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Journey to the Center of the Earth
Chapter 16. THE EASTERN TUNNEL
The next day was Tuesday, the 30th of June, and at six o'clock in the morning we resumed our journey.
We still continued to follow the gallery of lava, a perfect natural pathway.
It was as easy to descend as the inclined planes in very old German houses that serve as staircases.
This went on until seventeen minutes past twelve, the precise instant at which we rejoined Hans, who, having been somewhat in advance, had suddenly stopped.
"At last," cried my uncle, "we have reached the end of the shaft."
I looked wonderingly about me, we were in the centre of four cross paths, dark and narrow tunnels.
The question now arose as to which it was wise to take, and this of itself was no small difficulty.
My uncle, who didn't wish to appear to have any hesitation about the matter before myself or the guide, at once made up his mind.
He pointed quietly to the eastern tunnel, and, without delay, we entered within its gloomy passages.
Besides, had he entertained any feeling of hesitation it might have been prolonged indefinitely, for there was no indication by which to determine on a choice.
It was absolutely necessary to trust to chance and good fortune!
The descent of this obscure and narrow gallery was very gradual and winding.
Sometimes we gazed through a succession of arches, its course very like the aisles of a Gothic cathedral.
The great artistic sculptors and builders of the Middle Ages might have here completed their studies with advantage.
Many most beautiful and suggestive ideas of architectural beauty would have been discovered by them.
After passing through this phase of the cavernous way, we suddenly came, about a mile farther on, upon a square system of arch.
It was adopted by the early Romans, projecting from the solid rock and keeping up the weight of the roof.
Suddenly we came upon a series of low subterranean tunnels that looked like beaver holes or the work of foxes.
Through those narrow, winding ways we literally had to crawl.
The heat still remained at quite a supportable degree.
I shuddered thinking how hot it must have been when Sneffels poured smoke, flames and streams of boiling lava.
All of that must have come up by the road we were now following.
I could imagine the torrents of hot seething stone darting on, bubbling up with accompaniments of smoke, steam, and sulphurous stench!
"Only to think of the consequences," I mused, "if the old volcano were once more to set to work."
I didn't communicate these rather unpleasant reflections to my uncle.
He not only wouldn't have understood them, but would have been intensely disgusted.
His only idea was to go ahead.
He walked, slid, clambered over piles of fragments and rolled down heaps of broken lava with an earnestness and conviction I admired.
At six o'clock in the evening, after a very wearisome journey that was less fatiguing than before, we had made six miles southward.
However, we hadn't gone more than a mile downwards.
My uncle, as usual, gave the signal to halt.
We ate our meal in thoughtful silence, and then retired to sleep.
Our arrangements for the night were very primitive and simple.
A traveling rug, in which each rolled himself, was all our bedding.
We had no necessity to fear cold or any unpleasant visit.
Travelers who bury themselves in the wilds and depths of the African desert are compelled to take turns to watch during the hours of sleep.
Others who seek profit and pleasure in the forests of the New World are likewise obliged to stand guard at night.
But in this region of the earth absolute solitude and complete security reigned supreme.
We had nothing to fear either from savages or from wild beasts.
After a night's sweet repose, we awoke fresh and ready for action.
There being nothing to detain us, we started on our journey.
We continued to burrow through the lava tunnel as before.
It was impossible to make out through what soil we were making way.
The tunnel, moreover, instead of going down into the bowels of the earth, became absolutely horizontal.
I even thought, after some examination, that we were actually tending upwards.
About ten o'clock in the day this state of things became so clear.
Finding the change very fatiguing, I was obliged to slacken my pace and finally come to a halt.
"Well," said the Professor quickly, "what's the matter?"
"The fact is, I'm dreadfully tired," was my earnest reply.
"What," cried my uncle, "tired after a three hours' walk, and by so easy a road?"
"Easy enough, I dare say, but very fatiguing."
"But how can that be, when all we have to do is to go downwards."
"I beg your pardon, sir. For some time I've noticed that we're going upwards."
"Upwards," cried my uncle, shrugging his shoulders, "how can that be?"
"There can be no doubt about it."
"For the last half hour the slopes have been upward, and if we go on in this way much longer we'll find ourselves back in Iceland."
My uncle shook his head with the air of a man who doesn't want to be convinced.
I tried to continue the conversation, he wouldn't answer me, but once more gave the signal for departure.
His silence I thought was only caused by concentrated ill-temper.
However this might be, I once more took up my load, and boldly and resolutely followed Hans, who was now in advance of my uncle.
