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Journey to the Center of the Earth
Chapter 8. THE EIDER-DOWN HUNTER. OFF AT LAST
That evening I took a short walk on the shore near Reykjavik.
I then returned to sleep early on my bed of coarse planks and slept the sleep of the just.
When I woke I heard my uncle speaking loudly in the next room.
I rose quickly and joined him, he was talking in Danish with a man of tall height, and of very strong build.
This man seemed to have great strength.
His eyes, which stood out from a very large head, and a face that looked simple and honest, seemed quick and intelligent.
Very long hair, which even in England would have been called very red, fell over his strong shoulders.
This Icelander looked active and flexible, though he hardly moved his arms, one of those who avoid the gesturing of southern people.
Everything in this man's manner showed a calm and slow nature.
There was nothing lazy about him, but his look spoke of peace.
He never expected anything from anyone, worked when he thought right, and his calm philosophy could not be shocked or upset.
I began to understand his character simply from the way he listened to the wild and passionate talk of my worthy uncle.
While the excellent Professor spoke sentence after sentence, he stood with folded arms, completely still, not moving at all to my uncle's gestures.
When he wanted to say No he moved his head from left to right.
When he agreed he nodded, so slightly that you could hardly see the motion of his head.
This saving of movement was taken to the point of being almost stingy.
Judging from his appearance I'd have taken a long time to guess he was what he was, a mighty hunter.
Certainly his manner wasn't likely to frighten the game.
How, then, did he manage to get at his prey?
My surprise was a little less when I learned that this calm and solemn person was only a hunter of the eider duck.
The down of the eider duck is, after all, the greatest source of the Icelanders' wealth.
In the early days of summer, the female eider, a pretty kind of duck, builds her nest among the rocks of the fjords.
The fjords are the narrow gulfs of Scandinavian countries, and they cut into every part of the island.
No sooner has the eider duck made her nest than she lines the inside of it with the softest down from her breast.
Then comes the hunter or trader who takes away the nest.
The poor bereaved female begins her work again, and this continues as long as any eider down can be found.
When she can find no more the male bird starts to see what he can do.
As his down isn't so soft, and so has no commercial value, the hunter doesn't bother to take the lining from his nest.
The nest is then finished, the eggs are laid, the little ones are born, and next year the harvest of eider down is again collected.
As the eider duck never chooses steep rocks or high faces to build her nest, but prefers sloping and low cliffs near the sea.
The Icelandic hunter can therefore carry on his work without much difficulty.
He's like a farmer who doesn't have to plow, sow, or harrow, only to collect his harvest.
This grave, serious, silent man, as calm as an Englishman on the French stage, was named Hans Bjelke.
He had called on us because of the recommendation of M.
Fridriksson, he was, in fact, our future guide.
It struck me that had I searched the world over, I couldn't have found a greater contrast to my impulsive uncle.
They, however, soon understood each other perfectly and began to speak like old friends.
Neither of them thought much about money, one was ready to accept all that was offered, the other ready to give anything that was asked.
It can easily be imagined, then, that an agreement was soon reached between them.
The agreement was that he was to take us to the village of Stapi.
Stapi lies on the southern slope of the peninsula of Sneffels, at the very foot of the volcano.
Hans, the guide, said the distance was about twenty-two miles, a journey my uncle thought would take about two days.
When my uncle learned they were Danish miles of eight thousand yards each, he had to be more moderate in his ideas.
Given the horrible roads we had to follow, he allowed eight or ten days for the journey.
Four horses were prepared for us, two to carry the baggage, and two to bear the important weight of myself and uncle.
Hans said that nothing would make him climb on the back of any animal.
He knew every inch of that part of the coast, and promised to take us the shortest way.
His agreement with my uncle wasn't to end with our arrival at Stapi.
He was to remain in his service until his scientific investigations were complete.
He was to receive a fixed salary of three rix-dollars a week, being exactly fourteen shillings and twopence minus one farthing, English money.
One condition, however, was made by the guide, the money was to be paid to him every Saturday night, otherwise his engagement was at an end.
The day of our departure was fixed.
My uncle wanted to give the eider-down hunter an advance, but he refused with one firm word
"Efter."
Which being translated from Icelandic into plain English means "After."
The treaty finished, our worthy guide left without another word.
"A splendid fellow," said my uncle, "only he little suspects the marvelous part he's about to play in the history of the world."
"You mean, then," I cried in surprise, "that he should accompany us?"
"To the interior of the earth, yes," replied my uncle.
"Why not?"
There were yet forty-eight hours to pass before we made our final start.
To my great regret, our whole time was taken up in making preparations for our journey.
All our effort and skill went into packing every object in the best way.
We placed the instruments on one side, the arms on the other, the tools here and the provisions there.
