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Safety Compass uses intuitive augmented reality to communicate hazard information to users in the field. By accessing the worker's physical location, the app presents vital information on present dangers straight to the worker's phone, avoiding the necessity of bulky safety manuals to locate and manage risk. Using the phone's inbuilt camera and GPS system, the app displays real and present dangers to the viewer that adapt and compensate for the viewer's field of vision.

The Safety Compass

Dick Sands the Boy Captain by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . ON THE MARCH AGAIN here ON THE MARCH AGAIN. "Africa! Africa!" was the terrible word that echoed and re-echoed in the mind of Dick Sands. As he pondered over the events of the preceding weeks he could now understand why, notwithstanding the rapid progress of the ship, the land seemed ever to be receding, and why the voyage had been prolonged to twice its anticipated length. It remained, however, a mystery inexplicable as before, how and when they had rounded Cape Horn and passed into another ocean. Suddenly the idea flashed upon him that the compass must have been tampered with; and he remembered the fall of the first compass; he recalled the night when he had been roused by Tom's cry of alarm that Negoro had fallen against the binnacle. As he recollected these circumstances he became more and more convinced that it was Negoro who was the mainspring of all the mischief; that it was he who had contrived the loss of the "Pilgrim," and compromised the safety of all on board. What had been the career, what could be the motives of a man who was capable of such vile machinations? But shrouded in mystery as were the events of the past, the present offered a prospect equally obscure. Beyond the fact that he was in Africa and a hundred miles from the coast, Dick knew absolutely nothing. He could only conjecture that he was in the fatal province of Angola, and assured as he was that Harris had acted the traitor, he was led to the conclusion that he and Negoro had been playing into each other's hands. The result of the collision, he feared, might be very disastrous to the survivors of the "Pilgrim." Yet, in what manner would the odious stratagem be accomplished? Dick could well understand that the negroes would be sold for slaves; he could only too easily imagine that upon himself Negoro would wreak the vengeance he had so obviously been contemplating; but for Mrs. Weldon and the other helpless members of the party what fate could be in store? The situation was terrible, but yet Dick did not flinch; he had been appointed captain, and captain he would remain; Mrs. Weldon and her little son had been committed to his charge, and he was resolved to carry out his trust faithfully to the end. For several hours he remained wrapped in thought, pondering over the present and the future, weighing the evil chances against the good, only to be convinced that the evil much preponderated. At length he rose, firm, resolute, calm. The first glimmer of dawn was breaking upon the forest. All the rest of the party, except Tom, were fast asleep. Dick Sands crept softly up to the old negro, and whispered:- "Tom, you know now where we are!" "Yes, yes, Mr. Dick, only too well I know it. We are in Africa!" The old man sighed mournfully. "Tom," said Dick, in the same low voice, "you must keep this a secret; you must not say a word to let Mrs. Weldon or any of the others know " The old man murmured his assent, and Dick continued:- "It will be quite enough for them to learn that we have been betrayed by Harris, and that we must consequently practise extra care and watchfulness; they will merely think we are taking precautions against being surprised by nomad Indians. I trust to your good sense, Tom, to assist me in this." "You may depend upon me, Mr. Dick; and I can promise you that we will all do our best to prove our courage, and to show our devotion to your service." [Illustration: "You must keep this a secret"] Thus assured of Tom's co-operation, Dick proceeded to deliberate upon his future line of action. He had every reason to believe that the treacherous American, startled by the traces of the slaves and the unexpected roaring of the lion, had taken flight before he had conducted his victims to the spot where they were to be attacked, and that consequently some hours might elapse before he would be joined by Negoro, who (to judge from Dingo's strange behaviour) had undoubtedly for the last few days been somewhere on their track. Here was a delay that might be turned to good account, and no time was to be lost in taking advantage of it to commence their return journey to the coast. If, as Dick had every reason to suppose, he was in Angola, he hoped to find, either north or south, some Portuguese settlement whence he could obtain the means of transporting his party to their