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[Illustration: _Map of the Interior World._]
THE
GODDESS OF ATVATABAR
BEING THE
HISTORY OF THE DISCOVERY
OF THE
INTERIOR WORLD
AND
CONQUEST OF ATVATABAR
BY
WILLIAM R. BRADSHAW
PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
J. F. DOUTHITT
286 FIFTH AVENUE
1892
COPYRIGHT, 1891, BY
WILLIAM R. BRADSHAW
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--A Polar Catastrophe, 13
II.--The Cause of the Expedition, 19
III.--Beginning the Voyage, 22
IV.--Our Adventures in the Polar Sea, 26
V.--We Enter the Polar Gulf, 31
VI.--Day Becomes Night and Night Day, 34
VII.--We Discover the Interior World, 40
VIII.--Extraordinary Loss of Weight, 45
IX.--Afloat on the Interior Ocean, 50
X.--A Visit from the Inhabitants of Plutusia, 52
XI.--We Learn Atvatabarese, 57
XII.--We Arrive at Kioram, 61
XIII.--Marching in Triumph, 65
XIV.--The Journey to Calnogor, 72
XV.--Our Reception by the King, 78
XVI.--The King Unfolds the Grandeur of Atvatabar, 83
XVII.--Gnaphisthasia, 86
XVIII.--The Journey to the Bormidophia, 94
XIX.--The Throne of the Gods, Calnogor, 99
XX.--The Worship of Lyone, Supreme Goddess, 103
XXI.--An Audience with the Supreme Goddess, 109
XXII.--The Goddess Learns the Story of the Outer World, 114
XXIII.--The Garden of Tanje, 117
XXIV.--The Journey to Egyplosis, 128
XXV.--Escaping from the Cyclone, 133
XXVI.--The Banquet on the Aerial Ship, 139
XXVII.--We Reach Egyplosis, 144
XXVIII.--The Grand Temple of Harikar, 149
XXIX.--The Installation of a Twin-Soul, 153
XXX.--The Installation of a Twin-Soul (_Continued_) 159
XXXI.--The Mystery of Egyplosis, 163
XXXII.--The Sin of a Twin-Soul, 168
XXXIII.--The Doctor's Opinion of Egyplosis, 172
XXXIV.--Lyone's Confession, 176
XXXV.--Our Visit to the Infernal Palace, 183
XXXVI.--Arjeels, 194
XXXVII.--A Revelation, 202
XXXVIII.--Lyone's Manifesto to King and People, 206
XXXIX.--The Crisis in Atvatabar, 212
XL.--My Departure from the Palace of Tanje, 216
XLI.--We Are Attacked by the Enemy, 220
XLII.--The Battle Continued, 225
XLIII.--Victory, 229
XLIV.--The News of Atvatabar in the Outer World, 235
XLV.--The Voyages of the _Mercury_ and the _Aurora
Borealis_, 244
XLVI.--The Arrest of Lyone, 249
XLVII.--The Council of War in Kioram, 253
XLVIII.--The Report of Astronomer Starbottle, 258
XLIX.--Preparation for War, 264
L.--I Visit Lyone in Calnogor, 267
LI.--The Death of Lyone, 271
LII.--The Battle of Calnogor, 279
LIII.--Victory, 283
LIV.--Reincarnation, 288
LV.--Lexington and Lyone Hailed King and Queen
of Atvatabar, 292
LVI.--Our Reception in Calnogor, 298
LVII.--The Combined Ceremony of Marriage and Coronation, 304
LVIII.--The Death of Bhoolmakar, 310
LIX.--The History Concluded, 315
* * * * *
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
ARTIST, PAGE
MAP OF THE INTERIOR WORLD, _Frontispiece_.
