A Journey to the Centre of the Earth
the hideous beast, which reared upwards and fell with all its weight
upon its adversary.
A terrible combat, the details of which it is impossible to give, now
ensued. The struggle was awful and ferocious, I, however, did not wait
to witness the result. Regarding myself as the object of contention, I
determined to remove from the presence of the victor. I slid down from
my hiding place, reached the ground, and gliding against the wall,
strove to gain the open mouth of the cavern.
But I had not taken many steps when the fearful clamor ceased, to be
followed by a mumbling and groaning which appeared to be indicative of
victory.
I looked back and saw the huge ape, gory with blood, coming after me
with glaring eyes, with dilated nostrils that gave forth two columns of
heated vapor. I could feel his hot and fetid breath on my neck; and with
a horrid jump--awoke from my nightmare sleep.
Yes--it was all a dream. I was still on the raft with my uncle and the
guide.
The relief was not instantaneous, for under the influence of the hideous
nightmare my senses had become numbed. After a while, however, my
feelings were tranquilized. The first of my perceptions which returned
in full force was that of hearing. I listened with acute and attentive
ears. All was still as death. All I comprehended was silence. To the
roaring of the waters, which had filled the gallery with awful
reverberations, succeeded perfect peace.
After some little time my uncle spoke, in a low and scarcely audible
tone: "Harry, boy, where are you?"
"I am here," was my faint rejoinder.
"Well, don't you see what has happened? We are going upwards."
"My dear uncle, what can you mean?" was my half-delirious reply.
"Yes, I tell you we are ascending rapidly. Our downward journey is quite
checked."
I held out my hand, and, after some little difficulty, succeeded in
touching the wall. My hand was in an instant covered with blood. The
skin was torn from the flesh. We were ascending with extraordinary
rapidity.
"The torch--the torch!" cried the Professor, wildly; "it must be
lighted."
Hans, the guide, after many vain efforts, at last succeeded in lighting
it, and the flame, having now nothing to prevent its burning, shed a
tolerably clear light. We were enabled to form an approximate idea of
the truth.
"It is just as I thought," said my uncle, after a moment or two of
silent attention. "We are in a narrow well about four fathoms square.
The waters of the great inland sea, having reached the bottom of the
gulf are now forcing themselves up the mighty shaft. As a natural
consequence, we are being cast upon the summit of the waters."
"That I can see," was my lugubrious reply; "but where will this shaft
end, and to what fall are we likely to be exposed?"
"Of that I am as ignorant as yourself. All I know is, that we should be
prepared for the worst. We are going up at a fearfully rapid rate. As
far as I can judge, we are ascending at the rate of two fathoms a
second, of a hundred and twenty fathoms a minute, or rather more than
three and a half leagues an hour. At this rate, our fate will soon be a
matter of certainty."
"No doubt of it," was my reply. "The great concern I have now, however,
is to know whether this shaft has any issue. It may end in a granite
roof--in which case we shall be suffocated by compressed air, or dashed
to atoms against the top. I fancy, already, that the air is beginning to
be close and condensed. I have a difficulty in breathing."
This might be fancy, or it might be the effect of our rapid motion, but
I certainly felt a great oppression of the chest.
"Henry," said the Professor, "I do believe that the situation is to a
certain extent desperate. There remain, however, many chances of
ultimate safety, and I have, in my own mind, been revolving them over,
during your heavy but agitated sleep. I have come to this logical
conclusion--whereas we may at any moment perish, so at any moment we may
be saved! We need, therefore, prepare ourselves for whatever may turn up
in the great chapter of accidents."
"But what would you have us do?" I cried. "Are we not utterly helpless?"
"No! While there is life there is hope. At all events, there is one
thing we can do--eat, and thus obtain strength to face victory or
death."
As he spoke, I looked at my uncle with a haggard glance. I had put off
the fatal communication as long as possible. It was now forced upon me,
and I must tell him the truth.
Still I hesitated.
"Eat," I said, in a deprecating tone as if there were no hurry.
"Yes, and at once. I feel like a starving prisoner," he said, rubbing
his yellow and shivering hands together.
And, turning round to the guide, he spoke some hearty, cheering words,
as I judged from his tone, in Danish. Hans shook his head in a terribly
significant manner. I tried to look unconcerned.
"What!" cried the Professor, "you do not mean to say that all our
provisions are lost?"
"Yes," was my lowly spoken reply, as I held out something in my hand,
"this morsel of dried meat is all that remains for us three."
My uncle gazed at me as if he could not fully appreciate the meaning of
my words. The blow seemed to stun him by its severity. I allowed him to
reflect for some moments.
"Well," said I, after a short pause, "what do you think now? Is there
any chance of our escaping from our horrible subterranean dangers? Are
we not doomed to perish in the great hollows of the centre of the
earth?"
But my pertinent questions brought no answer. My uncle either heard me
not, or appeared not to do so.
And in this way a whole hour passed. Neither of us cared to speak. For
myself, I began to feel the most fearful and devouring hunger. My
companions, doubtless, felt the same horrible tortures, but neither of
them would touch the wretched morsel of meat that remained. It lay
there, a last remnant of all our great preparations for the mad and
senseless journey!