several homes. But how was this return journey to be accomplished? It would be difficult, not to say imprudent, to retrace their footsteps through the forest; it would merely bring them to their starting-point, and would, moreover, afford an easy track for Negoro or his accomplices to follow. The safest and most secret means of reaching the coast would assuredly be by descending the course of some river. This would have to be effected by constructing a strong raft, from which the little party, well armed, might defend themselves alike from attacks either of the natives or of wild beasts, and which would likewise afford a comfortable means of transport for Mrs. Weldon and her little boy, who were now deprived of the use of Harris's horse. The negroes, it is true, would be only too pleased to carry the lady on a litter of branches, but this would be to occupy the services of two out of five, and under the circumstances it was manifestly advisable that all hands should be free to act on the defensive. Another great inducement towards the plan was that Dick Sands felt himself much more at home in travelling by water than by land, and was longing to be once again upon what to him was, as it were, his native element. He little dreamt that he was devising for himself the very plan that Harris, in his speculations, had laid down for him! The most urgent matter was now to find such a stream as would suit their purpose. Dick had several reasons for feeling sure that one existed in the neighbourhood. He knew that the little river, which fell into the Atlantic near the spot where the "Pilgrim" stranded, could not extend very far either to the north or east, because the horizon was bounded in both directions by the chain of mountains which he had taken for the Cordilleras. If the stream did not rise in those hills it must incline to the south, so that in either case Dick was convinced he could not be long in discovering it or one of its affluents. Another sign, which he recognized as hopeful, was that during the last few miles of the march the soil had become moist and level, whilst here and there the appearance of tiny rivulets indicated that an aqueous network existed in the subsoil. On the previous day, too, the caravan had skirted a rushing torrent, of which the waters were tinged with oxide of iron from its sloping banks. Dick's scheme was to make his way back as far as this stream, which though not navigable itself would in all probability empty itself into some affluent of greater importance. The idea, which he imparted to Tom, met with the old negro's entire approval. As the day dawned the sleepers, one by one, awoke. Mrs. Weldon laid little Jack in Nan's arms. The child was still dozing; the fever had abated, but he looked painfully white and exhausted after the attack. "Dick," said Mrs. Weldon, after looking round her, "where is Mr. Harris? I cannot see him." "Harris has left us," answered Dick very quietly. "Do you mean that he has gone on ahead?" "No, madam, I mean that he has left us, and gone away entirely: he is in league with Negoro." "In league with Negoro!" cried Mrs. Weldon, "Ah, I have had a fancy lately that there has been something wrong: but why? what can be their motive?" "Indeed I am unable to tell you," replied Dick; "I only [Illustration: "Harris has left us" know that we have no alternative but to return to the coast immediately if we would escape the two rascals." "I only wish I could catch them," said Hercules, who had overheard the conversation; "I would soon knock their heads together;" and he shook his two fists in giving emphasis to his words. "But what will become of my boy?" cried Mrs. Weldon, in tones of despondency; "I have been so sanguine in procuring him the comforts of San Felice." "Master Jack will be all right enough, madam, when we get into a more healthy situation near the coast," said Tom. "But is there no farm anywhere near? no village? no shelter?" she pleaded. "None whatever, madam; I can only repeat that it is absolutely necessary that we make the best of our way back to the sea-shore." "Are you quite sure, Dick, that Mr. Harris has deceived us?" Dirk felt that he should be glad to avoid any discussion on the subject, but with a warning glance at Tom, he proceeded to say that on the previous night he and Tom had discovered the American's treachery, and that if he had not instantly taken to his horse and fled he would have answered for his guilt with his life. Without, however, dwelling for a moment more than he could avoid upon the past, he hurried on to detail the means by which he now proposed to reach the sea, concluding by the assertion that he hoped a very few miles' march would bring them to a stream on which they might be able to embark. Mrs. Weldon, thoroughly ignoring her own weakness, professed her readiness not only to walk, but to carry Jack too. Bat and Austin at once volunteered to carry her in a litter; of this