I SIGNALLED THE ENGINEER FULL SPEED AHEAD,
AND IN A SHORT TIME WE CROSSED THE ICE-FOOT
AND ENTERED THE CHASM, _C. Durand Chapman_, 17
A SEMI-CIRCLE OF RIFLES WAS DISCHARGED AT
THE UNHAPPY BRUTES. TWO OF THEM FELL
DEAD IN THEIR TRACKS, " 29
THE TERROR INSPIRED BY THE PROFESSOR'S
WORDS WAS PLAINLY VISIBLE ON EVERY
FACE, " 35
AT THIS MOMENT A WILD CRY AROSE FROM THE
SAILORS. WITH ONE VOICE THEY SHOUTED,
"THE SUN! THE SUN!" " 41
ONE OF THE FLYING MEN CAUGHT FLATHOOTLY
BY THE HAIR OF THE HEAD, AND LIFTED
HIM OUT OF THE WATER, _R. W. Rattray_, 55
ONE OF THE MOUNTED POLICE GOT HOLD OF
THE SWITCH ON THE BACK OF THE BOCKHOCKID,
AND BROUGHT IT TO A STANDSTILL, _Carl Gutherz_, 69
THE SACRED LOCOMOTIVE STORMED THE MOUNTAIN
HEIGHTS WITH ITS AUDACIOUS TREAD, _C. Durand Chapman_, 75
THE KING EMBRACED ME, AND I KISSED THE
HAND OF HER MAJESTY, " 81
A PROCESSION OF PRIESTS AND PRIESTESSES
PASSED DOWN THE LIVING AISLES, BEARING
TROPHIES OF ART, _Harold Haven Brown_, 87
ON THE THRONE SAT THE SUPREME GODDESS
LYONE, THE REPRESENTATIVE OF HARIKAR,
THE HOLY SOUL, _C. Durand Chapman_, 97
THE THRONE OF THE GODS WAS INDEED THE
GOLDEN HEART OF ATVATABAR, THE TRIUNE
SYMBOL OF BODY, MIND, AND SPIRIT, " 101
HER HOLINESS OFFERED BOTH HIS MAJESTY
THE KING AND MYSELF HER HAND TO KISS, " 111
ZOOPHYTES OF ATVATABAR, _Paul de Longpre_
THE LILASURE, 117
THE LABURNUL, 118
THE GREEN GAZZLE OF GLOCKETT GOZZLE, 119
JEERLOONS, 120
A JEERLOON, 120
THE LILLIPOUTUM, 121
THE JUGDUL, 122
THE YARPHAPPY, 123
THE JALLOAST, 124
THE GASTERNOWL, 125
THE CROCOSUS, 126
THE JARDIL, OR LOVE-POUCH, 127
THE BLOCUS, 128
THE FUNNY-FENNY, OR CLOWNGRASS, 129
THE GLEROSERAL, 130
THE EAGLON, 131
THE GODDESS STOOD HOLDING ON TO THE OUTER
RAIL OF THE DECK, THE INCARNATION OF
COURAGE, _C. Durand Chapman_, 135
THEN THE SHIP ROSE AGAIN TOWARD THE MAMMOTH
ROCKS, ADORNED WITH THE TAPESTRIES
OF FALLING WAVE, " 141
LYONE WAS BORNE ON A LITTER FROM THE
AERIAL SHIP TO THE PALACE, " 147
THE PRIEST AND PRIESTESS STOOD BESIDE THE
ALTAR, EACH READING AN ALTERNATE STANZA
FROM THE RITUAL OF THE GODDESS, _R. W. Rattray_, 155
HER KISS WAS A BLINDING WHIRLWIND OF
FLAME AND TEARS, _C. Durand Chapman_, 181
THE LABYRINTH WAS A SUBTERRANEAN GARDEN,
WHOSE TREES AND FLOWERS WERE CHISELLED
OUT OF THE LIVING ROCK, _Paul de Longpre_, 187
AS I GAZED, LO! A SHOWER OF BLAZING JEWELS
ISSUED FROM THE MOUTH OF THE HEHORRENT, _Leonard M. Davis_, 191
"BY VIRTUE OF THE SPIRIT POWER IN THIS
CABLE," SAID THE SORCERER, "I WILL THAT
THE MAGICAL ISLAND OF ARJEELS SHALL
RISE ABOVE THE WAVES," _C. Durand Chapman_, 197
THE SHIP IN COMPANY WITH A VAST VOLUME OF
WATER SPRANG INTO THE AIR TO A GREAT
HEIGHT, " 223
WE SLOWLY DRAGGED OURSELVES ACROSS THE
RANGE OF ICY PEAKS, " 241
I MOUNTED THE TRUNK AND PROPOSED THE
HEALTH OF HER MAJESTY LYONE, QUEEN
OF ATVATABAR, _R. W. Rattray_, 261
LYONE REACHED FOR A FLOWER, AND IN DOING
SO TOUCHED THE VASE, AND IMMEDIATELY
FELL DEAD UPON THE FLOOR, _C. Durand Chapman_, 273
AT THIS JUNCTURE A SHELL OF TERRORITE
EXPLODED AMONG THE FOE WITH THRILLING
EFFECT, DESTROYING AT LEAST TWO HUNDRED
BOCKHOCKIDS, _Walter M. Dunk_, 285
HEAVENS AND EARTH! HE WAS HOLDING
LYONE IN HIS ARMS, ALIVE FROM THE LIVING
BATTERY! LYONE, THE PEERLESS SOUL
OF SOULS, ALIVE ONCE MORE AND TRIUMPHANT
OVER DEATH, _C. Durand Chapman_, 293
WE SAT THUS CROWNED AMID THE TREMENDOUS
