Rushing Upward Through the Horrors of Darkness

It might have been, as I guessed, about ten at night. The first of my senses which came into play after this last bout was that of hearing. All at once I could hear; and it was a real exercise of the sense of hearing. I could hear the silence in the gallery after the din which for hours had stunned me. At last these words of my uncle's came to me like a vague murmuring:

I guessed it might have been about ten at night. After this last bout, the first sense I regained was hearing. Suddenly I could hear, and my hearing was truly put to work. I could hear the silence in the gallery after the noise that had stunned me for hours. At last, my uncle's words reached me like a faint murmur:

"We are going up."

"We're going up."

"What do you mean?" I cried.

"What do you mean?" I cried.

"Yes, we are going up—up!"

"Yes, we're going up, up!"

I stretched out my arm. I touched the wall, and drew back my hand bleeding. We were ascending with extreme rapidity.

I stretched out my arm and touched the wall. When I pulled my hand back, it was bleeding. We were rising very quickly.

"The torch! The torch!" cried the Professor.

"The torch! The torch!" shouted the Professor.

Not without difficulty Hans succeeded in lighting the torch; and the flame, preserving its upward tendency, threw enough light to show us what kind of a place we were in.

Hans had some difficulty lighting the torch. Its flame rose upward and gave us enough light to see what kind of place we were in.

"Just as I thought," said the Professor "We are in a tunnel not four-and-twenty feet in diameter. The water had reached the bottom of the gulf. It is now rising to its level, and carrying us with it."

"Just as I thought," said the Professor. "We are in a tunnel less than twenty-four feet across. The water had reached the bottom of the gulf. Now it is rising back to its level, carrying us with it."

"Where to?"

"Where to?"

"I cannot tell; but we must be ready for anything. We are mounting at a speed which seems to me of fourteen feet in a second, or ten miles an hour. At this rate we shall get on."

"I can't tell, but we must be ready for anything. We're rising at what seems to me to be fourteen feet per second, or ten miles an hour. At this rate, we'll make progress."

"Yes, if nothing stops us; if this well has an aperture. But suppose it to be stopped. If the air is condensed by the pressure of this column of water we shall be crushed."

"Yes, if nothing stops us and this well has an opening. But suppose the well is blocked. If the weight of the water compresses the air, we will be crushed."

"Axel," replied the Professor with perfect coolness, "our situation is almost desperate; but there are some chances of deliverance, and it is these that I am considering. If at every instant we may perish, so at every instant we may be saved. Let us then be prepared to seize upon the smallest advantage."

"Axel," replied the Professor calmly, "our situation is almost desperate. But there are some chances of escape, and I am considering them. Just as we may die at any moment, we may also be saved at any moment. So let us be ready to seize the smallest advantage."

"But what shall we do now?"

"But what should we do now?"

"Recruit our strength by eating."

"Regain our strength by eating."

At these words I fixed a haggard eye upon my uncle. That which I had been so unwilling to confess at last had to be told.

At these words, I stared at my uncle, looking exhausted. What I had been so reluctant to confess finally had to be told.

"Eat, did you say?"

"Did you say eat?"

"Yes, at once."

"Yes, right away."

The Professor added a few words in Danish, but Hans shook his head mournfully.

The Professor said a few more words in Danish, but Hans shook his head sadly.

"What!" cried my uncle. "Have we lost our provisions?"

"What!" shouted my uncle. "Have we lost our supplies?"

"Yes; here is all we have left; one bit of salt meat for the three."

"Yes. This is all we have left: one piece of salt meat for the three of us."

My uncle stared at me as if he could not understand.

My uncle stared at me as if he couldn't understand.

"Well," said I, "do you think we have any chance of being saved?"

"Well," I said, "do you think we have any chance of being saved?"

My question was unanswered.

No one answered my question.

An hour passed away. I began to feel the pangs of a violent hunger. My companions were suffering too, and not one of us dared touch this wretched remnant of our goodly store.

An hour passed. I began to feel intense hunger. My companions were suffering too, but none of us dared touch the miserable remains of our once plentiful supplies.

But now we were mounting up with excessive speed. Sometimes the air would cut our breath short, as is experienced by aeronauts ascending too rapidly. But whilst they suffer from cold in proportion to their rise, we were beginning to feel a contrary effect. The heat was increasing in a manner to cause us the most fearful anxiety, and certainly the temperature was at this moment at the height of 100° Fahr.

But now we were rising at tremendous speed. At times, the air took our breath away, as it does to balloonists who rise too quickly. But while balloonists grow colder as they rise, we were beginning to feel the opposite. The heat was increasing, causing us terrible anxiety. The temperature was certainly 100 degrees Fahrenheit at that moment.