the lady would not hear, and bravely repeated her intention of travelling on foot, announcing her willingness to start without further delay. Dick Sands was only too glad to assent to her wish. "Let me take Master Jack," said Hercules; "I shall be out of my element if I have nothing to carry." The giant, without waiting for a reply, took the child from Nan's arms so gently that he did not even rouse him from his slumber. The weapons were next carefully examined, and the provisions, having been repacked into one parcel, were consigned to the charge of ActÃ¦on, who undertook to carry them on his back. Cousin Benedict, whose wiry limbs seemed capable of bearing any amount of fatigue, was quite ready to start. It was doubtful whether he had noticed Harris's disappearance; he was suffering from a loss which to him was of far greater importance. He had mislaid his spectacles and magnifying-glass. It had happened that Bat had picked them up in the long grass, close to the spot where the amateur naturalist had been lying, but acting on a hint from Dick Sands, he said nothing about them; in this way the entomologist, who, without his glasses could scarcely see a yard beyond his face, might be expected to be kept without trouble in the limits of the ranks, and having been placed between ActÃ¦on and Austin with strict injunctions not to leave their side, he followed them as submissively as a blind man in leading-strings. The start was made. But scarcely had the little troop advanced fifty yards upon their way, when Tom suddenly cried out,- "Where's Dingo?" With all the force of his tremendous lungs, Hercules gave a series of reverberating shouts:- "Dingo! Dingo! Dingo!" Not a bark could be distinguished in reply "Dingo! Dingo! Dingo!" again echoed in the air. But all was silence. Dick was intensely annoyed at the non-appearance of the dog; his presence would have been an additional safeguard in the event of any sudden surprise. "Perhaps he has followed Harris," suggested Tom. "Far more likely he is on the track of Negoro," rejoined Dick. "Then Negoro, to a dead certainty," said Hercules, "will put a bullet into his head." "It is to be hoped," replied Bat, "that Dingo will strangle him first." Dick Sands, disguising his vexation, said, "At any rate, we have no time to wait for the animal now: if he is alive, he will not fail to find us out. Move on, my lads! move on!" The weather was very hot; ever since daybreak heavy clouds had been gathering upon the horizon, and it seemed hardly likely that the day would pass without a storm. Fortunately the woods were sufficiently light to ensure a certain amount of freshness to the surface of the soil. Here and there were large patches of tall, rank grass enclosed by clumps of forest trees. In some places, fossilized trunks, lying on the ground, betokened the existence of one of the coal districts that are common upon the continent of Africa. Along the glades the carpet of verdure was relieved by crimson stems and a variety of flowers; ginger-blossoms, blue and yellow, pale lobelias, and red orchids fertilized by the numerous insects that incessantly hovered about them. The trees did not grow in impenetrable masses of one species, but exhibited themselves in infinite variety. There was also a species of palm producing an oil locally much valued; there were cotton-plants growing in bushes eight or ten feet high, the cotton attached in long shreds to the ligneous stalks; and there were copals from which, pierced by the proboscis of certain insects, exudes an odorous resin that flows on to the ground and is collected by the natives. Then there were citrons and wild pomegranates and a score of other arborescent plants, all testifying to the fertility of this plateau of Central Africa. In many places, too, the air was fragrant with the odour of vanilla, though it was not possible to discover the shrub from which the perfume emanated. In spite of it being the dry season, so that the soil had only been moistened by occasional storms, all trees and plants were flourishing in great luxuriance. It was the time of year for fever, but, according to Dr. Livingstone's observation, the disorder may generally be cured by quitting the locality where it has been contracted. Dick expressed his hope that, in little Jack's case, the words of the great traveller would be verified, and in encouragement of this sanguine view, pointed out to Mrs. Weldon that although it was past the time for the periodical return of the fever, the child was still slumbering quietly in Hercules' arms The march was continued with as much rapidity as was consistent with caution. Occasionally, where the bushes and brushwood had been broken down by the recent passage of men or beasts, progress was comparatively easy; but much more frequently, greatly to Dick's annoyance, obstacles of various sorts impeded their advance. Climbing plants grew in such inextricable confusion that they