Voyage au centre de la terre. English

by Jules Verne

  CHAPTER XII.

  A BARREN LAND

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

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

  "Besides," I said to myself, "where's the risk? Here we aretravelling all through a most interesting country! We are about toclimb a very remarkable mountain; at the worst we are going toscramble down an extinct crater. It is evident that Saknussemm didnothing more than this. As for a passage leading to the centre of theglobe, it is mere rubbish! perfectly impossible! Very well, then; letus get all the good we can out of this expedition, and don't let ushaggle 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, andrapid pace. The baggage horses followed him without giving anytrouble. Then came my uncle and myself, looking not so veryill-mounted on our small but hardy animals.

  Iceland is one of the largest islands in Europe. Its surface is14,000 square miles, and it contains but 16,000 inhabitants.Geographers have divided it into four quarters, and we were crossingdiagonally the south-west quarter, called the 'Sudvester Fjordungr.'

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

  Often these chains of barren rocks made a dip towards the sea, andencroached upon the scanty pasturage: but there was always enoughroom to pass. Besides, our horses instinctively chose the easiestplaces without ever slackening their pace. My uncle was refused eventhe satisfaction of stirring up his beast with whip or voice. He hadno excuse for being impatient. I could not help smiling to see sotall a man on so small a pony, and as his long legs nearly touchedthe ground he looked like a six-legged centaur.

  "Good horse! good horse!" he kept saying. "You will see, Axel, thatthere is no more sagacious animal than the Icelandic horse. He isstopped by neither snow, nor storm, nor impassable roads, nor rocks,glaciers, or anything. He is courageous, sober, and surefooted. Henever makes a false step, never shies. If there is a river or fiordto cross (and we shall meet with many) you will see him plunge in atonce, just as if he were amphibious, and gain the opposite bank. Butwe must not hurry him; we must let him have his way, and we shall geton 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 athought. There is so little action in this man that he will never gettired; and besides, if he wants it, he shall have my horse. I shallget 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 adesert. Here and there was a lonely farm, called a boer built eitherof wood, or of sods, or of pieces of lava, looking like a poor beggarby the wayside. These ruinous huts seemed to solicit charity frompassers-by; and on very small provocation we should have given almsfor the relief of the poor inmates. In this country there were noroads and paths, and the poor vegetation, however slow, would soonefface the rare travellers' footsteps.

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

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

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

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

  I consulted the map to see where Gardaer was. I saw there was a smalltown of that name on the banks of the Hvalfiord, four miles fromRejkiavik. 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 withoutanswering resumed his place at the head, and went on his way.

  Three hours later, still treading on the colourless grass of thepasture land, we had to work round the Kolla fiord, a longer way butan easier one than across that inlet. We soon entered into a'pingstaoer' or parish called Ejulberg, from whose steeple twelveo'clock would have struck, if Icelandic churches were rich enough topossess clocks. But they are like the parishioners who have nowatches and do without.

  There our horses were baited; then taking the narrow path to leftbetween a chain of hills and the sea, they carried us to our nextstage, the aolkirkja of Brantaer 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, ortwenty-four English miles.

  In that place the fiord was at least three English miles wide; thewaves rolled with a rushing din upon the sharp-pointed rocks; thisinlet was confined between walls of rock, precipices crowned by sharppeaks 2,000 feet high, and remarkable for the brown strata whichseparated the beds of reddish tuff. However much I might respect theintelligence of our quadrupeds, I hardly cared to put it to the testby 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, theywon't try it. In any case, I will tax my intelligence to directtheirs.

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

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

  "_Faerja,_" 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."

  "_Foerbida,_" 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 momentof the tide to undertake the crossing of the fiord, when, the seahaving reached its greatest height, it should be slack water. Thenthe ebb and flow have no sensible effect, and the boat does not riskbeing 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, trustedourselves to a somewhat fragile raft. Accustomed as I was to theswift and sure steamers on the Elbe, I found the oars of the rowersrather a slow means of propulsion. It took us more than an hour tocross the fiord; but the passage was effected without any mishap.

  In another half hour we had reached the aolkirkja of Gardaer