the whole on trial

appeared solid and seaworthy.

At six o'clock in the morning, when the eager and enthusiastic Professor

gave the signal to embark, the victuals, the luggage, all our

instruments, our weapons, and a goodly supply of sweet water, which we

had collected from springs in the rocks, were placed on the raft.

Hans had, with considerable ingenuity, contrived a rudder, which enabled

him to guide the floating apparatus with ease. He took the tiller, as a

matter of course. The worthy man was as good a sailor as he was a guide

and duck hunter. I then let go the painter which held us to the shore,

the sail was brought to the wind, and we made a rapid offing.

Our sea voyage had at length commenced; and once more we were making for

distant and unknown regions.

Just as we were about to leave the little port where the raft had been

constructed, my uncle, who was very strong as to geographic

nomenclature, wanted to give it a name, and among others, suggested

mine.

"Well," said I, "before you decide I have another to propose."

"Well; out with it."

"I should like to call it Gretchen. Port Gretchen will sound very well

on our future map."

"Well then, Port Gretchen let it be," said the Professor.

And thus it was that the memory of my dear girl was attached to our

adventurous and memorable expedition.

When we left the shore the wind was blowing from the northward and

eastward. We went directly before the wind at a much greater speed than

might have been expected from a raft. The dense layers of atmosphere at

that depth had great propelling power and acted upon the sail with

considerable force.

At the end of an hour, my uncle, who had been taking careful

observations, was enabled to judge of the rapidity with which we moved.

It was far beyond anything seen in the upper world.

"If," he said, "we continue to advance at our present rate, we shall

have traveled at least thirty leagues in twenty-four hours. With a mere

raft this is an almost incredible velocity."

I certainly was surprised, and without making any reply went forward

upon the raft. Already the northern shore was fading away on the edge of

the horizon. The two shores appeared to separate more and more, leaving

a wide and open space for our departure. Before me I could see nothing

but the vast and apparently limitless sea--upon which we floated--the

only living objects in sight.

Huge and dark clouds cast their grey shadows below--shadows which seemed

to crush that colorless and sullen water by their weight. Anything more

suggestive of gloom and of regions of nether darkness I never beheld.

Silvery rays of electric light, reflected here and there upon some small

spots of water, brought up luminous sparkles in the long wake of our

cumbrous bark. Presently we were wholly out of sight of land; not a

vestige could be seen, nor any indication of where we were going. So

still and motionless did we seem without any distant point to fix our

eyes on that but for the phosphoric light at the wake of the raft I

should have fancied that we were still and motionless.

But I knew that we were advancing at a very rapid rate.

About twelve o'clock in the day, vast collections of seaweed were

discovered surrounding us on all sides. I was aware of the extraordinary

vegetative power of these plants, which have been known to creep along

the bottom of the great ocean, and stop the advance of large ships. But

never were seaweeds ever seen, so gigantic and wonderful as those of the

Central Sea. I could well imagine how, seen at a distance, tossing and

heaving on the summit of the billows, the long lines of algae have been

taken for living things, and thus have been fertile sources of the

belief in sea serpents.

Our raft swept past great specimens of fucus or seawrack, from three to

four thousand feet in length, immense, incredibly long, looking like

snakes that stretched out far beyond our horizon. It afforded me great

amusement to gaze on their variegated ribbon-like endless lengths. Hour

after hour passed without our coming to the termination of these

floating weeds. If my astonishment increased, my patience was well-nigh

exhausted.

What natural force could possibly have produced such abnormal and

extraordinary plants? What must have been the aspect of the globe,

during the first centuries of its formation, when under the combined

action of heat and humidity, the vegetable kingdom occupied its vast

surface to the exclusion of everything else?

These were considerations of never-ending interest for the geologist and

the philosopher.

All this while we were advancing on our journey; and at length night

came; but as I had remarked the evening before, the luminous state of

the atmosphere was in nothing diminished. Whatever was the cause, it was

a phenomenon upon the duration of which we could calculate with

certainty.

As soon as our supper had been disposed of, and some little speculative

conversation indulged in, I stretched myself at the foot of the mast,

and presently went to sleep.

Hans remained motionless at the tiller, allowing the raft to rise and

fall on the waves. The wind being aft, and the sail square, all he had

to do was to keep his oar in the centre.

Ever since we had taken our departure from the newly named Port

Gretchen, my worthy uncle had directed me to keep a regular log of our

day's navigation, with instructions to put down even the most minute

particulars, every interesting and curious phenomenon, the direction of

the wind, our rate of sailing, the distance we went; in a word, every

incident of our extraordinary voyage.

From our log, therefore, I tell the story of our voyage on the Central

Sea.

Friday, August 14th. A steady breeze from the northwest. Raft

progressing with extreme rapidity, and going perfectly straight. Coast

still dimly visible about thirty leagues to leeward. Nothing to be seen

beyond the horizon in front. The extraordinary intensity of the light

neither increases nor diminishes. It is singularly stationary. The

weather remarkably fine; that is to say, the clouds have ascended very

high, and are light and fleecy, and surrounded by an atmosphere

resembling silver in fusion.

Thermometer, +32 degrees centigrade.

About twelve o'clock in the day our guide Hans having prepared and

baited a hook, cast his line into the subterranean waters. The bait he

used was a small piece of meat, by means of which he concealed his hook.

Anxious as I was, I was for a long time doomed to disappointment. Were

these waters supplied with fish or not? That was the important question.

No--was my decided answer. Then there came a sudden and rather hard tug.

Hans coolly drew it in, and with it a fish, which struggled violently to

escape.

"A fish!" cried my uncle.

"It is a sturgeon!" I cried, "certainly a small sturgeon."

The Professor examined the fish carefully, noting every characteristic;

and he did not coincide in my opinion. The fish had a flat head, round

body, and the lower extremities covered with bony scales; its mouth was

wholly without teeth, the pectoral fins, which were highly developed,

sprouted direct from the body, which properly speaking had no tail. The

animal certainly belonged to the order in which naturalists class the

sturgeon, but it differed from that fish in many essential particulars.

My uncle, after all, was not mistaken. After a long and patient

examination, he said:

"This fish, my dear boy, belongs to a family which has been extinct for

ages, and of which no trace has ever been found on earth, except fossil

remains in the Devonian strata."

"You do not mean to say," I cried, "that we have captured a live

specimen of a fish belonging to the primitive stock that existed before

the deluge?"

"We have," said the Professor, who all this time was continuing his

observations, "and you may see by careful examination that these fossil

fish have no identity with existing species. To hold in one's hand,

therefore, a living specimen of the order, is enough to make a

naturalist happy for life."

"But," cried I, "to what family does it belong?"

"To the order of Ganoides--an order of fish having angular scales,

covered with bright enamel--forming one of the family of the

Cephalaspides, of the genus--"

"Well, sir," I remarked, as I noticed my uncle hesitated to conclude.

"To the genus Pterychtis--yes, I am certain of it. Still, though I am

confident of the correctness of my surmise, this fish offers to our

notice a remarkable peculiarity, never known to exist in any other fish

but those which are the natives of subterranean waters, wells, lakes, in

caverns, and suchlike hidden pools."

"And what may that be?"

"It is blind."

"Blind!" I cried, much surprised.

"Not only blind," continued the Professor, "but absolutely without

organs of sight."

I now examined our discovery for myself. It was singular, to be sure,

but it was really a fact. This, however, might be a solitary instance, I

suggested. The hook was baited again and once more thrown into the

water. This subterranean ocean must have been tolerably well supplied

with fish, for in two hours we took a large number of Pterychtis, as

well as other fish belonging to another supposed extinct family--the

Dipterides (a genus of fish, furnished with two fins only, whence the

name), though my uncle could not class it exactly. All, without

exception, however, were blind. This unexpected capture enabled us to

renew our stock of provisions in a very satisfactory way.

We were now convinced that this subterranean sea contained only fish

known to us as fossil specimens--and fish and reptiles alike were all

the more perfect the farther back they dated their origin.

We began to hope that we should find some of those saurians which

science has succeeded in reconstructing from bits of bone or cartilage.

I took up the telescope and carefully examined the horizon--looked over

the whole sea; it was utterly and entirely deserted. Doubtless we were

still too near the coast.

After an examination of the ocean, I looked upward, towards the strange

and mysterious sky. Why should not one of the birds reconstructed by the

immortal Cuvier flap his stupendous wings aloft in the dull strata of

subterranean air? It would, of course, find quite sufficient food from

the fish in the sea. I gazed for some time upon the void above. It was

as silent and as deserted as the shores we had but lately left.

Nevertheless, though I could neither see nor discover anything, my

imagination carried me away into wild hypotheses. I was in a kind of

waking dream. I thought I saw on the surface of the water those enormous

antediluvian turtles as big as floating islands. Upon those dull and

somber shores passed a spectral row of the mammifers of early days, the

great Liptotherium found in the cavernous hollow of the Brazilian hills,

the Mesicotherium, a native of the glacial regions of Siberia.

Farther on, the pachydermatous Lophrodon, that gigantic tapir, which

concealed itself behind rocks, ready to do battle for its prey with the

Anoplotherium, a singular animal partaking of the nature of the

rhinoceros, the horse, the hippopotamus and the camel.

There was the giant Mastodon, twisting and turning his horrid trunk,

with which he crushed the rocks of the shore to powder, while the

Megatherium--his back raised like a cat in a passion, his enormous claws

stretched out, dug into the earth for food, at the same time that he

awoke the sonorous echoes of the whole place with his terrible roar.

Higher up still, the first monkey ever seen on the face of the globe

clambered, gamboling and playing up the granite hills. Still farther

away, ran the Pterodactyl, with the winged hand, gliding or rather

sailing through the dense and compressed air like a huge bat.

Above all, near the leaden granitic sky, were immense birds, more

powerful than the cassowary and the ostrich, which spread their mighty

wings and fluttered against the huge stone vault of the inland sea.

I thought, such was the effect of my imagination, that I saw this whole

tribe of antediluvian creatures. I carried myself back to far ages, long

before man existed--when, in fact, the earth was in too imperfect a

state for him to live upon it.

My dream was of countless ages before the existence of man. The

mammifers first disappeared, then the mighty birds, then the reptiles of

the secondary period, presently the fish, the crustacea, the mollusks,

and finally the vertebrata. The zoophytes of the period of transition in

their turn sank into annihilation.

The whole panorama of the world's life before the historic period,

seemed to be born over again, and mine was the only human heart that

beat in this unpeopled world! There were no more seasons; there were no

more climates; the natural heat of the world increased unceasingly, and

neutralized that of the great radiant Sun.

Vegetation was exaggerated in an extraordinary manner. I passed like a

shadow in the midst of brushwood as lofty as the giant trees of

California, and trod underfoot the moist and humid soil, reeking with a

rank and varied vegetation.

I leaned against the huge column-like trunks of giant trees, to which

those of Canada were as ferns. Whole ages passed, hundreds upon hundreds

of years were concentrated into a single day.

Next, unrolled before me like a panorama, came the great and wondrous

series of terrestrial transformations. Plants disappeared; the granitic

rocks lost all trace of solidity; the liquid state was suddenly

substituted for that which had before existed. This was caused by

intense heat acting on the organic matter of the earth. The waters

flowed over the whole surface of the globe; they boiled; they were

volatilized, or turned into vapor; a kind of steam cloud wrapped the

whole earth, the globe itself becoming at last nothing but one huge

sphere of gas, indescribable in color, between white heat and red, as

big and as brilliant as the sun.

In the very centre of this prodigious mass, fourteen hundred thousand

times as large as our globe, I was whirled round in space, and brought

into close conjunction with the planets. My body was subtilized, or

rather became volatile, and commingled in a state of atomic vapor, with

the prodigious clouds, which rushed forward like a mighty comet into

infinite space!

What an extraordinary dream! Where would it finally take me? My feverish

hand began to write down the marvelous details--details more like the

imaginings of a lunatic than anything sober and real. I had during this

period of hallucination forgotten everything--the Professor, the guide,

and the raft on which we were floating. My mind was in a state of

semioblivion.

"What is the matter, Harry?" said my uncle suddenly.

My eyes, which were wide opened like those of a somnambulist, were fixed

upon him, but I did not see him, nor could I clearly make out anything

around me.

"Take care, my boy," again cried my uncle, "you will fall into the sea."

As he uttered these words, I felt myself seized on the other side by the

firm hand of our devoted guide. Had it not been for the presence of mind

of Hans, I must infallibly have fallen into the waves and been drowned.

"Have you gone mad?" cried my uncle, shaking me on the other side.

"What--what is the matter?" I said at last, coming to myself.

"Are you ill, Henry?" continued the Professor in an anxious tone.

"No--no; but I have had an extraordinary dream. It, however, has passed

away. All now seems well," I added, looking around me with strangely

puzzled eyes.

"All right," said my uncle; "a beautiful breeze, a splendid sea. We are

going along at a rapid rate, and if I am not out in my calculations we

shall soon see land. I shall not be sorry to exchange the narrow limits

of our raft for the mysterious strand of the subterranean ocean."

As my uncle uttered these words, I rose and carefully scanned the

horizon. But the line of water was still confounded with the lowering

clouds that hung aloft, and in the distance appeared to touch the edge

of the water.

CHAPTER 30 - TERRIFIC SAURIAN COMBAT

Saturday, August 15th. The sea still retains its uniform monotony. The

same leaden hue, the same eternal glare from above. No indication of

land being in sight. The horizon appears to retreat before us, more and

more as we advance.

My head, still dull and heavy from the effects of my extraordinary

dream, which I cannot as yet banish from my mind.

The Professor, who has not dreamed, is, however, in one of his morose

and unaccountable humors. Spends his time in scanning the horizon, at

every point of the compass. His telescope is raised every moment to his

eyes, and when he finds nothing to give any clue to our whereabouts, he

assumes a Napoleonic attitude and walks anxiously.

I remarked that my uncle, the Professor, had a strong tendency to resume

his old impatient character, and I could not but make a note of this

disagreeable circumstance in my journal. I saw clearly that it had

required all the influence of my danger and suffering, to extract from

him one scintillation of humane feeling. Now that I was quite recovered,

his original nature had conquered and obtained the upper hand.

And, after all, what had he to be angry and annoyed about, now more than

at any other time? Was not the journey being accomplished under the most

favorable circumstances? Was not the raft progressing with the most

marvelous rapidity?

What, then, could be the matter? After one or two preliminary hems, I

determined to inquire.

"You seem uneasy, Uncle," said I, when for about the hundredth time he

put down his telescope and walked up and down, muttering to himself.

"No, I am not uneasy," he replied in a dry harsh tone, "by no means."

"Perhaps I should have said impatient," I replied, softening the force

of my remark.

"Enough to make me so, I think."

"And yet we are advancing at a rate seldom attained by a raft," I

remarked.

"What matters that?" cried my uncle. "I am not vexed at the rate we go

at, but I am annoyed to find the sea so much vaster than I expected."

I then recollected that the Professor, before our departure, had

estimated the length of this subterranean ocean as at most about thirty

leagues. Now we had traveled at least over thrice that distance without

discovering any trace of the distant shore. I began to understand my

uncle's anger.

"We are not going down," suddenly exclaimed the Professor. "We are not

progressing with our great discoveries. All this is utter loss of time.

After all, I did not come from home to undertake a party of pleasure.

This voyage on a raft over a pond annoys and wearies me."

He called this adventurous journey a party of pleasure, and this great

inland sea a pond!

"But," argued I, "if we have followed the route indicated by the great

Saknussemm, we cannot be going far wrong."

"'That is the question,' as the great, the immortal Shakespeare, has it.

Are we following the route indicated by that wondrous sage? Did

Saknussemm ever fall in with this great sheet of water? If he did, did

he cross it? I begin to fear that the rivulet we adopted for a guide has

led us wrong."

"In any case, we can never regret having come thus far. It is worth the

whole journey to have enjoyed this magnificent spectacle--it is

something to have seen."

"I care nothing about seeing, nor about magnificent spectacles. I came

down into the interior of the earth with an object, and that object I

mean to attain. Don't talk to me about admiring scenery, or any other

sentimental trash."

After this I thought it well to hold my tongue, and allow the Professor

to bite his lips until the blood came, without further remark.

At six o'clock in the evening, our matter-of-fact guide, Hans, asked for

his week's salary, and receiving his three rix-dollars, put them

carefully in his pocket. He was perfectly contented and satisfied.

Sunday, August 16th. Nothing new to record. The same weather as before.

The wind has a slight tendency to freshen up, with signs of an

approaching gale. When I awoke, My first observation was in regard to

the intensity of the light. I keep on fearing, day after day, that the

extraordinary electric phenomenon should become first obscured, and then

go wholly out, leaving us in total darkness. Nothing, however, of the

kind occurs. The shadow of the raft, its mast and sails, is clearly

distinguished on the surface of the water.

This wondrous sea is, after all, infinite in its extent. It must be

quite as wide as the Mediterranean--or perhaps even as the great

Atlantic Ocean. Why, after all, should it not be so?

My uncle has on more than one occasion, tried deep-sea soundings. He

tied the cross of one of our heaviest crowbars to the extremity of a

cord, which he allowed to run out to the extent of two hundred fathoms.

We had the greatest difficulty in hoisting in our novel kind of lead.

When the crowbar was finally dragged on board, Hans called my attention

to some singular marks upon its surface. The piece of iron looked as if

it had been crushed between two very hard substances.

I looked at our worthy guide with an inquiring glance.

"Tander," said he.

Of course I was at a loss to understand. I turned round towards my

uncle, absorbed in gloomy reflections. I had little wish to disturb him

from his reverie. I accordingly turned once more towards our worthy

Icelander.

Hans very quietly and significantly opened his mouth once or twice, as

if in the act of biting, and in this way made me understand his meaning.

"Teeth!" cried I, with stupefaction, as I examined the bar of iron with

more attention.

Yes. There can be no doubt about the matter. The indentations on the bar

of iron are the marks of teeth! What jaws must the owner of such molars

be possessed of! Have well then, come upon a monster of unknown species,

which still exists within the vast waste of waters--a monster more

voracious than a shark, more terrible and bulky than the whale? I am

unable to withdraw my eyes from the bar of iron, actually half crushed!

Is, then, my dream about to come true--a dread and terrible reality?

All day my thoughts were bent upon these speculations, and my

imagination scarcely regained a degree of calmness and power of

reflection until after a sleep of many hours.

This day, as on other Sundays, we observed as a day of rest and pious

meditation.

Monday, August 17th. I have been trying to realize from memory the

particular instincts of those antediluvian animals of the secondary

period, which succeeding to the mollusca, to the crustacea, and to the

fish, preceded the appearance of the race of mammifers. The generation

of reptiles then reigned supreme upon the earth. These hideous monsters

ruled everything in the seas of the secondary period, which formed the

strata of which the Jura mountains are composed. Nature had endowed them

with perfect organization. What a gigantic structure was theirs; what

vast and prodigious strength they possessed!

The existing saurians, which include all such reptiles as lizards,

crocodiles, and alligators, even the largest and most formidable of

their class, are but feeble imitations of their mighty sires, the

animals of ages long ago. If there were giants in the days of old, there

were also gigantic animals.

I shuddered as I evolved from my mind the idea and recollection of these

awful monsters. No eye of man had seen them in the flesh. They took

their walks abroad upon the face of the earth thousands of ages before

man came into existence, and their fossil bones, discovered in the

limestone, have allowed us to reconstruct them anatomically, and thus to

get some faint idea of their colossal formation.

I recollect once seeing in the great Museum of Hamburg the skeleton of

one of these wonderful saurians. It measured no less than thirty feet

from the nose to the tail. Am I, then, an inhabitant of the earth of the

present day, destined to find myself face to face with a representative

of this antediluvian family? I can scarcely believe it possible; I can

hardly believe it true. And yet these marks of powerful teeth upon the

bar of iron! Can there be a doubt from their shape that the bite is the

bite of a crocodile?

My eyes stare wildly and with terror upon the subterranean sea. Every

moment I expect one of these monsters to rise from its vast cavernous

depths.

