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Harold's Old Time Radio
A Journey to the Center of the Earth xx-xx-xx BBC (4 of 8) The Central Sea
00:27:52
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If you're the purchasing manager at a manufacturing plant, you know having a trusted partner makes all the difference. That's why, hands down, you count on Grainger for auto reordering. With on time restocks, your team will have the cut resistant gloves they need at the start of their shift. And you can end your day knowing they've got safety well in hand. Call 1-800-GRAINGER Click grainger.com or just stop by grainger for the ones who get it done. We present Bernard Horsfall as Harry Lawson and Jeffrey Banks as Professor Van Hardwigen. A Journey TO the Center of the Earth the novel by Jules Verne Adapted for Radio in Eight Parts by Howard Jones Part 4 the Central Sea My name is Harry Lawson. I am a nephew by marriage of that now celebrated German scientist, Professor von Hardwig. Professor Hardwig is eccentric, brave and impetuous. Accompanied by our faithful guide, Hans Bjelke, we descended the crater of Snaefels. We journeyed many leagues through subterranean passages. We almost died of thirst before Hans discovered a hot spring. One day I became separated from my companions a hundred miles beneath the surface of the earth. I was alone, lost in utter darkness. I must have gone mad. For a while I ran about, screaming, dashing myself against the granite sides of the passage. And then. Then as I lay with my head close to the wall, I seemed to hear a strange, distorted jumble of sound. Far, far away. I seemed to hear voices speaking my name. Could it be that this passage was a sort of whispering gallery? I believed it must be. So I put my lips to the wall and I said as clearly and as distinctly as I could, Uncle. Hard. I waited. To my distracted mind, an eternity passed. Then some words reached my ears and stirred my throbbing heart anew. Harry, my boy. Is there tomb? Harry, is there tomb? Yes. Yes, Uncle. Where are the Duke? I. I don't know. And your lamp? My lamp is out. Smashed. What about the Huntbar? Our guiding dream? I have lost it. I see. If your carriage comes, hurry. We will do our best, Uncle. I. I haven't the strength to answer a lot of questions. But I beg you, for heaven's sake, go on talking to me. Do not talk yourself, my boy. Just listen to me. We have been searching for you in all directions, upwards and downwards. In. In the gallery. I had begun to give up hope. Even I. My dear boy, you can never know the tears I have shed. At last, supposing you to be still on the road, beside the Handbach. We came down the galley again, firing our guns. It may be A long time before we actually meet. But do not despair, my dear boy. It is something change even to hear each other. Uncle. Uncle. There is one thing I must know. And what is that? I. I must know how far away you are. It's not difficult to calculate, I think. Let us do so. Have you the chronometer? Of course. Take it in your hand, speak my name and note exactly the second at which you speak. I will reply as soon as I hear your voice. And you will note how much time has elapsed when my reply reaches you. Eric. Good. The mean time between question and answer will be the time taken by my voice to reach you. Yes. And so we can calculate the distance between us. Then I am about to speak to again. I put my ear closer to the gallery wall. And as soon as I heard the professor speak my name, I put my lips to the wall and repeat. At last. At long, long last, my uncle spoke again. 40 seconds to avoid. Therefore take 20 seconds to reach me. Now allowing 10, 20ft for every second. We have 1,400ft. That's the distance between us. That is a leak and a half and 18 of an eight. A league and a half. But that's five miles. We shall get over Italy. Depend on us. But in which direction will you ascend or descend? Listen carefully. Open space. A kind of bare cross road, regenerated alternative. The gathering where you are now must necessarily bring you to these crossroads. So pull yourself together. Paris. Take a cabin and continue on your way. Walk, if you have this right. If you cannot walk, drag yourself around sky if nothing else is possible. The slope, I think, is steep, probably varies the least. But do not be afoot. You will find strong arms to receive you at your journey's end. Now make a chance. That I could. Sparrow. Very well, if you think that's best. Once I leave this spot, we shan't be able to talk any more. And starting off now. Goodbye, uncle. Goodbye. Goodbye. Until we say welcome. Goodbye, Harry. Until we say welcome. These were the last words I heard my uncle speak. I rose unsteadily to my feet. But I