Kitabı oku: «Путешествие к центру Земли / A Journey to the Centre of the Earth», sayfa 9

13

I was cold and hungry. Finally, we reached a peasant’s house. The master came out with outstretched hands, and without ceremony beckoned us to follow him.

The kitchen chimney was constructed in the ancient pattern: in the middle of the room was a stone for a hearth, over it in the roof with a hole to let the smoke escape. The kitchen was also a dining-room.

At our entrance the host greeted us with the word “Sællvertu”, which meant “be happy,” and kissed us on the cheek.

After him his wife pronounced the same words; then the two placing their hands upon their hearts, inclined profoundly before us. This Icelandic lady was the mother of nineteen children, nineteen unwashed angels.

We sat at table, twenty-four in number, and therefore one upon another. As soon as the meal was over the children disappeared.

At five next morning we woke up; and Hans signalled the start.

At a hundred yards from Gardär the soil became boggy and less favourable. The desert became wider and more hideous. We had to cross a few narrow fiords, and at last quite a wide gulf; then we reached the village of Alftanes⁵¹, one mile beyond.

On the 19th of June, for about a mile, that is an Icelandic mile, we walked upon hardened lava; this ground is called in the country “raun”.

At six p.m. on the 20th of June we reached Büdir⁵², a village on the sea shore; and there the guide claimed his money.

14

Stapi ⁵³was a village that consisted of about thirty huts, built of lava, at the south side of the base of the volcano. It extended along the inner edge of a small fiord. I had heard of the Giant’s Causeway⁵⁴, and Fingal’s Cave⁵⁵; but I had never seen a basaltic formation. At Stapi I beheld this phenomenon in all its beauty.

The wall that confined the fiord was composed of a series of vertical columns thirty feet high. A few shafts of basalt lay along the soil like remains of an ancient temple. This was our last stage upon the Earth.

My uncle explained to Hans that it was his intention to explore the interior of the volcano to its farthest limits.

Hans merely nodded. There or elsewhere, down in the bowels of the Earth, or anywhere on the surface, all was alike to him.

Now, thought I, here we were, about to climb Sneffels. Good. We were going to explore the crater. Very good, others have done so. But that is not all. If there was a way to penetrate into the very bowels of the island, if that Saknussemm had told a true tale, we were going to lose our way amidst the deep subterranean passages of this volcano. Now, there was no proof that Sneffels was extinct. Who could be sure that an eruption was not brewing at that very moment? Did it follow that because the monster has slept since 1229 it must therefore never wake again? And if he woke up presently, where were we going to be?

I could not sleep. So, at last, I resolved to talk to my uncle. I went to him and communicated my fears⁵⁶.

“I was thinking of that,” he replied with great simplicity.

What could those words mean? Was he actually going to listen to reason? Was he contemplating the abandonment of his plans? This was too good to be true.

After a few moments’ silence, during which I dared not question him, he resumed:

“I was thinking of that. We must not be guilty of imprudence.”

“No, indeed!” I replied with forcible emphasis.

“For six hundred years Sneffels has been dumb; but he may speak again. I have therefore examined the natives, I have studied external appearances, and I can assure you, Axel, that there will be no eruption.”

I spent that whole night in one constant nightmare; I saw myself in the heart of a volcano, and in the deepest depths of the Earth.

The next day, June 23, Hans was awaiting us with his companions carrying provisions, tools, and instruments. As a cautious man, he had added to our luggage a bottle full of water. Hans gave the signal, and we soon left Stapi behind us.