I fancy that the worthy Professor in some measure shares my notions, if

not my fears, for, after an attentive examination of the crowbar, he

cast his eyes rapidly over the mighty and mysterious ocean.

"What could possess him to leave the land," I thought, "as if the depth

of this water was of any importance to us. No doubt he has disturbed

some terrible monster in his watery home, and perhaps we may pay dearly

for our temerity."

Anxious to be prepared for the worst, I examined our weapons, and saw

that they were in a fit state for use. My uncle looked on at me and

nodded his head approvingly. He, too, has noticed what we have to fear.

Already the uplifting of the waters on the surface indicates that

something is in motion below. The danger approaches. It comes nearer and

nearer. It behooves us to be on the watch.

Tuesday, August 18th. Evening came at last, the hour when the desire for

sleep caused our eyelids to be heavy. Night there is not, properly

speaking, in this place, any more than there is in summer in the arctic

regions. Hans, however, is immovable at the rudder. When he snatches a

moment of rest I really cannot say. I take advantage of his vigilance to

take some little repose.

But two hours after I was awakened from a heavy sleep by an awful shock.

The raft appeared to have struck upon a sunken rock. It was lifted right

out of the water by some wondrous and mysterious power, and then started

off twenty fathoms distant.

"Eh, what is it?" cried my uncle starting up. "Are we shipwrecked, or

what?"

Hans raised his hand and pointed to where, about two hundred yards off,

a large black mass was moving up and down.

I looked with awe. My worst fears were realized.

"It is a colossal monster!" I cried, clasping my hands.

"Yes," cried the agitated Professor, "and there yonder is a huge sea

lizard of terrible size and shape."

"And farther on behold a prodigious crocodile. Look at his hideous jaws,

and that row of monstrous teeth. Ha! he has gone."

"A whale! a whale!" shouted the Professor, "I can see her enormous fins.

See, see, how she blows air and water!"

Two liquid columns rose to a vast height above the level of the sea,

into which they fell with a terrific crash, waking up the echoes of that

awful place. We stood still--surprised, stupefied, terror-stricken at

the sight of this group of fearful marine monsters, more hideous in the

reality than in my dream. They were of supernatural dimensions; the very

smallest of the whole party could with ease have crushed our raft and

ourselves with a single bite.

Hans, seizing the rudder which had flown out of his hand, puts it hard

aweather in order to escape from such dangerous vicinity; but no sooner

does he do so, than he finds he is flying from Scylla to Charybdis. To

leeward is a turtle about forty feet wide, and a serpent quite as long,

with an enormous and hideous head peering from out the waters.

Look which way we will, it is impossible for us to fly. The fearful

reptiles advanced upon us; they turned and twisted about the raft with

awful rapidity. They formed around our devoted vessel a series of

concentric circles. I took up my rifle in desperation. But what effect

can a rifle ball produce upon the armor scales with which the bodies of

these horrid monsters are covered?

We remain still and dumb from utter horror. They advance upon us, nearer

and nearer. Our fate appears certain, fearful and terrible. On one side

the mighty crocodile, on the other the great sea serpent. The rest of

the fearful crowd of marine prodigies have plunged beneath the briny

waves and disappeared!

I am about to fire at any risk and try the effect of a shot. Hans, the

guide, however, interfered by a sign to check me. The two hideous and

ravenous monsters passed within fifty fathoms of the raft, and then made

a rush at one another--their fury and rage preventing them from seeing

us.

The combat commenced. We distinctly made out every action of the two

hideous monsters.

But to my excited imagination the other animals appeared about to take

part in the fierce and deadly struggle--the monster, the whale, the

lizard, and the turtle. I distinctly saw them every moment. I pointed

them out to the Icelander. But he only shook his head.

"Tva," he said.

"What--two only does he say. Surely he is mistaken," I cried in a tone

of wonder.

"He is quite right," replied my uncle coolly and philosophically,

examining the terrible duel with his telescope and speaking as if he

were in a lecture room.

"How can that be?"

"Yes, it is so. The first of these hideous monsters has the snout of a

porpoise, the head of a lizard, the teeth of a crocodile; and it is this

that has deceived us. It is the most fearful of all antediluvian

reptiles, the world--renowned Ichthyosaurus or great fish lizard."

"And the other?"

"The other is a monstrous serpent, concealed under the hard vaulted

shell of the turtle, the terrible enemy of its fearful rival, the

Plesiosaurus, or sea crocodile."

Hans was quite right. The two monsters only, disturbed the surface of

the sea!

At last have mortal eyes gazed upon two reptiles of the great primitive

ocean! I see the flaming red eyes of the Ichthyosaurus, each as big, or

bigger than a man's head. Nature in its infinite wisdom had gifted this

wondrous marine animal with an optical apparatus of extreme power,

capable of resisting the pressure of the heavy layers of water which

rolled over him in the depths of the ocean where he usually fed. It has

by some authors truly been called the whale of the saurian race, for it

is as big and quick in its motions as our king of the seas. This one

measures not less than a hundred feet in length, and I can form some

idea of his girth when I see him lift his prodigious tail out of the

waters. His jaw is of awful size and strength, and according to the

best-informed naturalists, it does not contain less than a hundred and

eighty-two teeth.

The other was the mighty Plesiosaurus, a serpent with a cylindrical

trunk, with a short stumpy tail, with fins like a bank of oars in a

Roman galley.

Its whole body covered by a carapace or shell, and its neck, as flexible

as that of a swan, rose more than thirty feet above the waves, a tower

of animated flesh!

These animals attacked one another with inconceivable fury. Such a

combat was never seen before by mortal eyes, and to us who did see it,

it appeared more like the phantasmagoric creation of a dream than

anything else. They raised mountains of water, which dashed in spray

over the raft, already tossed to and fro by the waves. Twenty times we

seemed on the point of being upset and hurled headlong into the waves.

Hideous hisses appeared to shake the gloomy granite roof of that mighty

cavern--hisses which carried terror to our hearts. The awful combatants

held each other in a tight embrace. I could not make out one from the

other. Still the combat could not last forever; and woe unto us,

whichsoever became the victor.

One hour, two hours, three hours passed away, without any decisive

result. The struggle continued with the same deadly tenacity, but

without apparent result. The deadly opponents now approached, now drew

away from the raft. Once or twice we fancied they were about to leave us

altogether, but instead of that, they came nearer and nearer.

We crouched on the raft ready to fire at them at a moment's notice, poor

as the prospect of hurting or terrifying them was. Still we were

determined not to perish without a struggle.

Suddenly the Ichthyosaurus and the Plesiosaurus disappeared beneath the

waves, leaving behind them a maelstrom in the midst of the sea. We were

nearly drawn down by the indraft of the water!

Several minutes elapsed before anything was again seen. Was this

wonderful combat to end in the depths of the ocean? Was the last act of

this terrible drama to take place without spectators?

It was impossible for us to say.

Suddenly, at no great distance from us, an enormous mass rises out of

the waters--the head of the great Plesiosaurus. The terrible monster is

now wounded unto death. I can see nothing now of his enormous body. All

that could be distinguished was his serpent-like neck, which he twisted

and curled in all the agonies of death. Now he struck the waters with it

as if it had been a gigantic whip, and then again wriggled like a worm

cut in two. The water was spurted up to a great distance in all

directions. A great portion of it swept over our raft and nearly blinded

us. But soon the end of the beast approached nearer and nearer; his

movements slackened visibly; his contortions almost ceased; and at last

the body of the mighty snake lay an inert, dead mass on the surface of

the now calm and placid waters.

As for the Ichthyosaurus, has he gone down to his mighty cavern under

the sea to rest, or will he reappear to destroy us?

This question remained unanswered. And we had breathing time.

CHAPTER 31 - THE SEA MONSTER

Wednesday, August 19th. Fortunately the wind, which for the present

blows with some violence, has allowed us to escape from the scene of the

unparalleled and extraordinary struggle. Hans with his usual

imperturbable calm remained at the helm. My uncle, who for a short time

had been withdrawn from his absorbing reveries by the novel incidents of

this sea fight, fell back again apparently into a brown study. His eyes

were fixed impatiently on the widespread ocean.

Our voyage now became monotonous and uniform. Dull as it has become, I

have no desire to have it broken by any repetition of the perils and

adventures of yesterday.

Thursday, August 20th. The wind is now N. N. E., and blows very

irregularly. It has changed to fitful gusts. The temperature is

exceedingly high. We are now progressing at the average rate of about

ten miles and a half per hour.

About twelve o'clock a distant sound as of thunder fell upon our ears. I

make a note of the fact without even venturing a suggestion as to its

cause. It was one continued roar as of a sea falling over mighty rocks.

"Far off in the distance," said the Professor dogmatically, "there is

some rock or some island against which the seal lashed to fury by the

wind, is breaking violently."

Hans, without saying a word, clambered to the top of the mast, but could

make out nothing. The ocean was level in every direction as far as the

eye could reach.

Three hours passed away without any sign to indicate what might be

before us. The sound began to assume that of a mighty cataract.

I expressed my opinion on this point strongly to my uncle. He merely

shook his head. I, however, am strongly impressed by a conviction that I

am not wrong. Are we advancing towards some mighty waterfall which shall

cast us into the abyss? Probably this mode of descending into the abyss

may be agreeable to the Professor, because it would be something like

the vertical descent he is so eager to make. I entertain a very

different opinion.

Whatever be the truth, it is certain that not many leagues distant there

must be some very extraordinary phenomenon, for as we advance the roar

becomes something mighty and stupendous. Is it in the water, or in the

air?

I cast hasty glances aloft at the suspended vapors, and I seek to

penetrate their mighty depths. But the vault above is tranquil. The

clouds, which are now elevated to the very summit, appear utterly still

and motionless, and completely lost in the irradiation of electric

light. It is necessary, therefore, to seek for the cause of this

phenomenon elsewhere.

I examine the horizon, now perfectly calm, pure, and free from all haze.

Its aspect still remains unchanged. But if this awful noise proceeds

from a cataract--if, so to speak in plain English, this vast interior

ocean is precipitated into a lower basin--if these tremendous roars are

produced by the noise of falling waters, the current would increase in

activity, and its increasing swiftness would give me some idea of the

extent of the peril with which we are menaced. I consult the current. It

simply does not exist: there is no such thing. An empty bottle cast into

the water lies to leeward without motion.

About four o'clock Hans rises, clambers up the mast, and reaches the

truck itself. From this elevated position his looks are cast around.

They take in a vast circumference of the ocean. At last, his eyes remain

fixed. His face expresses no astonishment, but his eyes slightly dilate.

"He has seen something at last," cried my uncle.

"I think so," I replied.

Hans came down, stood beside us, and pointed with his right hand to the

south.

"Der nere," he said.

"There," replied my uncle.

And seizing his telescope, he looked at it with great attention for

about a minute, which to me appeared an age. I knew not what to think or

expect.

"Yes, yes," he cried in a tone of considerable surprise, "there it is."

"What?" I asked.

"A tremendous spurt of water rising out of the waves."

"Some other marine monster," I cried, already alarmed.

"Perhaps."

"Then let us steer more to the westward, for we know what we have to

expect from antediluvian animals," was my eager reply.

"Go ahead," said my uncle.

I turned towards Hans. Hans was at the tiller steering with his usual

imperturbable calm.

Nevertheless, if from the distance which separated us from this

creature, a distance which must be estimated at not less than a dozen

leagues, one could see the column of water spurting from the blow-hole

of the great animal, his dimensions must be something preternatural. To

fly is, therefore, the course to be suggested by ordinary prudence. But

we have not come into that part of the world to be prudent. Such is my

uncle's determination.

We, accordingly, continued to advance. The nearer we come, the loftier

is the spouting water. What monster can fill himself with such huge

volumes of water, and then unceasingly spout them out in such lofty

jets?

At eight o'clock in the evening, reckoning as above ground, where there

is day and night, we are not more than two leagues from the mighty

beast. Its long, black, enormous, mountainous body, lies on the top of

the water like an island. But then sailors have been said to have gone

ashore on sleeping whales, mistaking them for land. Is it illusion, or

is it fear? Its length cannot be less than a thousand fathoms. What,

then, is this cetaceous monster of which no Cuvier ever thought?

It is quite motionless and presents the appearance of sleep. The sea

seems unable to lift him upwards; it is rather the waves which break on

his huge and gigantic frame. The waterspout, rising to a height of five

hundred feet, breaks in spray with a dull, sullen roar.

We advance, like senseless lunatics, towards this mighty mass.

I honestly confess that I was abjectly afraid. I declared that I would

go no farther. I threatened in my terror to cut the sheet of the sail. I

attacked the Professor with considerable acrimony, calling him

foolhardy, mad, I know not what. He made no answer.

Suddenly the imperturbable Hans once more pointed his finger to the

menacing object:

"<i>Holme</i>!"

"An island!" cried my uncle.

"An island?" I replied, shrugging my shoulders at this poor attempt at

deception.

"Of course it is," cried my uncle, bursting into a loud and joyous

laugh.

"But the waterspout?"

"Geyser," said Hans.

"Yes, of course--a geyser," replied my uncle, still laughing, "a geyser

like those common in Iceland. Jets like this are the great wonders of

the country."

At first I would not allow that I had been so grossly deceived. What

could be more ridiculous than to have taken an island for a marine

monster? But kick as one may, one must yield to evidence, and I was

finally convinced of my error. It was nothing, after all, but a natural

phenomenon.

As we approached nearer and nearer, the dimensions of the liquid sheaf

of waters became truly grand and stupendous. The island had, at a

distance, presented the appearance of an enormous whale, whose head rose

high above the waters. The geyser, a word the Icelanders pronounce

geysir, and which signifies fury, rose majestically from its summit.

Dull detonations are heard every now and then, and the enormous jet,

taken as it were with sudden fury, shakes its plume of vapor, and bounds

into the first layer of the clouds. It is alone. Neither spurts of vapor

nor hot springs surround it, and the whole volcanic power of that region

is concentrated in one sublime column. The rays of electric light mix

with this dazzling sheaf, every drop as it falls assuming the prismatic

colors of the rainbow.

"Let us go on shore," said the Professor, after some minutes of silence.

It is necessary, however, to take great precaution, in order to avoid

the weight of falling waters, which would cause the raft to founder in

an instant. Hans, however, steers admirably, and brings us to the other

extremity of the island.

I was the first to leap on the rock. My uncle followed, while the

eider-duck hunter remained still, like a man above any childish sources

of astonishment. We were now walking on granite mixed with siliceous

sandstone; the soil shivered under our feet like the sides of boilers in

which over-heated steam is forcibly confined. It is burning. We soon

came in sight of the little central basin from which rose the geyser. I

plunged a thermometer into the water which ran bubbling from the centre,

and it marked a heat of a hundred and sixty-three degrees!

This water, therefore, came from some place where the heat was intense.

This was singularly in contradiction with the theories of Professor

Hardwigg. I could not help telling him my opinion on the subject.

"Well," said he sharply, "and what does this prove against my doctrine?"

"Nothing," replied I dryly, seeing that I was running my head against a

foregone conclusion.

Nevertheless, I am compelled to confess that until now we have been most

remarkably fortunate, and that this voyage is being accomplished in most

favorable conditions of temperature; but it appears evident, in fact,

certain, that we shall sooner or later arrive at one of those regions

where the central heat will reach its utmost limits, and will go far

beyond all the possible gradations of thermometers.

Visions of the Hades of the ancients, believed to be in the centre of

the earth, floated through my imagination.

We shall, however, see what we shall see. That is the Professor's

favorite phrase now. Having christened the volcanic island by the name

of his nephew, the leader of the expedition turned away and gave the

signal for embarkation.

I stood still, however, for some minutes, gazing upon the magnificent

geyser. I soon was able to perceive that the upward tendency of the

water was irregular; now it diminished in intensity, and then, suddenly,

it regained new vigor, which I attributed to the variation of the

pressure of the accumulated vapors in its reservoir.

At last we took our departure, going carefully round the projecting, and

rather dangerous, rocks of the southern side. Hans had taken advantage

of this brief halt to repair the raft.

Before we took our final departure from the island, however, I made some

observations to calculate the distance we had gone over, and I put them

down in my journal. Since we left Port Gretchen, we had traveled two

hundred and seventy leagues--more than eight hundred miles--on this

great inland sea; we were, therefore, six hundred and twenty leagues

from Iceland, and exactly under England.

CHAPTER 32 - THE BATTLE OF THE ELEMENTS

Friday, August 21st. This morning the magnificent geyser had wholly

disappeared. The wind had freshened up, and we were fast leaving the

neighborhood of Henry's Island. Even the roaring sound of the mighty

column was lost to the ear.

The weather, if, under the circumstances, we may use such an expression,

is about to change very suddenly. The atmosphere is being gradually

loaded with vapors, which carry with them the electricity formed by the

constant evaporation of the saline waters; the clouds are slowly but

sensibly falling towards the sea, and are assuming a dark-olive texture;

the electric rays can scarcely pierce through the opaque curtain which

has fallen like a drop scene before this wondrous theater, on the stage

of which another and terrible drama is soon to be enacted. This time it

is no fight of animals; it is the fearful battle of the elements.

I feel that I am very peculiarly influenced, as all creatures are on

land when a deluge is about to take place.

The cumuli, a perfectly oval kind of cloud, piled upon the south,

presented a most awful and sinister appearance, with the pitiless aspect

often seen before a storm. The air is extremely heavy; the sea is

comparatively calm.

In the distance, the clouds have assumed the appearance of enormous

balls of cotton, or rather pods, piled one above the other in

picturesque confusion. By degrees, they appear to swell out, break, and

gain in number what they lose in grandeur; their heaviness is so great

that they are unable to lift themselves from the horizon; but under the

influence of the upper currents of air, they are gradually broken up,

become much darker, and then present the appearance of one single layer

of a formidable character; now and then a lighter cloud, still lit up

from above, rebounds upon this grey carpet, and is lost in the opaque

mass.

There can be no doubt that the entire atmosphere is saturated with

electric fluid; I am myself wholly impregnated; my hairs literally stand

on end as if under the influence of a galvanic battery. If one of my

companions ventured to touch me, I think he would receive rather a

violent and unpleasant shock.

About ten o'clock in the morning, the symptoms of the storm became more

thorough and decisive; the wind appeared to soften down as if to take

breath for a renewed attack; the vast funereal pall above us looked like

a huge bag--like the cave of AEolus, in which the storm was collecting

its forces for the attack.

I tried all I could not to believe in the menacing signs of the sky, and

yet I could not avoid saying, as it were involuntarily:

"I believe we are going to have bad weather."

The Professor made me no answer. He was in a horrible, in a detestable

humor--to see the ocean stretching interminably before his eyes. On

hearing my words he simply shrugged his shoulders.

"We shall have a tremendous storm," I said again, pointing to the

horizon. "These clouds are falling lower and lower upon the sea, as if

to crush it."

A great silence prevailed. The wind wholly ceased. Nature assumed a dead

calm, and ceased to breathe. Upon the mast, where I noticed a sort of

slight ignis fatuus, the sail hangs in loose heavy folds. The raft is

motionless in the midst of a dark heavy sea--without undulation, without

motion. It is as still as glass. But as we are making no progress, what

is the use of keeping up the sail, which may be the cause of our

perdition if the tempest should suddenly strike us without warning.

"Let us lower the sail," I said, "it is only an act of common prudence."

"No--no," cried my uncle, in an exasperated tone, "a hundred times, no.

Let the wind strike us and do its worst, let the storm sweep us away

where it will--only let me see the glimmer of some coast--of some rocky

cliffs, even if they dash our raft into a thousand pieces. No! keep up

the sail--no matter what happens."

These words were scarcely uttered when the southern horizon underwent a

sudden and violent change. The long accumulated vapors were resolved

into water, and the air required to fill up the void produced became a

wild and raging tempest.

It came from the most distant corners of the mighty cavern. It raged

from every point of the compass. It roared; it yelled; it shrieked with

glee as of demons let loose. The darkness increased and became indeed

darkness visible.

