Preparing to Blast a Passage to the Earth's Center

Since the start upon this marvellous pilgrimage I had been through so many astonishments that I might well be excused for thinking myself well hardened against any further surprise. Yet at the sight of these two letters, engraved on this spot three hundred years ago, I stood aghast in dumb amazement. Not only were the initials of the learned alchemist visible upon the living rock, but there lay the iron point with which the letters had been engraved. I could no longer doubt of the existence of that wonderful traveller and of the fact of his unparalleled journey, without the most glaring incredulity.

Since we began this marvelous journey, I had experienced so many wonders that I could be forgiven for thinking nothing else could surprise me. Yet the sight of those two letters, carved there three hundred years ago, left me speechless with amazement. The learned alchemist's initials were there on the solid rock. Beside them lay the iron point he had used to carve them. I could no longer doubt that this remarkable traveler had existed and made his unparalleled journey, unless I refused to believe the obvious.

Whilst these reflections were occupying me, Professor Liedenbrock had launched into a somewhat rhapsodical eulogium, of which Arne Saknussemm was, of course, the hero.

While I was thinking about these things, Professor Liedenbrock launched into a somewhat rhapsodic speech praising Arne Saknussemm. Of course, Saknussemm was the hero of the speech.

"Thou marvellous genius!" he cried, "thou hast not forgotten one indication which might serve to lay open to mortals the road through the terrestrial crust; and thy fellow-creatures may even now, after the lapse of three centuries, again trace thy footsteps through these deep and darksome ways. You reserved the contemplation of these wonders for other eyes besides your own. Your name, graven from stage to stage, leads the bold follower of your footsteps to the very centre of our planet's core, and there again we shall find your own name written with your own hand. I too will inscribe my name upon this dark granite page. But for ever henceforth let this cape that advances into the sea discovered by yourself be known by your own illustrious name—Cape Saknussemm."

"What a marvelous genius you were!" he cried. "You left out no clue that might reveal the way through the earth's crust. Even now, three centuries later, your fellow humans may follow your footsteps again through these deep, dark passages. You intended other eyes besides your own to see these wonders. Your name, carved at every stage, leads anyone bold enough to follow you to the very center of our planet's core. There we shall find your name again, written in your own hand. I too will carve my name on this dark page of granite. But from now on, let this cape jutting into the sea you discovered bear your illustrious name forever: Cape Saknussemm."

Such were the glowing words of panegyric which fell upon my attentive ear, and I could not resist the sentiment of enthusiasm with which I too was infected. The fire of zeal kindled afresh in me. I forgot everything. I dismissed from my mind the past perils of the journey, the future danger of our return. That which another had done I supposed we might also do, and nothing that was not superhuman appeared impossible to me.

I listened closely to these glowing words of praise, and I could not resist sharing the enthusiasm they inspired. My own zeal was rekindled. I forgot everything. I put the dangers we had faced and the dangers of our return out of my mind. I believed we could do what another had done. Nothing seemed impossible to me unless it required superhuman powers.

"Forward! forward!" I cried.

"Forward! Forward!" I shouted.

I was already darting down the gloomy tunnel when the Professor stopped me; he, the man of impulse, counselled patience and coolness.

I was already rushing down the dark tunnel when the Professor stopped me. He was an impulsive man, yet he urged me to be patient and stay calm.

"Let us first return to Hans," he said, "and bring the raft to this spot."

"Let's go back to Hans first," he said, "and bring the raft here."

I obeyed, not without dissatisfaction, and passed out rapidly among the rocks on the shore.

I obeyed reluctantly and quickly made my way among the rocks on the shore.

I said: "Uncle, do you know it seems to me that circumstances have wonderfully befriended us hitherto?"

I said: "Uncle, don't you think circumstances have been wonderfully favorable to us so far?"

"You think so, Axel?"

"You think so, Axel?"

"No doubt; even the tempest has put us on the right way. Blessings on that storm! It has brought us back to this coast from which fine weather would have carried us far away. Suppose we had touched with our prow (the prow of a rudder!) the southern shore of the Liedenbrock sea, what would have become of us? We should never have seen the name of Saknussemm, and we should at this moment be imprisoned on a rockbound, impassable coast."

"No doubt. Even the storm has put us on the right path. Bless that storm! It brought us back to this coast, but good weather would have carried us far away. Suppose we had landed on the southern shore of the Liedenbrock sea with our bow (the bow of a rudder!). What would have become of us? We would never have seen Saknussemm's name. And we would now be trapped on a rocky, impassable coast."

