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The rector
and his huge wife or servant, I never knew which, stood at the door to
see us off. They appeared to be about to inflict on us the usual final
kiss of the Icelanders. To our supreme astonishment their adieu took the
shape of a formidable bill, in which they even counted the use of the
pastoral house, really and truly the most abominable and dirty place I
ever was in. The worthy couple cheated and robbed us like a Swiss
innkeeper, and made us feel, by the sum we had to pay, the splendors of
their hospitality.
My uncle, however, paid without bargaining. A man who had made up his
mind to undertake a voyage into the Interior of the Earth, is not the
man to haggle over a few miserable rix-dollars.
This important matter settled, Hans gave the signal for departure, and
some few moments later we had left Stapi.
CHAPTER 12
THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SNEFFELS
The huge volcano which was the first stage of our daring experiment is
above five thousand feet high. Sneffels is the termination of a long
range of volcanic mountains, of a different character to the system of
the island itself. One of its peculiarities is its two huge pointed
summits. From whence we started it was impossible to make out the real
outlines of the peak against the grey field of sky. All we could
distinguish was a vast dome of white, which fell downwards from the head
of the giant.
The commencement of the great undertaking filled me with awe. Now that
we had actually started, I began to believe in the reality of the
undertaking!
Our party formed quite a procession. We walked in single file, preceded
by Hans, the imperturbable eider-duck hunter. He calmly led us by narrow
paths where two persons could by no possibility walk abreast.
Conversation was wholly impossible. We had all the more opportunity to
reflect and admire the awful grandeur of the scene around.
Beyond the extraordinary basaltic wall of the fjord of Stapi we found
ourselves making our way through fibrous turf, over which grew a scanty
vegetation of grass, the residuum of the ancient vegetation of the
swampy peninsula. The vast mass of this combustible, the field of which
as yet is utterly unexplored, would suffice to warm Iceland for a whole
century. This mighty turf pit, measured from the bottom of certain
ravines, is often not less than seventy feet deep, and presents to the
eye the view of successive layers of black burned-up rocky detritus,
separated by thin streaks of porous sandstone.
The grandeur of the spectacle was undoubted, as well as its arid and
deserted air.
As a true nephew of the great Professor Hardwigg, and despite my
preoccupation and doleful fears of what was to come, I observed with
great interest the vast collection of mineralogical curiosities spread
out before me in this vast museum of natural history. Looking back to my
recent studies, I went over in thought the whole geological history of
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