The raft rose and fell with the storm, and bounded over the waves. My

uncle was cast headlong upon the deck. I with great difficulty dragged

myself towards him. He was holding on with might and main to the end of

a cable, and appeared to gaze with pleasure and delight at the spectacle

of the unchained elements.

Hans never moved a muscle. His long hair driven hither and thither by

the tempest and scattered wildly over his motionless face, gave him a

most extraordinary appearance--for every single hair was illuminated by

little sparkling sprigs.

His countenance presents the extraordinary appearance of an antediluvian

man, a true contemporary of the Megatherium.

Still the mast holds good against the storm. The sail spreads out and

fills like a soap bubble about to burst. The raft rushes on at a pace

impossible to estimate, but still less swiftly than the body of water

displaced beneath it, the rapidity of which may be seen by the lines

which fly right and left in the wake.

"The sail, the sail!" I cried, making a trumpet of my hands, and then

endeavoring to lower it.

"Let it alone!" said my uncle, more exasperated than ever.

"<i>Nej</i>," said Hans, gently shaking his head.

Nevertheless, the rain formed a roaring cataract before this horizon of

which we were in search, and to which we were rushing like madmen.

But before this wilderness of waters reached us, the mighty veil of

cloud was torn in twain; the sea began to foam wildly; and the

electricity, produced by some vast and extraordinary chemical action in

the upper layer of cloud, is brought into play. To the fearful claps of

thunder are added dazzling flashes of lightning, such as I had never

seen. The flashes crossed one another, hurled from every side; while the

thunder came pealing like an echo. The mass of vapor becomes

incandescent; the hailstones which strike the metal of our boots and our

weapons are actually luminous; the waves as they rise appear to be

fire-eating monsters, beneath which seethes an intense fire, their

crests surmounted by combs of flame.

My eyes are dazzled, blinded by the intensity of light, my ears are

deafened by the awful roar of the elements. I am compelled to hold onto

the mast, which bends like a reed beneath the violence of the storm, to

which none ever before seen by mariners bore any resemblance.

*       *       *       *       *

Here my traveling notes become very incomplete, loose and vague. I have

only been able to make out one or two fugitive observations, jotted down

in a mere mechanical way. But even their brevity, even their obscurity,

show the emotions which overcame me.

*       *       *       *       *

Sunday, August 23rd. Where have we got to? In what region are we

wandering? We are still carried forward with inconceivable rapidity.

The night has been fearful, something not to be described. The storm

shows no signs of cessation. We exist in the midst of an uproar which

has no name. The detonations as of artillery are incessant. Our ears

literally bleed. We are unable to exchange a word, or hear each other

speak.

The lightning never ceases to flash for a single instant. I can see the

zigzags after a rapid dart strike the arched roof of this mightiest of

mighty vaults. If it were to give way and fall upon us! Other lightnings

plunge their forked streaks in every direction, and take the form of

globes of fire, which explode like bombshells over a beleaguered city.

The general crash and roar do not apparently increase; it has already

gone far beyond what human ear can appreciate. If all the powder

magazines in the world were to explode together, it would be impossible

for us to hear worse noise.

There is a constant emission of light from the storm clouds; the

electric matter is incessantly released; evidently the gaseous

principles of the air are out of order; innumerable columns of water

rush up like waterspouts, and fall back upon the surface of the ocean in

foam.

Whither are we going? My uncle still lies at full length upon the raft,

without speaking--without taking any note of time.

The heat increases. I look at the thermometer, to my surprise it

indicates--<i>The exact figure is here rubbed out in my manuscript.</i>

Monday, August 24th. This terrible storm will never end. Why should not

this state of the atmosphere, so dense and murky, once modified, again

remain definitive?

We are utterly broken and harassed by fatigue. Hans remains just as

usual. The raft runs to the southeast invariably. We have now already

run two hundred leagues from the newly discovered island.

About twelve o'clock the storm became worse than ever. We are obliged

now to fasten every bit of cargo tightly on the deck of the raft, or

everything would be swept away. We make ourselves fast, too, each man

lashing the other. The waves drive over us, so that several times we are

actually under water.

We had been under the painful necessity of abstaining from speech for

three days and three nights. We opened our mouths, we moved our lips,

but no sound came. Even when we placed our mouths to each other's ears

it was the same.

The wind carried the voice away.

My uncle once contrived to get his head close to mine after several

almost vain endeavors. He appeared to my nearly exhausted senses to

articulate some word. I had a notion, more from intuition than anything

else, that he said to me, "We are lost."

I took out my notebook, from which under the most desperate

circumstances I never parted, and wrote a few words as legibly as I

could:

"Take in sail."

With a deep sigh he nodded his head and acquiesced.

His head had scarcely time to fall back in the position from which he

had momentarily raised it than a disk or ball of fire appeared on the

very edge of the raft--our devoted, our doomed craft. The mast and sail

are carried away bodily, and I see them swept away to a prodigious

height like a kite.

We were frozen, actually shivered with terror. The ball of fire, half

white, half azure-colored, about the size of a ten-inch bombshell, moved

along, turning with prodigious rapidity to leeward of the storm. It ran

about here, there, and everywhere, it clambered up one of the bulwarks

of the raft, it leaped upon the sack of provisions, and then finally

descended lightly, fell like a football and landed on our powder barrel.

Horrible situation. An explosion of course was now inevitable.

By heaven's mercy, it was not so.

The dazzling disk moved on one side, it approached Hans, who looked at

it with singular fixity; then it approached my uncle, who cast himself

on his knees to avoid it; it came towards me, as I stood pale and

shuddering in the dazzling light and heat; it pirouetted round my feet,

which I endeavored to withdraw.

An odor of nitrous gas filled the whole air; it penetrated to the

throat, to the lungs. I felt ready to choke.

Why is it that I cannot withdraw my feet? Are they riveted to the

flooring of the raft?

No.

The fall of the electric globe has turned all the iron on board into

loadstones--the instruments, the tools, the arms are clanging together

with awful and horrible noise; the nails of my heavy boots adhere

closely to the plate of iron incrustated in the wood. I cannot withdraw

my foot.

It is the old story again of the mountain of adamant.

At last, by a violent and almost superhuman effort, I tear it away just

as the ball which is still executing its gyratory motions is about to

run round it and drag me with it--if--

Oh, what intense stupendous light! The globe of fire bursts--we are

enveloped in cascades of living fire, which flood the space around with

luminous matter.

Then all went out and darkness once more fell upon the deep! I had just

time to see my uncle once more cast apparently senseless on the flooring

of the raft, Hans at the helm, "spitting fire" under the influence of

the electricity which seemed to have gone through him.

Whither are we going, I ask? and echo answers, Whither?

.............

Tuesday, August 25th. I have just come out of a long fainting fit. The

awful and hideous storm still continues; the lightning has increased in

vividness, and pours out its fiery wrath like a brood of serpents let

loose in the atmosphere.

Are we still upon the sea? Yes, and being carried along with incredible

velocity.

We have passed under England, under the Channel, under France, probably

under the whole extent of Europe.

*       *       *       *       *

Another awful clamor in the distance. This time it is certain that the

sea is breaking upon the rocks at no great distance. Then--

CHAPTER 33 - OUR ROUTE REVERSED

Here ends what I call "My Journal" of our voyage on board the raft,

which journal was happily saved from the wreck. I proceed with my

narrative as I did before I commenced my daily notes.

What happened when the terrible shock took place, when the raft was cast

upon the rocky shore, it would be impossible for me now to say. I felt

myself precipitated violently into the boiling waves, and if I escaped

from a certain and cruel death, it was wholly owing to the determination

of the faithful Hans, who, clutching me by the arm, saved me from the

yawning abyss.

The courageous Icelander then carried me in his powerful arms, far out

of the reach of the waves, and laid me down upon a burning expanse of

sand, where I found myself some time afterwards in the company of my

uncle, the Professor.

Then he quietly returned towards the fatal rocks, against which the

furious waves were beating, in order to save any stray waifs from the

wreck. This man was always practical and thoughtful. I could not utter a

word; I was quite overcome with emotion; my whole body was broken and

bruised with fatigue; it took hours before I was anything like myself.

Meanwhile, there fell a fearful deluge of rain, drenching us to the

skin. Its very violence, however, proclaimed the approaching end of the

storm. Some overhanging rocks afforded us a slight protection from the

torrents.

Under this shelter, Hans prepared some food, which, however, I was

unable to touch; and, exhausted by the three weary days and nights of

watching, we fell into a deep and painful sleep. My dreams were fearful,

but at last exhausted nature asserted her supremacy, and I slumbered.

Next day when I awoke the change was magical. The weather was

magnificent. Air and sea, as if by mutual consent, had regained their

serenity. Every trace of the storm, even the faintest, had disappeared.

I was saluted on my awakening by the first joyous tones I had heard from

the Professor for many a day. His gaiety, indeed, was something

terrible.

"Well, my lad," he cried, rubbing his hands together, "have you slept

soundly?"

Might it not have been supposed that we were in the old house on the

Konigstrasse; that I had just come down quietly to my breakfast; and

that my marriage with Gretchen was to take place that very day? My

uncle's coolness was exasperating.

Alas, considering how the tempest had driven us in an easterly

direction, we had passed under the whole of Germany, under the city of

Hamburg where I had been so happy, under the very street which contained

all I loved and cared for in the world.

It was a positive fact that I was only separated from her by a distance

of forty leagues. But these forty leagues were of hard, impenetrable

granite!

All these dreary and miserable reflections passed through my mind,

before I attempted to answer my uncle's question.

"Why, what is the matter?" he cried. "Cannot you say whether you have

slept well or not?"

"I have slept very well," was my reply, "but every bone in my body

aches. I suppose that will lead to nothing."

"Nothing at all, my boy. It is only the result of the fatigue of the

last few days--that is all."

"You appear--if I may be allowed to say so--to be very jolly this

morning," I said.

"Delighted, my dear boy, delighted. Was never happier in my life. We

have at last reached the wished-for port."

"The end of our expedition?" cried I, in a tone of considerable

surprise.

"No; but to the confines of that sea which I began to fear would never

end, but go round the whole world. We will now tranquilly resume our

journey by land, and once again endeavor to dive into the centre of the

earth."

"My dear uncle," I began, in a hesitating kind of way, "allow me to ask

you one question."

"Certainly, Harry; a dozen if you think proper."

"One will suffice. How about getting back?" I asked.

"How about getting back? What a question to ask. We have not as yet

reached the end of our journey."

"I know that. All I want to know is how you propose we shall manage the

return voyage?"

"In the most simple manner in the world," said the imperturbable

Professor. "Once we reach the exact centre of this sphere, either we

shall find a new road by which to ascend to the surface, or we shall

simply turn round and go back by the way we came. I have every reason to

believe that while we are traveling forward, it will not close behind

us."

"Then one of the first matters to see to will be to repair the raft,"

was my rather melancholy response.

"Of course. We must attend to that above all things," continued the

Professor.

"Then comes the all-important question of provisions," I urged. "Have we

anything like enough left to enable us to accomplish such great, such

amazing, designs as you contemplate carrying out?"

"I have seen into the matter, and my answer is in the affirmative. Hans

is a very clever fellow, and I have reason to believe that he has saved

the greater part of the cargo. But the best way to satisfy your scruples

is to come and judge for yourself."

Saying which, he led the way out of the kind of open grotto in which we

had taken shelter. I had almost begun to hope that which I should rather

have feared, and this was the impossibility of such a shipwreck leaving

even the slightest signs of what it had carried as freight. I was,

however, thoroughly mistaken.

As soon as I reached the shores of this inland sea, I found Hans

standing gravely in the midst of a large number of things laid out in

complete order. My uncle wrung his hands with deep and silent gratitude.

His heart was too full for speech.

This man, whose superhuman devotion to his employers I not only never

saw surpassed, nor even equaled, had been hard at work all the time we

slept, and at the risk of his life had succeeded in saving the most

precious articles of our cargo.

Of course, under the circumstances, we necessarily experienced several

severe losses. Our weapons had wholly vanished. But experience had

taught us to do without them. The provision of powder had, however,

remained intact, after having narrowly escaped blowing us all to atoms

in the storm.

"Well," said the Professor, who was now ready to make the best of

everything, "as we have no guns, all we have to do is to give up all

idea of hunting."

"Yes, my dear sir, we can do without them, but what about all our

instruments?"

"Here is the manometer, the most useful of all, and which I gladly

accept in lieu of the rest. With it alone I can calculate the depth as

we proceed; by its means alone I shall be able to decide when we have

reached the centre of the earth. Ha, ha! but for this little instrument

we might make a mistake, and run the risk of coming out at the

antipodes!"

All this was said amid bursts of unnatural laughter.

"But the compass," I cried, "without that what can we do?"

"Here it is, safe and sound!" he cried, with real joy, "ah, ah, and here

we have the chronometer and the thermometers. Hans the hunter is indeed

an invaluable man!"

It was impossible to deny this fact. As far as the nautical and other

instruments were concerned, nothing was wanting. Then on further

examination, I found ladders, cords, pickaxes, crowbars, and shovels,

all scattered about on the shore.

There was, however, finally the most important question of all, and that

was, provisions.

"But what are we to do for food?" I asked.

"Let us see to the commissariat department", replied my uncle gravely.

The boxes which contained our supply of food for the voyage were placed

in a row along the strand, and were in a capital state of preservation;

the sea had in every case respected their contents, and to sum up in one

sentence, taking into consideration, biscuits, salt meat, Schiedam and

dried fish, we could still calculate on having about four months'

supply, if used with prudence and caution.

"Four months," cried the sanguine Professor in high glee. "Then we shall

have plenty of time both to go and to come, and with what remains I

undertake to give a grand dinner to my colleagues of the Johanneum."

I sighed. I should by this time have become used to the temperament of

my uncle, and yet this man astonished me more and more every day. He was

the greatest human enigma I ever had known.

"Now," he, "before we do anything else, we must lay in a stock of fresh

water. The rain has fallen in abundance, and filled the hollows of the

granite. There is a rich supply of water, and we have no fear of

suffering from thirst, which in our circumstances is of the last

importance. As for the raft, I shall recommend Hans to repair it to the

best of his abilities; though I have every reason to believe we shall

not require it again."

"How is that?" I cried, more amazed than ever at my uncle's style of

reasoning.

"I have an idea, my dear boy; it is none other than this simple fact; we

shall not come out by the same opening as that by which we entered."

I began to look at my uncle with vague suspicion. An idea had more than

once taken possession of me; and this was, that he was going mad. And

yet, little did I think how true and prophetic his words were doomed to

be.

"And now," he said, "having seen to all these matters of detail, to

breakfast."

I followed him to a sort of projecting cape, after he had given his last

instructions to our guide. In this original position, with dried meat,

biscuit, and a delicious cup of tea, we made a satisfactory meal--I may

say one of the most welcome and pleasant I ever remember. Exhaustion,

the keen atmosphere, the state of calm after so much agitation, all

contributed to give me an excellent appetite. Indeed, it contributed

very much to producing a pleasant and cheerful state of mind.

While breakfast was in hand, and between the sips of warm tea, I asked

my uncle if he had any idea of how we now stood in relation to the world

above.

"For my part," I added, "I think it will be rather difficult to

determine."

"Well, if we were compelled to fix the exact spot," said my uncle, "it

might be difficult, since during the three days of that awful tempest I

could keep no account either of the quickness of our pace, or of the

direction in which the raft was going. Still, we will endeavor to

approximate to the truth. We shall not, I believe, be so very far out."

"Well, if I recollect rightly," I replied, "our last observation was

made at the geyser island."

"Harry's Island, my boy! Harry's Island. Do not decline the honor of

having named it; given your name to an island discovered by us, the

first human beings who trod it since the creation of the world!"

"Let it be so, then. At Harry's Island we had already gone over two

hundred and seventy leagues of sea, and we were, I believe, about six

hundred leagues, more or less, from Iceland."

"Good. I am glad to see that you remember so well. Let us start from

that point, and let us count four days of storm, during which our rate

of traveling must have been very great. I should say that our velocity

must have been about eighty leagues to the twenty-four hours."

I agreed that I thought this a fair calculation. There were then three

hundred leagues to be added to the grand total.

"Yes, and the Central Sea must extend at least six hundred leagues from

side to side. Do you know, my boy, Harry, that we have discovered an

inland lake larger than the Mediterranean?"

"Certainly, and we only know of its extent in one way. It may be

hundreds of miles in length."

"Very likely."

"Then," said I, after calculating for some for some minutes, "if your

previsions are right, we are at this moment exactly under the

Mediterranean itself."

"Do you think so?"

"Yes, I am almost certain of it. Are we not nine hundred leagues distant

from Reykjavik?"

"That is perfectly true, and a famous bit of road we have traveled, my

boy. But why we should be under the Mediterranean more than under Turkey

or the Atlantic Ocean can only be known when we are sure of not having

deviated from our course; and of this we know nothing."

"I do not think we were driven very far from our course; the wind

appears to me to have been always about the same. My opinion is that

this shore must be situated to the southeast of Port Gretchen."

"Good--I hope so. It will, however, be easy to decide the matter by

taking the bearings from our departure by means of the compass. Come

along, and we will consult that invaluable invention."

The Professor now walked eagerly in the direction of the rock where the

indefatigable Hans had placed the instruments in safety. My uncle was

gay and lighthearted; he rubbed his hands, and assumed all sorts of

attitudes. He was to all appearance once more a young man. Since I had

known him, never had he been so amiable and pleasant. I followed him,

rather curious to know whether I had made any mistake in my estimation

of our position.

As soon as we had reached the rock, my uncle took the compass, placed it

horizontally before him, and looked keenly at the needle.

As he had at first shaken it to give it vivacity, it oscillated

considerably, and then slowly assumed its right position under the

influence of the magnetic power.

The Professor bent his eyes curiously over the wondrous instrument. A

violent start immediately showed the extent of his emotion.

He closed his eyes, rubbed them, and took another and a keener survey.

Then he turned slowly round to me, stupefaction depicted on his

countenance.

"What is the matter?" said I, beginning to be alarmed.

He could not speak. He was too overwhelmed for words. He simply pointed

to the instrument.

I examined it eagerly according to his mute directions, and a loud cry

of surprise escaped my lips. The needle of the compass pointed due

north--in the direction we expected was the south!

It pointed to the shore instead of to the high seas.

I shook the compass; I examined it with a curious and anxious eye. It

was in a state of perfection. No blemish in any way explained the

phenomenon. Whatever position we forced the needle into, it returned

invariably to the same unexpected point.

It was useless attempting to conceal from ourselves the fatal truth.

There could be no doubt about it, unwelcome as was the fact, that during

the tempest, there had been a sudden slant of wind, of which we had been

unable to take any account, and thus the raft had carried us back to the

shores we had left, apparently forever, so many days before!

CHAPTER 34 - A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY

It would be altogether impossible for me to give any idea of the utter

astonishment which overcame the Professor on making this extraordinary

discovery. Amazement, incredulity, and rage were blended in such a way

as to alarm me.

During the whole course of my Life I had never seen a man at first so

chapfallen; and then so furiously indignant.

The terrible fatigues of our sea voyage, the fearful dangers we had

passed through, had all, all, gone for nothing. We had to begin them all

over again.

Instead of progressing, as we fondly expected, during a voyage of so

many days, we had retreated. Every hour of our expedition on the raft

had been so much lost time!

Presently, however, the indomitable energy of my uncle overcame every

other consideration.

"So," he said, between his set teeth, "fatality will play me these

terrible tricks. The elements themselves conspire to overwhelm me with

mortification. Air, fire, and water combine their united efforts to

oppose my passage. Well, they shall see what the earnest will of a

determined man can do. I will not yield, I will not retreat even one

inch; and we shall see who shall triumph in this great contest--man or

nature."

Standing upright on a rock, irritated and menacing, Professor Hardwigg,

like the ferocious Ajax, seemed to defy the fates. I, however, took upon

myself to interfere, and to impose some sort of check upon such

insensate enthusiasm.

