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22 - Sunday Below Ground - Journey to the Center of the Earth - Jules Verne · Classic Sci Fi Books - Daily

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  Chapter twenty two, Sunday below Ground. I awoke on Sunday morning without any
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  sense of hurry and bustle attendant on an immediate departure. Though the day to
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  be devoted to repose and reflection was spent under such strange circumstances and in so
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  wonderful a place, the idea was a pleasant one. Besides, we all
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  began to get use to this kind of existence. I had almost ceased to
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  think of the sun, of the moon, of the stars, of the
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  trees, houses and towns, in fact, about any terrestrial necessities. In
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  our peculiar position, we were far above such reflections. The grotto was a
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  vast and magnificent hall. Alone on its granitic soil, the stream flowed placidly
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  and pleasantly. So great a distance was it now from its fiery source,
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  that its water was scarcely lukewarm, and could be drunk without delay or difficulty.
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  After a frugal breakfast, the professor made up his mind to devote some
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  hours to putting his notes and calculations in order. In the first place,
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  he said, I have a good many to verify and prove, in order
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  that we may know our exact position. I wish to be able, on
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  our return to the upper regions, to make a map of our journey,
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  a kind of vertical section of the globe, which will be, as it
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  were, the profile of the expedition. That would indeed be a curious work,
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  Uncle, But can you make your observations with anything like certainty and precision?
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  I can. I have never, on any occasion failed to note with
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  great care the angles and slopes. I am certain as to have made no
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  mistake. Take the compass and examine how she points. I looked at the
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  instrument with care east one quarter southeast. Very good, resumed the professor,
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  noting the observation, and going through some rapid calculations, I make out that
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  we have journeyed two hundred and fifty miles from the point of our departure.
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  Then the mighty waves of the Atlantic are rolling over our heads. Certainly,
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  and at this very moment, it is possible that tempests are raging above,
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  and that men and ships are battling against the angry blast just over our heads.
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  It is quite within the range of possibility, rejoined my uncle, smiling,
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  and that whales are playing in shoals, thrashing the bottom of the sea.
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  The roof of our adamantine prison be quite at rest. At that point
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  there is no danger of their breaking through. But to return to our calculations,
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  we are to the southeast two hundred and fifty miles from the base of
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  Sneffels, and according to my preceding notes, I think we have gone sixteen
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  leagues in a downward direction. Sixteen leagues fifty miles, I cried, I
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  am sure of it. But that is the extreme limit allowed by science for
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  the thickness of the Earth's crust, I have replied, referring to my geological
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  studies, I do not contravene that assertion was his quiet answer. And at
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  this stage of our journey, according to all known laws on the increase of
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  heat, there should be here a temperature of fifteen hundred degrees of raheumor there
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  should be, you say, my boy, in which case this granite would
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  not exist but in a state of fusion. But you perceive, my boy,
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  that it is not so, and that facts, as usual are very
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  stubborn things over rule all theories. I am forced to yield to the evidence
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  of my senses. But I am nevertheless very much surprised. What heat does
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  the thermometer really indicate, continued the philosopher twenty seven six tenths, so that
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  science is wrong by fourteen hundred and seventy four degrees in fourteenths, according to
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  which it is demonstrated that the proportional increase in temperature is an exploded error.
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  Humphrey Davy here shines forth in all his glory. He is right, and
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  I have acted wisely to believe him. Have you any answer to make to
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  this statement? Had I chosen to have spoken, I might have said a
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  great deal. I in no way admitted the theory of Humphrey Davy. I
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  still held out for the theory of proportional increase of heat, though I did
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  not feel it. I was far more willing to allow that this chimney of
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  an extinct volcano was covered by lava of a kind refractatory to heat, in
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  fact, a bad conductor, which did not allow the great increase of temperature
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  to percolate through its sides. The hot water jet supported my view of the
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  matter. But without entering on a long and useless discussion or seeking for new
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  arguments to contravert my uncle, I contented myself with taking up facts as they
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  were well sir, I take for granted that all your calculations are correct,
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  but allow me to draw from them a rigorous and definite conclusion. Gone,
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  my boy, have you say, cried my uncle good humoredly. At the
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  place where we now are, under the latitude of Iceland, the terrestrial depth
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  is about fifteen hundred and eighty three leagues. Fifteen hundred eighty three and a
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  quarter. Well, suppose we say sixteen hundred in round numbers. Now,
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  out of a voyage of sixteen hundred leagues, we have completed sixteen. As
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  you say, what then, at the expense of a diagonal journey of no
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  less than eighty five leagues exactly, we have been twenty days about it,
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  exactly twenty Now sixteen is the hundredth part of our contemplated expedition. If we
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  go on in this way, we shall be two thousand days, that is
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  about five years and a half going down. The professor folded his arms,
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  listened, but did not speak, without counting that if a vertical descent of
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  sixteen leagues cost us a horizontal of eighty five, we shall have to go
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  about eight thousand leagues to the southeast, and we must therefore come out somewhere
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  in the circumference, long before we can hope to reach the center. Bother,
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  your calculations, cried my uncle, and one of his old rages.
