The Golden Age of Science Fiction Novels Vol 02

by Anthology

  One last trembling glimmer shot feebly up. I watched it in trembling and anxiety; I drank it in as if I could preserve it, concentrating upon it the full power of my eyes, as upon the very last sensation of light which they were ever to experience, and the next moment I lay in the heavy gloom of deep, thick, unfathomable darkness.

  A terrible cry of anguish burst from me. Upon earth, in the midst of the darkest night, light never abdicates its functions altogether. It is still subtle and diffusive, but whatever little there may be, the eye still catches that little. Here there was not an atom; the total darkness made me totally blind.

  Then I began to lose my head. I arose with my arms stretched out before me, attempting painfully to feel my way. I began to run wildly, hurrying through the inextricable maze, still descending, still running through the substance of the earth's thick crust, a struggling denizen of geological 'faults,' crying, shouting, yelling, soon bruised by contact with the jagged rock, falling and rising again bleeding, trying to drink the blood which covered my face, and even waiting for some rock to shatter my skull against.

  I shall never know whither my mad career took me. After the lapse of some hours, no doubt exhausted, I fell like a lifeless lump at the foot of the wall, and lost all consciousness.

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  THE RESCUE IN THE WHISPERING GALLERY

  When I returned to partial life my face was wet with tears. How long that state of insensibility had lasted I cannot say. I had no means now of taking account of time. Never was solitude equal to this, never had any living being been so utterly forsaken.

  After my fall I had lost a good deal of blood. I felt it flowing over me. Ah! how happy I should have been could I have died, and if death were not yet to be gone through. I would think no longer. I drove away every idea, and, conquered by my grief, I rolled myself to the foot of the opposite wall.

  Already I was feeling the approach of another faint, and was hoping for complete annihilation, when a loud noise reached me. It was like the distant rumble of continuous thunder, and I could hear its sounding undulations rolling far away into the remote recesses of the abyss.

  Whence could this noise proceed? It must be from some phenomenon proceeding in the great depths amidst which I lay helpless. Was it an explosion of gas? Was it the fall of some mighty pillar of the globe?

  I listened still. I wanted to know if the noise would be repeated. A quarter of an hour passed away. Silence reigned in this gallery. I could not hear even the beating of my heart.

  Suddenly my ear, resting by chance against the wall, caught, or seemed to catch, certain vague, indescribable, distant, articulate sounds, as of words.

  "This is a delusion," I thought.

  But it was not. Listening more attentively, I heard in reality a murmuring of voices. But my weakness prevented me from understanding what the voices said. Yet it was language, I was sure of it.

  For a moment I feared the words might be my own, brought back by the echo. Perhaps I had been crying out unknown to myself. I closed my lips firmly, and laid my ear against the wall again.

  "Yes, truly, some one is speaking; those are words!"

  Even a few feet from the wall I could hear distinctly. I succeeded in catching uncertain, strange, undistinguishable words. They came as if pronounced in low murmured whispers. The word '_forlorad_' was several times repeated in a tone of sympathy and sorrow.

  "Help!" I cried with all my might. "Help!"

  I listened, I watched in the darkness for an answer, a cry, a mere breath of sound, but nothing came. Some minutes passed. A whole world of ideas had opened in my mind. I thought that my weakened voice could never penetrate to my companions.

  "It is they," I repeated. "What other men can be thirty leagues under ground?"

  I again began to listen. Passing my ear over the wall from one place to another, I found the point where the voices seemed to be best heard. The word '_forlorad_' again returned; then the rolling of thunder which had roused me from my lethargy.

  "No," I said, "no; it is not through such a mass that a voice can be heard. I am surrounded by granite walls, and the loudest explosion could never be heard here! This noise comes along the gallery. There must be here some remarkable exercise of acoustic laws!"

  I listened again, and this time, yes this time, I did distinctly hear my name pronounced across the wide interval.

