CHAPTER XXIV
POLAR COSMOGRAPHY
Of course, to eat at table, they were obliged to sit on the ground.
"But," said Clawbonny, "who wouldn't give all the tables and dining-rooms in the world, to dine in north latitude 89° 59' 15"?"
The thoughts of each one were about their situation. They had no other idea than the North Pole. The dangers they had undergone to reach it, those to overcome before returning, were forgotten in their unprecedented success. What neither Europeans, Americans, nor Asiatics had been able to do, they had accomplished. Hence they were all ready to listen to the doctor when he told them all that his inexhaustible memory could recall about their position. It was with real enthusiasm that he first proposed their captain's health.
"To John Hatteras!" he said.
"To John Hatteras!" repeated the others.
"To the North Pole!" answered the captain, with a warmth that was unusual in this man who was usually so self-restrained, but who now was in a state of great nervous excitement. They touched glasses, and the toasts were followed by earnest hand-shakings.
"It is," said the doctor, "the most important geographical fact of our day! Who would have thought that this discovery would precede that of the centre of Africa or Australia? Really, Hatteras, you are greater than Livingstone, Burton, and Barth! All honor to you!"
"You are right, Doctor," said Altamont; "it would seem, from the difficulty of the undertaking, that the Pole would be the last place discovered. Whenever the government was absolutely determined to know the middle of Africa, it would have succeeded at the cost of so many men and so much money; but here nothing is less certain than success, and there might be obstacles really insuperable."
"Insuperable!" cried Hatteras with warmth; "there are no insuperable obstacles; there are more or less determined minds, that is all!"
"Well," said Johnson, "we are here, and it is well. But, Doctor, will you tell me, once for all, what there is so remarkable about the Pole?"
"It is this, Johnson, that it is the only motionless part of the globe, while all the rest is turning with extreme rapidity."
"But I don't see that we are more motionless here than at Liverpool."
"No more than you perceive the motion at Liverpool; and that is because in both cases you participate in the movement or the repose. But the fact is no less certain. The earth rotates in twenty-four hours, and this motion is on an axis with its extremities at the two poles. Well, we are at one of the extremities of the axis, which is necessarily motionless."
"So," said Bell, "when our countrymen are turning rapidly, we are perfectly still?"
"Very nearly, for we are not exactly at the Pole."
"You are right, Doctor," said Hatteras seriously, and shaking his head; "we are still forty-five seconds from the precise spot."
"That is not far," answered Altamont, "and we can consider ourselves motionless."
"Yes," continued the doctor, "while those living at the equator move at the rate of three hundred and ninety-six leagues an hour."
"And without getting tired!" said Bell.
"Exactly!" answered the doctor.
"But," continued Johnson, "besides this movement of rotation, doesn't the earth also move about the sun?"
"Yes, and this takes a year."
"Is it swifter than the other?"
"Infinitely so; and I ought to say that, although we are at the Pole, it takes us with it as well as all the people in the world. So our pretended immobility is a chimera: we are motionless with regard to the other points of the globe, but not so with regard to the sun."
"Good!" said Bell, with an accent of comic regret; "so I, who thought I was still, was mistaken! This illusion has to be given up! One can't have a moment's peace in this world."
"You are right, Bell," answered Johnson; "and will you tell us, Doctor, how fast this motion is?"
"It is very fast," answered the doctor; "the earth moves around the sun seventy-six times faster than a twenty-four-pound cannon-ball flies, which goes one hundred and ninety-five fathoms a second. It moves, then, seven leagues and six tenths per second; you see it is very different from the diurnal movement of the equator."
"The deuce!" said Bell; "that is incredible, Doctor! More than seven leagues a second, and that when it would have been so easy to be motionless, if God had wished it!"
"Good!" said Altamont; "do you think so, Bell? In that case no more night, nor spring, nor autumn, nor winter!"
"Without considering a still more terrible result," continued the doctor.
"What is that?" asked Johnson.
"We should all fall into the sun!"
"Fall into the sun!" repeated Bell with surprise.
"Yes. If this motion were to stop, the earth would fall into the sun in sixty-four days and a half."
"A fall of sixty-four days!" said Johnson.
"No more nor less," answered the doctor; "for it would have to fall a distance of thirty-eight millions of leagues."