I looked back, with wonderment, to my own folly. Fully was I aware that,
despite his enthusiasm, and the ever-to-be-hated scroll of Saknussemm,
my uncle should never have started on his perilous voyage. What memories
of the happy past, what previsions of the horrible future, now filled my
brain!
CHAPTER 41
HUNGER
Hunger, prolonged, is temporary madness! The brain is at work without
its required food, and the most fantastic notions fill the mind.
Hitherto I had never known what hunger really meant. I was likely to
understand it now.
And yet, three months before I could tell my terrible story of
starvation, as I thought it. As a boy I used to make frequent excursions
in the neighborhood of the Professor's house.
My uncle always acted on system, and he believed that, in addition to
the day of rest and worship, there should be a day of recreation. In
consequence, I was always free to do as I liked on a Wednesday.
Now, as I had a notion to combine the useful and the agreeable, my
favorite pastime was birds' nesting. I had one of the best collections
of eggs in all the town. They were classified, and under glass cases.
There was a certain wood, which, by rising at early morn, and taking the
cheap train, I could reach at eleven in the morning. Here I would
botanize or geologize at my will. My uncle was always glad of specimens
for his herbarium, and stones to examine. When I had filled my wallet, I
proceeded to search for nests.
After about two hours of hard work, I, one day, sat down by a stream to
eat my humble but copious lunch. How the remembrance of the spiced
sausage, the wheaten loaf, and the beer, made my mouth water now! I
would have given every prospect of worldly wealth for such a meal. But
to my story.
While seated thus at my leisure, I looked up at the ruins of an old
castle, at no great distance. It was the remains of an historical
dwelling, ivy-clad, and now falling to pieces.
While looking, I saw two eagles circling about the summit of a lofty
tower. I soon became satisfied that there was a nest. Now, in all my
collection, I lacked eggs of the native eagle and the large owl.
My mind was made up. I would reach the summit of that tower, or perish
in the attempt. I went nearer, and surveyed the ruins. The old
staircase, years before, had fallen in. The outer walls were, however,
intact. There was no chance that way, unless I looked to the ivy solely
for support. This was, as I soon found out, futile.
There remained the chimney, which still went up to the top, and had once
served to carry off the smoke from every story of the tower.
Up this I determined to venture. It was narrow, rough, and therefore the
more easily climbed. I took off my coat and crept into the chimney.
Looking up, I saw a small, light opening, proclaiming the summit of the
chimney.
Up--up I went, for some time using my hands and knees, after the fashion
of a chimney sweep. It was slow work, but, there being continual
projections, the task was comparatively easy. In this way, I reached
halfway. The chimney now became narrower. The atmosphere was close, and,
at last, to end the matter, I stuck fast. I could ascend no higher.
There could be no doubt of this, and there remained no resource but to
descend, and give up my glorious prey in despair. I yielded to fate and
endeavored to descend. But I could not move. Some unseen and mysterious
obstacle intervened and stopped me. In an instant the full horror of my
situation seized me.
I was unable to move either way, and was doomed to a terrible and
horrible death, that of starvation. In a boy's mind, however, there is
an extraordinary amount of elasticity and hope, and I began to think of
all sorts of plans to escape my gloomy fate.
In the first place, I required no food just at present, having had an
excellent meal, and was therefore allowed time for reflection. My first
thought was to try and move the mortar with my hand. Had I possessed a
knife, something might have been done, but that useful instrument I had
left in my coat pocket.
I soon found that all efforts of this kind were vain and useless, and
that all I could hope to do was to wriggle downwards.
But though I jerked and struggled, and strove to turn, it was all in
vain. I could not move an inch, one way or the other. And time flew
rapidly. My early rising probably contributed to the fact that I felt
sleepy, and gradually gave way to the sensation of drowsiness.
I slept, and awoke in darkness, ravenously hungry.
Night had come, and still I could not move. I was tight bound, and did
not succeed in changing my position an inch. I groaned aloud. Never
since the days of my happy childhood, when it was a hardship to go from
meal to meal without eating, had I really experienced hunger. The
sensation was as novel as it was painful. I began now to lose my head
and to scream and cry out in my agony. Something appeared, startled by
my noise. It was a harmless lizard, but it appeared to me a loathsome
reptile. Again I made the old ruins resound with my cries, and finally
so exhausted myself that I fainted.
How long I lay in a kind of trance or sleep I cannot say, but when again
I recovered consciousness it was day. How ill I felt, how hunger still
gnawed at me, it would be hard to say. I was too weak to scream now, far
too weak to struggle.
Suddenly I was startled by a roar.
"Are you there, Henry?" said the voice of my uncle; "are you there, my
boy?"
I could only faintly respond, but I also made a desperate effort to
turn. Some mortar fell. To this I owed my being discovered. When the
search took place, it was easily seen that mortar and small pieces of
stone had recently fallen from above. Hence my uncle's cry.
"Be calm," he cried, "if we pull down the whole ruin, you shall be
saved."