There were, in fact, four separate groups.
The instruments were of course of the best make.
1, a centigrade thermometer by Eigel, reading up to 150 degrees, which to me didn't seem half enough or too much.
That would be too hot, if the heat rose that high we'd certainly be cooked.
It would not be enough to measure the exact temperature of springs or melted metal.
2, a manometer worked by compressed air, an instrument used to learn the air pressure above the level of the ocean.
Perhaps a common barometer wouldn't have done as well, the pressure being likely to increase as we went down below the surface of the earth.
3. A first-class chronometer made by Boissonnas, of Geneva, set to the meridian of Hamburg.
A fine chronometer by Boissonnas, Geneva, set to the Hamburg meridian, used by Germans as English use Greenwich and the French use Paris.
4, Two compasses, one for horizontal direction, the other to measure the dip.
5. A night glass for seeing distant objects in the darkness during our travels.
Two Ruhmkorff coils, compact and strong, would provide electric light when we needed it.
Two Ruhmkorff coils, which by a current of electricity would give us a very good, easy to carry, and sure means of getting light.
7, a voltaic battery on the newest principle.
Our arms were two rifles, with two six-shooters.
Why these arms were taken I couldn't say.
I had every reason to think we had neither wild beasts nor savage natives to fear.
My uncle loved his weapons as much as his instruments, and above all guarded his supply of fulminating or gun cotton.
This substance was said to keep in any climate, and its force was known to be stronger than that of ordinary gunpowder.
Our tools were two pickaxes, two crowbars, a silken ladder, three iron-shod Alpine poles, a hatchet and a hammer.
We also had a dozen wedges, some pointed pieces of iron, and a quantity of strong rope.
You can imagine that the whole made a fair parcel, especially when I say that the ladder itself was three hundred feet long.
Then came the important question of provisions.
The hamper wasn't very large but quite satisfactory, for I knew that in concentrated meat essence and biscuit there was enough to last six months.
The only liquid my uncle provided was Schiedam, Of water, not a drop.
We had an ample supply of gourds, and my uncle planned to find water to fill them as soon as we began descending.
My remarks about the temperature, the quality, and even about the possibility of there being no water, had no effect.
To complete the exact list of our traveling gear for the guidance of future travelers, I must add a medicine and surgical chest.
It contained all tools needed for wounds, fractures and blows.
The chest contained lint, scissors, lancets, in fact, a complete set of horrible looking instruments.
There were also a number of vials holding ammonia, alcohol, ether, Goulard water, aromatic vinegar, in fact every possible and impossible drug.
And finally we carried all the materials for working the Ruhmkorff coil.
My uncle had also been careful to buy a good supply of tobacco, several flasks of very fine gunpowder, and boxes of tinder.
He had also a large belt full of notes and gold.
Good boots made watertight were to the number of six in the tool box.
"My boy, with such clothing, with such boots, and such general equipment," said my uncle, in a state of great delight, "we may hope to travel far."
It took a whole day to put all these matters in order.
In the evening we dined with Baron Trampe, in company with the Mayor of Reykjavik, and Doctor Hyaltalin, the great medical man of Iceland.
M. remained standing, his grey cloak fluttering in the cold morning breeze, watching us.
Fridriksson wasn't there, and later I was sorry to hear he and the governor disagreed on matters of island administration.
Unfortunately, the result was that I didn't understand a word that was said at dinner, a kind of semi official reception.
One thing I can say, my uncle never stopped speaking.
The next day our work was finished.
Our worthy host pleased my uncle, Professor Hardwigg, by giving him a good map of Iceland, a most important and precious document for a mineralogist.
Our last evening was spent in a long talk with M.
Fridriksson, whom I liked very much, the more that I never expected to see him or anyone else again.
After this pleasant way of spending an hour or so, I tried to sleep.
In vain, with the exception of a few dozes, my night was miserable.
At five o'clock I was woken from the half-hour's sleep by the loud neighing of horses under my window.
I quickly dressed and went down into the street.
Hans finished the last packing of our baggage in a silent, calm manner that won my admiration.
My uncle wasted a great deal of breath in giving him directions, but worthy Hans paid not the slightest notice to his words.
At six o'clock all our preparations were done, and M, Fridriksson shook hands warmly with us.
My uncle thanked him warmly, in the Icelandic language, for his kind hospitality, speaking truly from the heart.
As for myself I put together a few of my best Latin phrases and paid him the highest compliments I could.
This fraternal and friendly duty done, we set out and mounted our horses.
As soon as we were quite ready, M.
M. Fridriksson came forward and, by way of farewell, called after me words of Virgil.
Those words seemed made for us, travelers setting out for an uncertain destination.
"Et quacunque viam dederit fortuna sequamur."
"And whichsoever way thou goest, may fortune follow."