What could be the meaning of such a change? Up to this time facts had supported the theories of Davy and of Liedenbrock; until now particular conditions of non-conducting rocks, electricity and magnetism, had tempered the laws of nature, giving us only a moderately warm climate, for the theory of a central fire remained in my estimation the only one that was true and explicable. Were we then turning back to where the phenomena of central heat ruled in all their rigour and would reduce the most refractory rocks to the state of a molten liquid? I feared this, and said to the Professor:

What could this change mean? Until now, the facts had supported the theories of Davy and Liedenbrock. Special conditions involving non-conducting rocks, electricity, and magnetism had softened the effects of natural laws, giving us only a moderately warm climate. I still believed that the theory of a central fire was the only true and explainable one. Were we going back toward a region where the full force of central heat ruled? Would that heat melt even the most heat-resistant rocks? I feared it would, and said to the Professor:

"If we are neither drowned, nor shattered to pieces, nor starved to death, there is still the chance that we may be burned alive and reduced to ashes."

"If we don't drown, get smashed to pieces, or starve to death, we may still be burned alive and reduced to ashes."

At this he shrugged his shoulders and returned to his thoughts.

At this, he shrugged and returned to his thoughts.

Another hour passed, and, except some slight increase in the temperature, nothing new had happened.

Another hour passed, and nothing new happened except a slight rise in temperature.

"Come," said he, "we must determine upon something."

"Come on," he said, "we have to make a decision."

"Determine on what?" said I.

"Decide what?" I said.

"Yes, we must recruit our strength by carefully rationing ourselves, and so prolong our existence by a few hours. But we shall be reduced to very great weakness at last."

"Yes, we must regain our strength by carefully rationing ourselves. That will keep us alive for a few more hours. But in the end, we will become very weak."

"And our last hour is not far off."

"And our final hour is near."

"Well, if there is a chance of safety, if a moment for active exertion presents itself, where should we find the required strength if we allowed ourselves to be enfeebled by hunger?"

"Well, if there is a chance of safety, if we get a moment to act, where will we find the strength we need if we let hunger weaken us?"

"Well, uncle, when this bit of meat has been devoured what shall we have left?"

"Well, uncle, what will we have left when we've eaten this bit of meat?"

"Nothing, Axel, nothing at all. But will it do you any more good to devour it with your eyes than with your teeth? Your reasoning has in it neither sense nor energy."

"Nothing, Axel, nothing at all. But will staring at it do you any more good than eating it? Your reasoning has neither sense nor force."

"Then don't you despair?" I cried irritably.

"Then aren't you losing hope?" I cried irritably.

"No, certainly not," was the Professor's firm reply.

"No, certainly not," the Professor replied firmly.

"What! do you think there is any chance of safety left?"

"What! Do you think there's still a chance we'll be safe?"

"Yes, I do; as long as the heart beats, as long as body and soul keep together, I cannot admit that any creature endowed with a will has need to despair of life."

"Yes, I do. As long as the heart beats and body and soul stay together, I cannot accept that any creature with a will needs to give up hope of living."

Resolute words these! The man who could speak so, under such circumstances, was of no ordinary type.

What determined words! A man who could speak that way under such circumstances was no ordinary man.

"Finally, what do you mean to do?" I asked.

"Finally, what do you plan to do?" I asked.

"Eat what is left to the last crumb, and recruit our fading strength. This meal will be our last, perhaps: so let it be! But at any rate we shall once more be men, and not exhausted, empty bags."

"Eat every last crumb and regain our fading strength. This meal may be our last. If so, so be it! But at least we will be men again, not exhausted, empty bags."

"Well, let us consume it then," I cried.

"Well, let's eat it then," I cried.

My uncle took the piece of meat and the few biscuits which had escaped from the general destruction. He divided them into three equal portions and gave one to each. This made about a pound of nourishment for each. The Professor ate his greedily, with a kind of feverish rage. I ate without pleasure, almost with disgust; Hans quietly, moderately, masticating his small mouthfuls without any noise, and relishing them with the calmness of a man above all anxiety about the future. By diligent search he had found a flask of Hollands; he offered it to us each in turn, and this generous beverage cheered us up slightly.

My uncle took the piece of meat and the few biscuits that had survived the destruction. He divided them into three equal portions and gave one to each of us. Each portion contained about a pound of food. The Professor ate his greedily, with a kind of feverish rage. I ate without pleasure, almost with disgust. Hans ate quietly and moderately, chewing his small mouthfuls without a sound. He enjoyed them with the calm of a man who had no anxiety about the future. After a thorough search, he had found a flask of Dutch gin. He offered it to each of us in turn, and the generous drink cheered us up slightly.

"Forträfflig," said Hans, drinking in his turn.

"Forträfflig," said Hans, taking his turn to drink.

"Excellent," replied my uncle.

"Excellent," said my uncle.

A glimpse of hope had returned, although without cause. But our last meal was over, and it was now five in the morning.

A glimmer of hope had returned, though there was no reason for it. But our last meal was over, and it was now five in the morning.

Man is so constituted that health is a purely negative state. Hunger once satisfied, it is difficult for a man to imagine the horrors of starvation; they cannot be understood without being felt.

People are made so that good health is simply the absence of illness. Once a person’s hunger is satisfied, it is hard to imagine the horrors of starvation. Those horrors cannot be understood without being experienced.

