Hunger

: A Journey To The Centre Of The Earth

Hunger, prolonged, is temporary madness! The brain is at work without

its required food, and the most fantastic notions fill the mind.

Hitherto I had never known what hunger really meant. I was likely to

understand it now.



And yet, three months before I could tell my terrible story of

starvation, as I thought it. As a boy I used to make frequent excursions

in the neighborhood of the Professor's house.
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My uncle always acted on system, and he believed that, in addition to

the day of rest and worship, there should be a day of recreation. In

consequence, I was always free to do as I liked on a Wednesday.



Now, as I had a notion to combine the useful and the agreeable, my

favorite pastime was birds' nesting. I had one of the best collections

of eggs in all the town. They were classified, and under glass cases.



There was a certain wood, which, by rising at early morn, and taking the

cheap train, I could reach at eleven in the morning. Here I would

botanize or geologize at my will. My uncle was always glad of specimens

for his herbarium, and stones to examine. When I had filled my wallet, I

proceeded to search for nests.



After about two hours of hard work, I, one day, sat down by a stream to

eat my humble but copious lunch. How the remembrance of the spiced

sausage, the wheaten loaf, and the beer, made my mouth water now! I

would have given every prospect of worldly wealth for such a meal. But

to my story.



While seated thus at my leisure, I looked up at the ruins of an old

castle, at no great distance. It was the remains of an historical

dwelling, ivy-clad, and now falling to pieces.



While looking, I saw two eagles circling about the summit of a lofty

tower. I soon became satisfied that there was a nest. Now, in all my

collection, I lacked eggs of the native eagle and the large owl.



My mind was made up. I would reach the summit of that tower, or perish

in the attempt. I went nearer, and surveyed the ruins. The old

staircase, years before, had fallen in. The outer walls were, however,

intact. There was no chance that way, unless I looked to the ivy solely

for support. This was, as I soon found out, futile.



There remained the chimney, which still went up to the top, and had once

served to carry off the smoke from every story of the tower.



Up this I determined to venture. It was narrow, rough, and therefore the

more easily climbed. I took off my coat and crept into the chimney.

Looking up, I saw a small, light opening, proclaiming the summit of the

chimney.



Up up I went, for some time using my hands and knees, after the fashion

of a chimney sweep. It was slow work, but, there being continual

projections, the task was comparatively easy. In this way, I reached

halfway. The chimney now became narrower. The atmosphere was close, and,

at last, to end the matter, I stuck fast. I could ascend no higher.



There could be no doubt of this, and there remained no resource but to

descend, and give up my glorious prey in despair. I yielded to fate and

endeavored to descend. But I could not move. Some unseen and mysterious

obstacle intervened and stopped me. In an instant the full horror of my

situation seized me.



I was unable to move either way, and was doomed to a terrible and

horrible death, that of starvation. In a boy's mind, however, there is

an extraordinary amount of elasticity and hope, and I began to think of

all sorts of plans to escape my gloomy fate.



In the first place, I required no food just at present, having had an

excellent meal, and was therefore allowed time for reflection. My first

thought was to try and move the mortar with my hand. Had I possessed a

knife, something might have been done, but that useful instrument I had

left in my coat pocket.



I soon found that all efforts of this kind were vain and useless, and

that all I could hope to do was to wriggle downwards.



But though I jerked and struggled, and strove to turn, it was all in

vain. I could not move an inch, one way or the other. And time flew

rapidly. My early rising probably contributed to the fact that I felt

sleepy, and gradually gave way to the sensation of drowsiness.



I slept, and awoke in darkness, ravenously hungry.



Night had come, and still I could not move. I was tight bound, and did

not succeed in changing my position an inch. I groaned aloud. Never

since the days of my happy childhood, when it was a hardship to go from

meal to meal without eating, had I really experienced hunger. The

sensation was as novel as it was painful. I began now to lose my head

and to scream and cry out in my agony. Something appeared, startled by

my noise. It was a harmless lizard, but it appeared to me a loathsome

reptile. Again I made the old ruins resound with my cries, and finally

so exhausted myself that I fainted.



How long I lay in a kind of trance or sleep I cannot say, but when again

I recovered consciousness it was day. How ill I felt, how hunger still

gnawed at me, it would be hard to say. I was too weak to scream now, far

too weak to struggle.



Suddenly I was startled by a roar.



"Are you there, Henry?" said the voice of my uncle; "are you there, my

boy?"



I could only faintly respond, but I also made a desperate effort to

turn. Some mortar fell. To this I owed my being discovered. When the

search took place, it was easily seen that mortar and small pieces of

stone had recently fallen from above. Hence my uncle's cry.



"Be calm," he cried, "if we pull down the whole ruin, you shall be

saved."



They were delicious words, but I had little hope.



Soon however, about a quarter of an hour later I heard a voice above me,

at one of the upper fireplaces.



"Are you below or above?"



"Below," was my reply.



In an instant a basket was lowered with milk, a biscuit, and an egg. My

uncle was fearful to be too ready with his supply of food. I drank the

milk first, for thirst had nearly deadened hunger. I then, much

refreshed, ate my bread and hard egg.



They were now at work at the wall. I could hear a pickax. Wishing to

escape all danger from this terrible weapon I made a desperate struggle,

and the belt, which surrounded my waist and which had been hitched on a

stone, gave way. I was free, and only escaped falling down by a rapid

motion of my hands and knees.



