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The Blog of Axel Lidenbrock : August 28th 1863

From: Harry Hayfield <harryhayfield~at~googlemail.com>
Date: Thu, 28 Aug 2008 13:15:42 +0100
To: "Jules Verne Forum" <jvf~at~gilead.org.il>

BlankFirst of all my profound apologies for that unwarranted outburst at the
end of my last entry. It had been a very long day and seeing that compass
needle point back to the ocean we had just crossed again and again was too
much for me to bear so I apolgise for that outburst. The other reason I
didn't post anything yesterday is because I didn't have the time, so let me
explain what we got up to.

After I made that outburst, I stomped off in a very bad mood and managed (in
my ignorance of the area) trip over something (which didn't improve my
temper at all), I picked the object up and was about to throw it away when
my uncle exclaimed "M. Milne-Edwards! Ah! M. de Quatrefages, how I
wish you were standing here at the side of Otto Liedenbrock!". I thought for
a moment that my uncle had gone mad, but the reason for this statement was
that I was holding a human skull. Now, you may wondering why that would
provoke that comment from my uncle? Well, back in March of this year my
uncle got "involved" for want of a better word, in a very heated discussion
about when man first appeared on the earth. Milne Edwards and de Quatrefages
both agreed with the conventional wisdom that man appeared on the earth in
about 4,000BC or so. My uncle however was of the opinion that that date was
wrong by a couple of million years or so. And seeing as this mass of land
was surface land a couple of million years ago, you can see why my uncle was
getting excited. In fact he was completely overawed by what he found next,
namely a complete primitive skeleton. And that's when he went into what I
call his teaching role:

"Gentlemen, I have the honour to introduce to you a man of the quaternary or
post-tertiary system. Eminent geologists have denied his existence, others
no less eminent have affirmed it. The St. Thomases of palæontology, if they
were here, might now touch him with their fingers, and would be obliged to
acknowledge their error. I am quite aware that science has to be on its
guard with discoveries of this kind. I know what capital enterprising
individuals like Barnum have made out of fossil men. I have heard the tale
of the kneepan of Ajax, the pretended body of Orestes claimed to have been
found by the
Spartans, and of the body of Asterius, ten cubits long, of which Pausanias
speaks. I have read the reports of the skeleton of Trapani, found in the
fourteenth century, and which was at the time identified as that of
Polyphemus; and the history of the giant unearthed in the sixteenth century
near Palermo. You know as well as I do, gentlemen, the analysis made at
Lucerne in 1577 of those huge bones which the celebrated Dr. Felix Plater
affirmed to be those of a giant nineteen feet high. I have gone through the
treatises of Cassanion, and all those memoirs, pamphlets, answers, and
rejoinders published respecting the skeleton of Teutobochus, the invader of
Gaul, dug out of a sandpit in the Dauphiné, in 1613. In the eighteenth
century I would have stood up for Scheuchzer's pre-adamite man against Peter
Campet. I have perused a writing, entitled Gigan..."

"Oh dear" I thought, "big words!"

You see my uncle is a very clever man, but sometimes he gets so worked up
that words he could pronounce quite happily when he's calm become as much as
a burden as those placenames in Wales. I suggested that he take a deep
breath and try again and he managed to come out with "Giganteo" at which
point he lost his temper and shouted "(BLEEP) Gigantosteologie (BLEEP)!"
(The bleeps have been put in by this box of tricks and given the severity of
the language I can understand why). But the strange thing was, it wasn't the
only one. The whole area was covered with them. Then I had a thought, "What
if we encounter a live one?". I really must stop thinking or asking these
silly questions as the very next second we saw a 14ft giant that we called
"Ape Gigans" (and he didn't look too friendly) so we decided to retreat.

As we made our way back to the raft, I suddenly realised that this land
looked very familar. I often perceived groups of rocks which reminded me of
those about Port Gräuben. Brooks and waterfalls were tumbling everywhere
from the projections in the rocks. I thought I recognised the bed of
surturbrand, our faithful Hansbach, and the grotto in which I had recovered
life and consciousness. Then a few paces farther on, the arrangement of the
cliffs, the apearance of an unrecognised stream, or the strange outline of a
rock, carne to throw me again into doubt. Then my uncle came to the
conclusion. We had doubled back on ourselves! A theory that was confirmed by
a dagger on the shore that my uncle claimed was mine. Except I had not lost
one, and neither had Hans.

My uncle then looked at the blade carefully, "This dagger belongs to the
sixteenth century; it is a poniard, such as gentlemen carried in their belts
to give the coup _de grace._ Its origin is Spanish. It was never either
yours, or mine, or the hunter's, nor did it belong to any of those human
beings who may or may not inhabit this inner world. See, it was never jagged
like this by cutting men's throats; its blade is coated with a rust neither
a day, nor a year, nor a hundred years old, This blade has been left on the
strand for from one to three hundred years, and has blunted its edge upon
the rocks that fringe this subterranean sea! But it has not come alone. It
has not twisted itself out of shape; some one has been here before us!

"Oh my word!" I thought, and sure enough there, upon a granite slab,
appeared two mysterious graven letters, half eaten away by time were the two
initials that had sparked this entire event. An A and an S belonging to a
certain Arne Saknussemm.

"Thou marvellous genius!" cried my uncle, "thou hast not forgotten one
indication which might serve to lay open to mortals the road through the
terrestrial crust; and thy fellow-creatures may even now, after the lapse of
three centuries, again trace thy footsteps through these deep and darksome
ways. You reserved the contemplation of these wonders for other eyes besides
your own. Your name, graven from stage to stage, leads the bold follower of
your footsteps to the very centre of our planet's core, and there again we
shall find your own name written with your own hand. I too will inscribe my
name upon this dark granite page. But for ever henceforth let this cape that
advances into the sea discovered by yourself be known by your own
illustrious name - Cape Saknussemm."

As my uncle started explaining what had happened, I was lost in my own
thoughts and remembered seeing Arne being punished by the Danish guards in
his house back in Iceland. I closed my eyes and for a moment was back in
that house sometime after the guards had left with Arne still tied up and
sobbing. I tapped the table (to see if I could speak to him) and it made a
noise. Arne looked up and I knelt down to him and untied him. I introduced
myself as a friend and said that I was convinced that someone would prove
him right one day and gave him a big hug. When I opened my eyes my uncle was
walking back to the raft. I stood at the entrance of that cave, bowed and
said to myself "Arne Saknussemm, I salute you" before standing to attention
and saluting him.

Which brings us up to the present time and the small matter of blowing up a
small entrance that's blocking our way. Do excuse me, but I've been given
the task of ensuring that the explosive detonates properly (and here's
hoping it does!)

Received on Thu 28 Aug 2008 - 15:15:53 IDT

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