EXCITEMENT. THE PEOPLE SHOUTED, "LIFE,
HEALTH AND PROSPERITY TO OUR SOVEREIGN
LORD AND LADY, LEXINGTON AND LYONE,
KING AND QUEEN OF ATVATABAR," _Allan B. Doggett_, 307
OI MADE BHOOLY AN' KOSHNILI KNEEL DOWN,
AN' A SOJER TIED THEIR HANDS BEHIND
THEIR BACKS. THEN OI ORDHERED A WAYLEAL
TO BEHEAD THIM WID THEIR OWN
SWORDS, _Allan B. Doggett_, 313
* * * * *
INTRODUCTION.
It is proper that some explanation be made as to the position occupied
by the following story in the realm of fiction, and that a brief
estimate should be made of its literary value.
Literature may be roughly classified under two heads--the creative and
the critical. The former is characteristic of the imaginative
temperament, while the latter is analytical in its nature, and does
not rise above the level of the actual. Rightly pursued, these two
ways of searching out truth should supplement each other. The poet
finds in God the source of matter; the man of science traces matter up
to God. Science is poetry inverted: the latter sees in the former
confirmation of its airiest flight; it is synthetic and creative,
whereas science dissects and analyzes. Obviously, the most spiritual
conceptions should always maintain a basis in the world of fact, and
the greatest works of literary art, while taking their stand upon the
solid earth, have not feared to lift their heads to heaven. The
highest art is the union of both methods, but in recent times realism
in an extreme form, led by Zola and Tolstoi, and followed with willing
though infirm footsteps by certain American writers, has attained a
marked prominence in literature, while romantic writers have suffered
a corresponding obscuration. It must be admitted that the influence of
the realists is not entirely detrimental; on the contrary, they have
imported into literature a nicety of observation, a heedfulness of
workmanship, a mastery of technique, which have been greatly to its
advantage. Nevertheless, the novel of hard facts has failed to prove
its claim to infallibility. Facts in themselves are impotent to
account for life. Every material fact is but the representative on the
plane of sense of a corresponding truth on the spiritual plane. Spirit
is the substance; fact the shadow only, and its whole claim to
existence lies in its relation to spirit. Bulwer declares in one of
his early productions that the Ideal is the only true Real.
In the nature of things a reaction from the depression of the
realistic school must take place. Indeed, it has already set in, even
at the moment of the realists' apogee. A dozen years ago the author of
"John Inglesant," in a work of the finest art and most delicate
spirituality, showed that the spell of the ideal had not lost its
efficacy, and the books that he has written since then have confirmed
and emphasized the impression produced by it. Meanwhile, Robert Louis
Stevenson and Rider Haggard have cultivated with striking success the
romantic vein of fiction, and the former, at least, has acquired a
mastery of technical detail which the realists themselves may envy. It
is a little more than a year, too, since Rudyard Kipling startled the
reading public with a series of tales of wonderful force and
vividness; and whatever criticism may be applied to his work, it
incontestably shows the dominance of a spiritual and romantic motive.
