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- [00:08]
A
We present Bernard Horsfall as Harry Lawton and Jeffrey Banks as Professor von Hardwig in A Journey to the center of the Earth, the novel by Jules Verne, adapted for radio in eight parts by Howard Jones. Part 3 Lost Yes. My name is Harry Lawson. I am a nephew by marriage to that celebrated, brilliant, eccentric German scientist, Professor von Hardwig. It was he who planned our unforgettable journey, a journey to the center of the Earth. But I, in a sense, was responsible for it. For I hit upon the clue which enabled us to decipher some runic writing on an ancient parchment. It was the writing of one Arm Saknussem, an Icelandic alchemist of the 16th century. And he told how he had journeyed to the center of the Earth by descending the crater of the volcano Snapos in Iceland. My uncle was determined that we should follow in Saknasem's footsteps. So, with our faithful Icelandic guide, Hans Bjokke, we descended the crater of Snaefels. Presently we reached a spot where four subterranean galleries opened up before us. My uncle chose to follow the eastern gallery. We marched for days and days. Our water supplies were exhausted. At last we ran up against a solid wall of rock. We had followed the wrong road. We turned back on a nightmare march during which I became delirious with thirst. We reached the junction of the galleries where it seemed we were doomed to die. But Hans, exploring a little on his own account, heard the rush of water beyond a granite wall. With his crowbar, he hacked at the wall. He had been at work an hour, and I was wild with impatience. I am so. My uncle was thinking of more violent measures. He had, in fact, just taken hold of a crowbar when. Water.
- [02:18]
B
Master, here is much water. My clever, faithful hands. Hey, water. Water.
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Give me some.
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B
No, do not touch.
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A
What do you mean, do not touch?
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B
My hands? See, they are scalded. This water is boiling. Boiling? Then we can't drink it. Let us wait a little. It will soon get cool.
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A
The tunnel began to be filled by clouds of vapor, and a small stream trickled away from us towards the depths of the earth. In a short time it was sufficiently cool to drink, and we gulped it down in great mouthfuls. I remarked that it tasted of iron.
- [03:01]
B
Yes, indeed, my boy. An excellent tonic for the stomach. Hans can congratulate himself on a rare discovery. What do you say, Harry, to naming this stream after Hans? It is the usual custom with explorers, of course. Agreed. Then this stream henceforth shall be known as the Hans Bar. Does this please your Hans? I thank you, Masters, it seems a.
- [03:22]
A
Pity to let all this lovely water run to waste. I think first we should fill the goatskin and our gourds.
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B
Oh, yes, I have done this.
- [03:29]
A
Good. Then we should dam up the stream. Can you stop up the hole, Hans?
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B
I will see. But if it is hot, very hot. No, wait. When we have drunk all the water in the goatskin and the gourd, are we certain that we can refill them? Well, are we?
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A
May I? Now that you mention it.
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B
Let the water run away. I say. It is inexhaustible. Also, it will follow naturally the road to the center of the earth. It will serve to guide and refresh us on our way. You're right, Uncle.
- [04:00]
A
And with this stream always beside us, we're bound to succeed.
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B
Have you forgotten that it's night time? First we must sleep again. As you say, Harry. Let us push on.
- [04:12]
A
We resumed our march on the following day at 8 in the morning. The granite tunnel, with its sinuous and winding way and its occasional sharp turns, had all the appearance of a labyrinth. Its direction, however, was generally towards the southeast. All the time the stream flowed quietly at our feet. My uncle began to complain of the horizontal nature of the road. Our calculations showed a fall of about only 2 inches in every furlong. But this did not seem important to me. So long as the road led towards the center of the earth, there was no reason to complain. Besides, we had no choice. On the Evening of Friday, the 10th of July, our calculations showed us to be some 30 leagues southeast of Reykjavik and about 2 1/2 leagues beneath the surface. Hans, who was leading, suddenly gave a warning cry.
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B
Bu. Take care there. Take great care. What is the matter? A hole. Right here. Right under my feet. A horrible well. A beautiful well. Oh, it makes you dizzy to look down, eh, Harry? Yes, yes. This will take us down quickly. And it will take us a very long way. It is a veritable staircase.
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A
A staircase? We can't get down there.
