A Journey to the Centre of the Earth
"Impossible!" cried I, startled and shocked at the thought.
"Why impossible?" said Professor Hardwigg in his severest tones.
"Because its crater is choked with lava, by burning rocks--by infinite
dangers."
"But if it be extinct?"
"That would make a difference."
"Of course it would. There are about three hundred volcanoes on the
whole surface of the globe--but the greater number are extinct. Of these
Sneffels is one. No eruption has occurred since 1219--in fact it has
ceased to be a volcano at all."
After this what more could I say? Yes,--I thought of another objection.
"But what is all this about Scartaris and the kalends of July--?"
My uncle reflected deeply. Presently he gave forth the result of his
reflections in a sententious tone. "What appears obscure to you, to me
is light. This very phrase shows how particular Saknussemm is in his
directions. The Sneffels mountain has many craters. He is careful
therefore to point the exact one which is the highway into the Interior
of the Earth. He lets us know, for this purpose, that about the end of
the month of June, the shadow of Mount Scartaris falls upon the one
crater. There can be no doubt about the matter."
My uncle had an answer for everything.
"I accept all your explanations" I said, "and Saknussemm is right. He
found out the entrance to the bowels of the earth, he has indicated
correctly, but that he or anyone else ever followed up the discovery is
madness to suppose."
"Why so, young man?"
"All scientific teaching, theoretical and practical, shows it to be
impossible."
"I care nothing for theories," retorted my uncle.
"But is it not well-known that heat increases one degree for every
seventy feet you descend into the earth? Which gives a fine idea of the
central heat. All the matters which compose the globe are in a state of
incandescence; even gold, platinum, and the hardest rocks are in a state
of fusion. What would become of us?"
"Don't be alarmed at the heat, my boy."
"How so?"
"Neither you nor anybody else know anything about the real state of the
earth's interior. All modern experiments tend to explode the older
theories. Were any such heat to exist, the upper crust of the earth
would be shattered to atoms, and the world would be at an end."
A long, learned and not uninteresting discussion followed, which ended
in this wise:
"I do not believe in the dangers and difficulties which you, Henry, seem
to multiply; and the only way to learn, is like Arne Saknussemm, to go
and see."
"Well," cried I, overcome at last, "let us go and see. Though how we can
do that in the dark is another mystery."
"Fear nothing. We shall overcome these, and many other difficulties.
Besides, as we approach the centre, I expect to find it luminous--"
"Nothing is impossible."
"And now that we have come to a thorough understanding, not a word to
any living soul. Our success depends on secrecy and dispatch."
Thus ended our memorable conference, which roused a perfect fever in me.
Leaving my uncle, I went forth like one possessed. Reaching the banks of
the Elbe, I began to think. Was all I had heard really and truly
possible? Was my uncle in his sober senses, and could the interior of
the earth be reached? Was I the victim of a madman, or was he a
discoverer of rare courage and grandeur of conception?
To a certain extent I was anxious to be off. I was afraid my enthusiasm
would cool. I determined to pack up at once. At the end of an hour,
however, on my way home, I found that my feelings had very much changed.
"I'm all abroad," I cried; "'tis a nightmare--I must have dreamed it."
At this moment I came face to face with Gretchen, whom I warmly
embraced.
"So you have come to meet me," she said; "how good of you. But what is
the matter?"
Well, it was no use mincing the matter, I told her all. She listened
with awe, and for some minutes she could not speak.
"Well?" I at last said, rather anxiously.
"What a magnificent journey. If I were only a man! A journey worthy of
the nephew of Professor Hardwigg. I should look upon it as an honor to
accompany him."
"My dear Gretchen, I thought you would be the first to cry out against
this mad enterprise."
"No; on the contrary, I glory in it. It is magnificent, splendid--an
idea worthy of my father. Henry Lawson, I envy you."
This was, as it were, conclusive. The final blow of all.
When we entered the house we found my uncle surrounded by workmen and
porters, who were packing up. He was pulling and hauling at a bell.
"Where have you been wasting your time? Your portmanteau is not
packed--my papers are not in order--the precious tailor has not brought
my clothes, nor my gaiters--the key of my carpet bag is gone!"
I looked at him stupefied. And still he tugged away at the bell.
"We are really off, then?" I said.
"Yes--of course, and yet you go out for a stroll, unfortunate boy!"
"And when do we go?"
"The day after tomorrow, at daybreak."
I heard no more; but darted off to my little bedchamber and locked
myself in. There was no doubt about it now. My uncle had been hard at
work all the afternoon. The garden was full of ropes, rope ladders,
torches, gourds, iron clamps, crowbars, alpenstocks, and
pickaxes--enough to load ten men.
I passed a terrible night. I was called early the next day to learn that
the resolution of my uncle was unchanged and irrevocable. I also found
my cousin and affianced wife as warm on the subject as was her father.
Next day, at five o'clock in the morning, the post chaise was at the
door. Gretchen and the old cook received the keys of the house; and,
scarcely pausing to wish anyone good-by, we started on our adventurous
journey into the centre of the earth.