The realists, on the other hand, have added no notable recruits to
their standard, and the leaders of the movement are losing rather than
gaining in popularity. The spirit of the new age seems to be with the
other party, and we may expect to see them enjoy a constantly widening
vogue and influence.
The first practical problem which confronts the intending historian of
an ideal, social, or political community is to determine the locality
in which it shall be placed. It may have no geographical limitations,
like Plato's "Republic," or Sir Philip Sidney's "Arcadia." Swift, in
his "Gulliver's Travels," appropriated the islands of the then unknown
seas, and the late Mr. Percy Greg boldly steered into space and
located a brilliant romance on the planet Mars. Mr. Haggard has placed
the scene of his romance "She" in the unexplored interior of Africa.
After all, if imagination be our fellow-traveller, we might well
discover El Dorados within easy reach of our own townships.
Other writers, like Ignatius Donnelly and Edward Bellamy, have solved
the problem by anticipating the future. Anything will do, so that it
be well done. The real question is as to the writer's ability to
interest his readers with supposed experiences that may develop mind
and heart almost as well as if real.
"The Goddess of Atvatabar," like the works already mentioned, is a
production of imagination and sentiment, the scene of action being
laid in the interior of the earth. It is true that the notion has
heretofore existed that the earth might be a hollow sphere. The early
geologists had a theory that the earth was a hollow globe, the shell
being no thicker in proportion to its size than that of an egg. This
idea was revived by Captain Symmes, with the addition of polar
openings. Jules Verne takes his readers, in one of his romances, to
the interior of a volcano, and Bulwer, in his "Coming Race," has
constructed a world of underground caverns. Mr. Bradshaw, however, has
swept aside each and all of these preliminary explorations, and has
kindled the fires of an interior sun, revealing an interior world of
striking magnificence. In view of the fact that we live on an exterior
world, lit by an exterior sun, he has supposed the possibility of
similar interior conditions, and the crudity of all former conceptions
of a hollow earth will be made vividly apparent to the reader of the
present volume. "The Goddess of Atvatabar" paints a picture of a new
world, and the author must be credited with an original conception. He
has written out of his own heart and brain, without reference to or
dependence upon the imaginings of others, and it is within the truth
to say that in boldness of design, in wealth and ingenuity of detail,
and in lofty purpose, he has not fallen below the highest standard
that has been erected by previous writers.
Mr. Bradshaw, in his capacity of idealist, has not only created a new
world, but has decorated it with the skill and conscientiousness of
the realist, and has achieved a work of art which may rightfully be
termed great. Jules Verne, in composing a similar story, would stop
short with a description of mere physical adventure, but in the
present work Mr. Bradshaw goes beyond the physical, and has created in
conjunction therewith an interior world of the soul, illuminated with
the still more dazzling sun of ideal love in all its passion and
beauty. The story is refreshingly independent both in conception and
method, and the insinuation, "_Beati qui ante nos nostra dixerunt_,"
cannot be quoted against him. He has imagined and worked out the whole
thing for himself, and he merits the full credit that belongs to a
discoverer.
"The Goddess of Atvatabar" is full of marvellous adventures on land
and sea and in the aerial regions as well. It is not my purpose at
present to enumerate the surprising array of novel conceptions that
will charm the reader. The author, by the condition of his
undertaking, has given _carte blanche_ to his imagination. He has
created a complete society, with a complete environment suited to it.
The broadest generalization, no less than the minutest particulars,
have received careful attention, and the story is based upon a
profound understanding of the essential qualities of human nature, and
is calculated to attain deserved celebrity. Among the subjects dear to
the idealist's heart, perhaps none finds greater favor than that which
involves the conception of a new social and political order, and our
author has elaborated this subject on fresh lines of thought, making
his material world enclose a realm of spiritual tenderness, even as
the body is the continent and sensible manifestation of the soul.
