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23 - Alone - Journey to the Center of the Earth - Jules Verne · Classic Sci Fi Books - Daily

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  Chapter twenty three alone. It must in all truth be confessed things as yet
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  had gone well, and I should have acted in bad tastes to have complained
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  if the true medium of our difficulties did not increase, it was within the
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  range of possibility that we might ultimately reach the end of our journey. Then
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  what glory would be ours? I began, in the newly aroused our door
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  of my soul to speak enthusiastically to the Professor. Well, was I serious?
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  The whole state in which we existed was a mystery, and it was
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  impossible to know whether or not I was earnest. For several days after our
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  memorial halt, the slopes became more rapid, Some were even of a most
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  frightful character, almost vertical, so that we were forever going down into the
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  solid interior mass. During some days we actually descended a league and a half,
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  even two leagues towards the center of the earth. The descents were sufficiently
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  perilous, and while we were engaged in them, we learned fully to appreciate
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  the marvelous coolness of our guide hands. Without him we should have been wholly
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  lost. The grave and impassable icelander devoted himself to us with the most incomprehensible
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  sang fluid and ease, and thanks to him many a dangerous pass was got
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  over where But for him we should inevitably have stuck fast. His silence increased
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  every day. I think that we began to be influenced by this peculiar trait
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  in his character. It is certain that the inanimate objects by which you are
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  surrounded have a direct action on the brain. It must be that a man
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  who shuts himself up between four walls must lose the faculty of associating ideas and
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  words. How many persons condemned to the horrors of solitary confinement have gone mad
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  simply because the thinking faculties have lain dormant. During the two weeks that followed
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  our last interesting conversation, there occurred nothing worthy of being especially recorded. I
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  have, while writing these memoirs taxed my memory in vain for one incident of
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  travel during this peculiar period. But the next event to be related is terrible.
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  Indeed, its very memory even now makes my soul shudder and my blood
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  run cold. It was on the seventh of August our constant and successive descents
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  had taken us quite thirty leagues into the interior of the earth. That is
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  to say that there were above us thirty leagues nearly one hundred miles of rocks
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  and oceans and continents and towns, to say nothing of living inhabitants. We
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  were in a southeasterly direction, about two hundred leagues from Iceland. Now the
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  Memorial Day, the tunnel had begun to assume an almost horizontal course. I
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  was, on this occasion walking in front. My uncle had charge of one
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  of Rumakhoff's coils. I had possession of the other by means of its light.
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  I was busy examining the different layers of granite. I was completely absorbed
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  in my work. Suddenly halting and turning round, I found that I was
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  alone. Well thought I to myself, I have certainly been walking too fast,
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  or else Hans and my uncle have stopped to rest. The best thing
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  I can do is to go back and find them. Luckily, there is
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  very little assent to tire me. I accordingly retraced my steps, and while
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  doing so, walked for at least a quarter of an hour. Rather uneasy,
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  I paused and looked eagerly around. Not a living soul, I called
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  aloud. No reply, My voice was lost amid the myriad cavernous echoes it
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  aroused. I began for the first time to feel seriously uneasy. A cold
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  shivers shook my whole body, and perspiration chill and terrible burst upon my skin.
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  I must be calm, I said, speaking aloud, as boys whistled
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  to drive away fear. There can be no doubt that I shall find my
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  companions. There cannot be two roads. It is certain that I was considerably
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  ahead. All I have to do is to go back. Having come to
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  this determination, I ascended the tunnel for at least half an hour, unable
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  to decide if I had ever seen certain landmarks before. Every now and then
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  I paused to discover if any loud appeal was made to me, well,
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  knowing that in that dense and intensified atmosphere, I should hear it a long
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  way off. But no, The most extraordinary silence reigned in this immense gallery.
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  Only the echoes of my own footsteps could be heard. At last,
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  I stopped. I could scarcely realize the fact of my isolation. I was
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  quite willing to think that I had made a mistake, but not that I
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  was lost. If I had made a mistake, I find my way.
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  If lost, I shuddered to think of it. Come come, said I
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  to myself. Since there is only one road, and they must come by
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  it, we shall at last meet. All I have to do is still
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  go upwards. Perhaps, however, not seeing me, and forgetting I was
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  ahead, they may have gone back in search of me. Still, even
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  in this case, if I make haste, I shall get up to them.
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  There can be no doubt about the matter. But as I spoke these
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  last words aloud, it would have been quite clear to any listener had there
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  been one, that I was, by no means convinced of the fact.
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  Moreover, in order to associate together these simple eyes DEAs, and to reunite
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  them under the form of reasoning, required some time. I could not at
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  all once bring my brain to think. Then another dread doubt fell upon my
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  soul. After all was I had. Of course I was Hans was no
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  doubt following behind, preceded by my uncle, I perfectly recollected his, having
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  stopped for a moment to strap his baggage to his shoulder, I now remembered
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  this trifling detail. It was I believe just at that very moment that I
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  had determined to continue my route again, thought I, reasoning as calmly as
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  possible, there is another sure means of not losing my way, a thread
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  to guide me through the labyrinth, subterraneous retreat, one which I had forgotten,
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  my faithful river. This course of reasoning roused my drooping spirits, and
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  I resolved to resume my journey without further delay. No time was to be
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  lost. It was at this moment that I had reason to bless the thoughtfulness
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  of my uncle when he refused to allow the ider hunter to close the orifices
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  of the hot spring, that small fissure in the great mass of granite.
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  This beneficent spring, after having saved us from thirst during so many days,
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  would now enable me to regain the right road. Having come to this mental
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  decision, I made up my mind before I started upwards that abolition would certainly
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  do me a great deal of good. I stopped to plunge my hands and
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  forehead in the pleasant water of the hans Box Stream, blessing its presence as
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  a certain consolation. Conceive my horror and stupefication. I was treading a hard,
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  dusty shingly road of Granite. The stream on which I reckoned had wholly
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  disappeared. End of Chapter twenty three,