In ten minutes more I was in my uncle's arms, after being two days and

nights in that horrible prison. My occasional delirium prevented me from

counting time.



I was weeks recovering from that awful starvation adventure; and yet

what was that to the hideous sufferings I now endured?



After dreaming for some time, and thinking of this and other matters, I

once more looked around me. We were still ascending with fearful

rapidity. Every now and then the air appeared to check our respiration

as it does that of aeronauts when the ascension of the balloon is too

rapid. But if they feel a degree of cold in proportion to the elevation

they attain in the atmosphere, we experienced quite a contrary effect.

The heat began to increase in a most threatening and exceptional manner.

I cannot tell exactly the mean, but I think it must have reached one

hundred twenty-two degrees Fahrenheit.



What was the meaning of this extraordinary change in the temperature? As

far as we had hitherto gone, facts had proved the theories of Davy and

of Lidenbrock to be correct. Until now, all the peculiar conditions of

refractory rocks, of electricity, of magnetism, had modified the general

laws of nature, and had created for us a moderate temperature; for the

theory of the central fire, remained, in my eyes, the only explainable

one.



Were we, then, going to reach a position in which these phenomena were

to be carried out in all their rigor, and in which the heat would reduce

the rocks to a state of fusion?



Such was my not unnatural fear, and I did not conceal the fact from my

uncle. My way of doing so might be cold and heartless, but I could not

help it.



"If we are not drowned, or smashed into pancakes, and if we do not die

of starvation, we have the satisfaction of knowing that we must be

burned alive."



My uncle, in presence of this brusque attack, simply shrugged his

shoulders, and resumed his reflections whatever they might be.



An hour passed away, and except that there was a slight increase in the

temperature no incident modified the situation.



My uncle at last, of his own accord, broke silence.



"Well, Henry, my boy," he said, in a cheerful way, "we must make up our

minds."



"Make up our minds to what?" I asked, in considerable surprise.



"Well to something. We must at whatever risk recruit our physical

strength. If we make the fatal mistake of husbanding our little remnant

of food, we may probably prolong our wretched existence a few hours but

we shall remain weak to the end."



"Yes," I growled, "to the end. That, however, will not keep us long

waiting."



"Well, only let a chance of safety present itself only allow that a

moment of action be necessary where shall we find the means of action

if we allow ourselves to be reduced to physical weakness by inanition?"



"When this piece of meat is devoured, Uncle, what hope will there remain

unto us?"



"None, my dear Henry, none. But will it do you any good to devour it

with your eyes? You appear to me to reason like one without will or

decision, like a being without energy."



"Then," cried I, exasperated to a degree which is scarcely to be

explained, "you do not mean to tell me that you that you have not

lost all hope."



"Certainly not," replied the Professor with consummate coolness.



"You mean to tell me, Uncle, that we shall get out of this monstrous

subterranean shaft?"



"While there is life there is hope. I beg to assert, Henry, that as long

as a man's heart beats, as long as a man's flesh quivers, I do not allow

that a being gifted with thought and will can allow himself to despair."



What a nerve! The man placed in a position like that we occupied must

have been very brave to speak like this.



"Well," I cried, "what do you mean to do?"



"Eat what remains of the food we have in our hands; let us swallow the

last crumb. It will bel Heaven willing, our last repast. Well, never

mind instead of being exhausted skeletons, we shall be men."



"True," muttered I in a despairing tone, "let us take our fill."



"We must," replied my uncle, with a deep sigh, "call it what you will."



My uncle took a piece of the meat that remained, and some crusts of

biscuit which had escaped the wreck. He divided the whole into three

parts.



Each had one pound of food to last him as long as he remained in the

interior of the earth.



Each now acted in accordance with his own private character.



My uncle, the Professor, ate greedily, but evidently without appetite,

eating simply from some mechanical motion. I put the food inside my

lips, and hungry as I was, chewed my morsel without pleasure, and

without satisfaction.



Hans, the guide, just as if he had been eider-down hunting, swallowed

every mouthful, as though it were a usual affair. He looked like a man

equally prepared to enjoy superfluity or total want.



Hans, in all probability, was no more used to starvation than ourselves,

but his hardy Icelandic nature had prepared him for many sufferings. As

long as he received his three rix-dollars every Saturday night, he was

prepared for anything.



The fact was, Hans never troubled himself about much except his money.

He had undertaken to serve a certain man at so much per week, and no

matter what evils befell his employer or himself, he never found fault

or grumbled, so long as his wages were duly paid.



Suddenly my uncle roused himself. He had seen a smile on the face of our

guide. I could not make it out.



"What is the matter?" said my uncle.



"Schiedam," said the guide, producing a bottle of this precious fluid.



We drank. My uncle and myself will own to our dying day that hence we

derived strength to exist until the last bitter moment. That precious

bottle of Hollands was in reality only half full; but, under the

circumstances, it was nectar.



It took some minutes for myself and my uncle to form a decided opinion

on the subject. The worthy Professor swallowed about half a pint and did

not seem able to drink any more.



"Fortrafflig," said Hans, swallowing nearly all that was left.



"Excellent very good," said my uncle, with as much gusto as if he had

just left the steps of the club at Hamburg.



I had begun to feel as if there had been one gleam of hope. Now all

thought of the future vanished!



We had consumed our last ounce of food, and it was five o'clock in the

morning!



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