Kitabı oku: «Путешествие к центру Земли / A Journey to the Centre of the Earth», sayfa 8
11
When I awoke I heard my uncle. He was talking in the next room. I immediately dressed and joined him.
He was conversing in the Danish language with a tall man of robust build41. This fellow must’ve possessed a great strength. His eyes seemed to me very intelligent; long hair fell upon his broad shoulders. He listened to the Professor and stood with arms crossed.
This grave, phlegmatic, and silent man was called Hans Bjelke42; he was the one Mr. Fridrikssen had recommended to be our future guide.
Hans agreed to conduct us to the village of Stapi43, on the south shore of the Sneffels peninsula, at the very foot of the volcano44.
The start was fixed for the 16th of June. My uncle wanted to pay the hunter a portion in advance, but he refused with one word:
“Efter,” said he.
“After,” the Professor translated for me.
We began to pack every article. The instruments were: a thermometer, graduated up to 150 degrees; an aneroid barometer45, to indicate extreme pressures of the atmosphere; a chronometer; two compasses; a night glass46; two of Ruhmkorff’s apparatus47.
Moreover, we had two rifles and two pistols.
And there were provisions too; spirits were the only liquid, and of water we took none; but we had flasks.
“Equipped like this,” said my uncle, “we may go very far.”
12
We got out of Reykjavik.
“Where’s the risk?” I said to myself, “Here we are travelling all through a most interesting country! We are going to climb a very remarkable mountain; at the worst we are going to scramble down an extinct crater. It is evident that Saknussemm did nothing more than this. As for a passage leading to the centre of the globe, it is mere rubbish! Perfectly impossible!”
Hans moved steadily on. The baggage horses followed him without giving any trouble. Then came my uncle and myself.
Iceland is one of the largest islands in Europe. Its surface is 14,000 square miles, and it contains 16,000 inhabitants. Geographers have divided it into four quarters, and we were crossing diagonally the south-west quarter, called the “Sudvester Fjordungr48.”
We were advancing at a rapid pace. The country was already almost a desert. Here and there was a lonely farm, built either of wood, or of sods, or of pieces of lava, looking like a poor beggar by the wayside. In this country there were no roads and paths.
In two hours from Reykjavik we arrived at the burgh of Gufunes49. There was nothing remarkable here but a few houses.
Hans stopped here for half an hour. He shared with us our frugal breakfast and answered my uncle’s questions about the road and our resting place that night with merely yes or no, except once, when he mentioned a place: Gardär50.
I consulted the map to see where Gardär was. I saw that it was a small town, four miles from Reykjavik. I showed it to my uncle.
“Four miles only!” he exclaimed; “Four miles out of twenty-eight. What a nice little walk!”