The forces, arts, and aspirations of the human soul are wrought into a
symmetrical fabric, exhibiting its ideal tendencies. The evident
purpose of the writer is to stimulate the mind, by presenting to its
contemplation things that are marvellous, noble, and magnificent. He
has not hesitated to portray his own emotions as expressed by the
characters in the book, and is evidently in hearty sympathy with
everything that will produce elevation of the intellectual and
emotional ideals.
The style in which the story is told is worthy of remark. In the
beginning, when events are occurring within the realm of things
already known or conceived of, he speaks in the matter-of-fact, honest
tone of the modern explorer; so far as the language goes we might be
reading the reports of an arctic voyage as recounted in the daily
newspaper; there is the same unpretentiousness and directness of
phrase, the same attention to apparently commonplace detail, and the
same candid portrayal of wonder, hope, and fear. But when the
stupendous descent into the interior world has been made, and we have
been carried through the intermediary occurrences into the presence of
the beautiful goddess herself, the style rises to the level of the
lofty theme and becomes harmoniously imaginative and poetic. The
change takes place so naturally and insensibly that no jarring
contrast is perceived; and a subdued sense of humor, making itself
felt at the proper moment, redeems the most daring flights of the work
from the reproach of extravagance.
Mr. Bradshaw is especially to be commended for having the courage of
his imagination. He wastes no undue time on explanations, but
proceeds promptly and fearlessly to set forth the point at issue.
When, for example, it becomes necessary to introduce the new language
spoken by the inhabitants of the interior world, we are brought in
half a dozen paragraphs to an understanding of its characteristic
features, and proceed to the use of it without more ado. A more timid
writer would have misspent labor and ingenuity in dwelling upon a
matter which Mr. Bradshaw rightly perceived to be of no essential
importance; and we should have been wearied and delayed in arriving at
the really interesting scenes.
The philosophy of the book is worthy of more serious notice. The
religion of the new race is based upon the worship of the human soul,
whose powers have been developed to a height unthought of by our
section of mankind, although on lines the commencement of which are
already within our view. The magical achievements of theosophy and
occultism, as well as the ultimate achievements of orthodox science,
are revealed in their most amazing manifestations, and with a sobriety
and minuteness of treatment that fully satisfies what may be called
the transcendental reader. The whole philosophic and religious
situation is made to appear admirably plausible: but we are gradually
brought to perceive that there is a futility and a rottenness inherent
in it all, and that for the Goddess of Atvatabar, lofty, wise, and
immaculate though she be, there is, nevertheless, a loftier and
sublimer experience in store. The finest art of the book is shown
here: a deep is revealed underneath the deep, and the final outcome is
in accord with the simplest as well as the profoundest religious
perception.
But it would be useless to attempt longer to withhold the reader from
the marvellous journey that awaits him. A word of congratulation,
however, is due in regard to the illustrations. They reach a level of
excellence rare even at this day; the artists have evidently been in
thorough sympathy with the author, and have given to the eye what the
latter has presented to the understanding. A more lovable divinity
than that which confronts us on the golden throne it has seldom been
our fortune to behold; and the designs of animal-plants are as
remarkable as anything in modern illustrative art: they are entirely
unique, and possess a value quite apart from their artistic grace.
The chief complaint I find to urge against the book is that it stops
long before my curiosity regarding the contents of the interior world
is satisfied. There are several continents and islands yet to be heard
from. But I am reassured by the termination of the story that there is
nothing to prevent the hero from continuing his explorations; and I
shall welcome the volume which contains the further points of his
extraordinary and commendable enterprise.
JULIAN HAWTHORNE.
THE GODDESS OF ATVATABAR.
CHAPTER I.
A POLAR CATASTROPHE.
