home | authors | books | about

Home -> Jules Verne -> A Journey to the Center of the Earth -> Chapter 12

A Journey to the Center of the Earth - Chapter 12

1. Preface

2. Chapter 1

3. Chapter 2

4. Chapter 3

5. Chapter 4

6. Chapter 5

7. Chapter 6

8. Chapter 7

9. Chapter 8

10. Chapter 9

11. Chapter 10

12. Chapter 11

13. Chapter 12

14. Chapter 13

15. Chapter 14

16. Chapter 15

17. Chapter 16

18. Chapter 17

19. Chapter 18

20. Chapter 19

21. Chapter 20

22. Chapter 21

23. Chapter 22

24. Chapter 23

25. Chapter 24

26. Chapter 25

27. Chapter 26

28. Chapter 27

29. Chapter 28

30. Chapter 29

31. Chapter 30

32. Chapter 31

33. Chapter 32

34. Chapter 33

35. Chapter 34

36. Chapter 35

37. Chapter 36

38. Chapter 37

39. Chapter 38

40. Chapter 39

41. Chapter 40

42. Chapter 41

43. Chapter 42

44. Chapter 43

45. Chapter 44

46. Chapter 45



We had started under a sky overcast but calm. There was no fear of
heat, none of disastrous rain. It was just the weather for tourists.

The pleasure of riding on horseback over an unknown country made me
easy to be pleased at our first start. I threw myself wholly into the
pleasure of the trip, and enjoyed the feeling of freedom and
satisfied desire. I was beginning to take a real share in the

"Besides," I said to myself, "where's the risk? Here we are
travelling all through a most interesting country! We are about to
climb a very remarkable mountain; at the worst we are going to
scramble down an extinct crater. It is evident that Saknussemm did
nothing more than this. As for a passage leading to the centre of the
globe, it is mere rubbish! perfectly impossible! Very well, then; let
us get all the good we can out of this expedition, and don't let us
haggle about the chances."

This reasoning having settled my mind, we got out of Rejkiavik.

Hans moved steadily on, keeping ahead of us at an even, smooth, and
rapid pace. The baggage horses followed him without giving any
trouble. Then came my uncle and myself, looking not so very
ill-mounted on our small but hardy animals.

Iceland is one of the largest islands in Europe. Its surface is
14,000 square miles, and it contains but 16,000 inhabitants.
Geographers have divided it into four quarters, and we were crossing
diagonally the south-west quarter, called the 'Sudvester Fjordungr.'

On leaving Rejkiavik Hans took us by the seashore. We passed lean
pastures which were trying very hard, but in vain, to look green;
yellow came out best. The rugged peaks of the trachyte rocks
presented faint outlines on the eastern horizon; at times a few
patches of snow, concentrating the vague light, glittered upon the
slopes of the distant mountains; certain peaks, boldly uprising,
passed through the grey clouds, and reappeared above the moving
mists, like breakers emerging in the heavens.

Often these chains of barren rocks made a dip towards the sea, and
encroached upon the scanty pasturage: but there was always enough
room to pass. Besides, our horses instinctively chose the easiest
places without ever slackening their pace. My uncle was refused even
the satisfaction of stirring up his beast with whip or voice. He had
no excuse for being impatient. I could not help smiling to see so
tall a man on so small a pony, and as his long legs nearly touched
the ground he looked like a six-legged centaur.

"Good horse! good horse!" he kept saying. "You will see, Axel, that
there is no more sagacious animal than the Icelandic horse. He is
stopped by neither snow, nor storm, nor impassable roads, nor rocks,
glaciers, or anything. He is courageous, sober, and surefooted. He
never makes a false step, never shies. If there is a river or fiord
to cross (and we shall meet with many) you will see him plunge in at
once, just as if he were amphibious, and gain the opposite bank. But
we must not hurry him; we must let him have his way, and we shall get
on at the rate of thirty miles a day."

"We may; but how about our guide?"

"Oh, never mind him. People like him get over the ground without a
thought. There is so little action in this man that he will never get
tired; and besides, if he wants it, he shall have my horse. I shall
get cramped if I don't have a little action. The arms are all right,
but the legs want exercise."

We were advancing at a rapid pace. The country was already almost a
desert. Here and there was a lonely farm, called a boer built either
of wood, or of sods, or of pieces of lava, looking like a poor beggar
by the wayside. These ruinous huts seemed to solicit charity from
passers-by; and on very small provocation we should have given alms
for the relief of the poor inmates. In this country there were no
roads and paths, and the poor vegetation, however slow, would soon
efface the rare travellers' footsteps.

