The Greatest Tales of Lost Worlds & Alternative Universes. Филип Дик
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cried from as far off as he could see me. “Your boxes are not packed, and my papers are not arranged; where’s the key of my carpet bag? and what have you done with my gaiters?”
I stood thunderstruck. My voice failed. Scarcely could my lips utter the words:
“Are we really going?”
“Of course, you unhappy boy! Could I have dreamed that yon would have gone out for a walk instead of hurrying your preparations forward?”
“Are we to go?” I asked again, with sinking hopes.
“Yes; the day after tomorrow, early.”
I could hear no more. I fled for refuge into my own little room.
All hope was now at an end. My uncle had been all the morning making purchases of a part of the tools and apparatus required for this desperate undertaking. The passage was encumbered with rope ladders, knotted cords, torches, flasks, grappling irons, alpenstocks, pickaxes, iron shod sticks, enough to load ten men.
I spent an awful night. Next morning I was called early. I had quite decided I would not open the door. But how was I to resist the sweet voice which was always music to my ears, saying, “My dear Axel?”
I came out of my room. I thought my pale countenance and my red and sleepless eyes would work upon Gräuben’s sympathies and change her mind.
“Ah! my dear Axel,” she said. “I see you are better. A night’s rest has done you good.”
“Done me good!” I exclaimed.
I rushed to the glass. Well, in fact I did look better than I had expected. I could hardly believe my own eyes.
“Axel,” she said, “I have had a long talk with my guardian. He is a bold philosopher, a man of immense courage, and you must remember that his blood flows in your veins. He has confided to me his plans, his hopes, and why and how he hopes to attain his object. He will no doubt succeed. My dear Axel, it is a grand thing to devote yourself to science! What honour will fall upon Herr Liedenbrock, and so be reflected upon his companion! When you return, Axel, you will be a man, his equal, free to speak and to act independently, and free to —”
The dear girl only finished this sentence by blushing. Her words revived me. Yet I refused to believe we should start. I drew Gräuben into the Professor’s study.
“Uncle, is it true that we are to go?”
“Why do you doubt?”
“Well, I don’t doubt,” I said, not to vex him; “but, I ask, what need is there to hurry?”
“Time, time, flying with irreparable rapidity.”
“But it is only the 16th May, and until the end of June —”
“What, you monument of ignorance! do you think you can get to Iceland in a couple of days? If you had not deserted me like a fool I should have taken you to the Copenhagen office, to Liffender & Co., and you would have learned then that there is only one trip every month from Copenhagen to Rejkiavik, on the 22nd.”
“Well?”
“Well, if we waited for the 22nd June we should be too late to see the shadow of Scartaris touch the crater of Sneffels. Therefore we must get to Copenhagen as fast as we can to secure our passage. Go and pack up.”
There was no reply to this. I went up to my room. Gräuben followed me. She undertook to pack up all things necessary for my voyage. She was no more moved than if I had been starting for a little trip to Lübeck or Heligoland. Her little hands moved without haste. She talked quietly. She supplied me with sensible reasons for our expedition. She delighted me, and yet I was angry with her. Now and then I felt I ought to break out into a passion, but she took no notice and went on her way as methodically as ever.
Finally the last strap was buckled; I came downstairs. All that day the philosophical instrument makers and the electricians kept coming and going. Martha was distracted.
“Is master mad?” she asked.
I nodded my head.
“And is he going to take you with him?”
I nodded again.
“Where to?”
I pointed with my finger downward.
“Down into the cellar?” cried the old servant.
“No,” I said. “Lower down than that.”
Night came. But I knew nothing about the lapse of time.
“Tomorrow morning at six precisely,” my uncle decreed “we start.”
At ten o’clock I fell upon my bed, a dead lump of inert matter. All through the night terror had hold of me. I spent it dreaming of abysses. I was a prey to delirium. I felt myself grasped by the Professor’s sinewy hand, dragged along, hurled down, shattered into little bits. I dropped down unfathomable precipices with the accelerating velocity of bodies falling through space. My life had become an endless fall. I awoke at five with shattered nerves, trembling and weary. I came downstairs. My uncle was at table, devouring his breakfast. I stared at him with horror and disgust. But dear Gräuben was there; so I said nothing, and could eat nothing.
At half-past five there was a rattle of wheels outside. A large carriage was there to take us to the Altona railway station. It was soon piled up with my uncle’s multifarious preparations.
“Where’s your box?” he cried.
“It is ready,” I replied, with faltering voice.
“Then make haste down, or we shall lose the train.”
It was now manifestly impossible to maintain the struggle against destiny. I went up again to my room, and rolling my portmanteaus downstairs I darted after him.
At that moment my uncle was solemnly investing Gräuben with the reins of government. My pretty Virlandaise was as calm and collected as was her wont. She kissed her guardian; but could not restrain a tear in touching my cheek with her gentle lips.
“Gräuben!” I murmured.
“Go, my dear Axel, go! I am now your betrothed; and when you come back I will be your wife.”
I pressed her in my arms and took my place in the carriage. Martha and the young girl, standing at the door, waved their last farewell. Then the horses, roused by the driver’s whistling, darted off at a gallop on the road to Altona.
Chapter VIII.
Serious Preparations For Vertical Descent
Altona, which is but a suburb of Hamburg, is the terminus of the Kiel railway, which was to carry us to the Belts. In twenty minutes we were in Holstein.
At half-past six the carriage stopped at the station; my uncle’s numerous packages, his voluminous impedimenta, were unloaded, removed, labelled, weighed, put into the luggage vans, and at seven we were seated face to face in our compartment. The whistle sounded, the engine started, we were off.
Was I resigned? No, not yet. Yet the cool morning air and the scenes on the road, rapidly changed by the swiftness of the train, drew me away somewhat from my sad reflections.
As for the Professor’s reflections, they went far in advance of the swiftest express. We were alone in the carriage, but we sat in silence. My uncle examined all his pockets and his travelling bag with the minutest care. I saw that he had not forgotten the smallest matter of detail.
Amongst other documents, a sheet of paper, carefully folded, bore the heading of the Danish consulate with the signature of W. Christiensen, consul at Hamburg and the Professor’s friend. With this we possessed the proper introductions to the Governor of Iceland.
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