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Yeah, I said it! Callbacks are faster when running them parallel over async/await in parallel. And only faster when we run sequential callbacks. 4.8x 1.9x I've modified this article somewhat after I got some helpful and kind comments about my dodgy test. 😂🙏 Thank you to and for taking the time to steer the benchmarks in the right direction. My first faux pas was I wasn't actually waiting for the execution of the code to finish, which crazily skewed the results. The second was I was comparing parallel to sequential runtimes, which make the benchmarks worthless. Ricardo Lopes Ryan Poe So this is round 2 which addresses my initial errors. Previously, I said: Originally, I wrote, that NodeJS is 34.7x faster if we go back to callbacks! 🤣 Wrong. Not as impressive as my bad benchmarks before (and see comments for context), but still a sizeable difference. So what exactly did I test? I compared callbacks to promises and async/await when reading a file, 10,000 times. And maybe that's a silly test but I wanted to know, which is faster at I/O. Then I finally compared callbacks in Node.js to Go! Now, guess who won? I won't be mean. . Golang! TLDR Lower is better. Results are in . ms Now, true benchmarkers? Go easy on me on this one. But please do leave your comments to make me a better person. Everyone keeps saying that Node.js is slow! And it bugs me out. Because what does slow mean? As with all benchmarks, mine is contextual. I started reading about the , just to even begin to understand . Event Loop how it works But the main thing I've understood is that Node.js passes I/O tasks onto a queue that sits outside the main Node.js executable thread. This queue runs on . A number of threads could potentially handle these I/O operations. And that's where Node.js can shine, handling I/O. pure C Promises, however, get handled in the main, single executable thread. And async/await, is well, promises but now with blocking added. So are callbacks faster than promises? Let's put it to the test. First off. My ! Complements of working with . It's important to note what resources we're working with. Plenty memory and CPU. machine Kamma MacBook Pro (14-inch, 2021)
Chip      Apple M1 Pro
Memory    32 GB
Cores     10
NodeJS    v20.8.1 So we have a file with an message, . text.txt original Hello, world echo "Hello, world" > text.txt And we'll read this text file using native Node.js, which means, zero node module dependencies because we don't want to drag the speed down with the heaviest objects in the universe. Callbacks Parallel callbacks First, let's start with callbacks. I'm interested in how quickly the same file can be read as quickly as possible, all at once. And what's faster than parallel? parallel // > file-callback-parallel.test.mjs
import test from 'node:test';
import assert from 'node:assert';
import fs from "node:fs";

test('reading file 10,000 times with callback parallel', (t, done) => {
    let count = 0;
    for (let i = 0; i < 10000; i++) {
        fs.readFile("./text.txt", { encoding: 'utf-8'}, (err, data) => {
            assert.strictEqual(data, "Hello, world");
            count++
            if (count === 10000) {
                done()
            }
        })
    }
}); Sequential callbacks Second, we have callbacks again, but sequential (or rather blocking). I'm interested in how quickly the same file can be read sequentially. Having not done callbacks calling callbacks for ages, this was fun to try again. Albeit, it doesn't look pretty. // > file-callback-blocking.test.mjs
import test from 'node:test';
import assert from 'node:assert';
import fs from "node:fs";

let read = (i, callback) => {
    fs.readFile("./text.txt", { encoding: 'utf-8'}, (err, data) => {
        assert.strictEqual(data, "Hello, world");

        i += 1

        if (i === 10000) {
            return callback()
        }

        read(i, callback)
    })
}

test('reading file 10,000 times with callback blocking', (t, done) => {
    read(0, done)
}); Async/Await Then we have async/await. My favourite way of working with Nodejs. Parallel async/await It's as parallel as I can get with async/await. I load all the operations into an array and await them all using . readFile Promise.all // > file-async-parallel.test.mjs
import test from 'node:test';
import assert from 'node:assert';
import fs from "node:fs/promises";

test('reading file 10,000 times with async parallel', async (t) => {
    let allFiles = []
    for (let i = 0; i < 10000; i++) {
        allFiles.push(fs.readFile("./text.txt", { encoding: 'utf-8'}))
    }

    return await Promise.all(allFiles)
        .then(allFiles => {
            return allFiles.forEach((data) => {
                assert.strictEqual(data, "Hello, world");
            })
        })
}); Sequential Async/Await This was the easiest and most concise one to write. // > file-async-blocking.test.mjs

import test from 'node:test';
import assert from 'node:assert';
import fs from "node:fs/promises";

test('reading file 10,000 times with async blocking', async (t) => {
    for (let i = 0; i < 10000; i++) {
        let data = await fs.readFile("./text.txt", { encoding: 'utf-8'})
        assert.strictEqual(data, "Hello, world");
    }
}); Promises Finally, we have promises without async/await. I've long stopped using them in favour of but I was interested in whether they were performant or not. async/await Parallel promises // > file-promise-parallel.test.mjs
import test from 'node:test';
import assert from 'node:assert';
import fs from "node:fs/promises";

test('reading file 10,000 times with promise parallel', (t, done) => {
    let allFiles = []

    for (let i = 0; i < 10000; i++) {
        allFiles.push(fs.readFile("./text.txt", { encoding: 'utf-8'}))   
    }

    Promise.all(allFiles)
        .then(allFiles => {
            for (let i = 0; i < 10000; i++) {
                assert.strictEqual(allFiles[i], "Hello, world");
            }

            done()
        })
}); Sequential promises. Again, we want to wait for the execution of all operations. readFile // > file-promise-blocking.test.mjs
import test from 'node:test';
import assert from 'node:assert';
import fs from "node:fs/promises";

test('reading file 10,000 times with promises blocking', (t, done) => {
    let count = 0;
    for (let i = 0; i < 10000; i++) {
        let data = fs.readFile("./text.txt", { encoding: 'utf-8'})
            .then(data => {
                assert.strictEqual(data, "Hello, world")
                count++
                if (count === 10000) {
                    done()
                }
            })
    }
}); And voila! Results 🎉! I even ran it a few times to get a better reading. I ran each test by doing: node --test <file>.mjs It's also 4.7x faster than with promises in parallel! Reading a file 10,000 times with callbacks is over 5.8x faster than with async/await in parallel! So, in Node.js land, callbacks more performant! are Now is Go faster than Node.js? Well, I don't write in Go, so this may be truly terrible code because I asked ChatGPT to help me and yet, it pretty decent. seems Hey ho. Let's go. Our Golang code. package main

import (
    "fmt"
    "io/ioutil"
    "time"
)

func main() {
    startTime := time.Now()

    for i := 0; i < 10000; i++ {
        data, err := ioutil.ReadFile("./text.txt")
        if err != nil {
            fmt.Printf("Error reading file: %v\n", err)
            return
        }
        if string(data) != "Hello, world" {
            fmt.Println("File content mismatch: got", string(data), ", want Hello, world")
            return
        }
    }

    duration := time.Since(startTime)
    fmt.Printf("Test execution time: %v\n", duration)
} And we run it as so: go run main.go And the results? Test execution time: 58.877125ms 🤯 Go is 4.9x faster than Node.js using sequential callbacks. Node.js only comes close with parallel execution. Node.js Async/await is 9.2x slower than Go. So yes. Node.js is slower. Still, 10,000 files in sub 300ms isn't to be scoffed at. But I've been humbled by Go's speediness! Now just a side note. Do I have bad benchmarks? I really did have terrible Benchmarks. Thank you again to Ricardo and Ryan. Yes, I did. Hopefully now they're better. But you may ask, who's really going to read the same file, over and over again? But for a relative test between things, I hope it's a helpful comparison. I also don't know how many threads Node.js is using. I don't know how my CPU cores affect Go vs Node.js performance. I could just rent an AWS machine with one core and compare. Is it because I'm on Mac M1? How would Node.js perform on a Linux or...Windows? 😱 And there's the practicality of, yes, reading a file is one thing, but at some point, you have to wait anyway for the file to be read to do something with the data in the file. So, speed on the main thread is still pretty important. Now, do you really want to use callbacks? I mean, do you really, really want to? I don't know. I definitely don't want to tell anyone what to do. But I like the clean syntax of async/awaits. They look better. They read better. I know better is subjective here but I remember callback-hell, and I was grateful when promises came into existence. It made Javascript bearable. Now, Golang is clearly faster than Node.js at its optimum, with callbacks, and with async/await, by 9.2x! So if we want good readability and performance, Golang is the winner. Although, I'd love to learn how Golang looks under the hood. Anywho. This was fun. It was more of an exercise to help me understand how callbacks and I/O work in the Event Loop. So to sign out Is Node.js slow? Or are we just using Node.js on slow mode? Probably where performance matters, Golang is worth the jump. I'll certainly be looking more at using Golang in future. Also appears . here

NodeJS: 4.8x Faster if You go Back to Callbacks!

নোডজেএস: আপনি কলব্যাকে ফিরে গেলে 4.8x দ্রুত!

NodeJS: 4,8x schneller, wenn Sie zu Rückrufen zurückkehren!

