A Journey to the Centre of the Earth
the raft. Are you quite sure, Harry, that you are not mistaken?"
"It is difficult," was my reply, "to come to any decision, for all these
rocks are exactly alike. There is no marked difference between them. At
the same time, the impression on my mind is that I recognize the
promontory at the foot of which our worthy Hans constructed the raft. We
are, I am nearly convinced, near the little port: if this be not it," I
added, carefully examining a creek which appeared singularly familiar to
my mind.
"My dear Harry--if this were the case, we should find traces of our own
footsteps, some signs of our passage; and I can really see nothing to
indicate our having passed this way."
"But I see something," I cried, in an impetuous tone of voice, as I
rushed forward and eagerly picked up something which shone in the sand
under my feet.
"What is it?" cried the astonished and bewildered Professor.
"This," was my reply.
And I handed to my startled relative a rusty dagger, of singular shape.
"What made you bring with you so useless a weapon?" he exclaimed. "It
was needlessly hampering yourself."
"I bring it? It is quite new to me. I never saw it before--are you sure
it is not out of your collection?"
"Not that I know of," said the Professor, puzzled. "I have no
recollection of the circumstance. It was never my property."
"This is very extraordinary," I said, musing over the novel and singular
incident.
"Not at all. There is a very simple explanation, Harry. The Icelanders
are known to keep up the use of these antiquated weapons, and this must
have belonged to Hans, who has let it fall without knowing it."
I shook my head. That dagger had never been in the possession of the
pacific and taciturn Hans. I knew him and his habits too well.
"Then what can it be--unless it be the weapon of some antediluvian
warrior," I continued, "of some living man, a contemporary of that
mighty shepherd from whom we have just escaped? But no--mystery upon
mystery--this is no weapon of the stony epoch, nor even of the bronze
period. It is made of excellent steel--"
Ere I could finish my sentence, my uncle stopped me short from entering
upon a whole train of theories, and spoke in his most cold and decided
tone of voice.
"Calm yourself, my dear boy, and endeavor to use your reason. This
weapon, upon which we have fallen so unexpectedly, is a true <i>dague</i>,
one of those worn by gentlemen in their belts during the sixteenth
century. Its use was to give the <i>coup de grace</i>, the final blow, to the
foe who would not surrender. It is clearly of Spanish workmanship. It
belongs neither to you, nor to me, nor the eider-down hunter, nor to any
of the living beings who may still exist so marvelously in the interior
of the earth."
"What can you mean, Uncle?" I said, now lost in a host of surmises.
"Look closely at it," he continued; "these jagged edges were never made
by the resistance of human blood and bone. The blade is covered with a
regular coating of iron mold and rust, which is not a day old, not a
year old, not a century old, but much more--"
The Professor began to get quite excited, according to custom, and was
allowing himself to be carried away by his fertile imagination. I could
have said something. He stopped me.
"Harry," he cried, "we are now on the verge of a great discovery. This
blade of a dagger you have so marvelously discovered, after being
abandoned upon the sand for more than a hundred, two hundred, even three
hundred years, has been indented by someone endeavoring to carve an
inscription on these rocks."
"But this poniard never got here of itself," I exclaimed, "it could not
have twisted itself. Someone, therefore, must have preceded us upon the
shores of this extraordinary sea."
"Yes, a man."
"But what man has been sufficiently desperate to do such a thing?"
"A man who has somewhere written his name with this very dagger--a man
who has endeavored once more to indicate the right road to the interior
of the earth. Let us look around, my boy. You know not the importance of
your singular and happy discovery."
Prodigiously interested, we walked along the wall of rock, examining the
smallest fissures, which might finally expand into the much wished--for
gully or shaft.
We at last reached a spot where the shore became extremely narrow. The
sea almost bathed the foot of the rocks, which were here very lofty and
steep. There was scarcely a path wider than two yards at any point. At
last, under a huge over-hanging rock, we discovered the entrance of a
dark and gloomy tunnel.
There, on a square tablet of granite, which had been smoothed by rubbing
it with another stone, we could see two mysterious, and much worn
letters, the two initials of the bold and extraordinary traveler who had
preceded us on our adventurous journey.
"A. S.!" cried my uncle. "You see, I was right. Arne Saknussemm, always
Arne Saknussemm!"
CHAPTER 38
NO OUTLET--BLASTING THE ROCK
Ever since the commencement of our marvelous journey, I had experienced
many surprises, had suffered from many illusions. I thought that I was
case-hardened against all surprises and could neither see nor hear
anything to amaze me again.
I was like a many who, having been round the world, finds himself wholly
blase and proof against the marvelous.
When, however, I saw these two letters, which had been engraven three
hundred years before, I stood fixed in an attitude of mute surprise.
Not only was there the signature of the learned and enterprising
alchemist written in the rock, but I held in my hand the very identical
instrument with which he had laboriously engraved it.