soon discovered that I could not walk, that I must crawl and drag myself along. The slope became very steep and I allowed myself to slide down. The slope steepened. I slid faster and faster. I could do nothing to save myself. Suddenly the earth gave way beneath me. I was flung forward into a void of solid blackness. It was a sort of. Well, a vertical gallery. My head struck against a projecting rock. I dropped senseless, as if death had already claimed me for his own. If you're an H Vac technician and a call comes in, Grainger knows that you need a partner that helps you find the right product fast and hassle free. And you know that when the first problem of the day is a clanking blower motor, there's no need to break a sweat. With Grainger's easy to use website and product details, you're confident you'll soon have everything humming right along. Call 1-800-GRAINGER clickgranger.com or just stop by Granger for the ones who get it done. Presently I opened my eyes. I was lying on some thick, soft coverlets and all about me was a sort of twilight. And my uncle was watching, his eyes moist with tears fixed steadfastly on my face. I must have spoken or made a sound of some sort, for he suddenly grasped my hand and uttered a cry of joy. He lives. He lives. Uncle. My dear boy. You are saved. Hans. Hans is safe. We were always sure he would be saved. Good day, Master Harry. Good day, Hans. Good day. Well, now. Now that we've met again, tell me where we are Tomorrow. Tomorrow we will talk. I seem to have lost my bearings entirely. I can scarcely remember anything. Hello. What's wrong with my head? It is breast and bandaged, that is all. Sleep now, and tomorrow we will talk. Yes, tomorrow we will tell you all you want to know. At least tell me now what the time is and. And what day is it? The time? The day. Why, it is now 11 o' clock at night. And this is once more Sunday. Yes, this is Sunday, the ninth of the month of August. And that's quite enough, Harry. I forbid you to ask any more questions until the 10th, which is tomorrow. Now it is best useful. Next morning when I awoke, I immediately looked around me. My bed, which was made up of all our traveling rugs, was in an enchanting grotto where magnificent stalagmites glittered with all the colours of the rainbow. Beneath me was a floor of soft and silvery sand and everywhere was hazy twilight. No torch, no lamp was burning. But certain mysterious beams of light reached me through the entrance of the grotto. And there was something more. I heard, or seemed to hear, a vague indefinite murmur like the ebb and flow of waves upon a shore. And sometimes I truly believed I could hear the sighing of a wind. I began to think I must be dreaming. And even when I assured myself that this really was no dream, that I was fully awake, I began to wonder if my brain had been affected by my fall and all that had happened to me. In the last 24 hours was afraid, frenzied vision of madness. But then I thought, then surely not both my eyes and my ears would deceive me at the same time. No, it was a fact that somehow a ray of blessed daylight had penetrated a fissure in the rocks. But what about the murmur of the waves, the sighing of a wind? Perhaps, thought I, perhaps they have carried me back to the surface of the earth during my illness. Perhaps my uncle has given up the expedition. As I was puzzling myself about these things, my uncle joined me. Good morning, Harry. I fancy you're better this morning. Yes, uncle. Splendid, splendid. You slept soundly, very soundly, my boy. Hans and I took turn and turned about to watch. You seem to us you were improving every hour, eh, Hans? Eh? Oh, yes, he is much better. You know, I'm jolly hungry. I feel I could devour anything you put in front of me. Good, good. You shall eat. I think you have no fever. I put an ointment on your wounds and bruises, an ointment of which only the Icelanders know the secret. I am sure you are better. Much better. My uncle presently put a meal before me and as soon as I had eaten, I overwhelmed him with questions. He told me that my providential fall had brought me to the bottom of an almost perpendicular gallery and that I came down amidst a perfect shower of boulders, the smallest of which could easily have crushed me to death. They came to the conclusion that I had dislodged and carried down with me an enormous rock. And riding, as it were on this fearful chariot, I was cast down and fell almost headlong into my uncle's arms, insensible and covered with blood. Yes, Harry, it is a miracle that you were not killed a thousand times over. So let us take care, my dear boy, never to separate again. Never, never to separate again. But that is what I said. What is the matter, Harry? Have