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A Journey to the Centre of
the Earth
By
Jules Verne
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAP=
TER 1 -
MY UNCLE MAKES A GREAT DISCOVERY..
CHAP=
TER 2 -
THE MYSTERIOUS PARCHMENT
CHAP=
TER 3 -
AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY
CHAP=
TER 4 -
WE START ON THE JOURNEY
CHAP=
TER 5 -
First Lessons in Climbing.
CHAP=
TER 6 -
Our Voyage to Iceland
CHAP=
TER 7 -
Conversation and Discovery.
CHAP=
TER 8 -
THE EIDER-DOWN HUNTER--OFF AT LAST..
CHAP=
TER 9 -
OUR START--WE MEET WITH ADVENTURES BY THE WAY..
CHAP=
TER 10 -
TRAVELING IN ICELAND
CHAP=
TER 11 -
WE REACH MOUNT SNEFFELS--THE "REYKIR".
CHAP=
TER 12 -
THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SNEFFELS..
CHAP=
TER 13 -
THE SHADOW OF SCARTARIS
CHAP=
TER 14 -
THE REAL JOURNEY COMMENCES..
CHAP=
TER 15 -
WE CONTINUE OUR DESCENT
CHAP=
TER 16 -
THE EASTERN TUNNEL
CHAP=
TER 17 -
DEEPER AND DEEPER--THE COAL MINE..
CHAP=
TER 18 -
THE WRONG ROAD!
CHAP=
TER 19 -
THE WESTERN GALLERY--A NEW ROUTE..
CHAP=
TER 20 -
WATER, WHERE IS IT? A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT..
CHAP=
TER 21 -
UNDER THE OCEAN
CHAP=
TER 22 -
SUNDAY BELOW GROUND
CHAP=
TER 25 -
THE WHISPERING GALLERY
CHAP=
TER 26 -
A RAPID RECOVERY
CHAP=
TER 27 -
THE CENTRAL SEA
CHAP=
TER 28 -
LAUNCHING THE RAFT
CHAP=
TER 29 -
ON THE WATERS--A RAFT VOYAGE..
CHAP=
TER 30 -
TERRIFIC SAURIAN COMBAT
CHAP=
TER 31 -
THE SEA MONSTER
CHAP=
TER 32 -
THE BATTLE OF THE ELEMENTS..
CHAP=
TER 33 -
OUR ROUTE REVERSED
CHAP=
TER 34 -
A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY
CHAP=
TER 35 -
DISCOVERY UPON DISCOVERY
CHAP=
TER 37 -
THE MYSTERIOUS DAGGER
CHAP=
TER 38 -
NO OUTLET--BLASTING THE ROCK..
CHAP=
TER 39 -
THE EXPLOSION AND ITS RESULTS..
CHAP=
TER 42 -
THE VOLCANIC SHAFT
CHAP=
TER 43 -
DAYLIGHT AT LAST
CHAP=
TER 44 -
THE JOURNEY ENDED
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
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 celebrate=
d
Icelandic
author of the twelfth century--it is a true and correct
account
of the Norwegian princes who reigned in
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
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<= o:p>
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
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.
[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,<= o:p>
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 hav=
e
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>, oth=
ers
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.
"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 perf=
ect
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
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 Y=
oculis
craterem kem delibat
umbra Scartaris Julii =
intra
calendas descende,
audas viator, et terre=
stre
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 caress=
es,
before the kalends of July, audacious traveler,
and you will rea=
ch the
centre of the earth. I did it.
=
&nb=
sp; =
&nb=
sp;
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. "Le=
t
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 opinio=
n
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
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
will
settle all your doubts, difficulties and objections."
With
a grim hope to the contrary, I stooped over the map.
"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
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
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. H=
e
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
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 i=
s
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.
At
Altona, a suburb of
railway,
which was to take us to the shores of the Belt. In twenty
minutes
from the moment of our departure we were in
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
window.
