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The Greatest Sci-Fi Classics. Эдгар Аллан По
Читать онлайн.Название The Greatest Sci-Fi Classics
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isbn 9788027248124
Автор произведения Эдгар Аллан По
Жанр Языкознание
Издательство Bookwire
“But do tell me what time it is, and what day.”
“It is Sunday, the 8th of August, and it is ten at night. You must ask me no more questions until the 10th.”
In truth I was very weak, and my eyes involuntarily closed. I wanted a good night’s rest; and I therefore went off to sleep, with the knowledge that I had been four long days alone in the heart of the earth.
Next morning, on awakening, I looked round me. My couch, made up of all our travelling gear, was in a charming grotto, adorned with splendid stalactites, and the soil of which was a fine sand. It was half light. There was no torch, no lamp, yet certain mysterious glimpses of light came from without through a narrow opening in the grotto. I heard too a vague and indistinct noise, something like the murmuring of waves breaking upon a shingly shore, and at times I seemed to hear the whistling of wind.
I wondered whether I was awake, whether I dreaming, whether my brain, crazed by my fall, was not affected by imaginary noises. Yet neither eyes, nor ears could be so utterly deceived.
It is a ray of daylight, I thought, sliding in through this cleft in the rock! That is indeed the murmuring of waves! That is the rustling noise of wind. Am I quite mistaken, or have we returned to the surface of the earth? Has my uncle given up the expedition, or is it happily terminated?
I was asking myself these unanswerable questions when the Professor entered.
“Good morning, Axel,” he cried cheerily. “I feel sure you are better.”
“Yes, I am indeed,” said I, sitting up on my couch.
“You can hardly fail to be better, for you have slept quietly. Hans and I watched you by turns, and we have noticed you were evidently recovering.”
“Indeed, I do feel a great deal better, and I will give you a proof of that presently if you will let me have my breakfast.”
“You shall eat, lad. The fever has left you. Hans rubbed your wounds with some ointment or other of which the Icelanders keep the secret, and they have healed marvellously. Our hunter is a splendid fellow!”
Whilst he went on talking, my uncle prepared a few provisions, which I devoured eagerly, notwithstanding his advice to the contrary. All the while I was overwhelming him with questions which he answered readily.
I then learnt that my providential fall had brought me exactly to the extremity of an almost perpendicular shaft; and as I had landed in the midst of an accompanying torrent of stones, the least of which would have been enough to crush me, the conclusion was that a loose portion of the rock had come down with me. This frightful conveyance had thus carried me into the arms of my uncle, where I fell bruised, bleeding, and insensible.
“Truly it is wonderful that you have not been killed a hundred times over. But, for the love of God, don’t let us ever separate again, or we many never see each other more.”
“Not separate! Is the journey not over, then?” I opened a pair of astonished eyes, which immediately called for the question:
“What is the matter, Axel?”
“I have a question to ask you. You say that I am safe and sound?”
“No doubt you are.”
“And all my limbs unbroken?”
“Certainly.”
“And my head?”
“Your head, except for a few bruises, is all right; and it is on your shoulders, where it ought to be.”
“Well, I am afraid my brain is affected.”
“Your mind affected!”
“Yes, I fear so. Are we again on the surface of the globe?”
“No, certainly not.”
“Then I must be mad; for don’t I see the light of day, and don’t I hear the wind blowing, and the sea breaking on the shore?”
“Ah! is that all?”
“Do tell me all about it.”
“I can’t explain the inexplicable, but you will soon see and understand that geology has not yet learnt all it has to learn.”
“Then let us go,” I answered quickly.
“No, Axel; the open air might be bad for you.”
“Open air?”
“Yes; the wind is rather strong. You must not expose yourself.”
“But I assure you I am perfectly well.”
“A little patience, my nephew. A relapse might get us into trouble, and we have no time to lose, for the voyage may be a long one.”
“The voyage!”
“Yes, rest to-day, and tomorrow we will set sail.”
“Set sail!” - and I almost leaped up.
What did it all mean? Had we a river, a lake, a sea to depend upon? Was there a ship at our disposal in some underground harbour?
My curiosity was highly excited, my uncle vainly tried to restrain me. When he saw that my impatience was doing me harm, he yielded.
I dressed in haste. For greater safety I wrapped myself in a blanket, and came out of the grotto.
Chapter XXX.
A New Mare Internum
At first I could hardly see anything. My eyes, unaccustomed to the light, quickly closed. When I was able to reopen them, I stood more stupefied even than surprised.
“The sea!” I cried.
“Yes,” my uncle replied, “the Liedenbrock Sea; and I don’t suppose any other discoverer will ever dispute my claim to name it after myself as its first discoverer.”
A vast sheet of water, the commencement of a lake or an ocean, spread far away beyond the range of the eye, reminding me forcibly of that open sea which drew from Xenophon’s ten thousand Greeks, after their long retreat, the simultaneous cry, “Thalatta! thalatta!” the sea! the sea! The deeply indented shore was lined with a breadth of fine shining sand, softly lapped by the waves, and strewn with the small shells which had been inhabited by the first of created beings. The waves broke on this shore with the hollow echoing murmur peculiar to vast inclosed spaces. A light foam flew over the waves before the breath of a moderate breeze, and some of the spray fell upon my face. On this slightly inclining shore, about a hundred fathoms from the limit of the waves, came down the foot of a huge wall of vast cliffs, which rose majestically to an enormous height. Some of these, dividing the beach with their sharp spurs, formed capes and promontories, worn away by the ceaseless action of the surf. Farther on the eye discerned their massive outline sharply defined against the hazy distant horizon.
It was quite an ocean, with the irregular shores of earth, but desert and frightfully wild in appearance.
If my eyes were able to range afar over this great sea, it was because a peculiar light brought to view every detail of it. It was not the light of the sun, with his dazzling shafts of brightness and the splendour of his rays; nor was it the pale and uncertain shimmer of the moonbeams, the dim reflection of a nobler body of light. No; the illuminating power of this light, its trembling diffusiveness, its bright, clear whiteness, and its low temperature, showed that it must be of electric origin. It was like an aurora borealis, a continuous cosmical phenomenon, filling a cavern of sufficient extent to contain an ocean.
The vault that spanned the space above, the sky, if it could be called so, seemed composed of vast plains of cloud, shifting