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B
We have plenty of ropes. Have we not found plenty? I have them all here in my back. Not one is lost, stranded. But why do we delay with talk? Let us go down.
- [05:48]
A
The well into which we descended was a narrow opening known as a fissure. We were in fact, descending a kind of a spiral staircase. Down, down, down. It was exhausting work, and we were compelled to rest every quarter of an hour on some projecting rock or ledge. All the while the Hansbach fell beside us in a ca. For two whole days we followed the staircase down, penetrating two leagues deeper into the crust of the Earth. On the third day, however, at about 12 o', clock, the fissure suddenly assumed a gentler slope, still tending in a southeasterly direction. The road became comparatively easy and at the same time dreadfully monoton. It would have been difficult for matters to have turned out otherwise. Our journey had no chance of being diversified by landscape and scenery. We pushed on steadily. Three days later, on Saturday, 18 July, we reached a kind of vast grotto. My uncle paid Hans his wages, his usual three rick dollars, and declared the next day a day of rest. On Sunday morning, after breakfast, he decided to put his scientific notes and calculations in order. Yes, yes.
- [07:24]
B
When we return to the surface, I shall want to make a map of our journey. It would not be too difficult. I have noted with the greatest care the angles and slopes we have followed. Hans, take the compass. Tell me how it indicates. Points east, 1/4 southeast. Excellent. I calculate we have traveled 250 miles from our point of departure.
- [07:47]
A
That means that the Atlantic Ocean is over our heads. Certainly at this very moment. Perhaps storms are raging above us. Men and ships are battling with high winds. Perhaps whales are up there playing in shoals, thrashing our room.
- [07:59]
B
Possibly. Possibly. But don't worry, there's no danger of them breaking through. But let's get back to our calculations. We are 250 miles southeast of Snefus. And according to my previous notes, we have come 16 leagues in a downward direction.
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A
16 leagues, 50 miles into the earth.
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I'm sure of it.
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50 miles down. That's the limit allowed by science for the thickness of the Earth's crust.
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B
I agree.
- [08:24]
A
And according to all known laws on the increase of heat the deeper you penetrate, there should be here a temperature of. Well, let me see now. Yes, a temperature of 1500 degrees on the Rayoma scale. In which case these granite walls all about us shouldn't be here at all. They should be in a molten state.
- [08:38]
B
So do you see, my boy? Facts are very stubborn things and overrule all theories. Hans, what temperature does the thermometer indicate.
- [08:46]
A
On the railway scale? He indicates.
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B
Wait, please. He indicates 27 and 6/10 degrees. So science is wrong by 1474 degrees and 4/10 of a degree. Harry, your great who repudiates the central heat theory? He. Thou Shines forth in all his glory. He's right. And I have done well to believe in him. Eh, Harry?
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A
Eh? Your calculations lead me to a stupendous conclusion, Uncle.
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B
And what is that?
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A
Look at it in this way. From this spot where we are now to the center of the Earth is about about 1583 leagues.
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B
1583 and a quarter.
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We'll call it 1600 in round numbers. Now, out of a journey of 1600 leagues, we have completed 16.
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B
What then, Hans?
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How long has our journey occupied us so far?
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B
It is 20 days.
- [09:39]
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You're sure of that? Oh, yes, I'm sure. It is exactly 20 days, Uncle. You hear that? Exactly 20 days to complete a hundredth part of our journey. If we go on at this rate, we shall be journeying on for 2,000 days. Five and a half years. To descend 16 leagues. We have made a horizontal journey of 85 leagues. So that we shall have to go about 8,000 leagues.
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B
Oh, you and your calculations. How do you know that this road will not carry us directly and quickly to our journey's end? Besides, what I have undertaken to do and never has done before.
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A
Arn Sacnussem.
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B
Yes, the great Arn Sacnissem. Why should not we be equally successful? I hope we shall, Uncle.
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But still, if I may be allowed.
- [10:24]
B
To suggest, you are allowed to hold your tongue. And you talk so stupidly. I was only pointing out, my boy, whatever objections you raised, whatever fine theories you patrol it, we shall go on. Yes, master. We shall go on, shall we not? We shall go on. If you say so, master. I do say so. So there you are, my boy. We shall go on. We shall go.
