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A JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH - 6

A JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH

By Jules Verne

CHAPTER 6

Our Voyage to Iceland

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

Thompson brought us the most cordial letters of introduction for Baron

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

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

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

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

luggage was taken on board the good ship Valkyrie. We followed, and

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

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

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

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

accents.

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

going free with all sails set."

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

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

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

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

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

the ghost of Hamlet.

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

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

earth, there to resolve your eternal doubts."

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

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

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

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

nations pass every year.

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

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

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

Kattegat. The Valkyrie was swift enough, but with all sailing boats

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

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

Danes doing the whole of the work.

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

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

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

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

impatient Professor.

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

we shall get there some day."

Towards evening the schooner doubled Cape Skagen, the northernmost part

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

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

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

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

the Valkyrie stretched out direct for the Faroe Islands, between

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

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

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

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

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

we were bound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and alone to meet the Atlantic waves. The Valkyrie kept off the coast,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Iceland.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vessel.

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

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

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

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

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

covered with eternal snow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

therefore handed him the letters from Copenhagen, and a brief

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

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

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

himself entirely at the beck and call of Professor Hardwigg.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

thoroughly understand during the whole period of my residence in this

benighted island.

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

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

the amount of which rather astonished the simple inhabitants of

Reykjavik.

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

difficulty is now over."

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

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

into the bowels of the earth."

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

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

know how we are to get up again."

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

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

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

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

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

Will you not likewise do so?"

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

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

below."

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

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

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

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

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

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

of Sneffels, and in which bay the Valkyrie was then the only vessel at

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

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

absent on duty.

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

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

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

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

little lake between the residences of the bishop and the other

personages not engaged in commerce.

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

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

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

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

the idea of Lilliput.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hebrew, English, French, and Danish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

unhappy, since with superior perceptions they are compelled to live

within the limits of the Polar Circle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

a white scarf.