NodeJS: ¡4,8 veces más rápido si vuelves a las devoluciones de llamada!

NodeJS : 4,8 fois plus rapide si vous revenez aux rappels !

NodeJS: यदि आप कॉलबैक पर वापस जाते हैं तो 4.8 गुना तेज़!

NodeJS: コールバックに戻すと 4.8 倍高速になります!

NodeJS: 콜백으로 돌아가면 4.8배 더 빨라집니다!

NodeJS: 4,8x mais rápido se você voltar aos retornos de chamada!

NodeJS: в 4,8 раза быстрее, если вы вернетесь к обратным вызовам!

NodeJS: Geri Aramalara Geri Dönerseniz 4,8 Kat Daha Hızlı!

NodeJS: Nhanh hơn 4,8 lần nếu bạn quay lại Cuộc gọi lại!

NodeJS：如果您返回回调，速度会快 4.8 倍！

Scientific American, Vol. XXXIX. No. 6. [New Series.], August 10, 1878, by Various, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . THE SUN. here THE SUN. BY S. P. LANGLEY, ALLEGHENY OBSERVATORY, PA. [1] When, with a powerful telescope, we return to the study of the sun's surface, we meet a formidable difficulty which our first simple means did not present. This arises from the nearly constant tremors of our own atmosphere, through which we have to look. It is not that the tremor does not exist with the smaller instrument, but now our higher magnifying power exaggerates it, causes everything to appear unsteady and blurry, however good the glass, and makes the same kind of trouble for the eye which we should experience if we tried to read very fine print across the top of a hot stove, whence columns of tremulous air were rising. There is no remedy for this, unless it is assiduous watching and infinite patience, for in almost every day there will come one or more brief intervals, lasting sometimes minutes, sometimes only seconds, during which the air seems momentarily tranquil. We must be on the watch for hours, to seize these favorable moments, and, piecing together what we have seen in them, in the course of time we obtain such knowledge of the more curious features of the solar surface as we now possess. The eye aches after gazing for a minute steadily at the full moon, and the sun's light is from 300,000 to 600,000 times brighter than full moon light, while its heat is in still greater proportion. The object lens of such a telescope as the equatorial at Allegheny is 13 inches in diameter, and it is such light, and such heat, concentrated by it, that we have to gaze on. The best contrivance so far found for diminishing both, and without which our present acquaintance with the real appearance and character of sunspots would not have been gained, depends upon a curious property of light, discovered by a French physicist, Malus, in the beginning of this century. Let A ( ) be a piece of plane unsilvered glass, receiving the solar rays and reflecting them to a second similar one, B, which itself reflects them again in the direction C. Of course, since the glass is transparent, most of the rays will pass through A, and not be reflected. Of those which reach B again most will pass through, so that not a hundredth part of the original beam reaches C. This then, is so far a gain; but of itself of little use, since, such is the solar brilliancy, that even this small fraction would, to an eye at C, appear blindingly bright. Now, if we rotate B about the line joining it with A, keeping always the same reflecting angle with it, it might naturally be supposed that the light would merely be reflected in a new direction unchanged in quantity. Fig. 10 But according to the curious discovery of Malus this is not what happens. What does happen is that the second glass, after being given a quarter turn (though always kept at the same angle), seems to lose its power of reflection almost altogether. The light which comes from it now is diminished enormously, and yet nothing is distorted or displaced; everything is seen correctly if enough light remains to see it by at all, and the ray is said to have been "polarized by reflection." It would be out of place to enter here on the cause of the phenomenon; the fact is certain, and is a very precious one, for the astronomer can now diminish the sun's light till it is bearable by the weakest eye, without any distortion of what he is looking at, and without disturbing the natural tints by colored glasses. In practice, a third and sometimes a fourth reflector, each of a wedge shaped, optically plane piece of unsilvered glass, are thus introduced, and by a simple rotation of the last one the light is graded at pleasure, so that with such an instrument, called "the polarizing eyepiece" ( ), I have often watched the sun's magnified image for four or five hours together with no more distress to the eye than in reading a newspaper. Fig. A With this, in favorable moments, we see that the sun's surface away from the spots, everywhere, is made up of hundreds of thousands of small, intensely brilliant bodies, that seem to be floating in a gray medium, which, though itself no doubt very bright, appears dark by comparison. What these little things are is still uncertain; whatever they are, they are the immediate principal source of the sun's light and heat. To get an idea of their size we must resort to some more delicate means of measurement than we used in the case of the watch. The filar micrometer consists essentially of two excessively fine strands of cobwebs (or, rather, of spider's cocoon), called technically "wires," stretched parallel to each other and placed just at the focus of the telescope. Suppose one of them to be fixed and the second to be movable (keeping always parallel to the first) by means of a screw, having perhaps one hundred threads to the inch, and a large drum shaped head divided into one hundred equal parts, so that moving this head by one division carries the second "wire" 1/10000 part of an inch nearer to the first. Motions smaller than this can clearly be registered, but it will be evident that everything here really depends upon the accuracy of the screw. The guide screw of the best lathe is a coarse piece of work by comparison with "micrometer" screws as now constructed (especially those for making the "gratings" to be described later), for recent uses of them demand perhaps the most accurate workmanship of anything in mechanics—the maker of one which will pass some lately invented tests is entitled at any rate to call himself "a workman." Since the "wires" are stretched precisely in the focus, where the principal image of the sun is formed, and move in it, they, and the features of the surface, form one picture, as magnified by the eye lens, so that they appear as if moving about on the sun itself. We can first set them far enough apart, for instance, to take in the whole of a spot, and then by bringing them together measure its apparent diameter, in ten thousandths of an inch. Then, measuring the diameter of the whole sun, we have evidently the proportion that one bears to the other, and hence the means of easily calculating the real size. A powerful piece of clockwork, attached to the equatorial, keeps it slowly rotating on its axis, at the same angular rate as that with which the sun moves in the sky, so that any spot or other object there will seem to stay fixed with relation to the "wires," if we choose, all day long. The picture of "wires," spots, and all, may be projected on a screen if desired; and shows the field of view, with the micrometer wires lying across a "spot," so seen on the 6th of March, 1873. Part of a cambric needle with the end of a fine thread is represented also as being projected on the screen along with the "wires" to give a better idea of the delicacy of the latter. Fig. 11 Now we may measure, if we please, the size of one of those bright objects, which have just been spoken of as being countable by hundreds of thousands. These "little things" are then seen to be really of considerable size, measuring from one to three seconds of arc, so that (a second of arc here being over 400 miles) the average surface of each individual of these myriads is found to be considerably larger than Great Britain. Near the edge of the disk, under favorable circumstances, they appear to rise up through the obscuring atmosphere, which darkens the limb, and gathered here and there in groups of hundreds, to form the white cloudlike patches ( ), which may sometimes be seen even with a spy-glass—"something in the sun brighter than the sun itself," to employ the expression by which Huyghens described them nearly two hundred years ago. They are too minute and delicate objects to be rendered at all in our engraving; but this is true also of much of the detail to be seen at times in the spots themselves. The wood cuts make no pretense to do more than give an outline of the more prominent features, of which we are now about to speak. The wonderful beauty of some of their details must be taken on trust, from the writer's imperfect description of what no pencil has ever yet rendered and what the photograph has not yet seized. faculæ Bearing this in mind, let us now suppose that while using the polarizing eyepiece on the part of the spot distinguished by the little circle, we have one of those rare opportunities when we can, by the temporary steadiness of our tremulous atmosphere, use the higher powers of the telescope and magnify the little circle till it appears as in . We have now nearly the same view as if we were brought close to the surface of the sun, and suspended over this part of the spot. All the faint outer shade, seen in the smaller views (the ) is seen to be made up of long white filaments, twisted into curious ropelike forms, while the central part is like a great flame, ending in fiery spires. Over these hang what look like clouds, such as we sometimes see in our highest sky, but more transparent than the finest lace vail would be, and having not the "fleecy" look of our clouds, but the appearance of being filled with almost infinitely delicate threads of light. Perhaps the best idea of what is so hard to describe, because so unlike anything on earth, is got by supposing ourselves to look successive vails of white lace, filled with flower-like patterns, at some great body of white flame beyond, while between the spires of the flame and separating it from the border are depths of shade passing into blackness. With all this, there is something crystalline about the appearance, which it is hard to render an idea of—frost-figures on a window pane may help us as an image, though imperfect. In fact the intense whiteness of everything is oddly suggestive of something very cold, rather than very hot, as we know it really. I have had much the same impression when looking into the open mouth of a puddling furnace at the lumps of pure white iron, swimming half-melted in the grayer fluid about them. Here, however, the temperature leaves nothing solid, nothing liquid even; the iron and other metals of which we know these spot-forms do in part at least consist are turned into vapor by the inconceivable heat, and everything we are looking at consists probably of clouds of such vapor; for it is fluctuating and changing from one form into another while we look on. Forms as evanescent almost as those of sunset clouds, and far more beautiful in everything but color, are shifting before us, and here and there we see, or think we see, in the sweep of their curves beyond, evidences of mighty whirlwinds (greater by far than the largest terrestrial cyclone) at work. While we are looking, and trying to make the most of every moment, our atmosphere grows tremulous again, the shapes get confused, there is nothing left distinct but such coarser features as our engraving shows, and the wonderful sight is over. When we consider that this little portion of the spot we have been looking at is larger than the North and South American continents together, and that we could yet see its parts change from minute to minute, it must be evident that the actual motion must have been rapid almost beyond conception—a speed of from 20 to 50 miles a being commonly observed and sometimes exceeded. (A cannon ball moves less than ¼ of a mile per second.) I have seen a portion of the photosphere, or bright general surface of the sun, drawn into a spot, much as any floating thing would be drawn into a whirlpool, and then, though it occupied by measurement over 3,000,000 miles in area, completely break up and change so as to be unrecognizable in less than twenty minutes. Fig. 12 penumbra through second When we come to discuss the subject of the sun's heat, we shall find that the temperature of a blast furnace or of the oxyhydrogen blowpipe is low compared with that which obtains all over such a vast region, and remembering this, it is evident that its disappearance is a cataclysm of which the most tremendous volcanic outburst here gives no conception. We cannot, by any terrestrial comparison, describe it, for we have no comparison for it in human experience. If we try to picture such an effect on the earth, we may say in another's words that these solar whirlwinds are such as, "coming down upon us from the north, would in thirty seconds after they had crossed the St. Lawrence be in the Gulf of Mexico, carrying with them the whole surface of the continent in a mass, not simply of ruin, but of glowing vapor, in which the vapors arising from the dissolution of the materials composing the cities of Boston, New York, and Chicago would be mixed in a single indistinguishable cloud." These vast cavities then in the sun we call spots are not solid things, and not properly to be compared even to masses of slag or scoria swimming on a molten surface. They are rather rents in that bright cloud surface of the sun which we call the photosphere, and through which we look down to lower regions. Their shape may be very rudely likened to a funnel with sides at first slowly sloping (the ), and then suddenly going down into the central darkness (the ). This central darkness has itself gradations of shade, and cloud forms may be seen there obscurely glowing with a reddish tinge far down its depths, but we never see to any solid bottom, and the hypothesis of a habitable sun far within the hot surface, suggested by Sir William Herschel, is now utterly abandoned. We are able now to explain in part that mysterious feature in the sun's rotation before insisted on, for if the sun be not a solid or a liquid, but a mass of glowing vapor, it is evidently possible that one part of it may turn faster than another. it so turns, we repeat, no one knows, but the fact that it does is now seen to bear the strongest testimony to the probable gaseous form of the sun throughout its mass—at any rate, to the gaseous or vaporous nature of everything we see. We must not forget, however, that under such enormous temperature and pressure as prevail there the conditions may be—in fact, must be—very different from any familiar to us here, so that when we speak of "clouds," and use like expressions, we are to be understood as implying rather an analogy than an exact resemblance. penumbra umbra Why We must expect, with the great advances photography has lately made, to know more of this part of our subject (which we may call solar meteorology) at the next spot maximum than ever before, and by that time it may be hoped that some of the wonderful forms described above so imperfectly will have been caught for us by the camera. In the notice in our issue for July 27 of a new screw cutting lathe made by Messrs. Goodnow & Wightman, the address should have been 176 Washington street instead of 128, and the diameter of the tail spindle, which was given as 5/16, should have been 15/16 inch. The Olympia (Wyoming Territory) announces that a company has been formed there to bring ice from a glacier. The deposit covers a number of acres, is seventy or eighty feet deep, and is supposed to contain a hundred thousand or more tons, some of which may have been there as many years. The ice can be cut and sold at one and one half cents a pound, and by the ship load at five dollars a ton. Standard About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Various (2013). Scientific American, Vol. XXXIX. No. 6. [New Series.], August 10, 1878. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/19406/pg19406-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

