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A JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH - 17

A JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH

By Jules Verne

CHAPTER 17

DEEPER AND DEEPER--THE COAL MINE

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!