"What is the weight of the earth?" asked Altamont.
"It is five thousand eight hundred and ninety-one quadrillions of tons."
"Good!" said Johnson; "those numbers have no meaning."
"For that reason, Johnson, I was going to give you two comparisons which you could remember. Don't forget that it would take seventy-five moons to make the sun,43 and three hundred and fifty thousand earths to make up the weight of the sun."
"That is tremendous!" said Altamont.
"Tremendous is the word," answered the doctor; "but, to return to the Pole, no lesson on cosmography on this part of the globe could be more opportune, if it doesn't weary you."
"Go on, Doctor, go on!"
"I told you," resumed the doctor, who took as much pleasure in giving as the others did in receiving instruction, – "I told you that the Pole was motionless in comparison with the rest of the globe. Well, that is not quite true!"
"What!" said Bell, "has that got to be taken back?"
"Yes, Bell, the Pole is not always exactly in the same place; formerly the North Star was farther from the celestial pole than it is now. So our Pole has a certain motion; it describes a circle in about twenty-six years.44 That comes from the precession of the equinoxes, of which I shall speak soon."
"But," asked Altamont, "might it not happen that some day the Pole should get farther from its place?"
"Ah, my dear Altamont," answered the doctor, "you bring up there a great question, which scientific men investigated for a long time in consequence of a singular discovery."
"What was that?"
"This is it. In 1771 the body of a rhinoceros was found on the shore of the Arctic Sea, and in 1799 that of an elephant on the coast of Siberia. How did the animals of warm countries happen to be found in these latitudes? Thereupon there was much commotion among geologists, who were not so wise as a Frenchman, M. Elie de Beaumont, has been since. He showed that these animals used to live in rather high latitudes, and that the streams and rivers simply carried their bodies to the places where they were found. But do you know the explanation which scientific men gave before this one?"
"Scientific men are capable of anything," said Altamont.
"Yes, in explanation of a fact; well, they imagined that the Pole used to be at the equator and the equator at the Pole."
"Bah!"
"It was exactly what I tell you. Now, if it had been so, since the earth is flattened more than five leagues at the pole, the seas, carried to the equator by centrifugal force, would have covered mountains twice as high as the Himalayas; all the countries near the polar circle, Sweden, Norway, Russia, Siberia, Greenland, and New Britain, would have been buried in five leagues of water, while the regions at the equator, having become the pole, would have formed plateaus fifteen leagues high!"
"What a change!" said Johnson.
"O, that made no difference to scientific men!"
"And how did they explain the alteration?" asked Altamont.
"They said it was due to the shock of collision with a comet. The comet is the deus ex machina; whenever one comes to a difficult question in cosmography, a comet is lugged in. It is the most obliging of the heavenly bodies, and at the least sign from a scientific man it disarranges itself to arrange everything."
"Then," said Johnson, "according to you, Doctor, this change is impossible?"
"Impossible!"
"And if it should take place?"
"If it did, the equator would be frozen in twenty-four hours!"
"Good! if it were to take place now," said Bell, "people would as likely as not say we had never gone to the Pole."
"Calm yourself, Bell. To return to the immobility of the terrestrial axis, the following is the result: if we were to spend a winter here, we should see the stars describing a circle about us. As for the sun, the day of the vernal equinox, March 23d, it would appear to us (I take no account of refraction) exactly cut in two by the horizon, and would rise gradually in longer and longer curves; but here it is remarkable that when it has once risen it sets no more; it is visible for six months. Then its disk touches the horizon again at the autumnal equinox, September 22d, and as soon as it is set, it is seen no more again all winter."
"You were speaking just now of the flattening of the earth at the poles," said Johnson; "be good enough to explain that, Doctor."
"I will. Since the earth was fluid when first created, you understand that its rotary movement would try to drive part of the mobile mass to the equator, where the centrifugal force was greater. If the earth had been motionless, it would have remained a perfect sphere; but in consequence of the phenomenon I have just described, it has an ellipsoidal form, and points at the pole are nearer the centre of the earth than points at the equator by about five leagues."
"So," said Johnson, "if our captain wanted to take us to the centre of the earth, we should have five leagues less to go?"
"Exactly, my friend."
"Well, Captain, it's so much gained! We ought to avail ourselves of it."