"Listen to me, Uncle," I said, in a firm but temperate tone of voice,

"there must be some limit to ambition here below. It is utterly useless

to struggle against the impossible. Pray listen to reason. We are

utterly unprepared for a sea voyage; it is simply madness to think of

performing a journey of five hundred leagues upon a wretched pile of

beams, with a counterpane for a sail, a paltry stick for a mast, and a

tempest to contend with. As we are totally incapable of steering our

frail craft, we shall become the mere plaything of the storm, and it is

acting the part of madmen if we, a second time, run any risk upon this

dangerous and treacherous Central Sea."

These are only a few of the reasons and arguments I put

together--reasons and arguments which to me appeared unanswerable. I was

allowed to go on without interruption for about ten minutes. The

explanation to this I soon discovered. The Professor was not even

listening, and did not hear a word of all my eloquence.

"To the raft!" he cried in a hoarse voice, when I paused for a reply.

Such was the result of my strenuous effort to resist his iron will. I

tried again; I begged and implored him; I got into a passion; but I had

to deal with a will more determined than my own. I seemed to feel like

the waves which fought and battled against the huge mass of granite at

our feet, which had smiled grimly for so many ages at their puny

efforts.

Hans, meanwhile, without taking part in our discussion, had been

repairing the raft. One would have supposed that he instinctively

guessed at the further projects of my uncle.

By means of some fragments of cordage, he had again made the raft

seaworthy.

While I had been speaking, he had hoisted a new mast and sail, the

latter already fluttering and waving in the breeze.

The worthy Professor spoke a few words to our imperturbable guide, who

immediately began to put our baggage on board and to prepare for our

departure. The atmosphere was now tolerably clear and pure, and the

northeast wind blew steadily and serenely. It appeared likely to last

for some time.

What, then, could I do? Could I undertake to resist the iron will of two

men? It was simply impossible if even I could have hoped for the support

of Hans. This, however, was out of the question. It appeared to me that

the Icelander had set aside all personal will and identity. He was a

picture of abnegation.

I could hope for nothing from one so infatuated with and devoted to his

master. All I could do, therefore, was to swim with the stream.

In a mood of stolid and sullen resignation, I was about to take my

accustomed place on the raft when my uncle placed his hand upon my

shoulder.

"There is no hurry, my boy," he said, "we shall not start until

tomorrow."

I looked the picture of resignation to the dire will of fate.

"Under the circumstances," he said, "I ought to neglect no precautions.

As fate has cast me upon these shores, I shall not leave without having

completely examined them."

In order to understand this remark, I must explain that though we had

been driven back to the northern shore, we had landed at a very

different spot from that which had been our starting point.

Port Gretchen must, we calculated, be very much to the westward.

Nothing, therefore, was more natural and reasonable than that we should

reconnoiter this new shore upon which we had so unexpectedly landed.

"Let us go on a journey of discovery," I cried.

And leaving Hans to his important operation, we started on our

expedition. The distance between the foreshore at high water and the

foot of the rocks was considerable. It would take about half an hour's

walking to get from one to the other.

As we trudged along, our feet crushed innumerable shells of every shape

and size--once the dwelling place of animals of every period of

creation.

I particularly noticed some enormous shells--carapaces (turtle and

tortoise species) the diameter of which exceeded fifteen feet.

They had in past ages belonged to those gigantic Glyptodons of the

Pliocene period, of which the modern turtle is but a minute specimen. In

addition, the whole soil was covered by a vast quantity of stony relics,

having the appearance of flints worn by the action of the waves, and

lying in successive layers one above the other. I came to the conclusion

that in past ages the sea must have covered the whole district. Upon the

scattered rocks, now lying far beyond its reach, the mighty waves of

ages had left evident marks of their passage.

On reflection, this appeared to me partially to explain the existence of

this remarkable ocean, forty leagues below the surface of the earth's

crust. According to my new, and perhaps fanciful, theory, this liquid

mass must be gradually lost in the deep bowels of the earth. I had also

no doubt that this mysterious sea was fed by infiltration of the ocean

above, through imperceptible fissures.

Nevertheless, it was impossible not to admit that these fissures must

now be nearly choked up, for if not, the cavern, or rather the immense

and stupendous reservoir, would have been completely filled in a short

space of time. Perhaps even this water, having to contend against the

accumulated subterraneous fires of the interior of the earth, had become

partially vaporized. Hence the explanation of those heavy clouds

suspended over our heads, and the superabundant display of that

electricity which occasioned such terrible storms in this deep and

cavernous sea.

This lucid explanation of the phenomena we had witnessed appeared to me

quite satisfactory. However great and mighty the marvels of nature may

seem to us, they are always to be explained by physical reasons.

Everything is subordinate to some great law of nature.

It now appeared clear that we were walking upon a kind of sedimentary

soil, formed like all the soils of that period, so frequent on the

surface of the globe, by the subsidence of the waters. The Professor,

who was now in his element, carefully examined every rocky fissure. Let

him only find an opening and it directly became important to him to

examine its depth.

For a whole mile we followed the windings of the Central Sea, when

suddenly an important change took place in the aspect of the soil. It

seemed to have been rudely cast up, convulsionized, as it were, by a

violent upheaving of the lower strata. In many places, hollows here and

hillocks there attested great dislocations at some other period of the

terrestrial mass.

We advanced with great difficulty over the broken masses of granite

mixed with flint, quartz, and alluvial deposits, when a large field,

more even than a field, a plain of bones, appeared suddenly before our

eyes! It looked like an immense cemetery, where generation after

generation had mingled their mortal dust.

Lofty barrows of early remains rose at intervals. They undulated away to

the limits of the distant horizon and were lost in a thick and brown

fog.

On that spot, some three square miles in extent, was accumulated the

whole history of animal life--scarcely one creature upon the

comparatively modern soil of the upper and inhabited world had not there

existed.

Nevertheless, we were drawn forward by an all-absorbing and impatient

curiosity. Our feet crushed with a dry and crackling sound the remains

of those prehistoric fossils, for which the museums of great cities

quarrel, even when they obtain only rare and curious morsels. A thousand

such naturalists as Cuvier would not have sufficed to recompose the

skeletons of the organic beings which lay in this magnificent osseous

collection.

I was utterly confounded. My uncle stood for some minutes with his arms

raised on high towards the thick granite vault which served us for a

sky. His mouth was wide open; his eyes sparkled wildly behind his

spectacles (which he had fortunately saved), his head bobbed up and down

and from side to side, while his whole attitude and mien expressed

unbounded astonishment.

He stood in the presence of an endless, wondrous, and inexhaustibly rich

collection of antediluvian monsters, piled up for his own private and

peculiar satisfaction.

Fancy an enthusiastic lover of books carried suddenly into the very

midst of the famous library of Alexandria burned by the sacrilegious

Omar, and which some miracle had restored to its pristine splendor! Such

was something of the state of mind in which Uncle Hardwigg was now

placed.

For some time he stood thus, literally aghast at the magnitude of his

discovery.

But it was even a greater excitement when, darting wildly over this mass

of organic dust, he caught up a naked skull and addressed me in a

quivering voice:

"Harry, my boy--Harry--this is a human head!"

"A human head, Uncle!" I said, no less amazed and stupefied than

himself.

"Yes, nephew. Ah! Mr. Milne-Edwards--ah! Mr. De Quatrefages--why are you

not here where I am--I, Professor Hardwigg!"

CHAPTER 35 - DISCOVERY UPON DISCOVERY

In order fully to understand the exclamation made by my uncle, and his

allusions to these illustrious and learned men, it will be necessary to

enter into certain explanations in regard to a circumstance of the

highest importance to paleontology, or the science of fossil life, which

had taken place a short time before our departure from the upper regions

of the earth.

On the 28th of March, 1863, some navigators under the direction of M.

Boucher de Perthes, were at work in the great quarries of

Moulin-Quignon, near Abbeville, in the department of the Somme, in

France. While at work, they unexpectedly came upon a human jawbone

buried fourteen feet below the surface of the soil. It was the first

fossil of the kind that had ever been brought to the light of day. Near

this unexpected human relic were found stone hatchets and carved flints,

colored and clothed by time in one uniform brilliant tint of verdigris.

The report of this extraordinary and unexpected discovery spread not

only all over France, but over England and Germany. Many learned men

belonging to various scientific bodies, and noteworthy among others,

Messrs. Milne-Edwards and De Quatrefages, took the affair very much to

heart, demonstrated the incontestable authenticity of the bone in

question, and became--to use the phrase then recognized in England--the

most ardent supporters of the "jawbone question."

To the eminent geologists of the United Kingdom who looked upon the fact

as certain--Messrs. Falconer, Buck, Carpenter, and others--were soon

united the learned men of Germany, and among those in the first rank,

the most eager, the most enthusiastic, was my worthy uncle, Professor

Hardwigg.

The authenticity of a human fossil of the Quaternary period seemed then

to be incontestably demonstrated, and even to be admitted by the most

skeptical.

This system or theory, call it what you will, had, it is true, a bitter

adversary in M. Elie de Beaumont. This learned man, who holds such a

high place in the scientific world, holds that the soil of

Moulin-Quignon does not belong to the diluvium but to a much less

ancient stratum, and, in accordance with Cuvier in this respect, he

would by no means admit that the human species was contemporary with the

animals of the Quaternary epoch. My worthy uncle, Professor Hardwigg, in

concert with the great majority of geologists, had held firm, had

disputed, discussed, and finally, after considerable talking and

writing, M. Elie de Beaumont had been pretty well left alone in his

opinions.

We were familiar with all the details of this discussion, but were far

from being aware then that since our departure the matter had entered

upon a new phase. Other similar jawbones, though belonging to

individuals of varied types and very different natures, had been found

in the movable grey sands of certain grottoes in France, Switzerland,

and Belgium; together with arms, utensils, tools, bones of children, of

men in the prime of life, and of old men. The existence of men in the

Quaternary period became, therefore, more positive every day.

But this was far from being all. New remains, dug up from the Pliocene

or Tertiary deposits, had enabled the more far-seeing or audacious among

learned men to assign even a far greater degree of antiquity to the

human race. These remains, it is true, were not those of men; that is,

were not the bones of men, but objects decidedly having served the human

race: shinbones, thighbones of fossil animals, regularly scooped out,

and in fact sculptured--bearing the unmistakable signs of human

handiwork.

By means of these wondrous and unexpected discoveries, man ascended

endless centuries in the scale of time; he, in fact, preceded the

mastodon; became the contemporary of the <i>Elephas meridionalis</i>--the

southern elephant; acquired an antiquity of over a hundred thousand

years, since that is the date given by the most eminent geologists to

the Pliocene period of the earth. Such was then the state of

paleontologic science, and what we moreover knew sufficed to explain our

attitude before this great cemetery of the plains of the Hardwigg Ocean.

It will now be easy to understand the Professor's mingled astonishment

and joy when, on advancing about twenty yards, he found himself in the

presence of, I may say face to face with, a specimen of the human race

actually belonging to the Quaternary period!

It was indeed a human skull, perfectly recognizable. Had a soil of very

peculiar nature, like that of the cemetery of St. Michel at Bordeaux,

preserved it during countless ages? This was the question I asked

myself, but which I was wholly unable to answer. But this head with

stretched and parchmenty skin, with the teeth whole, the hair abundant,

was before our eyes as in life!

I stood mute, almost paralyzed with wonder and awe before this dread

apparition of another age. My uncle, who on almost every occasion was a

great talker, remained for a time completely dumfounded. He was too full

of emotion for speech to be possible. After a while, however, we raised

up the body to which the skull belonged. We stood it on end. It seemed,

to our excited imaginations, to look at us with its terrible hollow

eyes.

After some minutes of silence, the man was vanquished by the Professor.

Human instincts succumbed to scientific pride and exultation. Professor

Hardwigg, carried away by his enthusiasm, forgot all the circumstances

of our journey, the extraordinary position in which we were placed, the

immense cavern which stretched far away over our heads. There can be no

doubt that he thought himself at the Institution addressing his

attentive pupils, for he put on his most doctorial style, waved his

hand, and began:

"Gentlemen, I have the honor on this auspicious occasion to present to

you a man of the Quaternary period of our globe. Many learned men have

denied his very existence, while other able persons, perhaps of even

higher authority, have affirmed their belief in the reality of his life.

If the St. Thomases of paleontology were present, they would

reverentially touch him with their fingers and believe in his existence,

thus acknowledging their obstinate heresy. I know that science should be

careful in relation to all discoveries of this nature. I am not without

having heard of the many Barnums and other quacks who have made a trade

of suchlike pretended discoveries. I have, of course, heard of the

discovery of the kneebones of Ajax, of the pretended finding of the body

of Orestes by the Spartiates, and of the body of Asterius, ten spans

long, fifteen feet--of which we read in Pausanias.

"I have read everything in relation to the skeleton of Trapani,

discovered in the fourteenth century, and which many persons chose to

regard as that of Polyphemus, and the history of the giant dug up during

the sixteenth century in the environs of Palmyra. You are well aware as

I am, gentlemen, of the existence of the celebrated analysis made near

Lucerne, in 1577, of the great bones which the celebrated Doctor Felix

Plater declared belonged to a giant about nineteen feet high. I have

devoured all the treatises of Cassanion, and all those memoirs,

pamphlets, speeches, and replies published in reference to the skeleton

of Teutobochus, king of the Cimbri, the invader of Gaul, dug out of a

gravel pit in Dauphine, in 1613. In the eighteenth century I should have

denied, with Peter Campet, the existence of the preadamites of

Scheuchzer. I have had in my hands the writing called Gigans--"

Here my uncle was afflicted by the natural infirmity which prevented him

from pronouncing difficult words in public. It was not exactly

stuttering, but a strange sort of constitutional hesitation.

"The writing named Gigans--" he repeated.

He, however, could get no further.

"Giganteo--"

Impossible! The unfortunate word would not come out. There would have

been great laughter at the Institution, had the mistake happened there.

"Gigantosteology!" at last exclaimed Professor Hardwigg between two

savage growls.

Having got over our difficulty, and getting more and more excited--

"Yes, gentlemen, I am well acquainted with all these matters, and know,

also, that Cuvier and Blumenbach fully recognized in these bones the

undeniable remains of mammoths of the Quaternary period. But after what

we now see, to allow a doubt is to insult scientific inquiry. There is

the body; you can see it; you can touch it. It is not a skeleton, it is

a complete and uninjured body, preserved with an anthropological

object."

I did not attempt to controvert this singular and astounding assertion.

"If I could but wash this corpse in a solution of sulphuric acid,"

continued my uncle, "I would undertake to remove all the earthy

particles, and these resplendent shells, which are incrusted all over

this body. But I am without this precious dissolving medium.

Nevertheless, such as it is, this body will tell its own history."

Here the Professor held up the fossil body, and exhibited it with rare

dexterity. No professional showman could have shown more activity.

"As on examination you will see," my uncle continued, "it is only about

six feet in length, which is a long way from the pretended giants of

early days. As to the particular race to which it belonged, it is

incontestably Caucasian. It is of the white race, that is, of our own.

The skull of this fossil being is a perfect ovoid without any remarkable

or prominent development of the cheekbones, and without any projection

of the jaw. It presents no indication of the prognathism which modifies

the facial angle.[4] Measure the angle for yourselves, and you will find

that it is just ninety degrees. But I will advance still farther on the

road of inquiry and deduction, and I dare venture to say that this human

sample or specimen belongs to the Japhetic family, which spread over the

world from India to the uttermost limits of western Europe. There is no

occasion, gentlemen, to smile at my remarks."

[4] The facial angle is formed by two planes--one more or less vertical

which is in a straight line with the forehead and the incisors; the

other, horizontal, which passes through the organs of hearing, and the

lower nasal bone. Prognathism, in anthropological language, means that

particular projection of the jaw which modifies the facial angle.

Of course nobody smiled. But the excellent Professor was so accustomed

to beaming countenances at his lectures, that he believed he saw all his

audience laughing during the delivery of his learned dissertation.

"Yes," he continued, with renewed animation, "this is a fossil man, a

contemporary of the mastodons, with the bones of which this whole

amphitheater is covered. But if I am called on to explain how he came to

this place, how these various strata by which he is covered have fallen

into this vast cavity, I can undertake to give you no explanation.

Doubtless, if we carry ourselves back to the Quaternary epoch, we shall

find that great and mighty convulsions took place in the crust of the

earth; the continually cooling operation, through which the earth had to

pass, produced fissures, landslips, and chasms, through which a large

portion of the earth made its way. I come to no absolute conclusion, but

there is the man, surrounded by the works of his hands, his hatchets and

his carved flints, which belong to the stony period; and the only

rational supposition is, that, like myself, he visited the centre of the

earth as a traveling tourist, a pioneer of science. At all events, there

can be no doubt of his great age, and of his being one of the oldest

race of human beings."

The Professor with these words ceased his oration, and I burst forth

into loud and "unanimous" applause. Besides, after all, my uncle was

right. Much more learned men than his nephew would have found it rather

hard to refute his facts and arguments.

Another circumstance soon presented itself. This fossilized body was not

the only one in this vast plain of bones--the cemetery of an extinct

world. Other bodies were found, as we trod the dusty plain, and my uncle

was able to choose the most marvelous of these specimens in order to

convince the most incredulous.

In truth, it was a surprising spectacle, the successive remains of

generations and generations of men and animals confounded together in

one vast cemetery. But a great question now presented itself to our

notice, and one we were actually afraid to contemplate in all its

bearings.

Had these once animated beings been buried so far beneath the soil by

some tremendous convulsion of nature, after they had been earth to earth

and ashes to ashes, or had they lived here below, in this subterranean

world, under this factitious sky, borne, married, and given in marriage,

and died at last, just like ordinary inhabitants of the earth?

Up to the present moment, marine monsters, fish, and suchlike animals

had alone been seen alive!

The question which rendered us rather uneasy, was a pertinent one. Were

any of these men of the abyss wandering about the deserted shores of

this wondrous sea of the centre of the earth?

This was a question which rendered me very uneasy and uncomfortable.

How, should they really be in existence, would they receive us men from

above?

CHAPTER 36 - WHAT IS IT?

For a long and weary hour we tramped over this great bed of bones. We

advanced regardless of everything, drawn on by ardent curiosity. What

other marvels did this great cavern contain--what other wondrous

treasures for the scientific man? My eyes were quite prepared for any

number of surprises, my imagination lived in expectation of something

new and wonderful.

The borders of the great Central Ocean had for some time disappeared

behind the hills that were scattered over the ground occupied by the

plain of bones. The imprudent and enthusiastic Professor, who did not

care whether he lost himself or not, hurried me forward. We advanced

silently, bathed in waves of electric fluid.

By reason of a phenomenon which I cannot explain, and thanks to its

extreme diffusion, now complete, the light illumined equally the sides

of every hill and rock. Its seat appeared to be nowhere, in no

determined force, and produced no shade whatever.

The appearance presented was that of a tropical country at midday in

summer--in the midst of the equatorial regions and under the vertical

rays of the sun.

All signs of vapor had disappeared. The rocks, the distant mountains,

some confused masses of far-off forests, assumed a weird and mysterious

aspect under this equal distribution of the luminous fluid!

We resembled, to a certain extent, the mysterious personage in one of

Hoffmann's fantastic tales--the man who lost his shadow.

After we had walked about a mile farther, we came to the edge of a vast

forest not, however, one of the vast mushroom forests we had discovered

near Port Gretchen.

It was the glorious and wild vegetation of the Tertiary period, in all

its superb magnificence. Huge palms, of a species now unknown, superb

palmacites--a genus of fossil palms from the coal formation--pines,

yews, cypress, and conifers or cone-bearing trees, the whole bound

together by an inextricable and complicated mass of creeping plants.

A beautiful carpet of mosses and ferns grew beneath the trees. Pleasant

brooks murmured beneath umbrageous boughs, little worthy of this name,

for no shade did they give. Upon their borders grew small treelike

shrubs, such as are seen in the hot countries on our own inhabited

globe.