It was impossible, without showing an amount of incredulity scarcely
becoming a sane man, to deny the existence of the traveler, and the
reality of that voyage which I believed all along to have been a
myth--the mystification of some fertile brain.
While these reflections were passing through my mind, my uncle, the
Professor, gave way to an access of feverish and poetical excitement.
"Wonderful and glorious genius, great Saknussemm," he cried, "you have
left no stone unturned, no resource omitted, to show to other mortals
the way into the interior of our mighty globe, and your fellow creatures
can find the trail left by your illustrious footsteps, three hundred
years ago, at the bottom of these obscure subterranean abodes. You have
been careful to secure for others the contemplation of these wonders and
marvels of creation. Your name engraved at every important stage of your
glorious journey leads the hopeful traveler direct to the great and
mighty discovery to which you devoted such energy and courage. The
audacious traveler, who shall follow your footsteps to the last, will
doubtless find your initials engraved with your own hand upon the centre
of the earth. I will be that audacious traveler--I, too, will sign my
name upon the very same spot, upon the central granite stone of this
wondrous work of the Creator. But in justice to your devotion, to your
courage, and to your being the first to indicate the road, let this
cape, seen by you upon the shores of this sea discovered by you, be
called, of all time, Cape Saknussemm."
This is what I heard, and I began to be roused to the pitch of
enthusiasm indicated by those words. A fierce excitement roused me. I
forgot everything. The dangers of the voyage and the perils of the
return journey were now as nothing!
What another man had done in ages past could, I felt, be done again; I
was determined to do it myself, and now nothing that man had
accomplished appeared to me impossible.
"Forward--forward," I cried in a burst of genuine and hearty enthusiasm.
I had already started in the direction of the somber and gloomy gallery
when the Professor stopped me; he, the man so rash and hasty, he, the
man so easily roused to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, checked me, and
asked me to be patient and show more calm.
"Let us return to our good friend, Hans," he said; "we will then bring
the raft down to this place."
I must say that though I at once yielded to my uncle's request, it was
not without dissatisfaction, and I hastened along the rocks of that
wonderful coast.
"Do you know, my dear uncle," I said, as we walked along, "that we have
been singularly helped by a concurrence of circumstances, right up to
this very moment."
"So you begin to see it, do you, Harry?" said the Professor with a
smile.
"Doubtless," I responded, "and strangely enough, even the tempest has
been the means of putting us on the right road. Blessings on the
tempest! It brought us safely back to the very spot from which fine
weather would have driven us forever. Supposing we had succeeded in
reaching the southern and distant shores of this extraordinary sea, what
would have become of us? The name of Saknussemm would never have
appeared to us, and at this moment we should have been cast away upon an
inhospitable coast, probably without an outlet."
"Yes, Harry, my boy, there is certainly something providential in that
wandering at the mercy of wind and waves towards the south: we have come
back exactly north; and what is better still, we fall upon this great
discovery of Cape Saknussemm. I mean to say, that it is more than
surprising; there is something in it which is far beyond my
comprehension. The coincidence is unheard of, marvelous!"
"What matter! It is not our duty to explain facts, but to make the best
possible use of them."
"Doubtless, my boy; but if you will allow me--" said the really
delighted Professor.
"Excuse me, sir, but I see exactly how it will be; we shall take the
northern route; we shall pass under the northern regions of Europe,
under Sweden, under Russia, under Siberia, and who knows where--instead
of burying ourselves under the burning plains and deserts of Africa, or
beneath the mighty waves of the ocean; and that is all, at this stage of
our journey, that I care to know. Let us advance, and Heaven will be our
guide!"
"Yes, Harry, you are right, quite right; all is for the best. Let us
abandon this horizontal sea, which could never have led to anything
satisfactory. We shall descend, descend, and everlastingly descend. Do
you know, my dear boy, that to reach the interior of the earth we have
only five thousand miles to travel!"
"Bah!" I cried, carried away by a burst of enthusiasm, "the distance is
scarcely worth speaking about. The thing is to make a start."
My wild, mad, and incoherent speeches continued until we rejoined our
patient and phlegmatic guide. All was, we found, prepared for an
immediate departure. There was not a single parcel but what was in its
proper place. We all took up our posts on the raft, and the sail being
hoisted, Hans received his directions, and guided the frail bark towards
Cape Saknussemm, as we had definitely named it.
The wind was very unfavorable to a craft that was unable to sail close
to the wind. It was constructed to go before the blast. We were
continually reduced to pushing ourselves forward by means of poles. On
several occasions the rocks ran far out into deep water and we were
compelled to make a long round. At last, after three long and weary
hours of navigation, that is to say, about six o'clock in the evening,
we found a place at which we could land.
I jumped on shore first. In my present state of excitement and
enthusiasm, I was always first. My uncle and the Icelander followed. The
voyage from the port to this point of the sea had by no means calmed me.
It had rather produced the opposite effect. I even proposed to burn our
vessel, that is, to destroy our raft, in order to completely cut off our
retreat. But my uncle sternly opposed this wild project. I began to