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The Blog of Axel Lidenbrock : August 30th 1863

From: Harry Hayfield <harryhayfield~at~googlemail.com>
Date: Sat, 30 Aug 2008 13:24:58 +0100
To: "Jules Verne Forum" <jvf~at~gilead.org.il>

BlankWe have now left the world of "It never rains, but it pours" and come
into the world of "It can't get any worse, can it?". The reason for this is
threefold

  1.. Our compass no longer works. I knew quite well that according to the
best received theories the mineral covering of the globe is never at
absolute rest; the changes brought about by the chemical decomposition of
its component parts, the agitation caused by great liquid torrents, and the
magnetic currents, are continually tending to disturb it -even when living
beings upon its surface may fancy that all is quiet below and that meant
that we had no idea which way was where.
  2.. The reason why the water we are on top of is turning orange. Now, this
is a little complicated to explain so I'll let my uncle explain. Now, if you
just explain it again this will note down every word. Beneath our raft is
boiling waters, and under these the more sluggish lava was working its way
up in a heated mass, together with shoals of fragments of rock which, when
they arrived at the crater, would be dispersed in all directions high and
low. We were imprisoned in the shaft or chimney of some volcano. There was
no room to doubt of that. But this time, instead of Snaefell, an extinct
volcano, we were inside one in full activity. In laymen's terms, we are
about to ejected out of an active volcano and if that wasn't bad enough
there's this
  3.. We've stopped moving
My uncle seems completely unconcerned by this and offered the following: "In
ten minutes more we shall be off again, for our present business lies with
an intermittent volcano. It gives us time now and then to take breath."
There are times when I hate my uncle and this is one of them. Hold on, we're
shaking. I don't like the sound of this.

Continuous explosions, loud detonations, a general shaking of the rocks all
around us, and of a spinning movement with which our raft was once whirled
helplessly round. It rocked upon the lava torrent, amidst a dense fall of
ashes. Snorting flames darted their fiery tongues at us. There were wild,
fierce puffs of stormy wind from below, resembling the blasts of vast iron
furnaces blowing all at one time; and I caught a glimpse of the figure of
Hans lighted up by the fire; and all the feeling I had left was just what I
imagine must be the feeling of an unhappy criminal doomed to be blown away
alive from the
mouth of a cannon, just before the trigger is pulled. Oh I hope we all make
it safe!

Received on Sat 30 Aug 2008 - 15:25:08 IDT

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