The one thing wanting in these plants, these shrubs, these trees--was

color! Forever deprived of the vivifying warmth of the sun, they were

vapid and colorless. All shade was lost in one uniform tint, of a brown

and faded character. The leaves were wholly devoid of verdure, and the

flowers, so numerous during the Tertiary period which gave them birth,

were without color and without perfume, something like paper discolored

by long exposure to the atmosphere.

My uncle ventured beneath the gigantic groves. I followed him, though

not without a certain amount of apprehension. Since nature had shown

herself capable of producing such stupendous vegetable supplies, why

might we not meet with mammals just as large, and therefore dangerous?

I particularly remarked, in the clearings left by trees that had fallen

and been partially consumed by time, many leguminous (beanlike) shrubs,

such as the maple and other eatable trees, dear to ruminating animals.

Then there appeared confounded together and intermixed, the trees of

such varied lands, specimens of the vegetation of every part of the

globe; there was the oak near the palm tree, the Australian eucalyptus,

an interesting class of the order Myrtaceae--leaning against the tall

Norwegian pine, the poplar of the north, mixing its branches with those

of the New Zealand kauris. It was enough to drive the most ingenious

classifier of the upper regions out of his mind, and to upset all his

received ideas about botany.

Suddenly I stopped short and restrained my uncle.

The extreme diffuseness of the light enabled me to see the smallest

objects in the distant copses. I thought I saw--no, I really did see

with my own eyes--immense, gigantic animals moving about under the

mighty trees. Yes, they were truly gigantic animals, a whole herd of

mastodons, not fossils, but living, and exactly like those discovered in

1801, on the marshy banks of the great Ohio, in North America.

Yes, I could see these enormous elephants, whose trunks were tearing

down large boughs, and working in and out the trees like a legion of

serpents. I could hear the sounds of the mighty tusks uprooting huge

trees!

The boughs crackled, and the whole masses of leaves and green branches

went down the capacious throats of these terrible monsters!

That wondrous dream, when I saw the antehistorical times revivified,

when the Tertiary and Quaternary periods passed before me, was now

realized!

And there we were alone, far down in the bowels of the earth, at the

mercy of its ferocious inhabitants!

My uncle paused, full of wonder and astonishment.

"Come!" he said at last, when his first surprise was over, "Come along,

my boy, and let us see them nearer."

"No," replied I, restraining his efforts to drag me forward, "we are

wholly without arms. What should we do in the midst of that flock of

gigantic quadrupeds? Come away, Uncle, I implore you. No human creature

can with impunity brave the ferocious anger of these monsters."

"No human creature," said my uncle, suddenly lowering his voice to a

mysterious whisper, "you are mistaken, my dear Henry. Look! look yonder!

It seems to me that I behold a human being--a being like ourselves--a

man!"

I looked, shrugging my shoulders, decided to push incredulity to its

very last limits. But whatever might have been my wish, I was compelled

to yield to the weight of ocular demonstration.

Yes--not more than a quarter of a mile off, leaning against the trunk of

an enormous tree, was a human being--a Proteus of these subterranean

regions, a new son of Neptune keeping this innumerable herd of

mastodons.

Immanis pecoris custos, immanior ipse![5]

[5] The keeper of gigantic cattle, himself still more gigantic!

Yes--it was no longer a fossil whose corpse we had raised from the

ground in the great cemetery, but a giant capable of guiding and driving

these prodigious monsters. His height was above twelve feet. His head,

as big as the head of a buffalo, was lost in a mane of matted hair. It

was indeed a huge mane, like those which belonged to the elephants of

the earlier ages of the world.

In his hand was a branch of a tree, which served as a crook for this

antediluvian shepherd.

We remained profoundly still, speechless with surprise.

But we might at any moment be seen by him. Nothing remained for us but

instant flight.

"Come, come!" I cried, dragging my uncle along; and, for the first time,

he made no resistance to my wishes.

A quarter of an hour later we were far away from that terrible monster!

Now that I think of the matter calmly, and that I reflect upon it

dispassionately; now that months, years, have passed since this strange

and unnatural adventure befell us--what am I to think, what am I to

believe?

No, it is utterly impossible! Our ears must have deceived us, and our

eyes have cheated us! we have not seen what we believed we had seen. No

human being could by any possibility have existed in that subterranean

world! No generation of men could inhabit the lower caverns of the globe

without taking note of those who peopled the surface, without

communication with them. It was folly, folly, folly! nothing else!

I am rather inclined to admit the existence of some animal resembling in

structure the human race--of some monkey of the first geological epochs,

like that discovered by M. Lartet in the ossiferous deposit of Sansan.

But this animal, or being, whichsoever it was, surpassed in height all

things known to modern science. Never mind. However unlikely it may be,

it might have been a monkey--but a man, a living man, and with him a

whole generation of gigantic animals, buried in the entrails of the

earth--it was too monstrous to be believed!

CHAPTER 37 - THE MYSTERIOUS DAGGER

During this time, we had left the bright and transparent forest far

behind us. We were mute with astonishment, overcome by a kind of feeling

which was next door to apathy. We kept running in spite of ourselves. It

was a perfect Right, which resembled one of those horrible sensations we

sometimes meet with in our dreams.

Instinctively we made our way towards the Central Sea, and I cannot now

tell what wild thoughts passed through my mind, nor of what follies I

might have been guilty, but for a very serious preoccupation which

brought me back to practical life.

Though I was aware that we were treading on a soil quite new to us, I,

however, every now and then noticed certain aggregations of rock, the

shape of which forcibly reminded me of those near Port Gretchen.

This confirmed, moreover, the indications of the compass and our

extraordinary and unlooked-for, as well as involuntary, return to the

north of this great Central Sea. It was so like our starting point, that

I could scarcely doubt the reality of our position. Streams and cascades

fell in hundreds over the numerous projections of the rocks.

I actually thought I could see our faithful and monotonous Hans and the

wonderful grotto in which I had come back to life after my tremendous

fall.

Then, as we advanced still farther, the position of the cliffs, the

appearance of a stream, the unexpected profile of a rock, threw me again

into a state of bewildering doubt.

After some time, I explained my state of mental indecision to my uncle.

He confessed to a similar feeling of hesitation. He was totally unable

to make up his mind in the midst of this extraordinary but uniform

panorama.

"There can be no doubt," I insisted, "that we have not landed exactly at

the place whence we first took our departure; but the tempest has

brought us above our starting point. I think, therefore, that if we

follow the coast we shall once more find Port Gretchen."

"In that case," cried my uncle, "it is useless to continue our

exploration. The very best thing we can do is to make our way back to

the raft. Are you quite sure, Harry, that you are not mistaken?"

"It is difficult," was my reply, "to come to any decision, for all these

rocks are exactly alike. There is no marked difference between them. At

the same time, the impression on my mind is that I recognize the

promontory at the foot of which our worthy Hans constructed the raft. We

are, I am nearly convinced, near the little port: if this be not it," I

added, carefully examining a creek which appeared singularly familiar to

my mind.

"My dear Harry--if this were the case, we should find traces of our own

footsteps, some signs of our passage; and I can really see nothing to

indicate our having passed this way."

"But I see something," I cried, in an impetuous tone of voice, as I

rushed forward and eagerly picked up something which shone in the sand

under my feet.

"What is it?" cried the astonished and bewildered Professor.

"This," was my reply.

And I handed to my startled relative a rusty dagger, of singular shape.

"What made you bring with you so useless a weapon?" he exclaimed. "It

was needlessly hampering yourself."

"I bring it? It is quite new to me. I never saw it before--are you sure

it is not out of your collection?"

"Not that I know of," said the Professor, puzzled. "I have no

recollection of the circumstance. It was never my property."

"This is very extraordinary," I said, musing over the novel and singular

incident.

"Not at all. There is a very simple explanation, Harry. The Icelanders

are known to keep up the use of these antiquated weapons, and this must

have belonged to Hans, who has let it fall without knowing it."

I shook my head. That dagger had never been in the possession of the

pacific and taciturn Hans. I knew him and his habits too well.

"Then what can it be--unless it be the weapon of some antediluvian

warrior," I continued, "of some living man, a contemporary of that

mighty shepherd from whom we have just escaped? But no--mystery upon

mystery--this is no weapon of the stony epoch, nor even of the bronze

period. It is made of excellent steel--"

Ere I could finish my sentence, my uncle stopped me short from entering

upon a whole train of theories, and spoke in his most cold and decided

tone of voice.

"Calm yourself, my dear boy, and endeavor to use your reason. This

weapon, upon which we have fallen so unexpectedly, is a true <i>dague</i>,

one of those worn by gentlemen in their belts during the sixteenth

century. Its use was to give the <i>coup de grace</i>, the final blow, to the

foe who would not surrender. It is clearly of Spanish workmanship. It

belongs neither to you, nor to me, nor the eider-down hunter, nor to any

of the living beings who may still exist so marvelously in the interior

of the earth."

"What can you mean, Uncle?" I said, now lost in a host of surmises.

"Look closely at it," he continued; "these jagged edges were never made

by the resistance of human blood and bone. The blade is covered with a

regular coating of iron mold and rust, which is not a day old, not a

year old, not a century old, but much more--"

The Professor began to get quite excited, according to custom, and was

allowing himself to be carried away by his fertile imagination. I could

have said something. He stopped me.

"Harry," he cried, "we are now on the verge of a great discovery. This

blade of a dagger you have so marvelously discovered, after being

abandoned upon the sand for more than a hundred, two hundred, even three

hundred years, has been indented by someone endeavoring to carve an

inscription on these rocks."

"But this poniard never got here of itself," I exclaimed, "it could not

have twisted itself. Someone, therefore, must have preceded us upon the

shores of this extraordinary sea."

"Yes, a man."

"But what man has been sufficiently desperate to do such a thing?"

"A man who has somewhere written his name with this very dagger--a man

who has endeavored once more to indicate the right road to the interior

of the earth. Let us look around, my boy. You know not the importance of

your singular and happy discovery."

Prodigiously interested, we walked along the wall of rock, examining the

smallest fissures, which might finally expand into the much wished--for

gully or shaft.

We at last reached a spot where the shore became extremely narrow. The

sea almost bathed the foot of the rocks, which were here very lofty and

steep. There was scarcely a path wider than two yards at any point. At

last, under a huge over-hanging rock, we discovered the entrance of a

dark and gloomy tunnel.

There, on a square tablet of granite, which had been smoothed by rubbing

it with another stone, we could see two mysterious, and much worn

letters, the two initials of the bold and extraordinary traveler who had

preceded us on our adventurous journey.

[Illustration: Runic Glyph]

"A. S.!" cried my uncle. "You see, I was right. Arne Saknussemm, always

Arne Saknussemm!"

CHAPTER 38 - NO OUTLET--BLASTING THE ROCK

Ever since the commencement of our marvelous journey, I had experienced

many surprises, had suffered from many illusions. I thought that I was

case-hardened against all surprises and could neither see nor hear

anything to amaze me again.

I was like a many who, having been round the world, finds himself wholly

blase and proof against the marvelous.

When, however, I saw these two letters, which had been engraven three

hundred years before, I stood fixed in an attitude of mute surprise.

Not only was there the signature of the learned and enterprising

alchemist written in the rock, but I held in my hand the very identical

instrument with which he had laboriously engraved it.

It was impossible, without showing an amount of incredulity scarcely

becoming a sane man, to deny the existence of the traveler, and the

reality of that voyage which I believed all along to have been a

myth--the mystification of some fertile brain.

While these reflections were passing through my mind, my uncle, the

Professor, gave way to an access of feverish and poetical excitement.

"Wonderful and glorious genius, great Saknussemm," he cried, "you have

left no stone unturned, no resource omitted, to show to other mortals

the way into the interior of our mighty globe, and your fellow creatures

can find the trail left by your illustrious footsteps, three hundred

years ago, at the bottom of these obscure subterranean abodes. You have

been careful to secure for others the contemplation of these wonders and

marvels of creation. Your name engraved at every important stage of your

glorious journey leads the hopeful traveler direct to the great and

mighty discovery to which you devoted such energy and courage. The

audacious traveler, who shall follow your footsteps to the last, will

doubtless find your initials engraved with your own hand upon the centre

of the earth. I will be that audacious traveler--I, too, will sign my

name upon the very same spot, upon the central granite stone of this

wondrous work of the Creator. But in justice to your devotion, to your

courage, and to your being the first to indicate the road, let this

cape, seen by you upon the shores of this sea discovered by you, be

called, of all time, Cape Saknussemm."

This is what I heard, and I began to be roused to the pitch of

enthusiasm indicated by those words. A fierce excitement roused me. I

forgot everything. The dangers of the voyage and the perils of the

return journey were now as nothing!

What another man had done in ages past could, I felt, be done again; I

was determined to do it myself, and now nothing that man had

accomplished appeared to me impossible.

"Forward--forward," I cried in a burst of genuine and hearty enthusiasm.

I had already started in the direction of the somber and gloomy gallery

when the Professor stopped me; he, the man so rash and hasty, he, the

man so easily roused to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, checked me, and

asked me to be patient and show more calm.

"Let us return to our good friend, Hans," he said; "we will then bring

the raft down to this place."

I must say that though I at once yielded to my uncle's request, it was

not without dissatisfaction, and I hastened along the rocks of that

wonderful coast.

"Do you know, my dear uncle," I said, as we walked along, "that we have

been singularly helped by a concurrence of circumstances, right up to

this very moment."

"So you begin to see it, do you, Harry?" said the Professor with a

smile.

"Doubtless," I responded, "and strangely enough, even the tempest has

been the means of putting us on the right road. Blessings on the

tempest! It brought us safely back to the very spot from which fine

weather would have driven us forever. Supposing we had succeeded in

reaching the southern and distant shores of this extraordinary sea, what

would have become of us? The name of Saknussemm would never have

appeared to us, and at this moment we should have been cast away upon an

inhospitable coast, probably without an outlet."

"Yes, Harry, my boy, there is certainly something providential in that

wandering at the mercy of wind and waves towards the south: we have come

back exactly north; and what is better still, we fall upon this great

discovery of Cape Saknussemm. I mean to say, that it is more than

surprising; there is something in it which is far beyond my

comprehension. The coincidence is unheard of, marvelous!"

"What matter! It is not our duty to explain facts, but to make the best

possible use of them."

"Doubtless, my boy; but if you will allow me--" said the really

delighted Professor.

"Excuse me, sir, but I see exactly how it will be; we shall take the

northern route; we shall pass under the northern regions of Europe,

under Sweden, under Russia, under Siberia, and who knows where--instead

of burying ourselves under the burning plains and deserts of Africa, or

beneath the mighty waves of the ocean; and that is all, at this stage of

our journey, that I care to know. Let us advance, and Heaven will be our

guide!"

"Yes, Harry, you are right, quite right; all is for the best. Let us

abandon this horizontal sea, which could never have led to anything

satisfactory. We shall descend, descend, and everlastingly descend. Do

you know, my dear boy, that to reach the interior of the earth we have

only five thousand miles to travel!"

"Bah!" I cried, carried away by a burst of enthusiasm, "the distance is

scarcely worth speaking about. The thing is to make a start."

My wild, mad, and incoherent speeches continued until we rejoined our

patient and phlegmatic guide. All was, we found, prepared for an

immediate departure. There was not a single parcel but what was in its

proper place. We all took up our posts on the raft, and the sail being

hoisted, Hans received his directions, and guided the frail bark towards

Cape Saknussemm, as we had definitely named it.

The wind was very unfavorable to a craft that was unable to sail close

to the wind. It was constructed to go before the blast. We were

continually reduced to pushing ourselves forward by means of poles. On

several occasions the rocks ran far out into deep water and we were

compelled to make a long round. At last, after three long and weary

hours of navigation, that is to say, about six o'clock in the evening,

we found a place at which we could land.

I jumped on shore first. In my present state of excitement and

enthusiasm, I was always first. My uncle and the Icelander followed. The

voyage from the port to this point of the sea had by no means calmed me.

It had rather produced the opposite effect. I even proposed to burn our

vessel, that is, to destroy our raft, in order to completely cut off our

retreat. But my uncle sternly opposed this wild project. I began to

think him particularly lukewarm and unenthusiastic.

"At any rate, my dear uncle," I said, "let us start without delay."

"Yes, my boy, I am quite as eager to do so as you can be. But, in the

first place, let us examine this mysterious gallery, in order to find if

we shall need to prepare and mend our ladders."

My uncle now began to see to the efficiency of our Ruhmkorff coil, which

would doubtless soon be needed; the raft, securely fastened to a rock,

was left alone. Moreover, the opening into the new gallery was not

twenty paces distant from the spot. Our little troop, with myself at the

head, advanced.

The orifice, which was almost circular, presented a diameter of about

five feet; the somber tunnel was cut in the living rock, and coated on

the inside by the different material which had once passed through it in

a state of fusion. The lower part was about level with the water, so

that we were able to penetrate to the interior without difficulty.

We followed an almost horizontal direction; when, at the end of about a

dozen paces, our further advance was checked by the interposition of an

enormous block of granite rock.

"Accursed stone!" I cried furiously, on perceiving that we were stopped

by what seemed an insurmountable obstacle.

In vain we looked to the right, in vain we looked to the left; in vain

examined it above and below. There existed no passage, no sign of any

other tunnel. I experienced the most bitter and painful disappointment.

So enraged was I that I would not admit the reality of any obstacle. I

stooped to my knees; I looked under the mass of stone. No hole, no

interstice. I then looked above. The same barrier of granite! Hans, with

the lamp, examined the sides of the tunnel in every direction.

But all in vain! It was necessary to renounce all hope of passing

through.

I had seated myself upon the ground. My uncle walked angrily and

hopelessly up and down. He was evidently desperate.

"But," I cried, after some moments' thought, "what about Arne

Saknussemm?"

"You are right," replied my uncle, "he can never have been checked by a

lump of rock."

"No--ten thousand times no," I cried, with extreme vivacity. "This huge

lump of rock, in consequence of some singular concussion, or process,

one of those magnetic phenomena which have so often shaken the

terrestrial crust, has in some unexpected way closed up the passage.

Many and many years have passed away since the return of Saknussemm, and

the fall of this huge block of granite. Is it not quite evident that

this gallery was formerly the outlet for the pent-up lava in the

interior of the earth, and that these eruptive matters then circulated

freely? Look at these recent fissures in the granite roof; it is

evidently formed of pieces of enormous stone, placed here as if by the

hand of a giant, who had worked to make a strong and substantial arch.

One day, after an unusually strong shock, the vast rock which stands in

our way, and which was doubtless the key of a kind of arch, fell through

to a level with the soil and has barred our further progress. We are

right, then, in thinking that this is an unexpected obstacle, with which

Saknussemm did not meet; and if we do not upset it in some way, we are

unworthy of following in the footsteps of the great discoverer; and

incapable of finding our way to the centre of the earth!"

In this wild way I addressed my uncle. The zeal of the Professor, his

earnest longing for success, had become part and parcel of my being. I

wholly forgot the past; I utterly despised the future. Nothing existed

for me upon the surface of this spheroid in the bosom of which I was

engulfed, no towns, no country, no Hamburg, no Koenigstrasse, not even

my poor Gretchen, who by this time would believe me utterly lost in the

interior of the earth!

"Well," cried my uncle, roused to enthusiasm by my words, "Let us go to

work with pickaxes, with crowbars, with anything that comes to hand--but

down with these terrible walls."

"It is far too tough and too big to be destroyed by a pickax or

crowbar," I replied.

"What then?"

"As I said, it is useless to think of overcoming such a difficulty by

means of ordinary tools."

"What then?"

"What else but gunpowder, a subterranean mine? Let us blow up the

obstacle that stands in our way."

"Gunpowder!"

"Yes; all we have to do is to get rid of this paltry obstacle."

"To work, Hans, to work!" cried the Professor.

The Icelander went back to the raft, and soon returned with a huge

crowbar, with which he began to dig a hole in the rock, which was to

serve as a mine. It was by no means a slight task. It was necessary for

our purpose to make a cavity large enough to hold fifty pounds of

fulminating gun cotton, the expansive power of which is four times as

great as that of ordinary gunpowder.