I had been asleep when a terrific noise awoke me. I rose up on my
couch in the cabin and gazed wildly around, dazed with the feeling
that something extraordinary had happened. By degrees becoming
conscious of my surroundings, I saw Captain Wallace, Dr. Merryferry,
Astronomer Starbottle, and Master-at-Arms Flathootly beside me.
"Commander White," said the captain, "did you hear that roar?"
"What roar?" I replied. "Where are we?"
"Why, you must have been asleep," said he, "and yet the roar was
enough to raise the dead. It seemed as if both earth and heaven were
split open."
"What is that hissing sound I hear?" I inquired.
"That, sir," said the doctor, "is the sound of millions of flying
sea-fowl frightened by the awful noise. The midnight sun is darkened
with the flight of so many birds. Surely, sir, you must have heard
that dreadful shriek. It froze the blood in our veins with horror."
I began to understand that the _Polar King_ was safe, and that we were
all still alive and well. But what could my officers mean by the
terrible noise they talked about?
I jumped out of bed saying, "Gentlemen, I must investigate this whole
business. You say the _Polar King_ is safe?"
"Shure, sorr," said Flathootly, the master-at-arms, "the ship lies
still anchored to the ice-fut where we put her this afthernoon. She's
all right."
I at once went on deck. Sure enough the ship was as safe as if in
harbor. Birds flew about in myriads, at times obscuring the sun, and
now and then we heard growling reverberations from distant icebergs,
answering back the fearful roar that had roused them from their polar
sleep.
The sea, that is to say the enormous ice-pack in which we lay, heaved
and fell like an earthquake. It was evident that a catastrophe of no
common character had happened.
What was the cause that startled the polar midnight with such unwonted
commotion?
Sailors are very superstitious; with them every unknown sound is a cry
of disaster. It was necessary to discover what had happened, lest the
courage of my men should give way and involve the whole expedition in
ruin.
The captain, although alarmed, was as brave as a lion, and as for
Flathootly, he would follow me through fire and water like the brave
Irishman that he was. The scientific staff were gentlemen of
education, and could be relied upon to show an example of bravery that
would keep the crew in good spirits.
"Do you remember the creek in the ice-foot we passed this morning,"
said the captain, "the place where we shot the polar bear?"
"Quite well," I said.
"Well, the roar that frightened us came from that locality. You
remember all day we heard strange squealing sounds issuing from the
ice, as though it was being rent or split open by some subterranean
force."
The entire events of the day came to my mind in all their clearness. I
did remember the strange sounds the captain referred to. I thought
then that perhaps they had been caused by Professor Rackiron's shell
of terrorite which he had fired at the southern face of the vast range
of ice mountains that formed an impenetrable barrier to the pole. The
men were in need of a change of diet, and we thought the surest way of
getting the sea-fowl was to explode a shell among them. The face of
the ice cliffs was the home of innumerable birds peculiar to the
Arctic zone. There myriads of gulls, kittiwakes, murres, guillemots,
and such like creatures, made the ice alive with feathered forms.
The terrorite gun was fired with ordinary powder, and although we
could approach no nearer the cliffs than five miles, on account of the
solid ice-foot, yet our chief gun was good for that distance.
The shell was fired and exploded high up on the face of the crags. The
effect was startling. The explosion brought down tons of the frosty
marble. The debris fell like blocks of iron that rang with a piercing
cry on the ice-bound breast of the ocean. Millions of sea-fowl of
every conceivable variety darkened the air. Their rushing wings
sounded like the hissing of a tornado. Thousands were killed by the
shock. A detachment of sailors under First Officer Renwick brought in
heavy loads of dead fowl for a change of diet. The food, however,
proved indigestible, and made the men ill.
We resolved, as soon as the sun had mounted the heavens from his
midnight declension, to retrace our course somewhat and discover the
cause of the terrible outcry of the night. We had been sailing for
weeks along the southern ice-foot that belonged to the interminable
ice hills which formed an effectual barrier to the pole. Day after day
the _Polar King_ had forced its way through a gigantic floe of
piled-up ice blocks, floating cakes of ice, and along ridges of frozen
enormity, cracked, broken, and piled together in endless confusion. We
were in quest of a northward passage out of the terrible ice prison
that surrounded us, but failed to discover the slightest opening. It
had become a question of abandoning our enterprise of discovering the
North Pole and returning home again or abandoning the ship, and,
taking our dogs and sledges, brave the nameless terrors of the icy
hills. Of course in such case the ship would be our base of supplies
and of action in whatever expedition might be set on foot for polar
discovery.