I didn't like to be beaten or even distanced.
I was naturally anxious not to lose sight of my companions.
The very idea of being left behind, lost in that terrible labyrinth, made me shiver as with the ague.
Besides, if the ascending path was more arduous and painful to clamber, I had one source of secret consolation and delight.
It was to all appearance taking us back to the surface of the earth, that of itself was hopeful.
Every step I took confirmed me in my belief.
And I began already to build castles in the air in relation to my marriage with my pretty little cousin.
About twelve o'clock there was a great and sudden change in the aspect of the rocky sides of the gallery.
I first noticed it from the diminution of the light that reflected from the lamp.
From being coated with shining lava, it became living rock.
The sides were sloping walls, which sometimes became quite vertical.
We were now in what the geological professors call a state of transition in the period of Silurian stones.
They're so named because this specimen of early formation is very common in England in the counties formerly inhabited by the Celtic nation known as Silures.
"I can see clearly now,"
I cried, "The sediment from the waters which once covered the whole earth formed, during its second period, these schists and calcareous rocks."
I cried, "We're turning our backs on the granite rocks."
"I cried, "We are like people from Hamburg who would go to Lubeck by way of Hanover.
I might just as well have kept my observations to myself.
My geological enthusiasm got the better, however, of my cooler judgment, and Professor Hardwigg heard my observations.
"What's the matter now?" he said, in a tone of great gravity.
"Well," cried I, "do you not see these different layers of calcareous rocks and the first indication of slate strata?"
"Well, what then?"
"We have arrived at that period of the world's existence when the first plants and the first animals made their appearance."
"You think so?"
"Yes, look, examine and judge for yourself."
I induced the Professor with some difficulty to cast the light of his lamp on the sides of the long winding gallery.
I expected some exclamation to burst from his lips.
I was very much mistaken, the worthy Professor never spoke a word.
It was impossible to say whether he understood me or not.
Perhaps, in his pride, my uncle, a learned professor, didn't like to own that he was wrong in having chosen the eastern tunnel.
Or was he determined, at any price, to go to the end of it?
It was quite evident we had left the region of lava.
The road we followed could not lead us back to the great crater of Mount Sneffels.
As we went along, I couldn't help ruminating on the whole question.
I asked myself if I was placing too much importance on these sudden, peculiar changes in the earth's crust.
After all, I was very likely to be mistaken.
It was possible we were not travelling through the strata of rock I thought I recognized.
I had believed these strata lay atop the lower layer of granitic formation.
"At all events, if I'm right,"
"I thought to myself that I must certainly find remains of primitive plants and accept such indubitable evidence."
"Let us have a good search".
I accordingly lost no opportunity of searching.
I hadn't gone more than about a hundred yards when the evidence I sought cropped up clearly before my eyes.
It was natural to expect these signs, for during the Silurian seas contained no fewer than fifteen hundred animal and plant species.
My feet, long accustomed to the hard, arid lava soil, suddenly trod soft dust, the remains of plants and shells.
Upon the walls themselves I could clearly make out the outline, as plain as a sun picture, of the fucus and the lycopods.
The worthy and excellent Professor Hardwigg couldn't of course make any mistake about the matter.
But I believe he deliberately closed his eyes, and continued on his way with a firm and unalterable step.
I began to think that he was carrying his obstinacy a great deal too far.
I could no longer act with prudence or composure.
I suddenly stooped and picked up a nearly perfect shell which had belonged to an animal resembling some of the present day.
Having secured the prize, I followed in the wake of my uncle.
"Do you see this?" I said.
"Well," said the Professor, with the most imperturbable tranquillity.
"It's the shell of a crustaceous animal of the extinct order of the trilobites, nothing more, I assure you."
"But," cried I, much troubled at his coolness, "do you draw no conclusion from it?"
"Well, if I may ask, what conclusion do you draw from it yourself?"
"Well, I thought."
"I know, my boy, what you'd say, and you're right, perfectly and incontestably right."
"We have finally abandoned the crust of lava and the road by which the lava ascended."
"It's quite possible that I may have been mistaken, but I shall be unable to discover my error until I get to the end of this gallery."
"You're quite right as far as that's concerned,"
I replied, "and I should highly approve of your decision, if we hadn't to fear the greatest of all dangers."
"And what's that?"
"Want of water."
"Well, my dear Henry, it can't be helped. We must put ourselves on rations."
And on he went, resuming his steady pace, carrying his lamp and provisions.