  It was my uncle's own voice! He was talking to the guide. And '_forlorad_' is a Danish word.

  Then I understood it all. To make myself heard, I must speak along this wall, which would conduct the sound of my voice just as wire conducts electricity.

  But there was no time to lose. If my companions moved but a few steps away, the acoustic phenomenon would cease. I therefore approached the wall, and pronounced these words as clearly as possible:

  "Uncle Liedenbrock!"

  I waited with the deepest anxiety. Sound does not travel with great velocity. Even increased density air has no effect upon its rate of travelling; it merely augments its intensity. Seconds, which seemed ages, passed away, and at last these words reached me:

  "Axel! Axel! is it you?"

  . . . .

  "Yes, yes," I replied.

  . . . .

  "My boy, where are you?"

  . . . .

  "Lost, in the deepest darkness."

  . . . .

  "Where is your lamp?"

  . . . .

  "It is out."

  . . . .

  "And the stream?"

  . . . .

  "Disappeared."

  . . . .

  "Axel, Axel, take courage!"

  . . . .

  "Wait! I am exhausted! I can't answer. Speak to me!"

  . . . .

  "Courage," resumed my uncle. "Don't speak. Listen to me. We have looked for you up the gallery and down the gallery. Could not find you. I wept for you, my poor boy. At last, supposing you were still on the Hansbach, we fired our guns. Our voices are audible to each other, but our hands cannot touch. But don't despair, Axel! It is a great thing that we can hear each other."

  . . . .

  During this time I had been reflecting. A vague hope was returning to my heart. There was one thing I must know to begin with. I placed my lips close to the wall, saying:

  "My uncle!"

  . . . .

  "My boy!" came to me after a few seconds.

  . . . .

  "We must know how far we are apart."

  . . . .

  "That is easy."

  . . . .

  "You have your chronometer?"

  . . .

  "Yes."

  . . . .

  "Well, take it. Pronounce my name, noting exactly the second when you speak. I will repeat it as soon as it shall come to me, and you will observe the exact moment when you get my answer."

  "Yes; and half the time between my call and your answer will exactly indicate that which my voice will take in coming to you."

  . . . .

  "Just so, my uncle."

  . . . .

  "Are you ready?"

  . . . .

  "Yes."

  . . . . . .

  "Now, attention. I am going to call your name."

  . . . .

  I put my ear to the wall, and as soon as the name 'Axel' came I immediately replied "Axel," then waited.

  . . . .

  "Forty seconds," said my uncle. "Forty seconds between the two words; so the sound takes twenty seconds in coming. Now, at the rate of 1,120 feet in a second, this is 22,400 feet, or four miles and a quarter, nearly."

  . . . .

  "Four miles and a quarter!" I murmured.

  . . . .

  "It will soon be over, Axel."

  . . . .

  "Must I go up or down?"

  . . . .

  "Down - for this reason: We are in a vast chamber, with endless galleries. Yours must lead into it, for it seems as if all the clefts and fractures of the globe radiated round this vast
cavern. So get up, and begin walking. Walk on, drag yourself along, if necessary slide down the steep places, and at the end you will find us ready to receive you. Now begin moving."

  . . . .

  These words cheered me up.

  "Good bye, uncle." I cried. "I am going. There will be no more voices heard when once I have started. So good bye!"

  . . . .

  "Good bye, Axel, _au revoir!_"

  . . . .

  These were the last words I heard.

  This wonderful underground conversation, carried on with a distance of four miles and a quarter between us, concluded with these words of hope. I thanked God from my heart, for it was He who had conducted me through those vast solitudes to the point where, alone of all others perhaps, the voices of my companions could have reached me.

  This acoustic effect is easily explained on scientific grounds. It arose from the concave form of the gallery and the conducting power of the rock. There are many examples of this propagation of sounds which remain unheard in the intermediate space. I remember that a similar phenomenon has been observed in many places; amongst others on the internal surface of the gallery of the dome of St. Paul's in London, and especially in the midst of the curious caverns among the quarries near Syracuse, the most wonderful of which is called Dionysius' Ear.