- [10:58]
A
For several days thereafter, the slopes ahead of us became steeper. Some were frightful, almost vertical. And it seemed that we were forever going down through the solid rock. On some days we descended a league and a half and even two leagues, that is, six towards the center of the earth. These descents were sufficiently perilous, and as we made them, we learned to appreciate to the full the marvelous coolness of our guide. This grave and dispassionate Icelander had become devoted to us. And he got us over many a dangerous situation where, but for him, our little expedition must have foundered. During the two weeks following our last conversation, there occurred nothing worthy of recording. But the next event, which I must relate is indeed quite fearful. And even now the memory of it makes me tremble and my heart to falter. Our constant and successive descents had taken us quite 30 leagues into the earth. That is to say that there were above us nearly a hundred miles of rocks, oceans, continents and towns in a horizontal direction. We were about 200 leagues southeast of Iceland. 7 August. On that unforgettable day, the tunnel had taken an almost level course. I was walking in front. My uncle had charge of one of the ruhmkopf coils. I had the other. By means of its light, I was examining the different layers of granite. Presently I halted and turned round. Uncle. I had been completely absorbed in my engrossing occupation and had failed to notice I was alone. Uncle. No reply. I've certainly been walking too fast, or. Or perhaps the others have stopped to rest. Well, the best thing I can do is to go back and find them. I must have walked back for at least a quarter of an hour. Not a living soul.
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B
Uncle. Uncle.
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A
Uncle. No reply. My voice was lost in the myriad cavernous echoes it aroused. For the first time, I began to feel seriously alarmed. A shiver ran through my body. I broke out in a sweat. Keep calm. I must keep calm. I shall find them, all right. Of course I shall. There can't be two roads to the center of the earth. It's certain that I'm a long way ahead of them. All I have to do is to go back and find them. I ascended the tunnel. For half an hour I couldn't make up my mind whether or not I recognized certain markings and projections on the walls. Every now and again I paused and listened in case my uncle and Hans were calling, knowing well that in that still atmosphere I should hear them a long way off. But no, there was nothing to be heard, nothing in all that immense gallery except the echoes of my own footsteps. At last I stopped. Even now I could scarcely believe that I was lost. I was quite willing to think that I had made a mistake, but not that I was lost. If I had made some silly mistake, then surely I should find my way back to my companions. But if I was really lost. No, no, I would not think of it. I said to myself. Buck up now.
- [15:52]
B
It's all right.
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A
Since there's only one road to be followed, they must come by it, and we shall meet. All I have to do is to go back up the slope. Just a minute, though. It's possible that, having missed me, they too may have started to search for me. In that case, I must make haste. And I shall catch up with them. Of course I shall care catch up with'. Em. There's no doubt about it. But I was by no means convinced of what I said. And as I stood pondering, another fearful doubt assailed me. Was I, after all, really ahead of the others? Well, yes. Yes, of course I was. Hans was certainly following behind me, preceded by my uncle. Why, I perfectly recalled how Hans had stopped for a moment to just the baggage on his shoulders, that trifling detail. But I recalled it clearly and Then I thought, there's another sure means of not losing my way. There's a thread to guide me through all this twisting passage. The hand spark, our faithful little stream. Come along now, I said. Be on your way. Catch up with them. This wonderful little spring, our little river, with which had spared us from thirst for so long, would now lead me straight back onto the right road. But first I thought I would refresh myself with a wash. I stopped to plunge my hands into the waters of the Huntsbach stream. But there was no Huntsbach Stream. There was only the hard and dusty road of granite. No words can describe the despair that seized me. I went down on hands and knees, feeling the hard and arid floor. No stream, not the slightest trace of dampness. Uncle, I was lost, and I was powerless to help myself. Kneeling there, I asked for heaven's help. Little as I had a right to be remembered by God, I prayed earnestly and sincerely. I felt calmer after that. I remembered I had with me provisions for three days. I remembered that my water gourd was quite full. I must not give up. I must try to find my companions. Which way should I go? Up the slope or down? I would go on up the slope, I decided, in that direction I should eventually reach the point where I had lost the stream. Once there, I could regain the crater of Mount Snapels. Why thought of this before? I had a bite of food and a drink and started on the ascent of the gallery. An hour passed. I tried to recall the shape of the tunnel, to persuade myself that I had come this way before. But I could recognize nothing. And then I stumbled against something solid, impossible.
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Rock.