THE SUN

THE CONCEPTION OF THE UNCONSCIOUS

MRS. HURTLE AT LOWESTOFT

Phineas Redux by Anthony Trollope, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . MADAME GOESLER'S STORY. here MADAME GOESLER'S STORY. "After all that has come and gone, is it not odd that you and I should find ourselves riding about Broughton Spinnies together?" That was the question which Madame Goesler asked Phineas Finn when they had both agreed that it was impossible to jump over the bank out of the wood, and it was, of course, necessary that some answer should be given to it. "When I saw you last in London," said Phineas, with a voice that was gruff, and a manner that was abrupt, "I certainly did not think that we should meet again so soon." "No;—I left you as though I had grounds for quarrelling; but there was no quarrel. I wrote to you, and tried to explain that." "You did;—and though my answer was necessarily short, I was very grateful." "And here you are back among us; and it does seem so odd. Lady Chiltern never told me that I was to meet you." "Nor did she tell me." "It is better so, for otherwise I should not have come, and then, perhaps, you would have been all alone in your discomfiture at the bank." "That would have been very bad." "You see I can be quite frank with you, Mr. Finn. I am heartily glad to see you, but I should not have come had I been told. And when I did see you, it was quite improbable that we should be thrown together as we are now,—was it not? Ah;—here is a man, and he can tell us the way back to Copperhouse Cross. But I suppose we had better ask for Harrington Hall at once." The man knew nothing at all about Harrington Hall, and very little about Copperhouse; but he did direct them on to the road, and they found that they were about sixteen miles from Lord Chiltern's house. The hounds had gone away in the direction of Trumpeton Wood, and it was agreed that it would be useless to follow them. The waggonette had been left at an inn about two miles from Copperhouse Cross, but they resolved to abandon that and to ride direct to Harrington Hall. It was now nearly three o'clock, and they would not be subjected to the shame which falls upon sportsmen who are seen riding home very early in the day. To get oneself lost before twelve, and then to come home, is a very degrading thing; but at any time after two you may be supposed to have ridden the run of the season, and to be returning after an excellent day's work. Then Madame Goesler began to talk about herself, and to give a short history of her life during the last two-and-a-half years. She did this in a frank natural manner, continuing her tale in a low voice, as though it were almost a matter of course that she should make the recital to so old a friend. And Phineas soon began to feel that it was natural that she should do so. "It was just before you left us," she said, "that the Duke took to coming to my house." The duke spoken of was the Duke of Omnium, and Phineas well remembered to have heard some rumours about the Duke and Madame Max. It had been hinted to him that the Duke wanted to marry the lady, but that rumour he had never believed. The reader, if he has duly studied the history of the age, will know that the Duke did make an offer to Madame Goesler, pressing it with all his eloquence, but that Madame Goesler, on mature consideration, thought it best to decline to become a duchess. Of all this, however, the reader who understands Madame Goesler's character will be quite sure that she did not say a word to Phineas Finn. Since the business had been completed she had spoken of it to no one but to Lady Glencora Palliser, who had forced herself into a knowledge of all the circumstances while they were being acted. "I met the Duke once at Matching," said Phineas. "I remember it well. I was there, and first made the Duke's acquaintance on that occasion. I don't know how it was that we became intimate;—but we did, and then I formed a sort of friendship with Lady Glencora; and somehow it has come about that we have been a great deal together since." "I suppose you like Lady Glencora?" "Very much indeed,—and the Duke, too. The truth is, Mr. Finn, that let one boast as one may of one's independence,—and I very often do boast of mine to myself,—one is inclined to do more for a Duke of Omnium than for a Mr. Jones." "The Dukes have more to offer than the Joneses;—I don't mean in the way of wealth only, but of what one enjoys most in society generally." "I suppose they have. At any rate, I am glad that you should make some excuse for me. But I do like the man. He is gracious and noble in his bearing. He is now very old, and sinking fast into the grave; but even the wreck is noble." "I don't know that he ever did much," said Phineas. "I don't know that he ever did anything according to your idea of doing. There must be some men who do nothing." "But a man with his wealth and rank has opportunities so great! Look at his nephew!" "No doubt Mr. Palliser is a great man. He never has a moment to speak to his wife or to anybody else; and is always thinking so much about the country that I doubt if he knows anything about his own affairs. Of course he is a man of a different stamp,—and of a higher stamp, if you will. But I have an idea that such characters as those of the present Duke are necessary to the maintenance of a great aristocracy. He has had the power of making the world believe in him simply because he has been rich and a duke. His nephew, when he comes to the title, will never receive a tithe of the respect that has been paid to this old fainéant." "But he will achieve much more than ten times the reputation," said Phineas. "I won't compare them, nor will I argue; but I like the Duke. Nay;—I love him. During the last two years I have allowed the whole fashion of my life to be remodelled by this intimacy. You knew what were my habits. I have only been in Vienna for one week since I last saw you, and I have spent months and months at Matching." "What do you do there?" "Read to him;—talk to him;—give him his food, and do all that in me lies to make his life bearable. Last year, when it was thought necessary that very distinguished people should be entertained at the great family castle,—in Barsetshire, you know—" "I have heard of the place." "A regular treaty or agreement was drawn up. Conditions were sealed and signed. One condition was that both Lady Glencora and I should be there. We put our heads together to try to avoid this; as, of course, the Prince would not want to see me particularly,—and it was altogether so grand an affair that things had to be weighed. But the Duke was inexorable. Lady Glencora at such a time would have other things to do, and I must be there, or Gatherum Castle should not be opened. I suggested whether I could not remain in the background and look after the Duke as a kind of upper nurse,—but Lady Glencora said it would not do." "Why should you subject yourself to such indignity?" "Simply from love of the man. But you see I was not subjected. For two days I wore my jewels beneath royal eyes,—eyes that will sooner or later belong to absolute majesty. It was an awful bore, and I ought to have been at Vienna. You ask me why I did it. The fact is that things sometimes become too strong for one, even when there is no real power of constraint. For years past I have been used to have my own way, but when there came a question of the entertainment of royalty I found myself reduced to blind obedience. I had to go to Gatherum Castle, to the absolute neglect of my business; and I went." "Do you still keep it up?" "Oh, dear, yes. He is at Matching now, and I doubt whether he will ever leave it again. I shall go there from here as a matter of course, and relieve guard with Lady Glencora." "I don't see what you get for it all." "Get;—what should I get? You don't believe in friendship, then?" "Certainly I do;—but this friendship is so unequal. I can hardly understand that it should have grown from personal liking on your side." "I think it has," said Madame Goesler, slowly. "You see, Mr. Finn, that you as a young man can hardly understand how natural it is that a young woman,—if I may call myself young,—should minister to an old man." "But there should be some bond to the old man." "There is a bond." "You must not be angry with me," said Phineas. "I am not in the least angry." "I should not venture to express any opinion, of course,—only that you ask me." "I do ask you, and you are quite welcome to express your opinion. And were it not expressed, I should know what you thought just the same. I have wondered at it myself sometimes,—that I should have become as it were engulfed in this new life, almost without will of my own. And when he dies, how shall I return to the other life? Of course I have the house in Park Lane still, but my very maid talks of Matching as my home." "How will it be when he has gone?" "Ah,—how indeed? Lady Glencora and I will have to curtsey to each other, and there will be an end of it. She will be a duchess then, and I shall no longer be wanted." "But even if you were wanted—?" "Oh, of course. It must last the Duke's time, and last no longer. It would not be a healthy kind of life were it not that I do my very best to make the evening of his days pleasant for him, and in that way to be of some service in the world. It has done me good to think that I have in some small degree sacrificed myself. Let me see;—we are to turn here to the left. That goes to Copperhouse Cross, no doubt. Is it not odd that I should have told you all this history?" "Just because this brute would not jump over the fence." "I dare say I should have told you, even if he had jumped over; but certainly this has been a great opportunity. Do you tell your friend Lord Chiltern not to abuse the poor Duke any more before me. I dare say our host is all right in what he says; but I don't like it. You'll come and see me in London, Mr. Finn?" "But you'll be at Matching?" "I do get a few days at home sometimes. You see I have escaped for the present,—or otherwise you and I would not have come to grief together in Broughton Spinnies." Soon after this they were overtaken by others who were returning home, and who had been more fortunate than they in getting away with the hounds. The fox had gone straight for Trumpeton Wood, not daring to try the gorse on the way, and then had been run to ground. Chiltern was again in a towering passion, as the earths, he said, had been purposely left open. But on this matter the men who had overtaken our friends were both of opinion that Chiltern was wrong. He had allowed it to be understood that he would not draw Trumpeton Wood, and he had therefore no right to expect that the earths should be stopped. But there were and had been various opinions on this difficult point, as the laws of hunting are complex, recondite, numerous, traditional, and not always perfectly understood. Perhaps the day may arrive in which they shall be codified under the care of some great and laborious master of hounds. "And they did nothing more?" asked Phineas. "Yes;—they chopped another fox before they left the place,—so that in point of fact they have drawn Trumpeton. But they didn't mean it." When Madame Max Goesler and Phineas had reached Harrington Hall they were able to give their own story of the day's sport to Lady Chiltern, as the remainder of the party had not as yet returned. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Anthony Trollope (2006). Phineas Redux. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/18640/pg18640-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