"Yes, Axel, it is providential that whilst supposing we were steering south we should have just got back north at Cape Saknussemm. I must say that this is astonishing, and that I feel I have no way to explain it."

“Yes, Axel, it is providential that we ended up back north at Cape Saknussemm while we thought we were heading south. I must say, this is astonishing. I have no way to explain it.”

"What does that signify, uncle? Our business is not to explain facts, but to use them!"

"What does that matter, uncle? Our job is not to explain facts, but to use them!"

"Certainly; but—"

"Yes, but..."

"Well, uncle, we are going to resume the northern route, and to pass under the north countries of Europe—under Sweden, Russia, Siberia: who knows where?—instead of burrowing under the deserts of Africa, or perhaps the waves of the Atlantic; and that is all I want to know."

"Well, uncle, we’re going north again. We’ll pass under the northern countries of Europe, under Sweden, Russia, Siberia. Who knows where else? Instead, we could have been digging under the deserts of Africa or perhaps the waves of the Atlantic. That’s all I want to know."

"Yes, Axel, you are right. It is all for the best, since we have left that weary, horizontal sea, which led us nowhere. Now we shall go down, down, down! Do you know that it is now only 1,500 leagues to the centre of the globe?"

"Yes, Axel, you are right. It's all for the best, since we have left that tiresome, flat sea, which led us nowhere. Now we will go down, down, down! Do you know that we are now only 1,500 leagues from the center of the earth?"

"Is that all?" I cried. "Why, that's nothing. Let us start: march!"

"Is that all?" I cried. "That's nothing. Let's get going. March!"

The wind was unfavourable to a species of launch not calculated for shallow water. In many places we were obliged to push ourselves along with iron-pointed sticks. Often the sunken rocks just beneath the surface obliged us to deviate from our straight course. At last, after three hours' sailing, about six in the evening we reached a place suitable for our landing. I jumped ashore, followed by my uncle and the Icelander. This short passage had not served to cool my ardour. On the contrary, I even proposed to burn 'our ship,' to prevent the possibility of return; but my uncle would not consent to that. I thought him singularly lukewarm.

The wind was against us, and our boat was not suited to shallow water. In many places, we had to push ourselves along with iron-tipped poles. Rocks just below the surface often forced us to change course. At last, after three hours on the water, we reached a suitable landing place around six in the evening. I jumped ashore, followed by my uncle and the Icelander. The short crossing had not cooled my enthusiasm. On the contrary, I even proposed burning 'our ship' to prevent any possibility of returning. But my uncle would not agree. I thought him strangely unenthusiastic.

"At least," I said, "don't let us lose a minute."

"At least," I said, "let's not waste a minute."

"Yes, yes, lad," he replied; "but first let us examine this new gallery, to see if we shall require our ladders."

"Yes, yes, lad," he replied. "But first, let's examine this new passage to see if we'll need our ladders."

My uncle put his Ruhmkorff's apparatus in action; the raft moored to the shore was left alone; the mouth of the tunnel was not twenty yards from us; and our party, with myself at the head, made for it without a moment's delay.

My uncle switched on his Ruhmkorff's apparatus. We left the raft tied to the shore. The tunnel entrance was less than twenty yards away. Our party headed for it without delay, with me in the lead.

The aperture, which was almost round, was about five feet in diameter; the dark passage was cut out in the live rock and lined with a coat of the eruptive matter which formerly issued from it; the interior was level with the ground outside, so that we were able to enter without difficulty. We were following a horizontal plane, when, only six paces in, our progress was interrupted by an enormous block just across our way.

The opening was almost round and about five feet across. The dark passage was cut into solid rock. It was coated with volcanic material that had once flowed out of it. The floor was level with the ground outside, so we could enter easily. We were walking along the level passage when, just six paces in, an enormous block stopped us. It lay directly across our path.

"Accursed rock!" I cried in a passion, finding myself suddenly confronted by an impassable obstacle.

“Damn this rock!” I cried angrily, suddenly faced with an obstacle I couldn’t get past.

Right and left we searched in vain for a way, up and down, side to side; there was no getting any farther. I felt fearfully disappointed, and I would not admit that the obstacle was final. I stopped, I looked underneath the block: no opening. Above: granite still. Hans passed his lamp over every portion of the barrier in vain. We must give up all hope of passing it.

We searched everywhere for a way through, looking up and down and from side to side. But we could go no farther. I was terribly disappointed, and I refused to accept that the obstacle was impossible to pass. I stopped and looked underneath the block. There was no opening. Above it, there was only granite. Hans shone his lamp over every part of the barrier, but found nothing. We had to give up all hope of getting past it.

