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.
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.
"There it is! there it is!" shouted the Professor.
"Now for the centre of the globe!" he added in Danish.
I looked at Hans, to hear what he would say.
"_Forüt!_" was his tranquil answer.
"Forward!" replied my uncle.
It was thirteen minutes past one.
CHAPTER XVII.
VERTICAL DESCENT
Now began our real journey. Hitherto our toil had overcome all
difficulties, now difficulties would spring up at every step.
I had not yet ventured to look down the bottomless pit into which I
was about to take a plunge. The supreme hour had come. I might now
either share in the enterprise or refuse to move forward. But I was
ashamed to recoil in the presence of the hunter. Hans accepted the
enterprise with such calmness, such indifference, such perfect
disregard of any possible danger that I blushed at the idea of being
less brave than he. If I had been alone I might have once more tried
the effect of argument; but in the presence of the guide I held my
peace; my heart flew back to my sweet Virlandaise, and I approached
the central chimney.
I have already mentioned that it was a hundred feet in diameter, and
three hundred feet round. I bent over a projecting rock and gazed
down. My hair stood on end with terror. The bewildering feeling of
vacuity laid hold upon me. I felt my centre of gravity shifting its
place, and giddiness mounting into my brain like drunkenness. There
is nothing more treacherous than this attraction down deep abysses. I
was just about to drop down, when a hand laid hold of me. It was that
of Hans. I suppose I had not taken as many lessons on gulf
exploration as I ought to have done in the Frelsers Kirk at
Copenhagen.
But, however short was my examination of this well, I had taken some
account of its conformation. Its almost perpendicular walls were
bristling with innumerable projections which would facilitate the
descent. But if there was no want of steps, still there was no rail.
A rope fastened to the edge of the aperture might have helped us
down. But how were we to unfasten it, when arrived at the other end?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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