I had now roused myself to an almost miraculous state of excitement.

While Hans was at work, I actively assisted my uncle to prepare a long

wick, made from damp gunpowder, the mass of which we finally enclosed in

a bag of linen.

"We are bound to go through," I cried, enthusiastically.

"We are bound to go through," responded the Professor, tapping me on the

back.

At midnight, our work as miners was completely finished; the charge of

fulminating cotton was thrust into the hollow, and the match, which we

had made of considerable length, was ready.

A spark was now sufficient to ignite this formidable engine, and to blow

the rock to atoms!

"We will now rest until tomorrow."

It was absolutely necessary to resign myself to my fate, and to consent

to wait for the explosion for six weary hours!

CHAPTER 39 - THE EXPLOSION AND ITS RESULTS

The next day, which was the twenty-seventh of August, was a date

celebrated in our wondrous subterranean journey. I never think of it

even now, but I shudder with horror. My heart beats wildly at the very

memory of that awful day.

From this time forward, our reason, our judgment, our human ingenuity,

have nothing to do with the course of events. We are about to become the

plaything of the great phenomena of the earth!

At six o'clock we were all up and ready. The dreaded moment was arriving

when we were about to seek an opening into the interior of the earth by

means of gunpowder. What would be the consequences of breaking through

the crust of the earth?

I begged that it might be my duty to set fire to the mine. I looked upon

it as an honor. This task once performed, I could rejoin my friends upon

the raft, which had not been unloaded. As soon as we were all ready, we

were to sail away to some distance to avoid the consequences of the

explosion, the effects of which would certainly not be concentrated in

the interior of the earth.

The slow match we calculated to burn for about ten minutes, more or

less, before it reached the chamber in which the great body of powder

was confined. I should therefore have plenty of time to reach the raft

and put off to a safe distance.

I prepared to execute my self-allotted task--not, it must be confessed,

without considerable emotion.

After a hearty repast, my uncle and the hunter-guide embarked on board

the raft, while I remained alone upon the desolate shore.

I was provided with a lantern which was to enable me to set fire to the

wick of the infernal machine.

"Go, my boy," said my uncle, "and Heaven be with you. But come back as

soon as you can. I shall be all impatience."

"Be easy on that matter," I replied, "there is no fear of my delaying on

the road."

Having said this, I advanced toward the opening of the somber gallery.

My heart beat wildly. I opened my lantern and seized the extremity of

the wick.

The Professor, who was looking on, held his chronometer in his hand.

"Are you ready?" cried he.

"Quite ready."

"Well, then, fire away!"

I hastened to put the light to the wick, which crackled and sparkled,

hissing and spitting like a serpent; then, running as fast as I could, I

returned to the shore.

"Get on board, my lad, and you, Hans, shove off," cried my uncle.

By a vigorous application of his pole Hans sent us flying over the

water. The raft was quite twenty fathoms distant.

It was a moment of palpitating interest, of deep anxiety. My uncle, the

Professor, never took his eyes off the chronometer.

"Only five minutes more," he said in a low tone, "only four, only

three."

My pulse went a hundred to the minute. I could hear my heart beating.

"Only two, one! Now, then, mountains of granite, crumble beneath the

power of man!"

What happened after that? As to the terrific roar of the explosion, I do

not think I heard it. But the form of the rocks completely changed in my

eyes--they seemed to be drawn aside like a curtain. I saw a fathomless,

a bottomless abyss, which yawned beneath the turgid waves. The sea,

which seemed suddenly to have gone mad, then became one great

mountainous mass, upon the top of which the raft rose perpendicularly.

We were all thrown down. In less than a second the light gave place to

the most profound obscurity. Then I felt all solid support give way not

to my feet, but to the raft itself. I thought it was going bodily down a

tremendous well. I tried to speak, to question my uncle. Nothing could

be heard but the roaring of the mighty waves. We clung together in utter

silence.

Despite the awful darkness, despite the noise, the surprise, the

emotion, I thoroughly understood what had happened.

Beyond the rock which had been blown up, there existed a mighty abyss.

The explosion had caused a kind of earthquake in this soil, broken by

fissures and rents. The gulf, thus suddenly thrown open, was about to

swallow the inland seal which, transformed into a mighty torrent, was

dragging us with it.

Only one idea filled my mind. We were utterly and completely lost!

One hour, two hours--what more I cannot say, passed in this manner. We

sat close together, elbow touching elbow, knee touching knee! We held

one another's hands not to be thrown off the raft. We were subjected to

the most violent shocks, whenever our sole dependence, a frail wooden

raft, struck against the rocky sides of the channel. Fortunately for us,

these concussions became less and less frequent, which made me fancy

that the gallery was getting wider and wider. There could be now no

doubt that we had chanced upon the road once followed by Saknussemm, but

instead of going down in a proper manner, we had, through our own

imprudence, drawn a whole sea with us!

These ideas presented themselves to my mind in a very vague and obscure

manner. I felt rather than reasoned. I put my ideas together only

confusedly, while spinning along like a man going down a waterfall. To

judge by the air which, as it were, whipped my face, we must have been

rushing at a perfectly lightning rate.

To attempt under these circumstances to light a torch was simply

impossible, and the last remains of our electric machine, of our

Ruhmkorff coil, had been destroyed during the fearful explosion.

I was therefore very much confused to see at last a bright light shining

close to me. The calm countenance of the guide seemed to gleam upon me.

The clever and patient hunter had succeeded in lighting the lantern; and

though, in the keen and thorough draft, the flame Flickered and

vacillated and was nearly put out, it served partially to dissipate the

awful obscurity.

The gallery into which we had entered was very wide. I was, therefore,

quite right in that part of my conjecture. The insufficient light did

not allow us to see both of the walls at the same time. The slope of

waters, which was carrying us away, was far greater than that of the

most rapid river of America. The whole surface of the stream seemed to

be composed of liquid arrows, darted forward with extreme violence and

power. I can give no idea of the impression it made upon me.

The raft, at times, caught in certain whirlpools, and rushed forward,

yet turned on itself all the time. How it did not upset I shall never be

able to understand. When it approached the sides of the gallery, I took

care to throw upon them the light of the lantern, and I was able to

judge of the rapidity of motion by looking at the projecting masses of

rock, which as soon as seen were again invisible. So rapid was our

progress that points of rock at a considerable distance one from the

other appeared like portions of transverse lines, which enclosed us in a

kind of net, like that of a line of telegraphic wires.

I believe we were now going at a rate of not less than a hundred miles

an hour.

My uncle and I looked at one another with wild and haggard eyes; we

clung convulsively to the stump of the mast, which, at the moment when

the catastrophe took place, had snapped short off. We turned our backs

as much as possible to the wind, in order not to be stifled by a

rapidity of motion which nothing human could face and live.

And still the long monotonous hours went on. The situation did not

change in the least, though a discovery I suddenly made seemed to

complicate it very much.

When we had slightly recovered our equilibrium, I proceeded to examine

our cargo. I then made the unsatisfactory discovery that the greater

part of it had utterly disappeared.

I became alarmed, and determined to discover what were our resources. My

heart beat at the idea, but it was absolutely necessary to know on what

we had to depend. With this view, I took the lantern and looked around.

Of all our former collection of nautical and philosophical instruments,

there remained only the chronometer and the compass. The ladders and

ropes were reduced to a small piece of rope fastened to the stump of the

mast. Not a pickax, not a crowbar, not a hammer, and, far worse than

all, no food--not enough for one day!

This discovery was a prelude to a certain and horrible death.

Seated gloomily on the raft, clasping the stump of the mast

mechanically, I thought of all I had read as to sufferings from

starvation.

I remembered everything that history had taught me on the subject, and I

shuddered at the remembrance of the agonies to be endured.

Maddened at the prospects of enduring the miseries of starvation, I

persuaded myself that I must be mistaken. I examined the cracks in the

raft; I poked between the joints and beams; I examined every possible

hole and corner. The result was--simply nothing!

Our stock of provisions consisted of nothing but a piece of dry meat and

some soaked and half-moldy biscuits.

I gazed around me scared and frightened. I could not understand the

awful truth. And yet of what consequence was it in regard to any new

danger? Supposing that we had had provisions for months, and even for

years, how could we ever get out of the awful abyss into which we were

being hurled by the irresistible torrent we had let loose?

Why should we trouble ourselves about the sufferings and tortures to be

endured from hunger when death stared us in the face under so many other

swifter and perhaps even more horrid forms?

It was very doubtful, under the circumstances in which we were placed,

if we should have time to die of inanition.

But the human frame is singularly constituted.

I know not how it was; but, from some singular hallucination of the

mind, I forgot the real, serious, and immediate danger to which we were

exposed, to think of the menaces of the future, which appeared before us

in all their naked terror. Besides, after all, suggested Hope, perhaps

we might finally escape the fury of the raging torrent, and once more

revisit the glimpses of the moon, on the surface of our beautiful Mother

Earth.

How was it to be done? I had not the remotest idea. Where were we to

come out? No matter, so that we did.

One chance in a thousand is always a chance, while death from hunger

gave us not even the faintest glimpse of hope. It left to the

imagination nothing but blank horror, without the faintest chance of

escape!

I had the greatest mind to reveal all to my uncle, to explain to him the

extraordinary and wretched position to which we were reduced, in order

that, between the two, we might make a calculation as to the exact space

of time which remained for us to live.

It was, it appeared to me, the only thing to be done. But I had the

courage to hold my tongue, to gnaw at my entrails like the Spartan boy.

I wished to leave him all his coolness.

At this moment, the light of the lantern slowly fell, and at last went

out!

The wick had wholly burnt to an end. The obscurity became absolute. It

was no longer possible to see through the impenetrable darkness! There

was one torch left, but it was impossible to keep it alight. Then, like

a child, I shut my eyes, that I might not see the darkness.

After a great lapse of time, the rapidity of our journey increased. I

could feel it by the rush of air upon my face. The slope of the waters

was excessive. I began to feel that we were no longer going down a

slope; we were falling. I felt as one does in a dream, going down

bodily--falling; falling; falling!

I felt that the hands of my uncle and Hans were vigorously clasping my

arms.

Suddenly, after a lapse of time scarcely appreciable, I felt something

like a shock. The raft had not struck a hard body, but had suddenly been

checked in its course. A waterspout, a liquid column of water, fell upon

us. I felt suffocating. I was being drowned.

Still the sudden inundation did not last. In a few seconds I felt myself

once more able to breathe. My uncle and Hans pressed my arms, and the

raft carried us all three away.

CHAPTER 40 - THE APE GIGANS

It is difficult for me to determine what was the real time, but I should

suppose, by after calculation, that it must have been ten at night.

I lay in a stupor, a half dream, during which I saw visions of

astounding character. Monsters of the deep were side by side with the

mighty elephantine shepherd. Gigantic fish and animals seemed to form

strange conjunctions.

The raft took a sudden turn, whirled round, entered another tunnel--this

time illumined in a most singular manner. The roof was formed of porous

stalactite, through which a moonlit vapor appeared to pass, casting its

brilliant light upon our gaunt and haggard figures. The light increased

as we advanced, while the roof ascended; until at last, we were once

more in a kind of water cavern, the lofty dome of which disappeared in a

luminous cloud!

A rugged cavern of small extent appeared to offer a halting place to our

weary bodies.

My uncle and the guide moved as men in a dream. I was afraid to waken

them, knowing the danger of such a sudden start. I seated myself beside

them to watch.

As I did so, I became aware of something moving in the distance, which

at once fascinated my eyes. It was floating, apparently, upon the

surface of the water, advancing by means of what at first appeared

paddles. I looked with glaring eyes. One glance told me that it was

something monstrous.

But what?

It was the great "shark-crocodile" of the early writers on geology.

About the size of an ordinary whale, with hideous jaws and two gigantic

eyes, it advanced. Its eyes fixed on me with terrible sternness. Some

indefinite warning told me that it had marked me for its own.

I attempted to rise--to escape, no matter where, but my knees shook

under me; my limbs trembled violently; I almost lost my senses. And

still the mighty monster advanced. My uncle and the guide made no effort

to save themselves.

With a strange noise, like none other I had ever heard, the beast came

on. His jaws were at least seven feet apart, and his distended mouth

looked large enough to have swallowed a boatful of men.

We were about ten feet distant when I discovered that much as his body

resembled that of a crocodile, his mouth was wholly that of a shark.

His twofold nature now became apparent. To snatch us up at a mouthful it

was necessary for him to turn on his back, which motion necessarily

caused his legs to kick up helplessly in the air.

I actually laughed even in the very jaws of death!

But next minute, with a wild cry, I darted away into the interior of the

cave, leaving my unhappy comrades to their fate! This cavern was deep

and dreary. After about a hundred yards, I paused and looked around.

The whole floor, composed of sand and malachite, was strewn with bones,

freshly gnawed bones of reptiles and fish, with a mixture of mammalia.

My very soul grew sick as my body shuddered with horror. I had truly,

according to the old proverb, fallen out of the frying pan into the

fire. Some beast larger and more ferocious even than the shark-crocodile

inhabited this den.

What could I do? The mouth of the cave was guarded by one ferocious

monster, the interior was inhabited by something too hideous to

contemplate. Flight was impossible!

Only one resource remained, and that was to find some small hiding place

to which the fearful denizens of the cavern could not penetrate. I gazed

wildly around, and at last discovered a fissure in the rock, to which I

rushed in the hope of recovering my scattered senses.

Crouching down, I waited shivering as in an ague fit. No man is brave in

presence of an earthquake, or a bursting boiler, or an exploding

torpedo. I could not be expected to feel much courage in presence of the

fearful fate that appeared to await me.

An hour passed. I heard all the time a strange rumbling outside the

cave.

What was the fate of my unhappy companions? It was impossible for me to

pause to inquire. My own wretched existence was all I could think of.

Suddenly a groaning, as of fifty bears in a fight, fell upon my

ears--hisses, spitting, moaning, hideous to hear--and then I saw--

Never, were ages to pass over my head, shall I forget the horrible

apparition.

It was the Ape Gigans!

Fourteen feet high, covered with coarse hair, of a blackish brown, the

hair on the arms, from the shoulder to the elbow joints, pointing

downwards, while that from the wrist to the elbow pointed upwards, it

advanced. Its arms were as long as its body, while its legs were

prodigious. It had thick, long, and sharply pointed teeth--like a

mammoth saw.

It struck its breast as it came on smelling and sniffing, reminding me

of the stories we read in our early childhood of giants who ate the

Flesh of men and little boys!

Suddenly it stopped. My heart beat wildly, for I was conscious that,

somehow or other, the fearful monster had smelled me out and was peering

about with his hideous eyes to try and discover my whereabouts.

My reading, which as a rule is a blessing, but which on this occasion,

seemed momentarily to prove a curse, told me the real truth. It was the

Ape Gigans, the antediluvian gorilla.

Yes! This awful monster, confined by good fortune to the interior of the

earth, was the progenitor of the hideous monster of Africa.

He glared wildly about, seeking something--doubtless myself. I gave

myself up for lost. No hope of safety or escape seemed to remain.

At this moment, just as my eyes appeared to close in death, there came a

strange noise from the entrance of the cave; and turning, the gorilla

evidently recognized some enemy more worthy his prodigious size and

strength. It was the huge shark-crocodile, which perhaps having disposed

of my friends, was coming in search of further prey.

The gorilla placed himself on the defensive, and clutching a bone some

seven or eight feet in length, a perfect club, aimed a deadly blow at

the hideous beast, which reared upwards and fell with all its weight

upon its adversary.

A terrible combat, the details of which it is impossible to give, now

ensued. The struggle was awful and ferocious, I, however, did not wait

to witness the result. Regarding myself as the object of contention, I

determined to remove from the presence of the victor. I slid down from

my hiding place, reached the ground, and gliding against the wall,

strove to gain the open mouth of the cavern.

But I had not taken many steps when the fearful clamor ceased, to be

followed by a mumbling and groaning which appeared to be indicative of

victory.

I looked back and saw the huge ape, gory with blood, coming after me

with glaring eyes, with dilated nostrils that gave forth two columns of

heated vapor. I could feel his hot and fetid breath on my neck; and with

a horrid jump--awoke from my nightmare sleep.

Yes--it was all a dream. I was still on the raft with my uncle and the

guide.

The relief was not instantaneous, for under the influence of the hideous

nightmare my senses had become numbed. After a while, however, my

feelings were tranquilized. The first of my perceptions which returned

in full force was that of hearing. I listened with acute and attentive

ears. All was still as death. All I comprehended was silence. To the

roaring of the waters, which had filled the gallery with awful

reverberations, succeeded perfect peace.

After some little time my uncle spoke, in a low and scarcely audible

tone: "Harry, boy, where are you?"

"I am here," was my faint rejoinder.

"Well, don't you see what has happened? We are going upwards."

"My dear uncle, what can you mean?" was my half-delirious reply.

"Yes, I tell you we are ascending rapidly. Our downward journey is quite

checked."

I held out my hand, and, after some little difficulty, succeeded in

touching the wall. My hand was in an instant covered with blood. The

skin was torn from the flesh. We were ascending with extraordinary

rapidity.

"The torch--the torch!" cried the Professor, wildly; "it must be

lighted."

Hans, the guide, after many vain efforts, at last succeeded in lighting

it, and the flame, having now nothing to prevent its burning, shed a

tolerably clear light. We were enabled to form an approximate idea of

the truth.

"It is just as I thought," said my uncle, after a moment or two of

silent attention. "We are in a narrow well about four fathoms square.

The waters of the great inland sea, having reached the bottom of the

gulf are now forcing themselves up the mighty shaft. As a natural

consequence, we are being cast upon the summit of the waters."

"That I can see," was my lugubrious reply; "but where will this shaft

end, and to what fall are we likely to be exposed?"

"Of that I am as ignorant as yourself. All I know is, that we should be

prepared for the worst. We are going up at a fearfully rapid rate. As

far as I can judge, we are ascending at the rate of two fathoms a

second, of a hundred and twenty fathoms a minute, or rather more than

three and a half leagues an hour. At this rate, our fate will soon be a

matter of certainty."

"No doubt of it," was my reply. "The great concern I have now, however,

is to know whether this shaft has any issue. It may end in a granite

roof--in which case we shall be suffocated by compressed air, or dashed

to atoms against the top. I fancy, already, that the air is beginning to

be close and condensed. I have a difficulty in breathing."

This might be fancy, or it might be the effect of our rapid motion, but

I certainly felt a great oppression of the chest.

"Henry," said the Professor, "I do believe that the situation is to a

certain extent desperate. There remain, however, many chances of

ultimate safety, and I have, in my own mind, been revolving them over,

during your heavy but agitated sleep. I have come to this logical

conclusion--whereas we may at any moment perish, so at any moment we may

be saved! We need, therefore, prepare ourselves for whatever may turn up

in the great chapter of accidents."

"But what would you have us do?" I cried. "Are we not utterly helpless?"

"No! While there is life there is hope. At all events, there is one

thing we can do--eat, and thus obtain strength to face victory or

death."

As he spoke, I looked at my uncle with a haggard glance. I had put off

the fatal communication as long as possible. It was now forced upon me,

and I must tell him the truth.

Still I hesitated.

"Eat," I said, in a deprecating tone as if there were no hurry.

"Yes, and at once. I feel like a starving prisoner," he said, rubbing

his yellow and shivering hands together.

And, turning round to the guide, he spoke some hearty, cheering words,

as I judged from his tone, in Danish. Hans shook his head in a terribly

significant manner. I tried to look unconcerned.

"What!" cried the Professor, "you do not mean to say that all our

provisions are lost?"

"Yes," was my lowly spoken reply, as I held out something in my hand,

"this morsel of dried meat is all that remains for us three."

My uncle gazed at me as if he could not fully appreciate the meaning of

my words. The blow seemed to stun him by its severity. I allowed him to

reflect for some moments.

"Well," said I, after a short pause, "what do you think now? Is there

any chance of our escaping from our horrible subterranean dangers? Are

we not doomed to perish in the great hollows of the centre of the

earth?"