But Hatteras did not answer. Evidently he had lost all interest in the conversation, or perhaps he was listening without hearing.
"Well," answered the doctor, "according to certain scientific men, it would be worth while to try this expedition."
"What! really?" exclaimed Johnson.
"But let me finish," answered the doctor. "I will tell you. I must first tell you this flattening of the poles is the cause of the precession of the equinoxes; that is to say, why every year the vernal equinox comes a day sooner than it would if the earth were perfectly round. This comes from the attraction of the sun operating in a different way on the heaped-up land of the equator, which then experiences a retrograde movement. Subsequently it displaces this Pole a little, as I just said. But, independently of this effect, this flattening ought to have a more curious and more personal effect, which we should perceive if we had mathematical sensibility."
"What do you mean?" asked Bell.
"I mean that we are heavier here than at Liverpool."
"Heavier?"
"Yes; ourselves, the dogs, our guns, and instruments!"
"Is it possible?"
"Certainly, and for two reasons: the first is, that we are nearer the centre of the globe, which consequently attracts us more strongly, and this force of gravitation is nothing but weight; the second is, the rotary force, which is nothing at the pole, is very marked at the equator, and objects there have a tendency to fly from the earth: they are less heavy."
"What!" exclaimed Johnson, seriously; "have we not the same weight everywhere?"
"No, Johnson; according to Newton's law, bodies attract one another directly as their masses, and inversely to the square of their distances. Here I weigh more, because I am nearer the centre of attraction; and on another planet I should weigh more or less according to the mass of the planet."
"What!" said Bell, "in the moon – "
"In the moon my weight, which is two hundred pounds at Liverpool, would be only thirty-two pounds."
"And in the sun?"
"O, in the sun I should weigh more than five thousand pounds!"
"Heavens!" said Bell; "you'd need a derrick to move your legs."
"Probably," answered the doctor, laughing at Bell's amazement; "but here the difference is imperceptible, and by an equal effort of the muscles Bell would leap as high as on the docks at Liverpool."
"Yes, but in the sun?" urged Bell.
"My friend," answered the doctor, "the upshot of it all is that we are well off where we are, and need not want to go elsewhere."
"You said just now," resumed Altamont, "that perhaps it would be worth while to make a journey to the centre of the world; has such an undertaking ever been thought of?"
"Yes, and this is all I'm going to say about the Pole. There is no point in the world which has given rise to more chimeras and hypotheses. The ancients, in their ignorance, placed the garden of the Hesperides there. In the Middle Ages it was supposed that the earth was upheld on axles placed at the poles, on which it revolved; but when comets were seen moving freely, that idea had to be given up. Later, there was a French astronomer, Bailly, who said that the lost people mentioned by Plato, the Atlantides, lived here. Finally, it has been asserted in our own time that there was an immense opening at the poles, from which came the Northern Lights, and through which one could reach the inside of the earth; since in the hollow sphere two planets, Pluto and Proserpine, were said to move, and the air was luminous in consequence of the strong pressure it felt."
"That has been maintained?" asked Altamont.
"Yes, it has been written about seriously. Captain Symmes, a countryman of ours, proposed to Sir Humphry Davy, Humboldt, and Arago, to undertake the voyage! But they declined."
"And they did well."
"I think so. Whatever it may be, you see, my friends, that the imagination has busied itself about the Pole, and that sooner or later we must come to the reality."
"At any rate, we shall see for ourselves," said Johnson, who clung to his idea.
"Then, to-morrow we'll start," said the doctor, smiling at seeing the old sailor but half convinced; "and if there is any opening to the centre of the earth, we shall go there together."
CHAPTER XXV
MOUNT HATTERAS
After this solid conversation every one made himself as comfortable as possible in the cavern, and soon fell asleep. Every one, that is, except Hatteras. Why did not this strange man sleep?
Was not the object of his life attained? Had he not accomplished the bold projects which lay so near his heart? Why did not calmness succeed the agitation in his ardent mind? Would not one suppose that, when he had accomplished this end, Hatteras would fall into a sort of dejection, and that his over-stretched nerves would seek repose? After succeeding, it would seem natural that he should be seized with the feeling of sadness, which always follows satisfied desires.