I sat down in despair. My uncle strode from side to side in the narrow passage.

I sat down in despair. My uncle paced back and forth in the narrow passage.

"But how was it with Saknussemm?" I cried.

"But what about Saknussemm?" I cried.

"Yes," said my uncle, "was he stopped by this stone barrier?"

"Yes," said my uncle, "did this stone barrier stop him?"

"No, no," I replied with animation. "This fragment of rock has been shaken down by some shock or convulsion, or by one of those magnetic storms which agitate these regions, and has blocked up the passage which lay open to him. Many years have elapsed since the return of Saknussemm to the surface and the fall of this huge fragment. Is it not evident that this gallery was once the way open to the course of the lava, and that at that time there must have been a free passage? See here are recent fissures grooving and channelling the granite roof. This roof itself is formed of fragments of rock carried down, of enormous stones, as if by some giant's hand; but at one time the expulsive force was greater than usual, and this block, like the falling keystone of a ruined arch, has slipped down to the ground and blocked up the way. It is only an accidental obstruction, not met by Saknussemm, and if we don't destroy it we shall be unworthy to reach the centre of the earth."

"No, no," I replied excitedly. "Some shock or upheaval shook this piece of rock loose. Or perhaps it was one of the magnetic storms that disturb these regions. The rock has blocked the passage that was open to Saknussemm. Many years passed between Saknussemm's return to the surface and the fall of this huge rock. Isn't it obvious that lava once flowed through this tunnel, and that the passage must have been clear then? Look, recent cracks cut grooves and channels in the granite roof. The roof itself is made of fallen rock and enormous stones, as if placed there by a giant's hand. But at one point, the force pushing outward was greater than usual. This block slipped down to the ground, like the keystone falling from a ruined arch, and blocked the way. It is only an accidental obstruction that Saknussemm did not encounter. If we don't destroy it, we will be unworthy of reaching the centre of the earth."

Such was my sentence! The soul of the Professor had passed into me. The genius of discovery possessed me wholly. I forgot the past, I scorned the future. I gave not a thought to the things of the surface of this globe into which I had dived; its cities and its sunny plains, Hamburg and the Königstrasse, even poor Gräuben, who must have given us up for lost, all were for the time dismissed from the pages of my memory.

Such was my sentence! The Professor’s spirit had entered me. The drive to discover possessed me completely. I forgot the past and scorned the future. I gave no thought to the surface of the globe I had plunged into. Its cities and sunny plains, Hamburg and the Königstrasse, even poor Gräuben, who must have given us up for lost, were all forgotten for the time being.

"Well," cried my uncle, "let us make a way with our pickaxes."

"Well," shouted my uncle, "let's make a path with our pickaxes."

"Too hard for the pickaxe."

"Too hard for the pickaxe."

"Well, then, the spade."

"All right, then, the spade."

"That would take us too long."

"That would take us too long."

"What, then?"

"What, then?"

"Why gunpowder, to be sure! Let us mine the obstacle and blow it up."

"Gunpowder, of course! Let's plant it in the obstacle and blow it up."

"Oh, yes, it is only a bit of rock to blast!"

"Oh, yes, it's just a bit of rock to blast!"

"Hans, to work!" cried my uncle.

"Hans, get to work!" shouted my uncle.

The Icelander returned to the raft and soon came back with an iron bar which he made use of to bore a hole for the charge. This was no easy work. A hole was to be made large enough to hold fifty pounds of guncotton, whose expansive force is four times that of gunpowder.

The Icelander returned to the raft and soon came back with an iron bar. He used it to bore a hole for the charge. This was no easy task. The hole had to be large enough to hold fifty pounds of guncotton. Guncotton has four times the explosive force of gunpowder.

I was terribly excited. Whilst Hans was at work I was actively helping my uncle to prepare a slow match of wetted powder encased in linen.

I was terribly excited. While Hans worked, I actively helped my uncle make a slow-burning fuse of damp powder wrapped in linen.

"This will do it," I said.

"This will do it," I said.

"It will," replied my uncle.

"It will," my uncle replied.

By midnight our mining preparations were over; the charge was rammed into the hole, and the slow match uncoiled along the gallery showed its end outside the opening.

By midnight, our mining preparations were complete. The charge was packed into the hole, and the slow-burning fuse ran along the passage, with its end outside the opening.

A spark would now develop the whole of our preparations into activity.

A spark was now all we needed to set our preparations in motion.

"To-morrow," said the Professor.

"Tomorrow," said the Professor.

I had to be resigned and to wait six long hours.

I had to accept it and wait six long hours.