Yet this part of the province, at a very small distance from the
capital, is reckoned among the inhabited and cultivated portions of
Iceland. What, then, must other tracts be, more desert than this
desert? In the first half mile we had not seen one farmer standing
before his cabin door, nor one shepherd tending a flock less wild
than himself, nothing but a few cows and sheep left to themselves.
What then would be those convulsed regions upon which we were
advancing, regions subject to the dire phenomena of eruptions, the
offspring of volcanic explosions and subterranean convulsions?

We were to know them before long, but on consulting Olsen's map, I
saw that they would be avoided by winding along the seashore. In
fact, the great plutonic action is confined to the central portion of
the island; there, rocks of the trappean and volcanic class,
including trachyte, basalt, and tuffs and agglomerates associated
with streams of lava, have made this a land of supernatural horrors.
I had no idea of the spectacle which was awaiting us in the peninsula
of Snaefell, where these ruins of a fiery nature have formed a
frightful chaos.

In two hours from Rejkiavik we arrived at the burgh of Gufunes,
called Aolkirkja, or principal church. There was nothing remarkable
here but a few houses, scarcely enough for a German hamlet.

Hans stopped here half an hour. He shared with us our frugal
breakfast; answering my uncle's questions about the road and our
resting place that night with merely yes or no, except when he said

I consulted the map to see where Gardar was. I saw there was a small
town of that name on the banks of the Hvalfiord, four miles from
Rejkiavik. I showed it to my uncle.

"Four miles only!" he exclaimed; "four miles out of twenty-eight.
What a nice little walk!"

He was about to make an observation to the guide, who without
answering resumed his place at the head, and went on his way.

Three hours later, still treading on the colourless grass of the
pasture land, we had to work round the Kolla fiord, a longer way but
an easier one than across that inlet. We soon entered into a
'pingstaoer' or parish called Ejulberg, from whose steeple twelve
o'clock would have struck, if Icelandic churches were rich enough to
possess clocks. But they are like the parishioners who have no
watches and do without.

There our horses were baited; then taking the narrow path to left
between a chain of hills and the sea, they carried us to our next
stage, the aolkirkja of Brantar and one mile farther on, to Saurboer
'Annexia,' a chapel of ease built on the south shore of the Hvalfiord.

It was now four o'clock, and we had gone four Icelandic miles, or
twenty-four English miles.

In that place the fiord was at least three English miles wide; the
waves rolled with a rushing din upon the sharp-pointed rocks; this
inlet was confined between walls of rock, precipices crowned by sharp
peaks 2,000 feet high, and remarkable for the brown strata which
separated the beds of reddish tuff. However much I might respect the
intelligence of our quadrupeds, I hardly cared to put it to the test
by trusting myself to it on horseback across an arm of the sea.

If they are as intelligent as they are said to be, I thought, they
won't try it. In any case, I will tax my intelligence to direct

But my uncle would not wait. He spurred on to the edge. His steed
lowered his head to examine the nearest waves and stopped. My uncle,
who had an instinct of his own, too, applied pressure, and was again
refused by the animal significantly shaking his head. Then followed
strong language, and the whip; but the brute answered these arguments
with kicks and endeavours to throw his rider. At last the clever
little pony, with a bend of his knees, started from under the
Professor's legs, and left him standing upon two boulders on the
shore just like the colossus of Rhodes.

"Confounded brute!" cried the unhorsed horseman, suddenly degraded
into a pedestrian, just as ashamed as a cavalry officer degraded to a
foot soldier.

"FARJA," said the guide, touching his shoulder.

"What! a boat?"

"DER," replied Hans, pointing to one.

"Yes," I cried; "there is a boat."

"Why did not you say so then? Well, let us go on."

"TIDVATTEN," said the guide.

"What is he saying?"

"He says tide," said my uncle, translating the Danish word.

"No doubt we must wait for the tide."

"FORBIDA," said my uncle.

"JA," replied Hans.

My uncle stamped with his foot, while the horses went on to the boat.

I perfectly understood the necessity of abiding a particular moment
of the tide to undertake the crossing of the fiord, when, the sea
having reached its greatest height, it should be slack water. Then
the ebb and flow have no sensible effect, and the boat does not risk
being carried either to the bottom or out to sea.

That favourable moment arrived only with six o'clock; when my uncle,
myself, the guide, two other passengers and the four horses, trusted
ourselves to a somewhat fragile raft. Accustomed as I was to the
swift and sure steamers on the Elbe, I found the oars of the rowers
rather a slow means of propulsion. It took us more than an hour to
cross the fiord; but the passage was effected without any mishap.

In another half hour we had reached the aolkirkja of Gardar.

© Art Branch Inc. | English Dictionary