But no. He was only more excited. It was not, however, the thought of returning which agitated him so. Did he wish to go farther? Was there no limit to his ambition, and did he find the world too small, because he had been around it? However this may have been, he could not sleep. And yet this first night spent at the pole of the world was pleasant and quiet. The island was absolutely uninhabited. There was not a bird in its fire-impregnated atmosphere, not an animal on the soil of cinders, not a fish in its boiling waters. Only afar off the dull murmur of the mountain, from the summit of which arose puffs of hot smoke.
When Bell, Johnson, Altamont, and the doctor awoke, Hatteras was not to be seen near them. Being anxious, they left the cave, and saw the captain standing on a rock. His eyes were fixed on the top of the volcano. He held his instruments in his hands, having evidently been calculating the exact height of the mountain. The doctor went up to him and spoke to him several times before he could rouse him from his revery. At last the captain seemed to understand him.
"Forward!" said the doctor, who was examining him attentively, – "forward! let us explore our island; we are all ready for our last excursion."
"Our last," said Hatteras, with the intonation of people who are dreaming aloud; "yes, the last, indeed. But also," he continued with great animation, "the most wonderful!"
He spoke in this way, rubbing his hands over his brow as if to allay its throbbing. At that moment, Altamont, Johnson, and Bell joined him; Hatteras appeared to awaken from his revery.
"My friends," he said with emotion, "thanks for your courage, thanks for your perseverance, thanks for your superhuman efforts, which have allowed us to set foot on this land!"
"Captain!" said Johnson, "we have only obeyed; all the honor is due to you alone!"
"No, no!" resumed Hatteras with emotion; "to you as much as to me! to Altamont as well as to all of us! as to the doctor himself – O, let my heart well over in your hands! It can no longer restrain its joy and gratitude!"
Hatteras clasped the hands of his companions. He walked to and fro, no longer master of himself.
"We have only done our duty as Englishmen," said Bell.
"Our duty as friends," continued the doctor.
"Yes," said Hatteras, "but all have not performed this duty. Some have given way! Still, they must be pardoned, both who were treacherous, and those who were led away to it! Poor men! I forgive them. You understand me, Doctor?"
"Yes," answered the doctor, who was very uneasy at Hatteras's excitement.
"So," went on the captain, "I don't want them to lose the money they came so far to seek. No, I shall not alter my plan; they shall be rich, – if they ever see England again!"
Few could have withstood the tenderness with which Hatteras spoke these last words.
"But, Captain," said Johnson, with an effort at pleasantry, "one would say you were making your will."
"Perhaps I am," answered Hatteras, seriously.
"Still you have before you a long and glorious life," continued the old sailor.
"Who can say?" said Hatteras.
A long silence followed these words. The doctor did not dare to try to interpret the last remark. But Hatteras soon expressed his meaning, for in a hasty, hardly restrained voice, he went on: —
"My friends, listen to me. We have done a good deal so far, and yet there is a good deal to do."
His companions gazed at him in astonishment.
"Yes, we are on the land of the Pole, but we are not on the Pole itself!"
"How so?" asked Altamont.
"You don't mean it!" cried the doctor, anxiously.
"Yes!" resumed Hatteras, earnestly, "I said that an Englishman should set foot on the Pole; I said it, and an Englishman shall do it."
"What!" ejaculated the doctor.
"We are now forty-five seconds from the unknown point," Hatteras went on, with increasing animation; "where it is, I am going!"
"But that is the top of the volcano!" said the doctor.
"I'm going!"
"It's an inaccessible spot!"
"I'm going!"
"It's a fiery crater!"
"I'm going!"
The firmness with which Hatteras uttered these words cannot be given. His friends were stupefied; they gazed with horror at the volcano tipped with flame. Then the doctor began; he urged and besought Hatteras to give up his design; he said everything he could imagine, from entreaty to well-meant threats; but he obtained no concession from the nervous captain, who was possessed with a sort of madness which may be called polar madness. Only violent means could stop him, rushing to his ruin. But seeing that thereby they would produce serious results, the doctor wished to keep them for a last resource. He hoped, too, that some physical impossibility, some unsurmountable difficulty, would compel him to give up his plan.
"Since it is so," he said, "we shall follow you."