MADAME GOESLER'S STORY.

The Fugitive.

Off on a Comet! a Journey through Planetary Space by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . A LIGHT ON THE HORIZON here CHAPTER XX. A LIGHT ON THE HORIZON On the following day, without giving himself any further concern about the Jew’s incredulity, the captain gave orders for the to be shifted round to the harbor of the Shelif. Hakkabut raised no objection, not only because he was aware that the move insured the immediate safety of his tartan, but because he was secretly entertaining the hope that he might entice away two or three of the crew and make his escape to Algiers or some other port. Hansa Dobryna’s Operations now commenced for preparing proper winter quarters. Spaniards and Russians alike joined heartily in the work, the diminution of atmospheric pressure and of the force of attraction contributing such an increase to their muscular force as materially facilitated all their labors. The first business was to accommodate the building adjacent to the gourbi to the wants of the little colony. Here for the present the Spaniards were lodged, the Russians retaining their berths upon the yacht, while the Jew was permitted to pass his nights upon the . This arrangement, however, could be only temporary. The time could not be far distant when ships’ sides and ordinary walls would fail to give an adequate protection from the severity of the cold that must be expected; the stock of fuel was too limited to keep up a permanent supply of heat in their present quarters, and consequently they must be driven to seek some other refuge, the internal temperature of which would at least be bearable. Hansa The plan that seemed to commend itself most to their consideration was, that they should dig out for themselves some subterraneous pits similar to “silos,” such as are used as receptacles for grain. They presumed that when the surface of Gallia should be covered by a thick layer of ice, which is a bad conductor of heat, a sufficient amount of warmth for animal vitality might still be retained in excavations of this kind. After a long consultation they failed to devise any better expedient, and were forced to resign themselves to this species of troglodyte existence. In one respect they congratulated themselves that they should be better off than many of the whalers in the polar seas, for as it is impossible to get below the surface of a frozen ocean, these adventurers have to seek refuge in huts of wood and snow erected on their ships, which at best can give but slight protection from extreme cold; but here, with a solid subsoil, the Gallians might hope to dig down a hundred feet or so and secure for themselves a shelter that would enable them to brave the hardest severity of climate. The order, then, was at once given. The work was commenced. A stock of shovels, mattocks, and pick-axes was brought from the gourbi, and with Ben Zoof as overseer, both Spanish majos and Russian sailors set to work with a will. It was not long, however, before a discovery, more unexpected than agreeable, suddenly arrested their labors. The spot chosen for the excavation was a little to the right of the gourbi, on a slight elevation of the soil. For the first day everything went on prosperously enough; but at a depth of eight feet below the surface, the navvies came in contact with a hard surface, upon which all their tools failed to make the slightest impression. Servadac and the count were at once apprised of the fact, and had little difficulty in recognizing the substance that had revealed itself as the very same which composed the shores as well as the subsoil of the Gallian sea. It evidently formed the universal substructure of the new asteroid. Means for hollowing it failed them utterly. Harder and more resisting than granite, it could not be blasted by ordinary powder; dynamite alone could suffice to rend it. The disappointment was very great. Unless some means of protection were speedily devised, death seemed to be staring them in the face. Were the figures in the mysterious documents correct? If so, Gallia must now be a hundred millions of leagues from the sun, nearly three times the distance of the earth at the remotest section of her orbit. The intensity of the solar light and heat, too, was very seriously diminishing, although Gourbi Island (being on the equator of an orb which had its axes always perpendicular to the plane in which it revolved) enjoyed a position that gave it a permanent summer. But no advantage of this kind could compensate for the remoteness of the sun. The temperature fell steadily; already, to the discomfiture of the little Italian girl, nurtured in sunshine, ice was beginning to form in the crevices of the rocks, and manifestly the time was impending when the sea itself would freeze. Some shelter must be found before the temperature should fall to 60 degrees below zero. Otherwise death was inevitable. Hitherto, for the last few days, the thermometer had been registering an average of about 6 degrees below zero, and it had become matter of experience that the stove, although replenished with all the wood that was available, was altogether inadequate to effect any sensible mitigation of the severity of the cold. Nor could any amount of fuel be enough. It was certain that ere long the very mercury and spirit in the thermometers would be congealed. Some other resort must assuredly be soon found, or they must perish. That was clear. The idea of betaking themselves to the and could not for a moment be seriously entertained; not only did the structure of the vessels make them utterly insufficient to give substantial shelter, but they were totally unfitted to be trusted as to their stability when exposed to the enormous pressure of the accumulated ice. Dobryna Hansa Neither Servadac, nor the count, nor Lieutenant Procope were men to be easily disheartened, but it could not be concealed that they felt themselves in circumstances by which they were equally harassed and perplexed. The sole expedient that their united counsel could suggest was to obtain a refuge below ground, and was denied them by the strange and impenetrable substratum of the soil; yet hour by hour the sun’s disc was lessening in its dimensions, and although at midday some faint radiance and glow were to be distinguished, during the night the painfulness of the cold was becoming almost intolerable. that Mounted upon Zephyr and Galette, the captain and the count scoured the island in search of some available retreat. Scarcely a yard of ground was left unexplored, the horses clearing every obstacle as if they were, like Pegasus, furnished with wings. But all in vain. Soundings were made again and again, but invariably with the same result; the rock, hard as adamant, never failed to reveal itself within a few feet of the surface of the ground. The excavation of any silo being thus manifestly hopeless, there seemed nothing to be done except to try and render the buildings alongside the gourbi impervious to frost. To contribute to the supply of fuel, orders were given to collect every scrap of wood, dry or green, that the island produced; and this involved the necessity of felling the numerous trees that were scattered over the plain. But toil as they might at the accumulation of firewood, Captain Servadac and his companions could not resist the conviction that the consumption of a very short period would exhaust the total stock. And what would happen then? Studious if possible to conceal his real misgivings, and anxious that the rest of the party should be affected as little as might be by his own uneasiness, Servadac would wander alone about the island, racking his brain for an idea that would point the way out of the serious difficulty. But still all in vain. One day he suddenly came upon Ben Zoof, and asked him whether he had no plan to propose. The orderly shook his head, but after a few moments’ pondering, said: “Ah! master, if only we were at Montmartre, we would get shelter in the charming stone-quarries.” “Idiot!” replied the captain, angrily, “if we were at Montmartre, you don’t suppose that we should need to live in stone-quarries?” But the means of preservation which human ingenuity had failed to secure were at hand from the felicitous provision of Nature herself. It was on the 10th of March that the captain and Lieutenant Procope started off once more to investigate the northwest corner of the island; on their way their conversation naturally was engrossed by the subject of the dire necessities which only too manifestly were awaiting them. A discussion more than usually animated arose between them, for the two men were not altogether of the same mind as to the measures that ought to be adopted in order to open the fairest chance of avoiding a fatal climax to their exposure; the captain persisted that an entirely new abode must be sought, while the lieutenant was equally bent upon devising a method of some sort by which their present quarters might be rendered sufficiently warm. All at once, in the very heat of his argument, Procope paused; he passed his hand across his eyes, as if to dispel a mist, and stood, with a fixed gaze centered on a point towards the south. “What is that?” he said, with a kind of hesitation. “No, I am not mistaken,” he added; “it is a light on the horizon.” “A light!” exclaimed Servadac; “show me where.” “Look there!” answered the lieutenant, and he kept pointing steadily in its direction, until Servadac also distinctly saw the bright speck in the distance. It increased in clearness in the gathering shades of evening. “Can it be a ship?” asked the captain. “If so, it must be in flames; otherwise we should not be able to see it so far off,” replied Procope. “It does not move,” said Servadac; “and unless I am greatly deceived, I can hear a kind of reverberation in the air.” For some seconds the two men stood straining eyes and ears in rapt attention. Suddenly an idea struck Servadac’s mind. “The volcano!” he cried; “may it not be the volcano that we saw, whilst we were on board the ” Dobryna? The lieutenant agreed that it was very probable. “Heaven be praised!” ejaculated the captain, and he went on in the tones of a keen excitement: “Nature has provided us with our winter quarters; the stream of burning lava that is flowing there is the gift of a bounteous Providence; it will provide us all the warmth we need. No time to lose! To-morrow, my dear Procope, to-morrow we will explore it all; no doubt the life, the heat we want is reserved for us in the heart and bowels of our own Gallia!” Whilst the captain was indulging in his expressions of enthusiasm, Procope was endeavoring to collect his thoughts. Distinctly he remembered the long promontory which had barred the progress while coasting the southern confines of the sea, and which had obliged her to ascend northwards as far as the former latitude of Oran; he remembered also that at the extremity of the promontory there was a rocky headland crowned with smoke; and now he was convinced that he was right in identifying the position, and in believing that the smoke had given place to an eruption of flame. Dobryna’s When Servadac gave him a chance of speaking, he said, “The more I consider it, captain, the more I am satisfied that your conjecture is correct. Beyond a doubt, what we see is the volcano, and to-morrow we will not fail to visit it.” On returning to the gourbi, they communicated their discovery to Count Timascheff only, deeming any further publication of it to be premature. The count at once placed his yacht at their disposal, and expressed his intention of accompanying them. “The yacht, I think,” said Procope, “had better remain where she is; the weather is beautifully calm, and the steam-launch will answer our purpose better; at any rate, it will convey us much closer to shore than the schooner.” The count replied that the lieutenant was by all means to use his own discretion, and they all retired for the night. Like many other modern pleasure-yachts, the , in addition to her four-oar, was fitted with a fast-going little steam-launch, its screw being propelled, on the Oriolle system, by means of a boiler, small but very effective. Early next morning, this handy little craft was sufficiently freighted with coal (of which there was still about ten tons on board the ), and manned by nobody except the captain, the count, and the lieutenant, left the harbor of the Shelif, much to the bewilderment of Ben Zoof, who had not yet been admitted into the secret. The orderly, however, consoled himself with the reflection that he had been temporarily invested with the full powers of governor general, an office of which he was not a little proud. Dobryna Dobryna The eighteen miles between the island and the headland were made in something less than three hours. The volcanic eruption was manifestly very considerable, the entire summit of the promontory being enveloped in flames. To produce so large a combustion either the oxygen of Gallia’s atmosphere had been brought into contact with the explosive gases contained beneath her soil, or perhaps, still more probable, the volcano, like those in the moon, was fed by an internal supply of oxygen of her own. It took more than half an hour to settle on a suitable landing-place. At length, a small semi-circular creek was discovered among the rocks, which appeared advantageous, because, if circumstances should so require, it would form a safe anchorage for both the and the . Dobryna Hansa The launch securely moored, the passengers landed on the side of the promontory opposite to that on which a torrent of burning lava was descending to the sea. With much satisfaction they experienced, as they approached the mountain, a sensible difference in the temperature, and their spirits could not do otherwise than rise at the prospect of having their hopes confirmed, that a deliverance from the threatened calamity had so opportunely been found. On they went, up the steep acclivity, scrambling over its rugged projections, scaling the irregularities of its gigantic strata, bounding from point to point with the agility of chamois, but never alighting on anything except on the accumulation of the same hexagonal prisms with which they had now become so familiar. Their exertions were happily rewarded. Behind a huge pyramidal rock they found a hole in the mountain-side, like the mouth of a great tunnel. Climbing up to this orifice, which was more than sixty feet above the level of the sea, they ascertained that it opened into a long dark gallery. They entered and groped their way cautiously along the sides. A continuous rumbling, that increased as they advanced, made them aware that they must be approaching the central funnel of the volcano; their only fear was lest some insuperable wall of rock should suddenly bar their further progress. Servadac was some distance ahead. “Come on!” he cried cheerily, his voice ringing through the darkness, “come on! Our fire is lighted! no stint of fuel! Nature provides that! Let us make haste and warm ourselves!” Inspired by his confidence, the count and the lieutenant advanced bravely along the unseen and winding path. The temperature was now at least fifteen degrees above zero, and the walls of the gallery were beginning to feel quite warm to the touch, an indication, not to be overlooked, that the substance of which the rock was composed was metallic in its nature, and capable of conducting heat. “Follow me!” shouted Servadac again; “we shall soon find a regular stove!” Onwards they made their way, until at last a sharp turn brought them into a sudden flood of light. The tunnel had opened into a vast cavern, and the gloom was exchanged for an illumination that was perfectly dazzling. Although the temperature was high, it was not in any way intolerable. One glance was sufficient to satisfy the explorers that the grateful light and heat of this huge excavation were to be attributed to a torrent of lava that was rolling downwards to the sea, completely subtending the aperture of the cave. Not inaptly might the scene be compared to the celebrated Grotto of the Winds at the rear of the central fall of Niagara, only with the exception that here, instead of a curtain of rushing water, it was a curtain of roaring flame that hung before the cavern’s mouth. “Heaven be praised!” cried Servadac, with glad emotion; “here is all that we hoped for, and more besides!” About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jules Verne (1998). Off on a Comet! a Journey through Planetary Space. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1353/pg1353-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