Therefore it was that after our long fast these few mouthfuls of meat and biscuit made us triumph over our past agonies.

So, after our long fast, those few mouthfuls of meat and biscuit helped us overcome our earlier agony.

But as soon as the meal was done, we each of us fell deep into thought. What was Hans thinking of—that man of the far West, but who seemed ruled by the fatalist doctrines of the East?

But as soon as the meal was over, we each fell deep in thought. What was Hans thinking? He was a man from the far West, yet he seemed ruled by the fatalist beliefs of the East.

As for me, my thoughts were made up of remembrances, and they carried me up to the surface of the globe of which I ought never to have taken leave. The house in the Königstrasse, my poor dear Gräuben, that kind soul Martha, flitted like visions before my eyes, and in the dismal moanings which from time to time reached my ears I thought I could distinguish the roar of the traffic of the great cities upon earth.

As for me, my thoughts were full of memories. They carried me back to the surface of the earth, which I should never have left. The house in the Königstrasse, my poor dear Gräuben, and kind Martha passed before my eyes like visions. From time to time, I heard dismal moans, and I thought I could make out the roar of traffic in the great cities above.

My uncle still had his eye upon his work. Torch in hand, he tried to gather some idea of our situation from the observation of the strata. This calculation could, at best, be but a vague approximation; but a learned man is always a philosopher when he succeeds in remaining cool, and assuredly Professor Liedenbrock possessed this quality to a surprising degree.

My uncle was still focused on his work. Holding a torch, he studied the rock layers to get some idea of our situation. His estimate could only be rough at best. But a learned man is always a philosopher if he can stay calm, and Professor Liedenbrock was remarkably good at that.

I could hear him murmuring geological terms. I could understand them, and in spite of myself I felt interested in this last geological study.

I could hear him murmuring geological terms. I understood them, and despite myself, I became interested in this last geological study.

"Eruptive granite," he was saying. "We are still in the primitive period. But we are going up, up, higher still. Who can tell?"

"Eruptive granite," he said. "We are still in the primitive period. But we are going up, up, even higher. Who can tell?"

Ah! who can tell? With his hand he was examining the perpendicular wall, and in a few more minutes he continued:

Ah! Who can tell? He felt the vertical wall with his hand. A few minutes later, he continued:

"This is gneiss! here is mica schist! Ah! presently we shall come to the transition period, and then—"

"This is gneiss! Here is mica schist! Ah! Soon we will come to the transition period, and then..."

What did the Professor mean? Could he be trying to measure the thickness of the crust of the earth that lay between us and the world above? Had he any means of making this calculation? No, he had not the aneroid, and no guessing could supply its place.

What did the Professor mean? Was he trying to measure the thickness of the earth’s crust between us and the world above? Did he have any way to calculate it? No, he didn’t have the aneroid, and no amount of guessing could replace it.

Still the temperature kept rising, and I felt myself steeped in a broiling atmosphere. I could only compare it to the heat of a furnace at the moment when the molten metal is running into the mould. Gradually we had been obliged to throw aside our coats and waistcoats, the lightest covering became uncomfortable and even painful.

Still, the temperature kept rising, and I felt immersed in scorching heat. I could only compare it to a furnace when molten metal is poured into a mold. Gradually, we had been forced to take off our coats and vests. Even the lightest clothing became uncomfortable and painful.

"Are we rising into a fiery furnace?" I cried at one moment when the heat was redoubling.

"Are we rising into a blazing furnace?" I cried as the heat grew twice as intense.

"No," replied my uncle, "that is impossible—quite impossible!"

"No," my uncle replied, "that is impossible. Quite impossible!"

"Yet," I answered, feeling the wall, "this well is burning hot."

"But," I said, feeling the wall, "this well is burning hot."

At the same moment, touching the water, I had to withdraw my hand in haste.

At the same moment, I touched the water and had to pull my hand away quickly.

"The water is scalding," I cried.

"The water is scalding," I cried.

This time the Professor's only answer was an angry gesture.

This time, the Professor only responded with an angry gesture.

Then an unconquerable terror seized upon me, from which I could no longer get free. I felt that a catastrophe was approaching before which the boldest spirit must quail. A dim, vague notion laid hold of my mind, but which was fast hardening into certainty. I tried to repel it, but it would return. I dared not express it in plain terms. Yet a few involuntary observations confirmed me in my view. By the flickering light of the torch I could distinguish contortions in the granite beds; a phenomenon was unfolding in which electricity would play the principal part; then this unbearable heat, this boiling water! I consulted the compass.

Then an overwhelming terror seized me, and I could not shake it off. I felt a catastrophe approaching that would make even the bravest person afraid. A vague idea took hold of my mind, but it was quickly becoming a certainty. I tried to push it away, but it kept returning. I dared not put it into words. Yet a few things I noticed without trying confirmed my suspicion. In the flickering torchlight, I could make out bends in the granite layers. Something was happening in which electricity would play the main part. And then there was this unbearable heat, this boiling water! I checked the compass.

The compass had lost its properties! it had ceased to act properly!

The compass had lost its power! It no longer worked properly!