But my pertinent questions brought no answer. My uncle either heard me

not, or appeared not to do so.

And in this way a whole hour passed. Neither of us cared to speak. For

myself, I began to feel the most fearful and devouring hunger. My

companions, doubtless, felt the same horrible tortures, but neither of

them would touch the wretched morsel of meat that remained. It lay

there, a last remnant of all our great preparations for the mad and

senseless journey!

I looked back, with wonderment, to my own folly. Fully was I aware that,

despite his enthusiasm, and the ever-to-be-hated scroll of Saknussemm,

my uncle should never have started on his perilous voyage. What memories

of the happy past, what previsions of the horrible future, now filled my

brain!

CHAPTER 41 - HUNGER

Hunger, prolonged, is temporary madness! The brain is at work without

its required food, and the most fantastic notions fill the mind.

Hitherto I had never known what hunger really meant. I was likely to

understand it now.

And yet, three months before I could tell my terrible story of

starvation, as I thought it. As a boy I used to make frequent excursions

in the neighborhood of the Professor's house.

My uncle always acted on system, and he believed that, in addition to

the day of rest and worship, there should be a day of recreation. In

consequence, I was always free to do as I liked on a Wednesday.

Now, as I had a notion to combine the useful and the agreeable, my

favorite pastime was birds' nesting. I had one of the best collections

of eggs in all the town. They were classified, and under glass cases.

There was a certain wood, which, by rising at early morn, and taking the

cheap train, I could reach at eleven in the morning. Here I would

botanize or geologize at my will. My uncle was always glad of specimens

for his herbarium, and stones to examine. When I had filled my wallet, I

proceeded to search for nests.

After about two hours of hard work, I, one day, sat down by a stream to

eat my humble but copious lunch. How the remembrance of the spiced

sausage, the wheaten loaf, and the beer, made my mouth water now! I

would have given every prospect of worldly wealth for such a meal. But

to my story.

While seated thus at my leisure, I looked up at the ruins of an old

castle, at no great distance. It was the remains of an historical

dwelling, ivy-clad, and now falling to pieces.

While looking, I saw two eagles circling about the summit of a lofty

tower. I soon became satisfied that there was a nest. Now, in all my

collection, I lacked eggs of the native eagle and the large owl.

My mind was made up. I would reach the summit of that tower, or perish

in the attempt. I went nearer, and surveyed the ruins. The old

staircase, years before, had fallen in. The outer walls were, however,

intact. There was no chance that way, unless I looked to the ivy solely

for support. This was, as I soon found out, futile.

There remained the chimney, which still went up to the top, and had once

served to carry off the smoke from every story of the tower.

Up this I determined to venture. It was narrow, rough, and therefore the

more easily climbed. I took off my coat and crept into the chimney.

Looking up, I saw a small, light opening, proclaiming the summit of the

chimney.

Up--up I went, for some time using my hands and knees, after the fashion

of a chimney sweep. It was slow work, but, there being continual

projections, the task was comparatively easy. In this way, I reached

halfway. The chimney now became narrower. The atmosphere was close, and,

at last, to end the matter, I stuck fast. I could ascend no higher.

There could be no doubt of this, and there remained no resource but to

descend, and give up my glorious prey in despair. I yielded to fate and

endeavored to descend. But I could not move. Some unseen and mysterious

obstacle intervened and stopped me. In an instant the full horror of my

situation seized me.

I was unable to move either way, and was doomed to a terrible and

horrible death, that of starvation. In a boy's mind, however, there is

an extraordinary amount of elasticity and hope, and I began to think of

all sorts of plans to escape my gloomy fate.

In the first place, I required no food just at present, having had an

excellent meal, and was therefore allowed time for reflection. My first

thought was to try and move the mortar with my hand. Had I possessed a

knife, something might have been done, but that useful instrument I had

left in my coat pocket.

I soon found that all efforts of this kind were vain and useless, and

that all I could hope to do was to wriggle downwards.

But though I jerked and struggled, and strove to turn, it was all in

vain. I could not move an inch, one way or the other. And time flew

rapidly. My early rising probably contributed to the fact that I felt

sleepy, and gradually gave way to the sensation of drowsiness.

I slept, and awoke in darkness, ravenously hungry.

Night had come, and still I could not move. I was tight bound, and did

not succeed in changing my position an inch. I groaned aloud. Never

since the days of my happy childhood, when it was a hardship to go from

meal to meal without eating, had I really experienced hunger. The

sensation was as novel as it was painful. I began now to lose my head

and to scream and cry out in my agony. Something appeared, startled by

my noise. It was a harmless lizard, but it appeared to me a loathsome

reptile. Again I made the old ruins resound with my cries, and finally

so exhausted myself that I fainted.

How long I lay in a kind of trance or sleep I cannot say, but when again

I recovered consciousness it was day. How ill I felt, how hunger still

gnawed at me, it would be hard to say. I was too weak to scream now, far

too weak to struggle.

Suddenly I was startled by a roar.

"Are you there, Henry?" said the voice of my uncle; "are you there, my

boy?"

I could only faintly respond, but I also made a desperate effort to

turn. Some mortar fell. To this I owed my being discovered. When the

search took place, it was easily seen that mortar and small pieces of

stone had recently fallen from above. Hence my uncle's cry.

"Be calm," he cried, "if we pull down the whole ruin, you shall be

saved."

They were delicious words, but I had little hope.

Soon however, about a quarter of an hour later I heard a voice above me,

at one of the upper fireplaces.

"Are you below or above?"

"Below," was my reply.

In an instant a basket was lowered with milk, a biscuit, and an egg. My

uncle was fearful to be too ready with his supply of food. I drank the

milk first, for thirst had nearly deadened hunger. I then, much

refreshed, ate my bread and hard egg.

They were now at work at the wall. I could hear a pickax. Wishing to

escape all danger from this terrible weapon I made a desperate struggle,

and the belt, which surrounded my waist and which had been hitched on a

stone, gave way. I was free, and only escaped falling down by a rapid

motion of my hands and knees.

In ten minutes more I was in my uncle's arms, after being two days and

nights in that horrible prison. My occasional delirium prevented me from

counting time.

I was weeks recovering from that awful starvation adventure; and yet

what was that to the hideous sufferings I now endured?

After dreaming for some time, and thinking of this and other matters, I

once more looked around me. We were still ascending with fearful

rapidity. Every now and then the air appeared to check our respiration

as it does that of aeronauts when the ascension of the balloon is too

rapid. But if they feel a degree of cold in proportion to the elevation

they attain in the atmosphere, we experienced quite a contrary effect.

The heat began to increase in a most threatening and exceptional manner.

I cannot tell exactly the mean, but I think it must have reached one

hundred twenty-two degrees Fahrenheit.

What was the meaning of this extraordinary change in the temperature? As

far as we had hitherto gone, facts had proved the theories of Davy and

of Lidenbrock to be correct. Until now, all the peculiar conditions of

refractory rocks, of electricity, of magnetism, had modified the general

laws of nature, and had created for us a moderate temperature; for the

theory of the central fire, remained, in my eyes, the only explainable

one.

Were we, then, going to reach a position in which these phenomena were

to be carried out in all their rigor, and in which the heat would reduce

the rocks to a state of fusion?

Such was my not unnatural fear, and I did not conceal the fact from my

uncle. My way of doing so might be cold and heartless, but I could not

help it.

"If we are not drowned, or smashed into pancakes, and if we do not die

of starvation, we have the satisfaction of knowing that we must be

burned alive."

My uncle, in presence of this brusque attack, simply shrugged his

shoulders, and resumed his reflections--whatever they might be.

An hour passed away, and except that there was a slight increase in the

temperature no incident modified the situation.

My uncle at last, of his own accord, broke silence.

"Well, Henry, my boy," he said, in a cheerful way, "we must make up our

minds."

"Make up our minds to what?" I asked, in considerable surprise.

"Well--to something. We must at whatever risk recruit our physical

strength. If we make the fatal mistake of husbanding our little remnant

of food, we may probably prolong our wretched existence a few hours--but

we shall remain weak to the end."

"Yes," I growled, "to the end. That, however, will not keep us long

waiting."

"Well, only let a chance of safety present itself--only allow that a

moment of action be necessary--where shall we find the means of action

if we allow ourselves to be reduced to physical weakness by inanition?"

"When this piece of meat is devoured, Uncle, what hope will there remain

unto us?"

"None, my dear Henry, none. But will it do you any good to devour it

with your eyes? You appear to me to reason like one without will or

decision, like a being without energy."

"Then," cried I, exasperated to a degree which is scarcely to be

explained, "you do not mean to tell me--that you--that you--have not

lost all hope."

"Certainly not," replied the Professor with consummate coolness.

"You mean to tell me, Uncle, that we shall get out of this monstrous

subterranean shaft?"

"While there is life there is hope. I beg to assert, Henry, that as long

as a man's heart beats, as long as a man's flesh quivers, I do not allow

that a being gifted with thought and will can allow himself to despair."

What a nerve! The man placed in a position like that we occupied must

have been very brave to speak like this.

"Well," I cried, "what do you mean to do?"

"Eat what remains of the food we have in our hands; let us swallow the

last crumb. It will bel Heaven willing, our last repast. Well, never

mind--instead of being exhausted skeletons, we shall be men."

"True," muttered I in a despairing tone, "let us take our fill."

"We must," replied my uncle, with a deep sigh, "call it what you will."

My uncle took a piece of the meat that remained, and some crusts of

biscuit which had escaped the wreck. He divided the whole into three

parts.

Each had one pound of food to last him as long as he remained in the

interior of the earth.

Each now acted in accordance with his own private character.

My uncle, the Professor, ate greedily, but evidently without appetite,

eating simply from some mechanical motion. I put the food inside my

lips, and hungry as I was, chewed my morsel without pleasure, and

without satisfaction.

Hans, the guide, just as if he had been eider-down hunting, swallowed

every mouthful, as though it were a usual affair. He looked like a man

equally prepared to enjoy superfluity or total want.

Hans, in all probability, was no more used to starvation than ourselves,

but his hardy Icelandic nature had prepared him for many sufferings. As

long as he received his three rix-dollars every Saturday night, he was

prepared for anything.

The fact was, Hans never troubled himself about much except his money.

He had undertaken to serve a certain man at so much per week, and no

matter what evils befell his employer or himself, he never found fault

or grumbled, so long as his wages were duly paid.

Suddenly my uncle roused himself. He had seen a smile on the face of our

guide. I could not make it out.

"What is the matter?" said my uncle.

"Schiedam," said the guide, producing a bottle of this precious fluid.

We drank. My uncle and myself will own to our dying day that hence we

derived strength to exist until the last bitter moment. That precious

bottle of Hollands was in reality only half full; but, under the

circumstances, it was nectar.

It took some minutes for myself and my uncle to form a decided opinion

on the subject. The worthy Professor swallowed about half a pint and did

not seem able to drink any more.

"<i>Fortrafflig</i>," said Hans, swallowing nearly all that was left.

"Excellent--very good," said my uncle, with as much gusto as if he had

just left the steps of the club at Hamburg.

I had begun to feel as if there had been one gleam of hope. Now all

thought of the future vanished!

We had consumed our last ounce of food, and it was five o'clock in the

morning!

CHAPTER 42 - THE VOLCANIC SHAFT

Man's constitution is so peculiar that his health is purely a negative

matter. No sooner is the rage of hunger appeased than it becomes

difficult to comprehend the meaning of starvation. It is only when you

suffer that you really understand.

As to anyone who has not endured privation having any notion of the

matter, it is simply absurd.

With us, after a long fast, some mouthfuls of bread and meat, a little

moldy biscuit and salt beef triumphed over all our previous gloomy and

saturnine thoughts.

Nevertheless, after this repast each gave way to his own reflections. I

wondered what were those of Hans--the man of the extreme north, who was

yet gifted with the fatalistic resignation of Oriental character. But

the utmost stretch of the imagination would not allow me to realize the

truth. As for my individual self, my thoughts had ceased to be anything

but memories of the past, and were all connected with that upper world

which I never should have left. I saw it all now, the beautiful house in

the Konigstrasse, my poor Gretchen, the good Martha; they all passed

before my mind like visions of the past. Every time any of the

lugubrious groanings which were to be distinguished in the hollows

around fell upon my ears, I fancied I heard the distant murmur of the

great cities above my head.

As for my uncle, always thinking of his science, he examined the nature

of the shaft by means of a torch. He closely examined the different

strata one above the other, in order to recognize his situation by

geological theory. This calculation, or rather this estimation, could by

no means be anything but approximate. But a learned man, a philosopher,

is nothing if not a philosopher, when he keeps his ideas calm and

collected; and certainly the Professor possessed this quality to

perfection.

I heard him, as I sat in silence, murmuring words of geological science.

As I understood his object and his meaning, I could not but interest

myself despite my preoccupation in that terrible hour.

"Eruptive granite," he said to himself, "we are still in the primitive

epoch. But we are going up--going up, still going up. But who knows? Who

knows?"

Then he still hoped. He felt along the vertical sides of the shaft with

his hand, and some few minutes later, he would go on again in the

following style:

"This is gneiss. This is mica schist--siliceous mineral. Good again;

this is the epoch of transition, at all events, we are close to

them--and then, and then--"

What could the Professor mean? Could he, by any conceivable means,

measure the thickness of the crust of the earth suspended above our

heads? Did he possess any possible means of making any approximation to

this calculation? No.

The manometer was wanting, and no summary estimation could take the

place of it.

And yet, as we progressed, the temperature increased in the most

extraordinary degree, and I began to feel as if I were bathed in a hot

and burning atmosphere. Never before had I felt anything like it. I

could only compare it to the hot vapor from an iron foundry, when the

liquid iron is in a state of ebullition and runs over. By degrees, and

one after the other, Hans, my uncle, and myself had taken off our coats

and waistcoats. They were unbearable. Even the slightest garment was not

only uncomfortable, but the cause of extreme suffering.

"Are we ascending to a living fire?" I cried; when, to my horror and

astonishment, the heat became greater than before.

"No, no," said my uncle, "it is simply impossible, quite impossible."

"And yet," said I, touching the side of the shaft with my naked hand,

"this wall is literally burning."

At this moment, feeling as I did that the sides of this extraordinary

wall were red hot, I plunged my hands into the water to cool them. I

drew them back with a cry of despair.

"The water is boiling!" I cried.

My uncle, the Professor, made no reply other than a gesture of rage and

despair.

Something very like the truth had probably struck his imagination.

But I could take no share in either what was going on, or in his

speculations. An invincible dread had taken possession of my brain and

soul. I could only look forward to an immediate catastrophe, such a

catastrophe as not even the most vivid imagination could have thought

of. An idea, at first vague and uncertain, was gradually being changed

into certainty.

I tremulously rejected it at first, but it forced itself upon me by

degrees with extreme obstinacy. It was so terrible an idea that I

scarcely dared to whisper it to myself.

And yet all the while certain, and as it were, involuntary observations

determined my convictions. By the doubtful glare of the torch, I could

make out some singular changes in the granitic strata; a strange and

terrible phenomenon was about to be produced, in which electricity

played a part.

Then this boiling water, this terrible and excessive heat? I determined

as a last resource to examine the compass.

The compass had gone mad!

Yes, wholly stark staring mad. The needle jumped from pole to pole with

sudden and surprising jerks, ran round, or as it is said, boxed the

compass, and then ran suddenly back again as if it had the vertigo.

I was aware that, according to the best acknowledged theories, it was a

received notion that the mineral crust of the globe is never, and never

has been, in a state of complete repose.

It is perpetually undergoing the modifications caused by the

decomposition of internal matter, the agitation consequent on the

flowing of extensive liquid currents, the excessive action of magnetism

which tends to shake it incessantly, at a time when even the

multitudinous beings on its surface do not suspect the seething process

to be going on.

Still this phenomenon would not have alarmed me alone; it would not have

aroused in my mind a terrible, an awful idea.

But other facts could not allow my self-delusion to last.

Terrible detonations, like Heaven's artillery, began to multiply

themselves with fearful intensity. I could only compare them with the

noise made by hundreds of heavily laden chariots being madly driven over

a stone pavement. It was a continuous roll of heavy thunder.

And then the mad compass, shaken by the wild electric phenomena,

confirmed me in my rapidly formed opinion. The mineral crust was about

to burst, the heavy granite masses were about to rejoin, the fissure was

about to close, the void was about to be filled up, and we poor atoms to

be crushed in its awful embrace!

"Uncle, Uncle!" I cried, "we are wholly, irretrievably lost!"

"What, then, my young friend, is your new cause of terror and alarm?" he

said in his calmest manner. "What fear you now?"

"What do I fear now!" I cried in fierce and angry tones. "Do you not see

that the walls of the shaft are in motion? Do you not see that the solid

granite masses are cracking? Do you not feel the terrible, torrid heat?

Do you not observe the awful boiling water on which we float? Do you not

remark this mad needle? Every sign and portent of an awful earthquake!"

My uncle coolly shook his head.

"An earthquake," he replied in the most calm and provoking tone.

"Yes."

"My nephew, I tell you that you are utterly mistaken," he continued.

"Do you not, can you not, recognize all the well-known symtons--"

"Of an earthquake? By no means. I am expecting something far more

important."

"My brain is strained beyond endurance--what, what do you mean?" I

cried.

"An eruption, Harry."

"An eruption," I gasped. "We are, then, in the volcanic shaft of a

crater in full action and vigor."

"I have every reason to think so," said the Professor in a smiling tone,

"and I beg to tell you that it is the most fortunate thing that could

happen to us."

The most fortunate thing! Had my uncle really and truly gone mad? What

did he mean by these awful words--what did he mean by this terrible

calm, this solemn smile?

"What!" cried I, in the height of my exasperation, "we are on the way to

an eruption, are we? Fatality has cast us into a well of burning and

boiling lava, of rocks on fire, of boiling water, in a word, filled with

every kind of eruptive matter? We are about to be expelled, thrown up,

vomited, spit out of the interior of the earth, in common with huge

blocks of granite, with showers of cinders and scoriae, in a wild

whirlwind of flame, and you say--the most fortunate thing which could

happen to us."

"Yes," replied the Professor, looking at me calmly from under his

spectacles, "it is the only chance which remains to us of ever escaping

from the interior of the earth to the light of day."

It is quite impossible that I can put on paper the thousand strange,

wild thoughts which followed this extraordinary announcement.

But my uncle was right, quite right, and never had he appeared to me so

audacious and so convinced as when he looked me calmly in the face and

spoke of the chances of an eruption--of our being cast upon Mother Earth

once more through the gaping crater of a volcano!

Nevertheless, while we were speaking we were still ascending; we passed

the whole night going up, or to speak more scientifically, in an

ascensional motion. The fearful noise redoubled; I was ready to

suffocate. I seriously believed that my last hour was approaching, and

yet, so strange is imagination, all I thought of was some childish

hypothesis or other. In such circumstances you do not choose your own

thoughts. They overcome you.

It was quite evident that we were being cast upwards by eruptive matter;

under the raft there was a mass of boiling water, and under this was a

heavier mass of lava, and an aggregate of rocks which, on reaching the

summit of the water, would be dispersed in every direction.

That we were inside the chimney of a volcano there could no longer be

the shadow of a doubt. Nothing more terrible could be conceived!

But on this occasion, instead of Sneffels, an old and extinct volcano,

we were inside a mountain of fire in full activity. Several times I

found myself asking, what mountain was it, and on what part of the world

we should be shot out. As if it were of any consequence!

In the northern regions, there could be no reasonable doubt about that.

Before it went decidedly mad, the compass had never made the slightest

mistake. From the cape of Saknussemm, we had been swept away to the

northward many hundreds of leagues. Now the question was, were we once

more under Iceland--should we be belched forth on to the earth through

the crater of Mount Hecla, or should we reappear through one of the

other seven fire funnels of the island? Taking in my mental vision a

radius of five hundred leagues to the westward, I could see under this

parallel only the little-known volcanoes of the northwest coast of

America.