A LIGHT ON THE HORIZON

The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Chapter XXI here Chapter XXI From this time Pencroft did not let a single day pass without going to visit what he gravely called his “corn-field.” And woe to the insects which dared to venture there! No mercy was shown them. Towards the end of the month of June, after incessant rain, the weather became decidedly colder, and on the 29th a Fahrenheit thermometer would certainly have announced only twenty degrees above zero, that is considerably below the freezing-point. The next day, the 30th of June, the day which corresponds to the 31st of December in the northern year, was a Friday. Neb remarked that the year finished on a bad day, but Pencroft replied that naturally the next would begin on a good one, which was better. At any rate it commenced by very severe cold. Ice accumulated at the mouth of the Mercy, and it was not long before the whole expanse of the lake was frozen. The settlers had frequently been obliged to renew their store of wood. Pencroft also had wisely not waited till the river was frozen, but had brought enormous rafts of wood to their destination. The current was an indefatigable moving power, and it was employed in conveying the floating wood to the moment when the frost enchained it. To the fuel which was so abundantly supplied by the forest, they added several cartloads of coal, which had to be brought from the foot of the spurs of Mount Franklin. The powerful heat of the coal was greatly appreciated in the low temperature, which on the 4th of July fell to eight degrees of Fahrenheit, that is, thirteen degrees below zero. A second fireplace had been established in the dining-room, where they all worked together at their different avocations. During this period of cold, Cyrus Harding had great cause to congratulate himself on having brought to Granite House the little stream of water from Lake Grant. Taken below the frozen surface, and conducted through the passage, it preserved its fluidity, and arrived at an interior reservoir which had been hollowed out at the back part of the storeroom, while the overflow ran through the well to the sea. About this time, the weather being extremely dry, the colonists, clothed as warmly as possible, resolved to devote a day to the exploration of that part of the island between the Mercy and Claw Cape. It was a wide extent of marshy land, and they would probably find good sport, for water-birds ought to swarm there. They reckoned that it would be about eight or nine miles to go there, and as much to return, so that the whole of the day would be occupied. As an unknown part of the island was about to be explored, the whole colony took part in the expedition. Accordingly, on the 5th of July, at six o’clock in the morning, when day had scarcely broken, Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft, armed with spears, snares, bows and arrows, and provided with provisions, left Granite House, preceded by Top, who bounded before them. Their shortest way was to cross the Mercy on the ice, which then covered it. “But,” as the engineer justly observed, “that could not take the place of a regular bridge!” So, the construction of a regular bridge was noted in the list of future works. It was the first time that the settlers had set foot on the right bank of the Mercy, and ventured into the midst of those gigantic and superb coniferae now sprinkled over with snow. But they had not gone half a mile when from a thicket a whole family of quadrupeds, who had made a home there, disturbed by Top, rushed forth into the open country. “Ah! I should say those are foxes!” cried Herbert, when he saw the troop rapidly decamping. They were foxes, but of a very large size, who uttered a sort of barking, at which Top seemed to be very much astonished, for he stopped short in the chase, and gave the swift animals time to disappear. The dog had reason to be surprised, as he did not know Natural History. But, by their barking, these foxes, with reddish-gray hair, black tails terminating in a white tuft, had betrayed their origin. So Herbert was able, without hesitating, to give them their real name of “Arctic foxes.” They are frequently met with in Chile, in the Falkland Islands, and in all parts of America traversed by the thirtieth and fortieth parallels. Herbert much regretted that Top had not been able to catch one of these carnivora. “Are they good to eat?” asked Pencroft, who only regarded the representatives of the fauna in the island from one special point of view. “No,” replied Herbert; “but zoologists have not yet found out if the eye of these foxes is diurnal or nocturnal, or whether it is correct to class them in the genus dog, properly so called.” Harding could not help smiling on hearing the lad’s reflection, which showed a thoughtful mind. As to the sailor, from the moment when he found that the foxes were not classed in the genus eatable, they were nothing to him. However, when a poultry-yard was established at Granite House, he observed that it would be best to take some precautions against a probable visit from these four-legged plunderers, and no one disputed this. After having turned the point, the settlers saw a long beach washed by the open sea. It was then eight o’clock in the morning. The sky was very clear, as it often is after prolonged cold; but warmed by their walk, neither Harding nor his companions felt the sharpness of the atmosphere too severely. Besides there was no wind, which made it much more bearable. A brilliant sun, but without any calorific action, was just issuing from the ocean. The sea was as tranquil and blue as that of a Mediterranean gulf, when the sky is clear. Claw Cape, bent in the form of a yataghan, tapered away nearly four miles to the southeast. To the left the edge of the marsh was abruptly ended by a little point. Certainly, in this part of Union Bay, which nothing sheltered from the open sea, not even a sandbank, ships beaten by the east winds would have found no shelter. They perceived by the tranquillity of the sea, in which no shallows troubled the waters, by its uniform color, which was stained by no yellow shades, by the absence of even a reef, that the coast was steep and that the ocean there covered a deep abyss. Behind in the west, but at a distance of four miles, rose the first trees of the forests of the Far West. They might have believed themselves to be on the desolate coast of some island in the Antarctic regions which the ice had invaded. The colonists halted at this place for breakfast. A fire of brushwood and dried seaweed was lighted, and Neb prepared the breakfast of cold meat, to which he added some cups of Oswego tea. While eating they looked around them. This part of Lincoln Island was very sterile, and contrasted with all the western part. The reporter was thus led to observe that if chance had thrown them at first on the shore, they would have had but a deplorable idea of their future domain. “I believe that we should not have been able to reach it,” replied the engineer, “for the sea is deep, and there is not a rock on which we could have taken refuge. Before Granite House, at least, there were sandbanks, an islet, which multiplied our chances of safety. Here, nothing but the depths!” “It is singular enough,” remarked Spilett, “that this comparatively small island should present such varied ground. This diversity of aspect, logically only belongs to continents of a certain extent. One would really say, that the western part of Lincoln Island, so rich and so fertile, is washed by the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and that its shores to the north and the southeast extend over a sort of Arctic sea.” “You are right, my dear Spilett,” replied Cyrus Harding, “I have also observed this. I think the form and also the nature of this island strange. It is a summary of all the aspects which a continent presents, and I should not be surprised if it was a continent formerly.” “What! a continent in the middle of the Pacific?” cried Pencroft. “Why not?” replied Cyrus Harding. “Why should not Australia, New Ireland, Australasia, united to the archipelagoes of the Pacific, have once formed a sixth part of the world, as important as Europe or Asia, as Africa or the two Americas? To my mind, it is quite possible that all these islands, emerging from this vast ocean, are but the summits of a continent, now submerged, but which was above the waters at a prehistoric period.” “As the Atlantis was formerly,” replied Herbert. “Yes, my boy... if, however, it existed.” “And would Lincoln Island have been a part of that continent?” asked Pencroft. “It is probable,” replied Cyrus Harding, “and