Boldly Down the Crater

Supper was rapidly devoured, and the little company housed themselves as best they could. The bed was hard, the shelter not very substantial, and our position an anxious one, at five thousand feet above the sea level. Yet I slept particularly well; it was one of the best nights I had ever had, and I did not even dream.

We quickly ate supper, and our little group settled in as best we could. The bed was hard, the shelter offered little protection, and our position was worrying, 5,000 feet above sea level. Yet I slept particularly well. It was one of the best nights I had ever had, and I did not even dream.

Next morning we awoke half frozen by the sharp keen air, but with the light of a splendid sun. I rose from my granite bed and went out to enjoy the magnificent spectacle that lay unrolled before me.

The next morning, we woke up half frozen by the biting cold air, but the sun was shining brilliantly. I rose from my granite bed and went outside to enjoy the magnificent sight before me.

I stood on the very summit of the southernmost of Snæfell's peaks. The range of the eye extended over the whole island. By an optical law which obtains at all great heights, the shores seemed raised and the centre depressed. It seemed as if one of Helbesmer's raised maps lay at my feet. I could see deep valleys intersecting each other in every direction, precipices like low walls, lakes reduced to ponds, rivers abbreviated into streams. On my right were numberless glaciers and innumerable peaks, some plumed with feathery clouds of smoke. The undulating surface of these endless mountains, crested with sheets of snow, reminded one of a stormy sea. If I looked westward, there the ocean lay spread out in all its magnificence, like a mere continuation of those flock-like summits. The eye could hardly tell where the snowy ridges ended and the foaming waves began.

I stood on the very top of the southernmost of Snæfell's peaks. I could see the whole island. At such great heights, an optical effect makes the shores seem raised and the center sunken. It looked as if one of Helbesmer's raised maps lay at my feet. Deep valleys crossed one another in every direction. Cliffs looked like low walls, lakes like ponds, and rivers like streams. To my right were countless glaciers and peaks, some crowned with feathery clouds of smoke. The rolling surface of these endless mountains, topped with sheets of snow, reminded me of a stormy sea. Looking westward, I saw the ocean spread out in all its magnificence. It looked like a continuation of those flock-like summits. I could hardly tell where the snowy ridges ended and the foaming waves began.

I was thus steeped in the marvellous ecstasy which all high summits develop in the mind; and now without giddiness, for I was beginning to be accustomed to these sublime aspects of nature. My dazzled eyes were bathed in the bright flood of the solar rays. I was forgetting where and who I was, to live the life of elves and sylphs, the fanciful creation of Scandinavian superstitions. I felt intoxicated with the sublime pleasure of lofty elevations without thinking of the profound abysses into which I was shortly to be plunged. But I was brought back to the realities of things by the arrival of Hans and the Professor, who joined me on the summit.

I was filled with the wondrous joy that all high summits inspire. I no longer felt dizzy, for I was growing used to these magnificent sights of nature. My dazzled eyes were bathed in bright sunlight. I forgot where I was and who I was, and imagined living the life of elves and sylphs. These fanciful beings came from Scandinavian superstitions. I was intoxicated by the sublime pleasure of such heights. I gave no thought to the deep abysses into which I would soon plunge. But I was brought back to reality when Hans and the Professor joined me on the summit.

My uncle pointed out to me in the far west a light steam or mist, a semblance of land, which bounded the distant horizon of waters.

My uncle pointed out a faint vapor or mist far to the west. It looked like land at the distant edge of the water.

"Greenland!" said he.

"Greenland!" he said.

"Greenland?" I cried.

"Greenland?" I exclaimed.

"Yes; we are only thirty-five leagues from it; and during thaws the white bears, borne by the ice fields from the north, are carried even into Iceland. But never mind that. Here we are at the top of Snæfell and here are two peaks, one north and one south. Hans will tell us the name of that on which we are now standing."

"Yes, we are only thirty-five leagues from it. During thaws, polar bears are carried on ice fields from the north all the way to Iceland. But never mind that. Here we are at the top of Snæfell. There are two peaks, one to the north and one to the south. Hans will tell us the name of the peak we are standing on."