we or haven't we returned to the surface of the earth? We certainly have not. It must be delirious down in that direction. I can see daylight. And don't I hear the whistling of a wind, the murmur of a sea? And is this all that makes you uneasy? Surely it's enough. Can you explain these things? I will not attempt to explain them, my boy, for the whole thing is inexplicable. But as to that, you shall see and judge for yourself. My opinion, for what it is worth, is that geological science is only in its infancy, Harry, and we shall astonish the world with our discoveries. Very well. Let me see for myself then. Not so fast, my dear Harry. After what you have been through, you must take great care before going into the open air. Open air? But when my uncle realized that my unsatisfied curiosity was doing me more harm than good, he gave way. Wrapping myself in one of the coverlets, I hurried from the grotto. At first I could see practically nothing. My eyes, quite unused to the light, could not bear the brightness, and I had to close them. When I was able to reopen them and to adjust them to the light, I stood motionless, unable to utter a word. Never in my wildest moments had I imagined a scene like this. The sea. The sea. Yes, Harry. The Central Sea. No future navigator can contest the fact that I discovered it. And hence I have the right of naming it the Central Sea. A vast, limitless expanse of water. A shore of beautiful, soft, golden sand mixed with small shells. The long, deserted home of some of the creatures of a past age. The waves broke incessantly with a peculiarly sonorous murmur, and many a dash of spray was blown into my face. A mighty superstructure of rock rose above us to an inconceivable height. On all sides were caves and promontories and enormous cliffs, partially worn by the eternal breaking of the waves through countless ages. And the cliffs faded into distance like a fleecy film of cloud. This was, in reality, an ocean with all the usual characteristics of an inland sea, only horribly wild, cold and savage. How was it that I was able to look out on this vast sheet of water instead of finding myself in impenetrable darkness? All before me was lit up as if by daylight. But some things were lacking. The dazzling brilliancy of the sun, the pale, cold light of the moon, the brightness of the stars. It was evident that the light of this subterranean region, from its trembling and flickering, its clear, dry whiteness, its superiority to moonlight, was electric. Something in the nature of the aurora borealis. Only that its phenomena were constant and able to light up the whole of the ocean cavern. The tremendous vault above our heads. The sky, so to speak, appeared to be composed of nebulous vapors in constant motion. There were heavy and dense clouds rolling through the vault, partially concealing the roof. Electric currents produced an astonishing play of light and shade. Deep shadows were cast beneath. And then suddenly, between two clouds, there would come a ray of unusual beauty and remarkable intensity. The effect was sad and melanchol. Instead of a noble sky of blue studded with stars, there was about me a heavy roof of granite. In truth, we were imprisoned, confined, as it were, in a vast excavation but it was impossible to make out the dimensions of the place. The shore on either hand widened rapidly and was lost to sight. And on the distant horizons a haze bounded our view. As to the height we could see that it must be many miles to the roof. I felt as I stood upon that mysterious shore, like some wandering inhabitant of a distant planet gazing upon a new world for the first time. I gazed, I pondered, I admired. All in a state of stupefaction, not unmingled with fear. My uncle, who had been watching my face anxiously, now smiled with satisfaction. Ah, splendid. You are getting some color back into your cheeks, my boy. Am I? The air smells good, doesn't it? Yes, Harry, breathe it in. Breathe deeply. Uncle, how long were we in those fearful tunnels? I mean, how long since we descended the crater of Snaefels? 