To the east one only existed somewhere about the eightieth degree of

latitude, the Esk, upon the island of Jan Mayen, not far from the frozen

regions of Spitsbergen.

It was not craters that were wanting, and many of them were big enough

to vomit a whole army; all I wished to know was the particular one

towards which we were making with such fearful velocity.

I often think now of my folly: as if I should ever have expected to

escape!

Towards morning, the ascending motion became greater and greater. If the

degree of heat increased instead of decreasing, as we approached the

surface of the earth, it was simply because the causes were local and

wholly due to volcanic influence. Our very style of locomotion left in

my mind no doubt upon the subject. An enormous force, a force of several

hundreds of atmospheres produced by the vapors accumulated and long

compressed in the interior of the earth, was hoisting us upwards with

irresistible power.

But though we were approaching the light of day, to what fearful dangers

were we about to be exposed?

Instant death appeared the only fate which we could expect or

contemplate.

Soon a dim, sepulchral light penetrated the vertical gallery, which

became wider and wider. I could make out to the right and left long dark

corridors like immense tunnels, from which awful and horrid vapors

poured out. Tongues of fire, sparkling and crackling, appeared about to

lick us up.

The hour had come!

"Look, Uncle, look!" I cried.

"Well, what you see are the great sulphurous flames. Nothing more common

in connection with an eruption."

"But if they lap us round!" I angrily replied.

"They will not lap us round," was his quiet and serene answer.

"But it will be all the same in the end if they stifle us," I cried.

"We shall not be stifled. The gallery is rapidly becoming wider and

wider, and if it be necessary, we will presently leave the raft and take

refuge in some fissure in the rock."

"But the water, the water, which is continually ascending?" I

despairingly replied.

"There is no longer any water, Harry," he answered, "but a kind of lava

paste, which is heaving us up, in company with itself, to the mouth of

the crater."

In truth, the liquid column of water had wholly disappeared to give

place to dense masses of boiling eruptive matter. The temperature was

becoming utterly insupportable, and a thermometer exposed to this

atmosphere would have marked between one hundred and eighty-nine and one

hundred ninety degrees Fahrenheit.

Perspiration rushed from every pore. But for the extraordinary rapidity

of our ascent we should have been stifled.

Nevertheless, the Professor did not carry out his proposition of

abandoning the raft; and he did quite wisely. Those few ill-joined beams

offered, anyway, a solid surface--a support which elsewhere must have

utterly failed us.

Towards eight o'clock in the morning a new incident startled us. The

ascensional movement suddenly ceased. The raft became still and

motionless.

"What is the matter now?" I said, querulously, very much startled by

this change.

"A simple halt," replied my uncle.

"Is the eruption about to fail?" I asked.

"I hope not."

Without making any reply, I rose. I tried to look around me. Perhaps the

raft, checked by some projecting rock, opposed a momentary resistance to

the eruptive mass. In this case, it was absolutely necessary to release

it as quickly as possible.

Nothing of the kind had occurred. The column of cinders, of scoriae, of

broken rocks and earth, had wholly ceased to ascend.

"I tell you, Uncle, that the eruption has stopped," was my oracular

decision.

"Ah," said my uncle, "you think so, my boy. You are wrong. Do not be in

the least alarmed; this sudden moment of calm will not last long, be

assured. It has already endured five minutes, and before we are many

minutes older we shall be continuing our journey to the mouth of the

crater."

All the time he was speaking the Professor continued to consult his

chronometer, and he was probably right in his prognostics. Soon the raft

resumed its motion, in a very rapid and disorderly way, which lasted two

minutes or thereabout; and then again it stopped as suddenly as before.

"Good," said my uncle, observing the hour, "in ten we shall start

again."

"In ten minutes?"

"Yes--precisely. We have to do with a volcano, the eruption of which is

intermittent. We are compelled to breathe just as it does."

Nothing could be more true. At the exact minute he had indicated, we

were again launched on high with extreme rapidity. Not to be cast off

the raft, it was necessary to hold on to the beams. Then the hoist again

ceased.

Many times since have I thought of this singular phenomenon without

being able to find for it any satisfactory explanation. Nevertheless, it

appeared quite clear to me, that we were not in the principal chimney of

the volcano, but in an accessory conduit, where we felt the counter

shock of the great and principal tunnel filled by burning lava.

It is impossible for me to say how many times this maneuver was

repeated. All that I can remember is, that on every ascensional motion,

we were hoisted up with ever increasing velocity, as if we had been

launched from a huge projectile. During the sudden halts we were nearly

stifled; during the moments of projection the hot air took away our

breath.

I thought for a moment of the voluptuous joy of suddenly finding myself

in the hyperborean regions with the cold thirty degrees below zero!

My exalted imagination pictured to itself the vast snowy plains of the

arctic regions, and I was impatient to roll myself on the icy carpet of

the North Pole.

By degrees my head, utterly overcome by a series of violent emotions,

began to give way to hallucination. I was delirious. Had it not been for

the powerful arms of Hans, the guide, I should have broken my head

against the granite masses of the shaft.

I have, in consequence, kept no account of what followed for many hours.

I have a vague and confused remembrance of continual detonations, of the

shaking of the huge granitic mass, and of the raft going round like a

spinning top. It floated on the stream of hot lava, amidst a falling

cloud of cinders. The huge flames roaring, wrapped us around.

A storm of wind which appeared to be cast forth from an immense

ventilator roused up the interior fires of the earth. It was a hot,

incandescent blast!

At last I saw the figure of Hans as if enveloped in the huge halo of

burning blaze, and no other sense remained to me but that sinister dread

which the condemned victim may be supposed to feel when led to the mouth

of a cannon, at the supreme moment when the shot is fired and his limbs

are dispersed into empty space.

CHAPTER 43 - DAYLIGHT AT LAST

When I opened my eyes I felt the hand of the guide clutching me firmly

by the belt. With his other hand he supported my uncle. I was not

grievously wounded, but bruised all over in the most remarkable manner.

After a moment I looked around, and found that I was lying down on the

slope of a mountain not two yards from a yawning gulf into which I

should have fallen had I made the slightest false step. Hans had saved

me from death, while I rolled insensible on the flanks of the crater.

"Where are we?" dreamily asked my uncle, who literally appeared to be

disgusted at having returned to earth.

The eider-down hunter simply shrugged his shoulders as a mark of total

ignorance.

"In Iceland?" said I, not positively but interrogatively.

"Nej," said Hans.

"How do you mean?" cried the Professor; "no--what are your reasons?"

"Hans is wrong," said I, rising.

After all the innumerable surprises of this journey, a yet more singular

one was reserved to us. I expected to see a cone covered by snow, by

extensive and widespread glaciers, in the midst of the arid deserts of

the extreme northern regions, beneath the full rays of a polar sky,

beyond the highest latitudes.

But contrary to all our expectations, I, my uncle, and the Icelander,

were cast upon the slope of a mountain calcined by the burning rays of a

sun which was literally baking us with its fires.

I could not believe my eyes, but the actual heat which affected my body

allowed me no chance of doubting. We came out of the crater half naked,

and the radiant star from which we had asked nothing for two months, was

good enough to be prodigal to us of light and warmth--a light and warmth

we could easily have dispensed with.

When our eyes were accustomed to the light we had lost sight of so long,

I used them to rectify the errors of my imagination. Whatever happened,

we should have been at Spitsbergen, and I was in no humor to yield to

anything but the most absolute proof.

After some delay, the Professor spoke.

"Hem!" he said, in a hesitating kind of way, "it really does not look

like Iceland."

"But supposing it were the island of Jan Mayen?" I ventured to observe.

"Not in the least, my boy. This is not one of the volcanoes of the

north, with its hills of granite and its crown of snow."

"Nevertheless--"

"Look, look, my boy," said the Professor, as dogmatically as usual.

Right above our heads, at a great height, opened the crater of a volcano

from which escaped, from one quarter of an hour to the other, with a

very loud explosion, a lofty jet of flame mingled with pumice stone,

cinders, and lava. I could feel the convulsions of nature in the

mountain, which breathed like a huge whale, throwing up from time to

time fire and air through its enormous vents.

Below, and floating along a slope of considerable angularity, the stream

of eruptive matter spread away to a depth which did not give the volcano

a height of three hundred fathoms.

Its base disappeared in a perfect forest of green trees, among which I

perceived olives, fig trees, and vines loaded with rich grapes.

Certainly this was not the ordinary aspect of the arctic regions. About

that there could not be the slightest doubt.

When the eye was satisfied at its glimpse of this verdant expanse, it

fell upon the waters of a lovely sea or beautiful lake, which made of

this enchanted land an island of not many leagues in extent.

On the side of the rising sun was to be seen a little port, crowded with

houses, and near which the boats and vessels of peculiar build were

floating upon azure waves.

Beyond, groups of islands rose above the liquid plain, so numerous and

close together as to resemble a vast beehive.

Towards the setting sun, some distant shores were to be made out on the

edge of the horizon. Some presented the appearance of blue mountains of

harmonious conformation; upon others, much more distant, there appeared

a prodigiously lofty cone, above the summit of which hung dark and heavy

clouds.

Towards the north, an immense expanse of water sparkled beneath the

solar rays, occasionally allowing the extremity of a mast or the

convexity of a sail bellying to the wind, to be seen.

The unexpected character of such a scene added a hundredfold to its

marvelous beauties.

"Where can we be?" I asked, speaking in a low and solemn voice.

Hans shut his eyes with an air of indifference, and my uncle looked on

without clearly understanding.

"Whatever this mountain may be," he said, at last, "I must confess it is

rather warm. The explosions do not leave off, and I do not think it is

worthwhile to have left the interior of a volcano and remain here to

receive a huge piece of rock upon one's head. Let us carefully descend

the mountain and discover the real state of the case. To confess the

truth, I am dying of hunger and thirst."

Decidedly the Professor was no longer a truly reflective character. For

myself, forgetting all my necessities, ignoring my fatigues and

sufferings, I should have remained still for several hours longer--but

it was necessary to follow my companions.

The slope of the volcano was very steep and slippery; we slid over piles

of ashes, avoiding the streams of hot lava which glided about like fiery

serpents. Still, while we were advancing, I spoke with extreme

volubility, for my imagination was too full not to explode in words.

"We are in Asia!" I exclaimed; "we are on the coast of India, in the

great Malay islands, in the centre of Oceania. We have crossed the one

half of the globe to come out right at the antipodes of Europe!"

"But the compass!" exclaimed my uncle; "explain that to me!"

"Yes--the compass," I said with considerable hesitation. "I grant that

is a difficulty. According to it, we have always been going northward."

"Then it lied."

"Hem--to say it lied is rather a harsh word," was my answer.

"Then we are at the North Pole--"

"The Pole--no--well--well I give it up," was my reply.

The plain truth was, that there was no explanation possible. I could

make nothing of it.

And all the while we were approaching this beautiful verdure, hunger and

thirst tormented me fearfully. Happily, after two long hours' march, a

beautiful country spread out before us, covered by olives, pomegranates,

and vines, which appeared to belong to anybody and everybody. In any

event, in the state of destitution into which we had fallen, we were not

in a mood to ponder too scrupulously.

What delight it was to press these delicious fruits to our lips, and to

bite at grapes and pomegranates fresh from the vine.

Not far off, near some fresh and mossy grass, under the delicious shade

of some trees, I discovered a spring of fresh water, in which we

voluptuously laved our faces, hands, and feet.

While we were all giving way to the delights of new-found pleasures, a

little child appeared between two tufted olive trees.

"Ah," cried I, "an inhabitant of this happy country."

The little fellow was poorly dressed, weak, and suffering, and appeared

terribly alarmed at our appearance. Half-naked, with tangled, matted and

ragged beards, we did look supremely ill-favored; and unless the country

was a bandit land, we were not likely to alarm the inhabitants!

Just as the boy was about to take to his heels, Hans ran after him, and

brought him back, despite his cries and kicks.

My uncle tried to look as gentle as possible, and then spoke in German.

"What is the name of this mountain, my friend?"

The child made no reply.

"Good," said my uncle, with a very positive air of conviction, "we are

not in Germany."

He then made the same demand in English, of which language he was an

excellent scholar.

The child shook its head and made no reply. I began to be considerably

puzzled.

"Is he dumb?" cried the Professor, who was rather proud of his polyglot

knowledge of languages, and made the same demand in French.

The boy only stared in his face.

"I must perforce try him in Italian," said my uncle, with a shrug.

"<i>Dove noi siamo</i>?"

"Yes, tell me where we are?" I added impatiently and eagerly.

Again the boy remained silent.

"My fine fellow, do you or do you not mean to speak?" cried my uncle,

who began to get angry. He shook him, and spoke another dialect of the

Italian language.

"<i>Come si noma questa isola</i>?"--"What is the name of this island?"

"Stromboli," replied the rickety little shepherd, dashing away from Hans

and disappearing in the olive groves.

We thought little enough about him.

Stromboli! What effect on the imagination did these few words produce!

We were in the centre of the Mediterranean, amidst the eastern

archipelago of mythological memory, in the ancient Strongylos, where

AEolus kept the wind and the tempest chained up. And those blue

mountains, which rose towards the rising sun, were the mountains of

Calabria.

And that mighty volcano which rose on the southern horizon was Etna, the

fierce and celebrated Etna!

"Stromboli! Stromboli!" I repeated to myself.

My uncle played a regular accompaniment to my gestures and words. We

were singing together like an ancient chorus.

Ah--what a journey--what a marvelous and extraordinary journey! Here we

had entered the earth by one volcano, and we had come out by another.

And this other was situated more than twelve hundred leagues from

Sneffels from that drear country of Iceland cast away on the confines of

the earth. The wondrous changes of this expedition had transported us to

the most harmonious and beautiful of earthly lands. We had abandoned the

region of eternal snows for that of infinite verdure, and had left over

our heads the gray fog of the icy regions to come back to the azure sky

of Sicily!

After a delicious repast of fruits and fresh water, we again continued

our journey in order to reach the port of Stromboli. To say how we had

reached the island would scarcely have been prudent. The superstitious

character of the Italians would have been at work, and we should have

been called demons vomited from the infernal regions. It was therefore

necessary to pass for humble and unfortunate shipwrecked travelers. It

was certainly less striking and romantic, but it was decidedly safer.

As we advanced, I could hear my worthy uncle muttering to himself:

"But the compass. The compass most certainly marked north. This is a

fact I cannot explain in any way."

"Well, the fact is," said I, with an air of disdain, "we must not

explain anything. It will be much more easy."

"I should like to see a professor of the Johanneum Institution who is

unable to explain a cosmic phenomenon--it would indeed be strange."

And speaking thus, my uncle, half-naked, his leathern purse round his

loins, and his spectacles upon his nose, became once more the terrible

Professor of Mineralogy.

An hour after leaving the wood of olives, we reached the fort of San

Vicenza, where Hans demanded the price of his thirteenth week of

service. My uncle paid him, with very many warm shakes of the hand.

At that moment, if he did not indeed quite share our natural emotion, he

allowed his feelings so far to give way as to indulge in an

extraordinary expression for him.

With the tips of two fingers he gently pressed our hands and smiled.

CHAPTER 44 - THE JOURNEY ENDED

This is the final conclusion of a narrative which will be probably

disbelieved even by people who are astonished at nothing. I am, however,

armed at all points against human incredulity.

We were kindly received by the Strombolite fishermen, who treated us as

shipwrecked travelers. They gave us clothes and food. After a delay of

forty-eight hours, on the 30th of September a little vessel took us to

Messina, where a few days of delightful and complete repose restored us

to ourselves.

On Friday, the 4th of October, we embarked in the Volturne, one of the

postal packets of the Imperial Messageries of France; and three days

later we landed at Marseilles, having no other care on our minds but

that of our precious but erratic compass. This inexplicable circumstance

tormented me terribly. On the 9th of October, in the evening, we reached

Hamburg.

What was the astonishment of Martha, what the joy of Gretchen! I will

not attempt to define it.

"Now then, Harry, that you really are a hero," she said, "there is no

reason why you should ever leave me again."

I looked at her. She was weeping tears of joy.

I leave it to be imagined if the return of Professor Hardwigg made or

did not make a sensation in Hamburg. Thanks to the indiscretion of

Martha, the news of his departure for the interior of the earth had been

spread over the whole world.

No one would believe it--and when they saw him come back in safety they

believed it all the less.

But the presence of Hans and many stray scraps of information by degrees

modified public opinion.

Then my uncle became a great man and I the nephew of a great man, which,

at all events, is something. Hamburg gave a festival in our honor. A

public meeting of the Johanneum Institution was held, at which the

Professor related the whole story of his adventures, omitting only the

facts in connection with the compass.

That same day he deposited in the archives of the town the document he

had found written by Saknussemm, and he expressed his great regret that

circumstances, stronger than his will, did not allow him to follow the

Icelandic traveler's track into the very centre of the earth. He was

modest in his glory, but his reputation only increased.

So much honor necessarily created for him many envious enemies. Of

course they existed, and as his theories, supported by certain facts,

contradicted the system of science upon the question of central heat, he

maintained his own views both with pen and speech against the learned of

every country. Although I still believe in the theory of central heat, I

confess that certain circumstances, hitherto very ill defined, may

modify the laws of such natural phenomena.

At the moment when these questions were being discussed with interest,

my uncle received a rude shock--one that he felt very much. Hans,

despite everything he could say to the contrary, quitted Hamburg; the

man to whom we owed so much would not allow us to pay our deep debt of

gratitude. He was taken with nostalgia; a love for his Icelandic home.

"Farval," said he, one day, and with this one short word of adieu, he

started for Reykjavik, which he soon reached in safety.

We were deeply attached to our brave eider-duck hunter. His absence will

never cause him to be forgotten by those whose lives he saved, and I

hope, at some not distant day, to see him again.

To conclude, I may say that our journey into the interior of the earth

created an enormous sensation throughout the civilized world. It was

translated and printed in many languages. All the leading journals

published extracts from it, which were commentated, discussed, attacked,

and supported with equal animation by those who believed in its

episodes, and by those who were utterly incredulous.

Wonderful! My uncle enjoyed during his lifetime all the glory he

deserved; and he was even offered a large sum of money, by Mr. Barnum,

to exhibit himself in the United States; while I am credibly informed by

a traveler that he is to be seen in waxwork at Madame Tussaud's!

But one care preyed upon his mind, a care which rendered him very

unhappy. One fact remained inexplicable--that of the compass. For a

learned man to be baffled by such an inexplicable phenomenon was very

aggravating. But Heaven was merciful, and in the end my uncle was happy.

One day, while he put some minerals belonging to his collection in

order, I fell upon the famous compass and examined it keenly.

For six months it had lain unnoticed and untouched.

I looked at it with curiosity, which soon became surprise. I gave a loud

cry. The Professor, who was at hand, soon joined me.

"What is the matter?" he cried.

"The compass!"

"What then?"

"Why its needle points to the south and not to the north."

"My dear boy, you must be dreaming."

"I am not dreaming. See--the poles are changed."

"Changed!"

My uncle put on his spectacles, examined the instrument, and leaped with

joy, shaking the whole house.

A clear light fell upon our minds.

"Here it is!" he cried, as soon as he had recovered the use of his

speech, "after we had once passed Cape Saknussemm, the needle of this

compass pointed to the southward instead of the northward."

"Evidently."

"Our error is now easily explained. But to what phenomenon do we owe

this alteration in the needle?"

"Nothing more simple."

"Explain yourself, my boy. I am on thorns."

"During the storm, upon the Central Sea, the ball of fire which made a

magnet of the iron in our raft, turned our compass topsy-turvy."

"Ah!" cried the Professor, with a loud and ringing laugh, "it was a

trick of that inexplicable electricity."

From that hour my uncle was the happiest of learned men, and I the

happiest of ordinary mortals. For my pretty Virland girl, abdicating her

position as ward, took her place in the house in the Konigstrasse in the

double quality of niece and wife.

We need scarcely mention that her uncle was the illustrious Professor

Hardwigg, corresponding member of all the scientific, geographical,

mineralogical, and geological societies of the five parts of the globe.

End of the Voyage Extraordinaire