The question being put, Hans replied:

When the question was asked, Hans replied:

"Scartaris."

"Scartaris."

My uncle shot a triumphant glance at me.

My uncle gave me a triumphant look.

"Now for the crater!" he cried.

"Now for the crater!" he shouted.

The crater of Snæfell resembled an inverted cone, the opening of which might be half a league in diameter. Its depth appeared to be about two thousand feet. Imagine the aspect of such a reservoir, brim full and running over with liquid fire amid the rolling thunder. The bottom of the funnel was about 250 feet in circuit, so that the gentle slope allowed its lower brim to be reached without much difficulty. Involuntarily I compared the whole crater to an enormous erected mortar, and the comparison put me in a terrible fright.

The crater of Snæfell looked like an upside-down cone. Its opening was perhaps half a league across, and it appeared to be about two thousand feet deep. Imagine what it would look like, filled to the brim and overflowing with liquid fire amid rolling thunder. The bottom of the funnel was about 250 feet around. The slope was gentle, so we could reach the bottom edge without much difficulty. Without meaning to, I compared the whole crater to an enormous upright mortar. The comparison filled me with terror.

"What madness," I thought, "to go down into a mortar, perhaps a loaded mortar, to be shot up into the air at a moment's notice!"

"What madness," I thought, "to go down into a mortar, perhaps a loaded one, and be shot into the air at any moment!"

But I did not try to back out of it. Hans with perfect coolness resumed the lead, and I followed him without a word.

But I did not try to back out. Hans calmly took the lead again, and I followed him without a word.

In order to facilitate the descent, Hans wound his way down the cone by a spiral path. Our route lay amidst eruptive rocks, some of which, shaken out of their loosened beds, rushed bounding down the abyss, and in their fall awoke echoes remarkable for their loud and well-defined sharpness.

To make the descent easier, Hans followed a spiral path down the cone. Our route led through volcanic rocks. Some rocks came loose and bounded down into the abyss. As they fell, they awakened remarkably loud, sharp echoes.

In certain parts of the cone there were glaciers. Here Hans advanced only with extreme precaution, sounding his way with his iron-pointed pole, to discover any crevasses in it. At particularly dubious passages we were obliged to connect ourselves with each other by a long cord, in order that any man who missed his footing might be held up by his companions. This solid formation was prudent, but did not remove all danger.

There were glaciers in some parts of the cone. Here Hans moved with great care, probing the ice with his iron-tipped pole to find any crevasses. At especially uncertain spots, we had to tie ourselves together with a long rope. That way, if one of us lost his footing, the others could hold him up. This secure arrangement was wise, but it did not remove all danger.

Yet, notwithstanding the difficulties of the descent, down steeps unknown to the guide, the journey was accomplished without accidents, except the loss of a coil of rope, which escaped from the hands of an Icelander, and took the shortest way to the bottom of the abyss.

Yet despite the difficult descent down slopes unknown to the guide, they made the journey without accidents, except for the loss of a coil of rope. It slipped from the hands of an Icelander and took the shortest way to the bottom of the abyss.

At mid-day we arrived. I raised my head and saw straight above me the upper aperture of the cone, framing a bit of sky of very small circumference, but almost perfectly round. Just upon the edge appeared the snowy peak of Saris, standing out sharp and clear against endless space.

We arrived at noon. I raised my head and saw the opening at the top of the cone directly above me. It framed a small, almost perfectly round patch of sky. Just at the edge, the snowy peak of Saris stood out sharply against the endless sky.

At the bottom of the crater were three chimneys, through which, in its eruptions, Snæfell had driven forth fire and lava from its central furnace. Each of these chimneys was a hundred feet in diameter. They gaped before us right in our path. I had not the courage to look down either of them. But Professor Liedenbrock had hastily surveyed all three; he was panting, running from one to the other, gesticulating, and uttering incoherent expressions. Hans and his comrades, seated upon loose lava rocks, looked at him with as much wonder as they knew how to express, and perhaps taking him for an escaped lunatic.