But as we passed through a flat though fertile country, this
occupation
was slightly monotonous. In three hours we reached Kiel
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,
uncle
hurried out to present one of his letters of introduction. It was
to
the director of the
that
we were tourists bound for
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 t=
he
second
of June for
was
rather surprised at the energy and cordiality with which his future
passenger
shook him by the hand. To him a voyage to
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
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
city
of
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
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.
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
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 Soun=
d,
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
great
distance from the coast of
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
Sound,
and through that Sound more than fifteen thousand vessels of all
nations
pass every year.
The
as
the
And
here the schooner began to feel in earnest the breezes of the
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
"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
of
point
of
Northern
Seas. Two days later we were not far from the coast of
the
<i>Valkyrie</i> stretched out direct for the
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
,
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
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
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
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
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--
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
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
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
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
"Now,
Harry," said my uncle, rubbing his hands, "an goes well, the wors=
e
difficulty
is now over."
"How
the worse difficulty over?" I cried in fresh amazement.
"Doubtless.
Here we are in
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.<= o:p>
Will
you not likewise do so?"
"I feel no interest in the subject," said my uncle. "What for me is<= o:p>
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
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
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
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
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
--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.
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
"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
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
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<= o:p>
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<= o:p>
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
"There
are none in
"Why
so?"
"Because
Arne Saknussemm was persecuted for heresy, and in 1573 his
works
were publicly burnt at
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
"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 endeavo=
r
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 distu=
rb
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
"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.
That
evening I took a brief walk on the shore near
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
accounted
exceedingly red, fell over his athletic shoulders. This native
of
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
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
meridian
of
from
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
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
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
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
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!")
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
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.
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
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<= o:p>
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
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
ruins
form a kind of terrible chaos.
Some
two hours or more after we had left the city of
reached
the little town called Aoalkirkja, or the principal church. It
consists
simply of a few houses--not what in
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
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 certai=
nly
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
"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.
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
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.
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 Harr=
y,
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 ascen=
d
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 appro=
ach
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.
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
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, "whe=
n
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!&q=
uot;
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<= o:p>
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!
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 th=
e
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.
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 29t=
h
Chronometer, 8h.=
17m.
morning.
Barometer, 29.6
inches.
Thermometer, 6 d=
egrees
[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, "w=
e
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.
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.&quo=
t;
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<= o:p>
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 whic=
h
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 certainl=
y
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.
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!
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?&qu=
ot;
"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 yo=
u
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."
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?
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" th=
e
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 minerali=
zed.
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."<= o:p>
"What is the use," replied my uncle, "the source from which this river<= o:p>
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 rivu=
let
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.
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. Lo=
ok
at the projections of the rock. Hah!" he exclaimed, "it's a fearful<= o:p>
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.
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 prov=
e,
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.
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<= o:p>
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!
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.
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!&q=
uot;
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 bur=
ied
a hundred miles below the level of the earth?" The mere supposition was<= o:p>
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<= o:p>
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<= o:p>
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 m=
y
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; "dep=
end
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.
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 w=
e
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 precaution=
s
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.
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 happ=
y 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 design=
ed
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.
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
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.&q=
uot;
"It
may appear so in your eyes, my dear uncle," was my reply, "but al=
l
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<= o:p>
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 quit=
e
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 imposs=
ible
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.
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 ar=
e
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.
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.&q=
uot;
"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<= o:p>
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 no=
t
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<= o:p>
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 f=
ins.
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.
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<= o:p>
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?"<= o:p>
"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.
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
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 o=
f
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--
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 a=
sk
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 w=
e
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 her=
e
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 shal=
l
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!
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.<= o:p>
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!"
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 abo=
ut
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?
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!
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 th=
ese
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&g=
t;,
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, t=
o 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 no=
t
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, alwa=
ys
Arne
Saknussemm!"
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 ha=
ve
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.&qu=
ot;
"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!
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.
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.<= o:p>
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, howeve=
r,
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!
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<= o:p>
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!
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.&q=
uot;
"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 se=
e
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,<= o:p>
"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<= o:p>
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.
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?&qu=
ot;
"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<= o:p>
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.
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<= o:p>
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