that would sufficiently, explain the variety of productions which are seen on its surface.” “And the great number of animals which still inhabit it,” added Herbert. “Yes, my boy,” replied the engineer, “and you furnish me with an argument to support my theory. It is certain, after what we have seen, that animals are numerous in this island, and what is more strange, that the species are extremely varied. There is a reason for that, and to me it is that Lincoln Island may have formerly been a part of some vast continent which had gradually sunk below the Pacific.” “Then, some fine day,” said Pencroft, who did not appear to be entirely convinced, “the rest of this ancient continent may disappear in its turn, and there will be nothing between America and Asia.” “Yes,” replied Harding, “there will be new continents which millions and millions of animalculae are building at this moment.” “And what are these masons?” asked Pencroft. “Coral insects,” replied Cyrus Harding. “By constant work they made the island of Clermont-Tonnerre, and numerous other coral islands in the Pacific Ocean. Forty-seven millions of these insects are needed to weigh a grain, and yet, with the sea-salt they absorb, the solid elements of water which they assimilate, these animalculae produce limestone, and this limestone forms enormous submarine erections, of which the hardness and solidity equal granite. Formerly, at the first periods of creation, nature employing fire, heaved up the land, but now she entrusts to these microscopic creatures the task of replacing this agent, of which the dynamic power in the interior of the globe has evidently diminished—which is proved by the number of volcanoes on the surface of the earth, now actually extinct. And I believe that centuries succeeding to centuries, and insects to insects, this Pacific may one day be changed into a vast continent, which new generations will inhabit and civilize in their turn.” “That will take a long time,” said Pencroft. “Nature has time for it,” replied the engineer. “But what would be the use of new continents?” asked Herbert. “It appears to me that the present extent of habitable countries is sufficient for humanity. Yet nature does nothing uselessly.” “Nothing uselessly, certainly,” replied the engineer, “but this is how the necessity of new continents for the future, and exactly on the tropical zone occupied by the coral islands, may be explained. At least to me this explanation appears plausible.” “We are listening, captain,” said Herbert. “This is my idea: philosophers generally admit that some day our globe will end, or rather that animal and vegetable life will no longer be possible, because of the intense cold to which it will be subjected. What they are not agreed upon, is the cause of this cold. Some think that it will arise from the falling of the temperature, which the sun will experience after millions of years; others, from the gradual extinction of the fires in the interior of our globe, which have a greater influence on it than is generally supposed. I hold to this last hypothesis, grounding it on the fact that the moon is really a cold star, which is no longer habitable, although the sun continues to throw on its surface the same amount of heat. If, then, the moon has become cold, it is because the interior fires to which, as do all the stars of the stellar world, it owes its origin, are completely extinct. Lastly, whatever may be the cause, our globe will become cold some day, but this cold will only operate gradually. What will happen, then? The temperate zones, at a more or less distant period, will not be more habitable than the polar regions now are. Then the population of men, as well as the animals, will flow towards the latitudes which are more directly under the solar influence. An immense emigration will take place. Europe, Central Asia, North America, will gradually be abandoned, as well as Australasia and the lower parts of South America. The vegetation will follow the human emigration. The flora will retreat towards the Equator at the same time as the fauna. The central parts of South America and Africa will be the continents chiefly inhabited. The Laplanders and the Samoides will find the climate of the polar regions on the shores of the Mediterranean. Who can say, that at this period, the equatorial regions will not be too small, to contain and nourish terrestrial humanity? Now, may not provident nature, so as to give refuge to all the vegetable and animal emigration, be at present laying the foundation of a new continent under the Equator, and may she not have entrusted these insects with the construction of it? I have often thought of all these things, my friends, and I seriously believe that the aspect of our globe will some day be completely changed; that by the raising of new continents the sea will cover the old, and that, in future ages, a Columbus will go to discover the islands of Chimborazo, of the Himalayas, or of Mont Blanc, remains of a submerged America, Asia, and Europe. Then these new continents will become, in their turn, uninhabitable; heat will die away, as does the heat from a body when the soul has left it; and life will disappear from the globe, if not for ever, at least for a period. Perhaps then, our spheroid will rest—will be left to death—to revive some day under superior conditions! But all that, my friends, is the secret of the Author of all things; and beginning by the work of the insects, I have perhaps let myself be carried too far, in investigating the secrets of the future. “My dear Cyrus,” replied Spilett, “these theories are prophecies to me, and they will be accomplished some day.” “That is the secret of God,” said the engineer. “All that is well and good,” then said Pencroft, who had listened with all his might, “but will you tell me, captain, if Lincoln Island has been made by your insects?” “No,” replied Harding; “it is of a purely volcanic origin.” “Then it will disappear some day?” “That is probable.” “I hope we won’t be here then.” “No, don’t be uneasy, Pencroft; we shall not be here then, as we have no wish to die here, and hope to get away some time.” “In the meantime,” replied Gideon Spilett, “let us establish ourselves here as if forever. There is no use in doing things by halves.” This ended the conversation. Breakfast was finished, the exploration was continued, and the settlers arrived at the border of the marshy region. It was a marsh of which the extent, to the rounded coast which terminated the island at the southeast, was about twenty square miles. The soil was formed of clayey flint-earth, mingled with vegetable matter, such as the remains of rushes, reeds, grass, etc. Here and there beds of grass, thick as a carpet, covered it. In many places icy pools sparkled in the sun. Neither rain nor any river, increased by a sudden swelling, could supply these ponds. They therefore naturally concluded that the marsh was fed by the infiltrations of the soil and it was really so. It was also to be feared that during the heat miasmas would arise, which might produce fevers. Above the aquatic plants, on the surface of the stagnant water, fluttered numbers of birds. Wild duck, teal, snipe lived there in flocks, and those fearless birds allowed themselves to be easily approached. One shot from a gun would certainly have brought down some dozen of the birds, they were so close together. The explorers were, however, obliged to content themselves with bows and arrows. The result was less, but the silent arrow had the advantage of not frightening the birds, while the noise of firearms would have dispersed them to all parts of the marsh. The hunters were satisfied, for this time, with a dozen ducks, which had white bodies with a band of cinnamon, a green head, wings black, white, and red, and flattened beak. Herbert called them tadorns. Top helped in the capture of these birds, whose name was given to this marshy part of the island. The settlers had here an abundant reserve of aquatic game. At some future time they meant to explore it more carefully, and it was probable that some of the birds there might be domesticated, or at least brought to the shores of the lake, so that they would be more within their reach. About five o’clock in the evening Cyrus Harding and his companions retraced their steps to their dwelling by traversing Tadorn’s Fens, and crossed the Mercy on the ice-bridge. At eight in the evening they all entered Granite House. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jules Verne (1998). The Mysterious Island. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1268/1268-h/1268-h.htm This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

