“You see, the whole island is made up of volcanoes,” my uncle said. “Notice that they are all called Yocul. It is an Icelandic word meaning ‘glacier.’ In that part of the world, many of the highest mountains are volcanoes hidden beneath ice. That is why so many of them have this name.”
“But what does ‘Sneffels’ mean?” I asked.
I expected him to have no sensible answer. I was wrong.
“Follow my finger to the west coast of Iceland. There you can see Reykjavik, the capital. Now follow one of those many narrow arms of the sea. Look just below the sixty-fifth parallel. What do you see?”
“A peninsula. It looks a little like a thighbone.”
“And what is in the middle of it?”
“A mountain.”
“That mountain is Sneffels.”
I had nothing to say.
“Sneffels is about five thousand feet high. It is one of the most remarkable mountains in Iceland, and it is destined to become the most famous mountain in the world. Through its crater, we shall reach the center of the earth.”
“Impossible!” I cried, shocked by the very idea.
“Why is it impossible?” Professor Hardwigg demanded sternly.
“Because its crater is filled with lava and surrounded by burning rocks and countless dangers.”
“But what if the volcano is extinct?”
“That would certainly make a difference.”
“Of course it would. There are about three hundred volcanoes on the surface of the earth, but most of them are extinct. Sneffels is one of them. It has not erupted since 1219. In fact, it has not behaved like a volcano for centuries.”
I could think of nothing to say to that. Then another question occurred to me.
“But what about Scartaris and the kalends of July? What does that part of the message mean?”
My uncle became silent and thought deeply. At last, he gave me his answer in his usual confident tone.
“What seems mysterious to you is perfectly clear to me. That sentence shows how carefully Saknussemm gave his instructions. Sneffels has several craters, so he had to tell us exactly which one leads into the interior of the earth. He tells us that near the end of June, the shadow of Mount Scartaris falls directly upon the correct crater. There can be no mistake.”
My uncle always seemed to have an answer ready.
“I accept your explanation,” I said. “Saknussemm certainly found the entrance to the earth and described it correctly. But to suppose that he—or anyone else—actually followed that path is madness.”
“Why, young man?”
“Because everything we know from science, both theory and experiment, tells us that it is impossible.”
“I care nothing for theories,” my uncle replied.
“But surely it is well known that the temperature rises about one degree for every seventy feet we descend into the earth. Just imagine what the temperature must be at the center. The materials that make up the earth must be burning hot. Even gold, platinum, and the hardest rocks would be melted. How could we possibly survive?”
“Do not worry about the heat, my boy.”
“How can I not worry?”
“Because neither you nor anyone else knows what the inside of the earth is really like. Modern experiments are constantly destroying old theories. If the earth were truly as hot inside as you imagine, its outer crust would have been blown apart long ago, and the whole world would have been destroyed.”
We continued our long discussion for quite some time. It was serious, but not without interest.
At last my uncle said, “I do not believe in all the dangers and difficulties you keep imagining, Henry. There is only one way to find out the truth. We must do what Arne Saknussemm did. We must go there and see for ourselves.”
“All right!” I cried, finally giving in. “Let us go and see. But how are we supposed to find our way in complete darkness? That is another mystery.”
“Do not be afraid. We shall overcome that difficulty, just as we shall overcome the others. Besides, as we get closer to the center of the earth, I expect that we shall find some light there.”
“Nothing is impossible,” I said.
“Exactly. And now that we understand each other, remember this: not a word to anyone. Our success depends on secrecy and speed.”
That was the end of our remarkable conversation.
But it left me in a fever of excitement.
I left my uncle and wandered outside as if I were in a dream. When I reached the banks of the Elbe, I finally had time to think.
Could everything I had just heard really be possible?
Was my uncle completely sane?
Could a person truly reach the inside of the earth?
Was I being dragged into the wild scheme of a madman, or was my uncle actually a brave explorer about to make a discovery unlike anything the world had ever seen?
For a while, I actually wanted to leave at once. I was afraid that if I waited, my courage would disappear. I decided to go home and pack immediately.
But after an hour, my feelings had completely changed.
“I must be out of my mind,” I muttered. “It is nothing but a nightmare. I must have dreamed the whole thing.”
Just then, I met Gretchen.
I threw my arms around her and hugged her warmly.
“So you came to meet me,” she said. “How sweet of you. But what is wrong?”
There was no point hiding anything from her. I told her everything.
She listened in complete amazement. When I finished, she was silent for several moments.
“Well?” I asked nervously.
“What a magnificent adventure!” she finally exclaimed. “If only I were a man! What a journey—and what a journey for the nephew of Professor Hardwigg. I would consider it an honor to go with him.”
“My dear Gretchen, I thought you would be the first person to object to such a crazy expedition.”
“Not at all. Quite the opposite. I am proud of it. It is magnificent. It is extraordinary. It is exactly the kind of idea my father would have loved.”
Then she smiled at me.
“Henry Lawson, I envy you.”
That settled everything.
Her words gave me the final push I needed.
When we returned to the house, we found my uncle surrounded by workers and porters. Everyone was busy packing.
My uncle was pulling furiously on the bell rope.
“Where have you been wasting your time?” he shouted. “Your luggage isn’t packed! My papers aren’t organized! The tailor hasn’t brought my clothes or my gaiters! And where is the key to my traveling bag?”
I could only stare at him.
He kept yanking the bell.
“So we really are going?” I asked.
“Of course we are! And you have gone out for a leisurely walk, you foolish boy!”
“When do we leave?”
“The day after tomorrow, at dawn.”
I barely heard the rest.
I rushed to my little bedroom, locked the door, and stood there in silence.
There was no doubt about it anymore.
My uncle had spent the entire afternoon preparing for the expedition.
The garden was already filled with ropes, rope ladders, torches, water bottles, iron clamps, crowbars, climbing poles, and pickaxes.
There was enough equipment to load ten men.
That night, I barely slept.
Early the next morning, I was told that my uncle had not changed his mind. His decision was final.
To my surprise, I also discovered that Gretchen was just as enthusiastic about the expedition as her father.
The following morning, at five o’clock, the post carriage was waiting outside the house.
Gretchen and the old cook took charge of the house keys.
We barely had time to say our good-byes.
Then we set off on our extraordinary journey—the journey that would take us into the very center of the earth.