47 days. 47. The longest days of my life. Oh, come now. We have achieved great things. Do you feel strong enough to stroll up and down for a little? Yes, of course. That's the way. Yes. Take my arm, my boy. Slowly now. Slowly. We began to walk along the shores of this great lake. After we had walked about 500 yards, we rounded a steep promontory and found ourselves close to a lofty forest. It consisted of straight trunks with tufted tops in shape like parasols. The wind seemed to have no effect upon them, for despite a tolerable breeze, they remained as still and motionless as if they were made of stone. We hastened forward, and I said, what trees are these, Uncle? I've never seen anything like them. I am sure you have. It's a forest of mushrooms. Mushrooms? Thousands of mushrooms. Forty feet high. It can't be. Large mushrooms, I grant you, but nevertheless, mushrooms. Let us go on a little. The cold and the gloom in the shade of the mushroom forest were intense. I was glad to return to the light and comparative warmth of the shores of the lake. We had not gone far when we came upon many familiar trees growing to an exorbitant size. Trees? Gigantic grasses, flowering ferns as tall as pines. Oh, magnificent. Splendid. Here we have the whole flora of the transition period spread before us, the common plants of our gardens growing like mighty trees. Look around you, Harry. No botanist ever before gazed on such a site. A great hot house in the vast menagerie. A menagerie? What do you mean, Uncle? Look at the dust you are driving on. Bones, my boy. The bones of antediluvian animals. Here, look. The lower jawbone of a mastodon. Yes. And teeth. Yes. The molars have a Dinotherium Here. The leg of some sort belonging to a Megatherium. Did you ever see anything more splendid? But there we have seen enough for one day. Let us turn back. Next morning I awoke early, feeling completely restored after my illness and suffering. I thought a swim would do me good and so I plunged into the waters of the central sea. It was cool, fresh and invigorating. Oh, you have been very thrilled, eh, Master Harry? Yes, Hans and I. I'm quite famished. Good. I have made a fire and cooked a breakfast. Will you have coffee? Coffee? Yes, please, Hans. Then here is coffee. Very hot. I think you are better. You are quite recovered. I think I am. Hench, I say. Where are you off to? I have work to do. Do not worry. When I had eaten, I returned to the seashore with the Professor. The waves were breaking monotonously on the beach and the waters seemed to be rising. I imagine the tide is almost at flood. The tide? Do you mean that the sun and the moon exert a pull on this sea? You may not, pray. You can see by this foam that the tide rises at least 10 or 12ft. The tides, the winds, the clouds. It's marvelous. Oh, on the contrary, it's quite natural. I suppose you might say nothing's impossible. If you won't accept the theory of the Earth's central heat, that is, the deeper you go down, the hotter. We have discussed that a dozen times, Sir Humphry. David did not accept it. And everything we have seen justifies him. Nothing is impossible. It's hard to believe. I must try fishing in this sea, Uncle. Perhaps I shall discover some unknown species of fish. Have you any idea where we are? 350 leagues from Iceland. Over a thousand miles. What about our direction? Still going to the southeast with a Western declination of 19 degrees, 42 minutes. How far down are we? We are now exactly 35 leagues more than a hundred miles beneath the surface of the earth. So we're now probably beneath the Scottish Highlands. The Grampian hills are over our head. Yes, but you. You need not fear that the vault will fall down and crush us. The mighty architect of the universe is safe and certain in his handy world. I'm not afraid of that, Uncle. But tell me, now that we've seen these wonders and talked about them, what are your future plans? What do you mean, my future plans? I mean, isn't it time we were thinking of returning to the surface? Go back. Surely you're not thinking of anything so stupid, so. So cowardly? My intention is to continue our journey so far we have been singularly lucky, and I. I hope we shall be more so in the future. You intend to cross this sea? Certainly. How? I am not going to swim it, as Leander swam the Hellespont, I assure you. But it stands to reason there is a limit to the extent of the sea. Then how far away is the further shore? Oh, I imagine it is some 40 or 50 leagues away, more or less. But we have no time for further discussion. We shall embark tomorrow. Embark? Where's the ship we're going to embark on? Who said anything about the ship? My dear Harry, if you were to listen instead of talking so much, you would hear? Yes? What would I hear? Listen. Listen. That's Hans. Hans. Hans. You speak. Master Harry. What are you making? You like this? What are you making? A raft, Master Harry. A raft. That's what it is. That was the fourth installment of A Journey to the center of the Earth, adapted by Howard Jones from the novel by Ju Van. The cast was as follows. Harry Lawson was played by Bernard Horsfall, professor von Hardwig by Jeffrey Banks and Hans Bjelke by John Daglish. It was produced in the north of England by Trevor Hill. Next Thursday at 5:25 in story time on Radio 4, you can hear the fifth installment and it's called the Battle of the Monsters.