Pencroft did not let a single day pass without going to visit what he gravely

Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . THE ICEBERG here CHAPTER XIII: THE ICEBERG The was steadily pursuing its southerly course, following the fiftieth meridian with considerable speed. Did he wish to reach the pole? I did not think so, for every attempt to reach that point had hitherto failed. Again, the season was far advanced, for in the Antarctic regions the 13th of March corresponds with the 13th of September of northern regions, which begin at the equinoctial season. On the 14th of March I saw floating ice in latitude 55°, merely pale bits of debris from twenty to twenty-five feet long, forming banks over which the sea curled. The remained on the surface of the ocean. Ned Land, who had fished in the Arctic Seas, was familiar with its icebergs; but Conseil and I admired them for the first time. In the atmosphere towards the southern horizon stretched a white dazzling band. English whalers have given it the name of “ice blink.” However thick the clouds may be, it is always visible, and announces the presence of an ice pack or bank. Accordingly, larger blocks soon appeared, whose brilliancy changed with the caprices of the fog. Some of these masses showed green veins, as if long undulating lines had been traced with sulphate of copper; others resembled enormous amethysts with the light shining through them. Some reflected the light of day upon a thousand crystal facets. Others shaded with vivid calcareous reflections resembled a perfect town of marble. The more we neared the south the more these floating islands increased both in number and importance. Nautilus Nautilus At 60° lat. every pass had disappeared. But, seeking carefully, Captain Nemo soon found a narrow opening, through which he boldly slipped, knowing, however, that it would close behind him. Thus, guided by this clever hand, the passed through all the ice with a precision which quite charmed Conseil; icebergs or mountains, ice-fields or smooth plains, seeming to have no limits, drift-ice or floating ice-packs, plains broken up, called palchs when they are circular, and streams when they are made up of long strips. The temperature was very low; the thermometer exposed to the air marked 2 deg. or 3° below zero, but we were warmly clad with fur, at the expense of the sea-bear and seal. The interior of the , warmed regularly by its electric apparatus, defied the most intense cold. Besides, it would only have been necessary to go some yards beneath the waves to find a more bearable temperature. Two months earlier we should have had perpetual daylight in these latitudes; but already we had had three or four hours of night, and by and by there would be six months of darkness in these circumpolar regions. On the 15th of March we were in the latitude of New Shetland and South Orkney. The Captain told me that formerly numerous tribes of seals inhabited them; but that English and American whalers, in their rage for destruction, massacred both old and young; thus, where there was once life and animation, they had left silence and death. Nautilus Nautilus About eight o’clock on the morning of the 16th of March the , following the fifty-fifth meridian, cut the Antarctic polar circle. Ice surrounded us on all sides, and closed the horizon. But Captain Nemo went from one opening to another, still going higher. I cannot express my astonishment at the beauties of these new regions. The ice took most surprising forms. Here the grouping formed an oriental town, with innumerable mosques and minarets; there a fallen city thrown to the earth, as it were, by some convulsion of nature. The whole aspect was constantly changed by the oblique rays of the sun, or lost in the greyish fog amidst hurricanes of snow. Detonations and falls were heard on all sides, great overthrows of icebergs, which altered the whole landscape like a diorama. Often seeing no exit, I thought we were definitely prisoners; but, instinct guiding him at the slightest indication, Captain Nemo would discover a new pass. He was never mistaken when he saw the thin threads of bluish water trickling along the ice-fields; and I had no doubt that he had already ventured into the midst of these Antarctic seas before. On the 16th of March, however, the ice-fields absolutely blocked our road. It was not the iceberg itself, as yet, but vast fields cemented by the cold. But this obstacle could not stop Captain Nemo: he hurled himself against it with frightful violence. The entered the brittle mass like a wedge, and split it with frightful crackings. It was the battering ram of the ancients hurled by infinite strength. The ice, thrown high in the air, fell like hail around us. By its own power of impulsion our apparatus made a canal for itself; some times carried away by its own impetus, it lodged on the ice-field, crushing it with its weight, and sometimes buried beneath it, dividing it by a simple pitching movement, producing large rents in it. Violent gales assailed us at this time, accompanied by thick fogs, through which, from one end of the platform to the other, we could see nothing. The wind blew sharply from all parts of the compass, and the snow lay in such hard heaps that we had to break it with blows of a pickaxe. The temperature was always at 5 deg. below zero; every outward part of the was covered with ice. A rigged vessel would have been entangled in the blocked up gorges. A vessel without sails, with electricity for its motive power, and wanting no coal, could alone brave such high latitudes. At length, on the 18th of March, after many useless assaults, the was positively blocked. It was no longer either streams, packs, or ice-fields, but an interminable and immovable barrier, formed by mountains soldered together. Nautilus Nautilus Nautilus Nautilus “An iceberg!” said the Canadian to me. I knew that to Ned Land, as well as to all other navigators who had preceded us, this was an inevitable obstacle. The sun appearing for an instant at noon, Captain Nemo took an observation as near as possible, which gave our situation at 51° 30′ long. and 67° 39′ of S. lat. We had advanced one degree more in this Antarctic region. Of the liquid surface of the sea there was no longer a glimpse. Under the spur of the lay stretched a vast plain, entangled with confused blocks. Here and there sharp points and slender needles rising to a height of 200 feet; further on a steep shore, hewn as it were with an axe and clothed with greyish tints; huge mirrors, reflecting a few rays of sunshine, half drowned in the fog. And over this desolate face of nature a stern silence reigned, scarcely broken by the flapping of the wings of petrels and puffins. Everything was frozen—even the noise. The was then obliged to stop in its adventurous course amid these fields of ice. In spite of our efforts, in spite of the powerful means employed to break up the ice, the remained immovable. Generally, when we can proceed no further, we have return still open to us; but here return was as impossible as advance, for every pass had closed behind us; and for the few moments when we were stationary, we were likely to be entirely blocked, which did indeed happen about two o’clock in the afternoon, the fresh ice forming around its sides with astonishing rapidity. I was obliged to admit that Captain Nemo was more than imprudent. I was on the platform at that moment. The Captain had been observing our situation for some time past, when he said to me: Nautilus Nautilus Nautilus “Well, sir, what do you think of this?” “I think that we are caught, Captain.” “So, M. Aronnax, you really think that the cannot disengage itself?” Nautilus “With difficulty, Captain; for the season is already too far advanced for you to reckon on the breaking of the ice.” “Ah! sir,” said Captain Nemo, in an ironical tone, “you will always be the same. You see nothing but difficulties and obstacles. I affirm that not only can the disengage itself, but also that it can go further still.” Nautilus “Further to the South?” I asked, looking at the Captain. “Yes, sir; it shall go to the pole.” “To the pole!” I exclaimed, unable to repress a gesture of incredulity. “Yes,” replied the Captain, coldly, “to the Antarctic pole—to that unknown point from whence springs every meridian of the globe. You know whether I can do as I please with the ” Nautilus! Yes, I knew that. I knew that this man was bold, even to rashness. But to conquer those obstacles which bristled round the South Pole, rendering it more inaccessible than the North, which had not yet been reached by the boldest