TOTAL FAILURE OF WATER
This time the descent commenced by the new gallery. Hans walked first
as was his custom.
We had not gone a hundred yards when the Professor, moving his
lantern along the walls, cried:
"Here are primitive rocks. Now we are in the right way. Forward!"
When in its early stages the earth was slowly cooling, its
contraction gave rise in its crust to disruptions, distortions,
fissures, and chasms. The passage through which we were moving was
such a fissure, through which at one time granite poured out in a
molten state. Its thousands of windings formed an inextricable
labyrinth through the primeval mass.
As fast as we descended, the succession of beds forming the primitive
foundation came out with increasing distinctness. Geologists consider
this primitive matter to be the base of the mineral crust of the
earth, and have ascertained it to be composed of three different
formations, schist, gneiss, and mica schist, resting upon that
unchangeable foundation, the granite.
Never had mineralogists found themselves in so marvellous a situation
to study nature in situ. What the boring machine, an insensible,
inert instrument, was unable to bring to the surface of the inner
structure of the globe, we were able to peruse with our own eyes and
handle with our own hands.
Through the beds of schist, coloured with delicate shades of green,
ran in winding course threads of copper and manganese, with traces of
platinum and gold. I thought, what riches are here buried at an
unapproachable depth in the earth, hidden for ever from the covetous
eyes of the human race! These treasures have been buried at such a
profound depth by the convulsions of primeval times that they run no
chance of ever being molested by the pickaxe or the spade.
To the schists succeeded gneiss, partially stratified, remarkable for
the parallelism and regularity of its lamina, then mica schists, laid
in large plates or flakes, revealing their lamellated structure by
the sparkle of the white shining mica.
The light from our apparatus, reflected from the small facets of
quartz, shot sparkling rays at every angle, and I seemed to be moving
through a diamond, within which the quickly darting rays broke across
each other in a thousand flashing coruscations.
About six o'clock this brilliant fete of illuminations underwent a
sensible abatement of splendour, then almost ceased. The walls
assumed a crystallised though sombre appearance; mica was more
closely mingled with the feldspar and quartz to form the proper rocky
foundations of the earth, which bears without distortion or crushing
the weight of the four terrestrial systems. We were immured within
prison walls of granite.
It was eight in the evening. No signs of water had yet appeared. I
was suffering horribly. My uncle strode on. He refused to stop. He
was listening anxiously for the murmur of distant springs. But, no,
there was dead silence.
And now my limbs were failing beneath me. I resisted pain and
torture, that I might not stop my uncle, which would have driven him
to despair, for the day was drawing near to its end, and it was his
At last I failed utterly; I uttered a cry and fell.
"Come to me, I am dying."
My uncle retraced his steps. He gazed upon me with his arms crossed;
then these muttered words passed his lips:
"It's all over!"
The last thing I saw was a fearful gesture of rage, and my eyes
When I reopened them I saw my two companions motionless and rolled up
in their coverings. Were they asleep? As for me, I could not get one
moment's sleep. I was suffering too keenly, and what embittered my
thoughts was that there was no remedy. My uncle's last words echoed
painfully in my ears: "it's all over!" For in such a fearful state of
debility it was madness to think of ever reaching the upper world
We had above us a league and a half of terrestrial crust. The weight
of it seemed to be crushing down upon my shoulders. I felt weighed
down, and I exhausted myself with imaginary violent exertions to turn
round upon my granite couch.
A few hours passed away. A deep silence reigned around us, the
silence of the grave. No sound could reach us through walls, the
thinnest of which were five miles thick.
Yet in the midst of my stupefaction I seemed to be aware of a noise.
It was dark down the tunnel, but I seemed to see the Icelander
vanishing from our sight with the lamp in his hand.
Why was he leaving us? Was Hans going to forsake us? My uncle was
fast asleep. I wanted to shout, but my voice died upon my parched and
swollen lips. The darkness became deeper, and the last sound died
away in the far distance.
"Hans has abandoned us," I cried. "Hans! Hans!"
But these words were only spoken within me. They went no farther. Yet
after the first moment of terror I felt ashamed of suspecting a man
of such extraordinary faithfulness. Instead of ascending he was
descending the gallery. An evil design would have taken him up not
down. This reflection restored me to calmness, and I turned to other
thoughts. None but some weighty motive could have induced so quiet a
man to forfeit his sleep. Was he on a journey of discovery? Had he
during the silence of the night caught a sound, a murmuring of
something in the distance, which had failed to affect my hearing?