  These remembrances came into my mind, and I clearly saw that since my uncle's voice really reached me, there could be no obstacle between us. Following the direction by which the sound came, of course I should arrive in his presence, if my strength did not fail me.

  I therefore rose; I rather dragged myself than walked. The slope was rapid, and I slid down.

  Soon the swiftness of the descent increased horribly, and threatened to become a fall. I no longer had the strength to stop myself.

  Suddenly there was no ground under me. I felt myself revolving in air, striking and rebounding against the craggy projections of a vertical gallery, quite a well; my head struck against a sharp corner of the rock, and I became unconscious.

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  THALATTA! THALATTA!

  When I came to myself, I was stretched in half darkness, covered with thick coats and blankets. My uncle was watching over me, to discover the least sign of life. At my first sigh he took my hand; when I opened my eyes he uttered a cry of joy.

  "He lives! he lives!" he cried.

  "Yes, I am still alive," I answered feebly.

  "My dear nephew," said my uncle, pressing me to his breast, "you are saved."

  I was deeply touched with the tenderness of his manner as he uttered these words, and still more with the care with which he watched over me. But such trials were wanted to bring out the Professor's tenderer qualities.

  At this moment Hans came, he saw my hand in my uncle's, and I may safely say that there was joy in his countenance.

  "_God dag,_" said he.

  "How do you do, Hans? How are you? And now, uncle, tell me where we are at the present moment?"

  "To-morrow, Axel, to-morrow. Now you are too faint and weak. I have bandaged your head with compresses which must not be disturbed. Sleep now, and to-morrow I will tell you all."

  "But do tell me what time it is, and what day."

  "It is Sunday, the 8th of August, and it is ten at night. You must ask me no more questions until the 10th."

  In truth I was very weak, and my eyes involuntarily closed. I wanted a good night's rest; and I therefore went off to sleep, with the knowledge that I had been four long days alone in the heart of the earth.

  Next morning, on awakening, I looked round me. My couch, made up of all our travelling gear, was in a charming grotto, adorned with splendid stalactites, and the soil of which was a fine sand. It was half light. There was no torch, no lamp, yet certain mysterious glimpses of light came from without through a narrow opening in the grotto. I heard too a vague and indistinct noise, something like the murmuring of waves breaking upon a shingly shore, and at times I seemed to hear the whistling of wind.

  I wondered whether I was awake, whether I dreaming, whether my brain, crazed by my fall, was not affected by imaginary noises. Yet neither eyes, nor ears could be so utterly deceived.

  It is a ray of daylight, I thought, sliding in through this cleft in the rock! That is indeed the murmuring of waves! That is the rustling noise of wind. Am I quite mistaken, or have we returned to the surface of the earth? Has my uncle given up the expedition, or is it happily terminated?

  I was asking myself these unanswerable questions when the Professor entered.

  "Good morning, Axel," he cried cheerily. "I feel sure you are better."

  "Yes, I am indeed," said I, sitting up on my couch.

  "You can hardly fail to be better, for you have slept quietly. Hans and I watched you by turns, and we have noticed you were evidently recovering."

  "Indeed, I do feel a great deal better, and I will give you a proof of that presently if you will let me have my breakfast."

  "You shall eat, lad. The fever has left you. Hans rubbed your wounds with some ointment or other of which the Icelanders keep the secret, and they have healed marvellously. Our hunter is a splendid fellow!"

  Whilst he went on talking, my uncle prepared a few provisions, which I devoured eagerly, notwithstanding his advice to the contrary. All the while I was overwhelming him with questions which he answered readily.

  I then learnt that my providential fall had brought me exactly to the extremity of an almost perpendicular shaft; and as I had landed in the midst of an accompanying torrent of stones, the least of which would have been enough to crush me, the conclusion was that a loose portion of the rock had come down with me. This frightful conveyance had thus carried me into the arms of my uncle, where I fell bruised, bleeding, and insensible.