navigators—was it not a mad enterprise, one which only a maniac would have conceived? It then came into my head to ask Captain Nemo if he had ever discovered that pole which had never yet been trodden by a human creature? “No, sir,” he replied; “but we will discover it together. Where others have failed, I will not fail. I have never yet led my so far into southern seas; but, I repeat, it shall go further yet.” Nautilus “I can well believe you, Captain,” said I, in a slightly ironical tone. “I believe you! Let us go ahead! There are no obstacles for us! Let us smash this iceberg! Let us blow it up; and, if it resists, let us give the wings to fly over it!” Nautilus “Over it, sir!” said Captain Nemo, quietly; “no, not over it, but under it!” “Under it!” I exclaimed, a sudden idea of the Captain’s projects flashing upon my mind. I understood; the wonderful qualities of the were going to serve us in this superhuman enterprise. Nautilus “I see we are beginning to understand one another, sir,” said the Captain, half smiling. “You begin to see the possibility—I should say the success—of this attempt. That which is impossible for an ordinary vessel is easy to the . If a continent lies before the pole, it must stop before the continent; but if, on the contrary, the pole is washed by open sea, it will go even to the pole.” Nautilus “Certainly,” said I, carried away by the Captain’s reasoning; “if the surface of the sea is solidified by the ice, the lower depths are free by the Providential law which has placed the maximum of density of the waters of the ocean one degree higher than freezing-point; and, if I am not mistaken, the portion of this iceberg which is above the water is as one to four to that which is below.” “Very nearly, sir; for one foot of iceberg above the sea there are three below it. If these ice mountains are not more than 300 feet above the surface, they are not more than 900 beneath. And what are 900 feet to the ” Nautilus? “Nothing, sir.” “It could even seek at greater depths that uniform temperature of sea-water, and there brave with impunity the thirty or forty degrees of surface cold.” “Just so, sir—just so,” I replied, getting animated. “The only difficulty,” continued Captain Nemo, “is that of remaining several days without renewing our provision of air.” “Is that all? The has vast reservoirs; we can fill them, and they will supply us with all the oxygen we want.” Nautilus “Well thought of, M. Aronnax,” replied the Captain, smiling. “But, not wishing you to accuse me of rashness, I will first give you all my objections.” “Have you any more to make?” “Only one. It is possible, if the sea exists at the South Pole, that it may be covered; and, consequently, we shall be unable to come to the surface.” “Good, sir! but do you forget that the is armed with a powerful spur, and could we not send it diagonally against these fields of ice, which would open at the shocks.” Nautilus “Ah! sir, you are full of ideas to-day.” “Besides, Captain,” I added, enthusiastically, “why should we not find the sea open at the South Pole as well as at the North? The frozen poles of the earth do not coincide, either in the southern or in the northern regions; and, until it is proved to the contrary, we may suppose either a continent or an ocean free from ice at these two points of the globe.” “I think so too, M. Aronnax,” replied Captain Nemo. “I only wish you to observe that, after having made so many objections to my project, you are now crushing me with arguments in its favour!” The preparations for this audacious attempt now began. The powerful pumps of the were working air into the reservoirs and storing it at high pressure. About four o’clock, Captain Nemo announced the closing of the panels on the platform. I threw one last look at the massive iceberg which we were going to cross. The weather was clear, the atmosphere pure enough, the cold very great, being 12° below zero; but, the wind having gone down, this temperature was not so unbearable. About ten men mounted the sides of the , armed with pickaxes to break the ice around the vessel, which was soon free. The operation was quickly performed, for the fresh ice was still very thin. We all went below. The usual reservoirs were filled with the newly-liberated water, and the soon descended. I had taken my place with Conseil in the saloon; through the open window we could see the lower beds of the Southern Ocean. The thermometer went up, the needle of the compass deviated on the dial. At about 900 feet, as Captain Nemo had foreseen, we were floating beneath the undulating bottom of the iceberg. But the went lower still—it went to the depth of four hundred fathoms. The temperature of the water at the surface showed twelve degrees, it was now only ten; we had gained two. I need not say the temperature of the was raised by its heating apparatus to a much higher degree; every manœuvre was accomplished with wonderful precision. Nautilus Nautilus Nautilus Nautilus Nautilus “We shall pass it, if you please, sir,” said Conseil. “I believe we shall,” I said, in a tone of firm conviction. In this open sea, the had taken its course direct to the pole, without leaving the fifty-second meridian. From 67° 30′ to 90 deg., twenty-two degrees and a half of latitude remained to travel; that is, about five hundred leagues. The kept up a mean speed of twenty-six miles an hour—the speed of an express train. If that was kept up, in forty hours we should reach the pole. Nautilus Nautilus For a part of the night the novelty of the situation kept us at the window. The sea was lit with the electric lantern; but it was deserted; fishes did not sojourn in these imprisoned waters; they only found there a passage to take them from the Antarctic Ocean to the open polar sea. Our pace was rapid; we could feel it by the quivering of the long steel body. About two in the morning I took some hours’ repose, and Conseil did the same. In crossing the waist I did not meet Captain Nemo: I supposed him to be in the pilot’s cage. The next morning, the 19th of March, I took my post once more in the saloon. The electric log told me that the speed of the had been slackened. It was then going towards the surface; but prudently emptying its reservoirs very slowly. My heart beat fast. Were we going to emerge and regain the open polar atmosphere? No! A shock told me that the had struck the bottom of the iceberg, still very thick, judging from the deadened sound. We had in deed “struck,” to use a sea expression, but in an inverse sense, and at a thousand feet deep. This would give three thousand feet of ice above us; one thousand being above the water-mark. The iceberg was then higher than at its borders—not a very reassuring fact. Several times that day the tried again, and every time it struck the wall which lay like a ceiling above it. Sometimes it met with but 900 yards, only 200 of which rose above the surface. It was twice the height it was when the had gone under the waves. I carefully noted the different depths, and thus obtained a submarine profile of the chain as it was developed under the water. That night no change had taken place in our situation. Still ice between four and five hundred yards in depth! It was evidently diminishing, but, still, what a thickness between us and the surface of the ocean! It was then eight. According to the daily custom on board the , its air should have been renewed four hours ago; but I did not suffer much, although Captain Nemo had not yet made any demand upon his reserve of oxygen. My sleep was painful that night; hope and fear besieged me by turns: I rose several times. The groping of the continued. About three in the morning, I noticed that the lower surface of the iceberg was only about fifty feet deep. One hundred and fifty feet now separated us from the surface of the waters. The iceberg was by degrees becoming an ice-field, the mountain a plain. My eyes never left the manometer. We were still rising diagonally to the surface, which sparkled under the electric rays. The iceberg was stretching both above and beneath into lengthening slopes; mile after mile it was getting thinner. At length, at six in the morning of that memorable day, the 19th of March, the door of the saloon opened, and Captain Nemo appeared. Nautilus Nautilus Nautilus Nautilus Nautilus Nautilus “The sea is open!!” was all he said. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jules Verne (1994). Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/files/164/164-h/164-h.htm This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

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