At the bottom of the crater were three chimneys. During eruptions, Snæfell had sent fire and lava through them from its central furnace. Each chimney was a hundred feet across. They gaped before us, directly in our path. I did not have the courage to look down any of them. But Professor Liedenbrock had quickly examined all three. He was panting, running from one to another, waving his arms, and speaking incoherently. Hans and his companions sat on loose lava rocks, looking at him with as much wonder as they could express. Perhaps they took him for an escaped lunatic.

Suddenly my uncle uttered a cry. I thought his foot must have slipped and that he had fallen down one of the holes. But, no; I saw him, with arms outstretched and legs straddling wide apart, erect before a granite rock that stood in the centre of the crater, just like a pedestal made ready to receive a statue of Pluto. He stood like a man stupefied, but the stupefaction soon gave way to delirious rapture.

Suddenly, my uncle cried out. I thought his foot had slipped and he had fallen down one of the holes. But no, I saw him standing upright, with his arms outstretched and his legs spread wide. He stood before a granite rock in the center of the crater. It looked just like a pedestal ready for a statue of Pluto. He stood there, stunned, but his shock soon gave way to wild delight.

"Axel, Axel," he cried. "Come, come!"

"Axel, Axel," he shouted. "Come, come!"

I ran. Hans and the Icelanders never stirred.

I ran. Hans and the Icelanders didn't move.

"Look!" cried the Professor.

"Look!" cried the Professor.

And, sharing his astonishment, but I think not his joy, I read on the western face of the block, in Runic characters, half mouldered away with lapse of ages, this thrice-accursed name:

I shared his astonishment, but I don't think I shared his joy. On the western face of the block, I read this thrice-cursed name. It was written in Runic characters, half worn away by the passing ages:

[At this point a Runic text appears]

[At this point, a Runic text appears]

"Arne Saknussemm!" replied my uncle. "Do you yet doubt?"

"Arne Saknussemm!" my uncle replied. "Do you still doubt it?"

I made no answer; and I returned in silence to my lava seat in a state of utter speechless consternation. Here was crushing evidence.

I said nothing. I returned to my lava seat in silence, too stunned to speak. The evidence was crushing.

How long I remained plunged in agonizing reflections I cannot tell; all that I know is, that on raising my head again, I saw only my uncle and Hans at the bottom of the crater. The Icelanders had been dismissed, and they were now descending the outer slopes of Snæfell to return to Stapi.

I cannot say how long I remained lost in agonizing thoughts. All I know is that when I looked up, I saw only my uncle and Hans at the bottom of the crater. The Icelanders had been dismissed and were descending the outer slopes of Snæfell on their way back to Stapi.

Hans slept peaceably at the foot of a rock, in a lava bed, where he had found a suitable couch for himself; but my uncle was pacing around the bottom of the crater like a wild beast in a cage. I had neither the wish nor the strength to rise, and following the guide's example I went off into an unhappy slumber, fancying I could hear ominous noises or feel tremblings within the recesses of the mountain.

Hans slept peacefully at the foot of a rock in a bed of lava, where he had found a comfortable place to lie down. But my uncle paced around the bottom of the crater like a wild beast in a cage. I had neither the desire nor the strength to get up. So, following the guide's example, I fell into an uneasy sleep. I imagined I could hear ominous noises and feel tremors deep inside the mountain.

Thus the first night in the crater passed away.

And so the first night in the crater passed.

The next morning, a grey, heavy, cloudy sky seemed to droop over the summit of the cone. I did not know this first from the appearances of nature, but I found it out by my uncle's impetuous wrath.

The next morning, a heavy gray sky seemed to hang low over the top of the cone. I did not first notice the weather myself, but learned of it from my uncle's sudden anger.

I soon found out the cause, and hope dawned again in my heart. For this reason.

I soon discovered the cause, and hope returned to my heart. Here is why.