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  On what basis do they rest? How do you know that this passage does
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  not take us direct to the end we require? Moreover, I have in
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  my favor, fortunately a precedent. What I have undertaken to do, another
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  has done, and he having succeeded. Why should I not be equally successful?
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  I hope indeed you will be still. I suppose I may be allowed
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  to You are allowed to hold your tongue, cried Professor Hardwick, when you
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  talk so unreasonably as this, I saw at once that the old doctoral professor
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  was still alive in my uncle, and fearful to rouse his angry passions.
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  I drop the unpleasant subject now, then, he explained, consult the manner
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  met, What does that indicate a considerable amount of pressure? Very good?
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  You see then, that by descending slowly, and by gradually accustoming ourselves to
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  the density of this lower atmosphere, we shall not suffer well, I suppose
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  not, except it may be a certain amount of pain in the ears.
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  Was my rather grim reply. That my dear boy, is nothing, and
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  you will easily get rid of that source of discomfort by bringing the exterior air
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  to communication with the air contained in your lungs. Perfectly said I, For
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  I had quite made up my mind in no wise to contradict my uncle.
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  I should fancy almost that I should experience a certain amount of satusy faction in
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  making a plunge into this dense atmosphere. Have you taken note of how wonderfully
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  sound is propagated? Of course I have. There can be no doubt that
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  a journey into the interior of the earth would be an excellent cure for deftness.
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  But then, Uncle, I ventured mildly to observe, this density will
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  continue to increase. Yes, according to a law, which however, is
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  scarcely defined, it is true that the intensity of weight will diminish, just
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  in proportion to the depth to which we go. You know very well that
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  it is on the surface of the earth that its action is most powerfully felt,
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  while on the contrary, in the very center of the earth, bodies
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  ceased to have any weight at all. I know that is the case.
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  But as we progress, will not the atmosphere. Finally, assume the density
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  of water. I know it when placed under the pressure of seven hundred and
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  ten atmospheres, cried my uncle, with imperturbable gravity. And when we are
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  still lowered down, I ask, with natural anxiety. Well, lower down
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  the density will become even greater. Then how shall we be able to make
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  our way through this atmospheric FuG Well, my worthy nephew, we must balance
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  ourselves by filling our pockets with stones, said Professor Hardwig. Faith Uncle,
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  you have an answer for everything, was my only reply. I began to
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  feel that it was unwise of me to go any farther into the wide field
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  of hypotheses, for I should certainly have reviewed some difficulty or rather impossibility that
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  would have enraged the professor. It was evident, nevertheless, that the air
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  under a pressure which might be multiplied by thousands of atmospheres, would end by
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  becoming perfectly solid, And that, then, admitting our bodies resisted the pressure,
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  we should have to stop. In spite of all the reasonings in the
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  world, facts overcome all arguments. But I thought it best not to urge
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  this argument. My uncle would simply have quoted the example of sack Neussom,
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  supposing the learned Icelander's journey ever really to have taken place. There was one
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  simple answer to be made. In the sixteenth century, neither the barometer nor
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  the manometer had been invented. How then could Sacknussom have been able to discover
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  when he did reach the center of the earth. This unanswerable and learned objection.
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  I, however, kept to myself, embracing up my courage, awaited
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  the course of events, little aware of how adventurous yet were to be the
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  incidents of our remarkable journey. The rest of this day of leisure and repose
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  was spent in calculation and conversation. I made it a point to agree with
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  the Professor in everything, But I envied the perfect indifference of Hans, who,
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  without taking any such trouble about the cause and effect, went blindly onwards
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  wherever Destiny chose to lead him. End of Chapter twenty two.