"Yes," answered the captain, "half-way up the mountain! No farther! Haven't you got to carry back to England the copy of the document which proves our discovery, in case – "
"Still – "
"It is settled," said Hatteras, in a tone of command; "and since my entreaties as a friend are not enough, I order it as captain."
The doctor was unwilling to urge him any further, and a few moments later the little band, equipped for a hard climb, and preceded by Duke, set out. The sky was perfectly clear. The thermometer stood at 52°. The air had all the brilliancy which is so marked at this high latitude. It was eight o'clock in the morning. Hatteras went ahead with his dog, the others followed close behind.
"I'm anxious," said Johnson.
"No, no, there's nothing to fear," answered the doctor; "we are here."
It was a strange island, in appearance so new and singular! The volcano did not seem old, and geologists would have ascribed a recent date to its formation.
The rocks were heaped upon one another, and only kept in place by almost miraculous balancing. The mountain, in fact, was composed of nothing but stones that had fallen from above. There was no soil, no moss, no lichen, no trace of vegetation. The carbonic acid from the crater had not yet had time to unite with the hydrogen of the water; nor the ammonia of the clouds, to form under the action of the light, organized matter. This island had arisen from successive volcanic eruptions, like many other mountains; what they have hurled forth has built them up. For instance, Etna has poured forth a volume of lava larger than itself; and the Monte Nuovo, near Naples, was formed by ashes in the short space of forty-eight hours. The heap of rocks composing Queen's Island had evidently come from the bowels of the earth. Formerly the sea covered it all; it had been formed long since by the condensation of the vapor on the cooling globe; but in proportion as the volcanoes of the Old and New World disappeared, they were replaced by new craters.
In fact, the earth can be compared to a vast spheroidal boiler. Under the influence of the central fire an immense quantity of vapor is generated, which is exposed to a pressure of thousands of atmospheres, and which would blow up the globe, were it not for the safety-valves opening on the outside.
These safety-valves are the volcanoes; when one closes, another opens; and at the poles, where, doubtless in consequence of the flattening of the earth's surface, the crust is thinner, it is not strange that a volcano should be suddenly formed by the upheaval of the bottom of the waves. The doctor noticed all this as he followed Hatteras; his foot sank into a volcanic tufa, and the deposits of ashes, volcanic stones, etc., like the syenite and granite of Iceland. But he attributed a comparatively recent origin to the island, on account of the fact that no sedimentary soil had yet formed upon it. Water, too, was lacking. If Queen's Island had existed for several years, there would have been springs upon it, as there are in the neighborhood of volcanoes. Now, not only was there no drop of water there, but the vapors which arose from the stream of lava seemed absolutely anhydrous.
This island, then, was of recent formation; and since it appeared in one day, it might disappear in another and sink beneath the ocean.
The ascent grew more difficult the higher they went; the sides of the mountain became nearly perpendicular, and they had to be very careful to avoid accident. Often columns of cinders were blown about them and threatened to choke them, or torrents of lava barred their path. On some such places these streams were hard on top, but the molten stream flowed beneath. Each one had to test it first to escape sinking into the glowing mass. From time to time the crater vomited forth huge red-hot rocks amid burning gases; some of these bodies burst in the air like shells, and the fragments were hurled far off in all directions. The innumerable dangers of this ascent may be readily perceived, as well as the foolhardiness of the attempt.
Still, Hatteras climbed with wonderful agility, and while spurning the use of his iron-tipped staff, he ascended the steepest slopes. He soon reached a circular rock, which formed a sort of plateau about ten feet broad; a glowing stream surrounded it, which was divided at the corner by a higher rock, and left only a narrow passage through which Hatteras slipped boldly. There he stopped, and his companions were able to join him. Then he seemed to estimate the distance yet remaining; horizontally there were only about six hundred feet of the crater remaining, that is to say, from the mathematical point of the Pole; but vertically they had fifteen hundred feet yet to climb. The ascent had already taken three hours; Hatteras did not seem tired; his companions were exhausted.
The top of the volcano seemed inaccessible. The doctor wished at any risk to keep Hatteras from going higher. At first he tried gentle means, but the captain's excitement amounted to delirium; on the way he had exhibited all the signs of growing madness, and whoever has known him in the different scenes of his life cannot be surprised. In proportion as Hatteras rose above the ocean his excitement increased; he lived no longer with men; he thought he was growing larger with the mountain itself.