  "Truly it is wonderful that you have not been killed a hundred times over. But, for the love of God, don't let us ever separate again, or we many never see each other more."

  "Not separate! Is the journey not over, then?" I opened a pair of astonished eyes, which immediately called for the question:

  "What is the matter, Axel?"

  "I have a question to ask you. You say that I am safe and sound?"

  "No doubt you are."

  "And all my limbs unbroken?"

  "Certainly."

  "And my head?"

  "Your head, except for a few bruises, is all right; and it is on your shoulders, where it ought to be."

  "Well, I am afraid my brain is affected."

  "Your mind affected!"

  "Yes, I fear so. Are we again on the surface of the globe?"

  "No, certainly not."

  "Then I must be mad; for don't I see the light of day, and don't I hear the wind blowing, and the sea breaking on the shore?"

  "Ah! is that all?"

  "Do tell me all about it."

  "I can't explain the inexplicable, but you will soon see and understand that geology has not yet learnt all it has to learn."

  "Then let us go," I answered quickly.

  "No, Axel; the open air might be bad for you."

  "Open air?"

  "Yes; the wind is rather strong. You must not expose yourself."

  "But I assure you I am perfectly well."

  "A little patience, my nephew. A relapse might get us into trouble, and we have no time to lose, for the voyage may be a long one."

  "The voyage!"

  "Yes, rest to-day, and to-morrow we will set sail."

  "Set sail!" - and I almost leaped up.

  What did it all mean? Had we a river, a lake, a sea to depend upon? Was there a ship at our disposal in some underground harbour?

  My curiosity was highly excited, my uncle vainly tried to restrain me. When he saw that my impatience was doing me harm, he yielded.

  I dressed in haste. For greater safety I wrapped myself in a blanket, and came out of the grotto.

  CHAPTER XXX.

  A NEW MARE INTERNUM

  At first I could hardly see anything. My eyes, unac
customed to the light, quickly closed. When I was able to reopen them, I stood more stupefied even than surprised.

  "The sea!" I cried.

  "Yes," my uncle replied, "the Liedenbrock Sea; and I don't suppose any other discoverer will ever dispute my claim to name it after myself as its first discoverer."

  A vast sheet of water, the commencement of a lake or an ocean, spread far away beyond the range of the eye, reminding me forcibly of that open sea which drew from Xenophon's ten thousand Greeks, after their long retreat, the simultaneous cry, "Thalatta! thalatta!" the sea! the sea! The deeply indented shore was lined with a breadth of fine shining sand, softly lapped by the waves, and strewn with the small shells which had been inhabited by the first of created beings. The waves broke on this shore with the hollow echoing murmur peculiar to vast inclosed spaces. A light foam flew over the waves before the breath of a moderate breeze, and some of the spray fell upon my face. On this slightly inclining shore, about a hundred fathoms from the limit of the waves, came down the foot of a huge wall of vast cliffs, which rose majestically to an enormous height. Some of these, dividing the beach with their sharp spurs, formed capes and promontories, worn away by the ceaseless action of the surf. Farther on the eye discerned their massive outline sharply defined against the hazy distant horizon.

  It was quite an ocean, with the irregular shores of earth, but desert and frightfully wild in appearance.

  If my eyes were able to range afar over this great sea, it was because a peculiar light brought to view every detail of it. It was not the light of the sun, with his dazzling shafts of brightness and the splendour of his rays; nor was it the pale and uncertain shimmer of the moonbeams, the dim reflection of a nobler body of light. No; the illuminating power of this light, its trembling diffusiveness, its bright, clear whiteness, and its low temperature, showed that it must be of electric origin. It was like an aurora borealis, a continuous cosmical phenomenon, filling a cavern of sufficient extent to contain an ocean.