About six o'clock in the morning of the 20th of July we began to work
the ship around, to partially retrace our voyage. All hands were on
the lookout for any sign of such a catastrophe as might have caused
the midnight commotion. After travelling about ten miles we reached
the creek where the bear had been killed the day before. The man on
the lookout on the top-mast sung out:
"Creek bigger than yesterday!"
Before we had time to examine the creek with our glasses he sung out:
"Mountains split in two!"
Sure enough, a dark blue gash ran up the hills to their very summit,
and as soon as the ship came abreast of the creek we saw that the
range of frozen precipices had been riven apart, and a streak of dark
blue water lay between, on which the ship might possibly reach the
polar sea beyond.
Dare we venture into that inviting gulf?
The officers crowded around me. "Well, gentlemen," said I, "what do
you say, shall we try the passage?"
"We only measure fifty feet on the beam, while the fissure is at least
one hundred feet wide; so we have plenty of room to work the ship,"
said the captain.
"But, captain," said I, "if we find the width only fifty feet a few
miles from here, what then?"
"Then we must come back," said he, "that's all."
"Suppose we cannot come back--suppose the walls of ice should begin to
close up again?" I said.
"I don't believe they will," said Professor Goldrock, who was our
naturalist and was well informed in geology.
"Why not?" I inquired.
"Well," said he, "to our certain knowledge this range of ice hills
extends five hundred miles east and west of us. The sea is here over
one hundred and fifty fathoms deep. This barrier is simply a
congregation of icebergs, frozen into a continuous solid mass. It is
quite certain that the mass is anchored to the bottom, so that it is
not free to come asunder and then simply close up again. My theory is
this: Right underneath us there is a range of submarine rocks or hills
running north and south. Last night an earthquake lifted this
submarine range, say, fifty feet above its former level. The enormous
upward pressure split open the range of ice resting thereon, and,
unless the mountains beneath us subside to their former level, these
rent walls of ice will never come together again. The passage will
become filled up with fresh ice in a few hours, so that in any case
there is no danger of the precipices crushing the ship."
"Your opinion looks feasible," I replied.
"Look," said he; "you will see that the top of the crevasse is wider
than it is at the level of the water, one proof at least that my
theory is correct."
The professor was right; there was a perceptible increase in the width
of the opening at the top.
[Illustration: I SIGNALLED THE ENGINEER FULL SPEED AHEAD, AND IN A
SHORT TIME WE CROSSED THE ICE-FOOT AND ENTERED THE CHASM.]
To make ourselves still more sure we took soundings for a mile east
and west of the chasm, and found the professor's theory of a submarine
range of hills correct. The water was shallowest right under the gap,
and was very much deeper only a short distance on either side. I
said to the officers and sailors: "My men, are you willing to enter
this gap with a view of getting beyond the barrier for the sake of
science and fortune and the glory of the United States?"
They gave a shout of assent that robbed the gulf of its terrors. I
signalled the engineer full speed ahead, and in a short time we
crossed the ice-foot and entered the chasm.
It could be nothing else but an upheaval of nature that caused the
rent, as the distance was uniform between the walls however irregular
the windings made. And such walls! For a distance of twenty miles we
sailed between smooth glistening precipices of palaeocrystic ice rising
two hundred feet above the water. The opening remained perceptibly
wider at the top than below.
After a distance of twenty miles the height gradually decreased until
within a distance of another fifty miles the ice sank to the level of
the water.
The sailors gave a shout of triumph which was echoed from the ramparts
of ice. To our astonishment we found we had reached a mighty field of
loose pack ice, while on the distant horizon were glimpses of blue
sea!