CHAPTER 5
First Lessons in Climbing
At Altona, a suburb of Hamburg, is the Chief Station of the Kiel
railway, which was to take us to the shores of the Belt. In twenty
minutes from the moment of our departure we were in Holstein, and our
carriage entered the station. Our heavy luggage was taken out, weighed,
labeled, and placed in a huge van. We then took our tickets, and exactly
at seven o'clock were seated opposite each other in a firstclass railway
carriage.
My uncle said nothing. He was too busy examining his papers, among which
of course was the famous parchment, and some letters of introduction
from the Danish consul which were to pave the way to an introduction to
the Governor of Iceland. My only amusement was looking out of the
window. But as we passed through a flat though fertile country, this
occupation was slightly monotonous. In three hours we reached Kiel, and
our baggage was at once transferred to the steamer.
We had now a day before us, a delay of about ten hours. Which fact put
my uncle in a towering passion. We had nothing to do but to walk about
the pretty town and bay. At length, however, we went on board, and at
half past ten were steaming down the Great Belt. It was a dark night,
with a strong breeze and a rough sea, nothing being visible but the
occasional fires on shore, with here and there a lighthouse. At seven in
the morning we left Korsor, a little town on the western side of
Seeland.
Here we took another railway, which in three hours brought us to the
capital, Copenhagen, where, scarcely taking time for refreshment, my
uncle hurried out to present one of his letters of introduction. It was
to the director of the Museum of Antiquities, who, having been informed
that we were tourists bound for Iceland, did all he could to assist us.
One wretched hope sustained me now. Perhaps no vessel was bound for such
distant parts.
Alas! a little Danish schooner, the <i>Valkyrie</i>, was to sail on the
second of June for Reykjavik. The captain, M. Bjarne, was on board, and
was rather surprised at the energy and cordiality with which his future
passenger shook him by the hand. To him a voyage to Iceland was merely a
matter of course. My uncle, on the other hand, considered the event of
sublime importance. The honest sailor took advantage of the Professor's
enthusiasm to double the fare.
"On Tuesday morning at seven o'clock be on board," said M. Bjarne,
handing us our receipts.
"Excellent! Capital! Glorious!" remarked my uncle as we sat down to a
late breakfast; "refresh yourself, my boy, and we will take a run
through the town."
Our meal concluded, we went to the Kongens-Nye-Torw; to the king's
magnificent palace; to the beautiful bridge over the canal near the
Museum; to the immense cenotaph of Thorwaldsen with its hideous naval
groups; to the castle of Rosenberg; and to all the other lions of the
place-none of which my uncle even saw, so absorbed was he in his
anticipated triumphs.
But one thing struck his fancy, and that was a certain singular steeple
situated on the Island of Amak, which is the southeast quarter of the
city of Copenhagen. My uncle at once ordered me to turn my steps that
way, and accordingly we went on board the steam ferry boat which does
duty on the canal, and very soon reached the noted dockyard quay.
In the first instance we crossed some narrow streets, where we met
numerous groups of galley slaves, with particolored trousers, grey and
yellow, working under the orders and the sticks of severe taskmasters,
and finally reached the Vor-Frelser's-Kirk.
This church exhibited nothing remarkable in itself; in fact, the worthy
Professor had only been attracted to it by one circumstance, which was,
that its rather elevated steeple started from a circular platform, after
which there was an exterior staircase, which wound round to the very
summit.
"Let us ascend," said my uncle.
"But I never could climb church towers," I cried, "I am subject to
dizziness in my head."
"The very reason why you should go up. I want to cure you of a bad
habit."
"But, my good sir--"
"I tell you to come. What is the use of wasting so much valuable time?"
It was impossible to dispute the dictatorial commands of my uncle. I
yielded with a groan. On payment of a fee, a verger gave us the key. He,
for one, was not partial to the ascent. My uncle at once showed me the
way, running up the steps like a schoolboy. I followed as well as I
could, though no sooner was I outside the tower, than my head began to
swim. There was nothing of the eagle about me. The earth was enough for
me, and no ambitious desire to soar ever entered my mind. Still things
did not go badly until I had ascended 150 steps, and was near the
platform, when I began to feel the rush of cold air. I could scarcely
stand, when clutching the railings, I looked upwards. The railing was
frail enough, but nothing to those which skirted the terrible winding
staircase, that appeared, from where I stood, to ascend to the skies.
"Now then, Henry."
"I can't do it!" I cried, in accents of despair.
"Are you, after all, a coward, sir?" said my uncle in a pitiless tone.
"Go up, I say!"
To this there was no reply possible. And yet the keen air acted
violently on my nervous system; sky, earth, all seemed to swim round,
while the steeple rocked like a ship. My legs gave way like those of a
drunken man. I crawled upon my hands and knees; I hauled myself up
slowly, crawling like a snake. Presently I closed my eyes, and allowed
myself to be dragged upwards.
"Look around you," said my uncle in a stern voice, "heaven knows what
profound abysses you may have to look down. This is excellent practice."
Slowly, and shivering all the while with cold, I opened my eyes. What
then did I see? My first glance was upwards at the cold fleecy clouds,
which as by some optical delusion appeared to stand still, while the
steeple, the weathercock, and our two selves were carried swiftly along.
Far away on one side could be seen the grassy plain, while on the other