"Hatteras," said the doctor, "this is far enough! we can't go any farther!"
"Stay where you are, then," answered the captain in a strange voice; "I shall go higher!"
"No! that's useless! you are at the Pole here!"
"No, no, higher!"
"My friend, it's I who am speaking to you, Dr. Clawbonny! Don't you know me?"
"Higher! higher!" repeated the madman.
"Well, no, we sha'n't let – "
The doctor had not finished the sentence before Hatteras, by a violent effort, sprang over the stream of lava and was out of their reach. They uttered a cry, thinking Hatteras was lost in the fiery abyss; but he had reached the other side, followed by Duke, who was unwilling to abandon him.
He disappeared behind a puff of smoke, and his voice was heard growing fainter and fainter in the distance.
"To the north!" he was shouting, "to the top of Mount Hatteras! Do you remember Mount Hatteras?"
They could not think of getting up to him; there were twenty chances to one against their being able to cross the stream he had leaped over with the skill and luck of madmen. Nor could they get around it. Altamont in vain tried to pass; he was nearly lost in trying to cross the stream of lava; his companions were obliged to hold him by force.
"Hatteras, Hatteras!" shouted the doctor.
But the captain did not answer; Duke's barking alone was heard upon the mountain.
Still, Hatteras could be seen at intervals through the column of smoke and the showers of cinders. Sometimes his arm or head would emerge from the whirlwind. Then he would disappear and be seen again higher up in the rocks. His height diminished with the fantastic swiftness of objects rising in the air. Half an hour later he seemed but a fraction of his usual size.
The air was filled with the dull noises of the volcano; the mountain was roaring like a boiler, its sides were quivering. Hatteras kept on, and Duke followed. From time to time some enormous rock would give way beneath them and go crashing down to the sea. But Hatteras did not look back. He had made use of his staff as a pole on which to fasten the English flag. His companions observed every one of his movements. His dimensions became gradually smaller, and Duke seemed no larger than a rat. One moment the wind seemed to drive down upon them a great wave of flame. The doctor uttered a cry of anguish, but Hatteras reappeared, standing and brandishing the flag.
This sight lasted for more than an hour, – an hour of struggle with the trembling rocks, with the beds of ashes into which this madman would sink up to the waist. Now he would be climbing on his knees and making use of every inequality in the mountain, and now he would hang by his hands at some sharp corner, swinging in the wind like a dry leaf.
At last he reached the top, the yawning mouth of the crater. The doctor then hoped that the wretched man, having attained his object, would perhaps return and have only those dangers before him.
He gave a last shout.
"Hatteras, Hatteras!"
The doctor's cry moved the American's heart so that he cried out, —
"I will save him!"
Then with one leap crossing the fiery torrent at the risk of falling in, he disappeared among the rocks. Clawbonny did not have time to stop him. Still, Hatteras, having reached the top, was climbing on top of a rock which overhung the abyss. The stones were raining about him. Duke was still following him. The poor beast seemed already dizzy at the sight beneath him. Hatteras was whirling about his head the flag, which was lighted with the brilliant reflection, and the red bunting could be seen above the crater. With one hand Hatteras was holding it; with the other he was pointing to the zenith, the celestial pole. Still he seemed to hesitate. He was seeking the mathematical point where all the meridians meet, and on which in his sublime obstinacy he wanted to set his foot.
Suddenly the rock gave way beneath him. He disappeared. A terrible cry from his companions rose even to the summit of the mountain. A second – a century – passed! Clawbonny considered his friend lost and buried forever in the depths of the volcano. But Altamont was there, and Duke too. The man and the dog had seized him just when he was disappearing in the abyss. Hatteras was saved, saved in spite of himself, and half an hour later the captain of the Forward lay unconscious in the arms of his despairing friends.
When he came to himself, the doctor gave him a questioning glance in mute agony. But his vague look, like that of a blind man, made no reply.
"Heavens!" said Johnson, "he is blind!"
"No," answered Clawbonny, – "no! My poor friends, we have saved Hatteras's body! His mind is at the top of the volcano! He has lost his reason!"
"Mad?" cried Johnson and Altamont in deep distress.
"Mad!" answered the doctor.
And he wept bitterly.