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A
This was the end of the passage. It was a mere blind alley. My last hope was now gone. I was lost in this vast labyrinth, without a guide, without a clue, without a compass. When I stumbled, I had damaged my lamp and I had no means of repairing it. Its light was already becoming fainter. Soon it would go out altogether. I seemed to see a procession of shadows flickering over the granite wall. And I scarcely dared to lower my eyes, fearing to lose this last precious glimmer of light. I completely lost my head. I rose, hammering my fists in despair against the cold stone wall. Madness must have seized me. I knew not what I did. I began to run, rushing willy nilly in this inextricable labyrinth, tearing down the sl like some crazed inhabitant of the underworld. Screaming, roaring, howling, bruised by the projecting rocks, falling and getting up, getting up and falling. Where was I going? I didn't know. I did not know. Hours past, perhaps Many. At last, my strength exhausted, I dropped senseless to the floor. When at last I opened my eyes, my face was wet with tears. How long I had lain there, I did not know. I had no means of knowing. I was alone, alone. Never since the creation of the world had there been such solitude as mine. Overcome with pain and grief, I crouched against the granite wall, endeavoring to compose my mind. Faintness came upon me again, and I thought, this must be the off death.
- [21:16]
B
Then.
- [21:19]
A
Suddenly there reached my ears a confusion of sound like a distant rumbling of thunder. And in it resounding far, far off voices. What was it? I listened. A quarter of an hour passed. All about me was so silent that I could hear the throbbing of my own heart. And thus I waited, waited, waited, strangely hopeful. Then, by accident, my ear brushed against the wall and I appeared to hear the faintest echo of a sound. As if I was listening to vague and incoherent voices. I cried aloud. It can't be. It isn't true. It's delirium. I'm imagining it. But I listened all the more int. Hello? Now I convinced myself that I heard human voices. I could make out no meaning, no sense in what I heard. But somewhere somebody was speaking. I felt sure of it. Could it be myself? Could it be that my own words were echoing back to me? I bit my lips and again put my ear to the wall. Yes, yes, it was the sound of human voices. So now I dragged myself along the sides of the tunnel until I reached a point where I could hear more distinctly. Even so, I could only distinguish strange and uncertain words which for me had no meaning. Words whispered, as it were, far, far away. And at last I made out a. For Laura. What did it mean? I didn't know. I didn't care.
- [23:32]
B
It was Danish.
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A
It must be either my uncle or Hans who was speaking. I yelled at the top of my voice. Then I listened to scarcely daring to breathe. I listened for the slightest sound. A cry, a sigh, a question. But no. All was silence. And now I began to fear that my voice was so weak that my companions who were in search of me would never hear me. It must be they.
- [24:05]
B
It must.
- [24:06]
A
What other men can be buried down here a hundred miles under the surface of the earth? Then again I listened. I moved my ear over to the wall and found a spot where the voices appeared to be at their loudest. And I heard too, a noise like the rolling of distant thunder. Now, at last, I understood what was happening. These sounds were not reaching me through the solid mass of granite they were coming along. The gallery itself, the place where I lay, had some peculiar acoustic property of its own. A whispering gallery. I heard my own name distinctly pronounced, cast, as it were, into space. It was my uncle, the professor, who was speaking. It was clear that shouting would not help me. In order to make myself heard, I too must speak along the wall of the gallery, which would carry my voices across effectively as a wire carries electricity from one place to another. But there was no time to lose. If my companions were to move only a few feet from where they now stood, there would be no acoustic effect, no whispering gallery. I put my lips to the wall and I said as clearly and as distinctly as I could, uncle, heart sake. I waited. I knew that sound did not travel very fast, and besides, I thought the density of the air at this great depth could only tend to slow it down. I waited. Many seconds passed. Seconds which, to my distracted mind, appeared an eternity. And then. Uncle. That was the third installment of A Journey to the center of the Earth, adapted by Howard Jones from the novel by Jules Verne. The cast was as follows. Harry Lawson was played by Bernard Horsfall, professor von Hartwig by Geoffrey Banks and.
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Hans Bjelke by John Daglish.
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It was produced in the north of England by Trevor Hill. Next Thursday at 5:25 in story time, you'll be able to hear the fourth installment of a Journey to the center of the Earth. This is called the Central Sea.