Of the three ways open before us, one had been taken by Saknussemm. The indications of the learned Icelander hinted at in the cryptogram, pointed to this fact that the shadow of Scartaris came to touch that particular way during the latter days of the month of June.

Of the three paths before us, Saknussemm had taken one. The learned Icelander’s clues in the cryptogram pointed to that path. In the last days of June, Scartaris’s shadow touched it.

That sharp peak might hence be considered as the gnomon of a vast sun dial, the shadow projected from which on a certain day would point out the road to the centre of the earth.

The sharp peak could therefore be seen as the pointer of a giant sundial. On a certain day, its shadow would point the way to the centre of the earth.

Now, no sun no shadow, and therefore no guide. Here was June 25. If the sun was clouded for six days we must postpone our visit till next year.

Without sun, there would be no shadow, and therefore no guide. It was June 25. If clouds hid the sun for six days, we would have to postpone our visit until next year.

My limited powers of description would fail, were I to attempt a picture of the Professor's angry impatience. The day wore on, and no shadow came to lay itself along the bottom of the crater. Hans did not move from the spot he had selected; yet he must be asking himself what were we waiting for, if he asked himself anything at all. My uncle spoke not a word to me. His gaze, ever directed upwards, was lost in the grey and misty space beyond.

I could never adequately describe the Professor’s angry impatience. The day wore on, and no shadow fell across the bottom of the crater. Hans did not move from the spot he had chosen. Yet he must have been wondering what we were waiting for, if he was wondering about anything at all. My uncle said nothing to me. He kept looking upward, his gaze lost in the grey, misty space above.

On the 26th nothing yet. Rain mingled with snow was falling all day long. Hans built a hut of pieces of lava. I felt a malicious pleasure in watching the thousand rills and cascades that came tumbling down the sides of the cone, and the deafening continuous din awaked by every stone against which they bounded.

On the 26th, still nothing. Rain mixed with snow fell all day. Hans built a hut from pieces of lava. I took a malicious pleasure in watching the countless streams and waterfalls tumble down the sides of the cone. They made a continuous, deafening din as they struck every stone in their path.

My uncle's rage knew no bounds. It was enough to irritate a meeker man than he; for it was foundering almost within the port.

My uncle’s rage knew no bounds. Even a calmer man would have been irritated, for it was like sinking just before reaching port.

But Heaven never sends unmixed grief, and for Professor Liedenbrock there was a satisfaction in store proportioned to his desperate anxieties.

But Heaven never sends grief without some comfort. Professor Liedenbrock would find satisfaction as great as his desperate anxiety.

The next day the sky was again overcast; but on the 29th of June, the last day but one of the month, with the change of the moon came a change of weather. The sun poured a flood of light down the crater. Every hillock, every rock and stone, every projecting surface, had its share of the beaming torrent, and threw its shadow on the ground. Amongst them all, Scartaris laid down his sharp-pointed angular shadow which began to move slowly in the opposite direction to that of the radiant orb.

The next day the sky was overcast again. But on June 29, the second-to-last day of the month, the weather changed with the moon. Sunlight flooded the crater. Every hillock, rock, stone, and projecting surface caught some of the brilliant light and cast a shadow on the ground. Among them all, Scartaris cast its sharp, angular shadow. The shadow began to move slowly in the opposite direction from the sun.

My uncle turned too, and followed it.

My uncle turned too and followed it.

At noon, being at its least extent, it came and softly fell upon the edge of the middle chimney.

At noon, when it was at its shortest, it gently fell on the edge of the middle chimney.

"There it is! there it is!" shouted the Professor.

"There it is! There it is!" shouted the Professor.

"Now for the centre of the globe!" he added in Danish.

"Now for the center of the Earth!" he added in Danish.

I looked at Hans, to hear what he would say.

I looked at Hans to hear what he would say.

"Forüt!" was his tranquil answer.

"Forüt!" he answered calmly.

"Forward!" replied my uncle.

"Forward!" my uncle replied.

It was thirteen minutes past one.

It was 1:13.