could only be compared to a ship's rigging involved in hopeless entanglement; there were creepers resembling curved scimitars, thickly covered with sharp thorns; there were likewise strange growths, like vegetable serpents, fifty or sixty feet long, which seemed to have a cruel faculty for torturing every passenger with their prickly spines. Axe in hand, the negroes had repeatedly to cut their road through these bewildering obstructions that clothed the trees from their summit to their base. Animal life was no less remarkable in its way than the vegetation. Birds in great variety flitted about in the ample foliage, secure from any stray shot from the little band, whose chief object it was to preserve its incognito. Guinea-fowls were seen in considerable numbers, francolins in several varieties, and a few specimens of the bird to which the Americans, in imitation of their note, have given the name of "whip-poor-will." If Dick had not had too much evidence in other ways to the contrary, he might almost have imagined himself in a province of the New World. Hitherto they had been unmolested by any dangerous wild beasts. During the present stage of their march a herd of giraffes, startled by their unexpected approach, rushed fleetly past; this time, however, without being represented as ostriches. Occasionally a dense cloud of dust on the edge of the prairie, accompanied by a sound like the roll [Illustration: The march was continued with as much rapidity as was consistent with caution.] of heavily-laden chariots, betokened the flight of a herd of buffaloes; but with these exceptions no animal of any magnitude appeared in view. For about two miles Dick followed the course of the rivulet, in the hope that it would emerge into a more important stream, which would convey them without much difficulty or danger direct to the sea. Towards noon about three miles had been accomplished, and a halt was made for rest. Neither Negoro nor Harris had been seen, nor had Dingo reappeared. The encampment for the midday refreshment was made under the shelter of a clump of bamboos, which effectually concealed them all. Few words were spoken during the meal. Mrs. Weldon could eat nothing; she had again taken her little boy into her arms, and seemed wholly absorbed in watching him. Again and again Dick begged her to take some nourishment, urging upon her the necessity of keeping up her strength. "We shall not be long in finding a good current to carry us to the coast," said the lad brightly. Mrs. Weldon raised her eyes to his animated features. With so sanguine and resolute a leader, with such devoted servants as the five negroes in attendance, she felt that she ought not utterly to despair. Was she not, after all, on friendly soil? what great harm could Harris perpetrate against her or her belongings? She would hope still, hope for the best. Rejoiced as he was to see something of its former brightness return to her countenance, Dick nevertheless had scarcely courage steadily to return her searching gaze. Had she known the whole truth, he knew that her heart must fail her utterly. 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 (2005). Dick sands, the boy Captain. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3250.html.images 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

ON THE MARCH AGAIN

The Underground City; Or, The Black Indies by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . EXPLORING here CHAPTER VIII. EXPLORING At Harry’s call, James Starr, Madge, and Simon Ford entered through the narrow orifice which put the Dochart pit in communication with the new mine. They found themselves at the beginning of a tolerably wide gallery. One might well believe that it had been pierced by the hand of man, that the pick and mattock had emptied it in the working of a new vein. The explorers question whether, by a strange chance, they had not been transported into some ancient mine, of the existence of which even the oldest miners in the county had ever known. No! It was merely that the geological layers had left this passage when the secondary earths were in course of formation. Perhaps some torrent had formerly dashed through it; but now it was as dry as if it had been cut some thousand feet lower, through granite rocks. At the same time, the air circulated freely, which showed that certain natural vents placed it in communication with the exterior atmosphere. This observation, made by the engineer, was correct, and it was evident that the ventilation of the new mine would be easily managed. As to the fire-damp which had lately filtered through the schist, it seemed to have been contained in a pocket now empty, and it was certain that the atmosphere of the gallery was quite free from it. However, Harry prudently carried only the safety lamp, which would insure light for twelve hours. James Starr and his companions now felt perfectly happy. All their wishes were satisfied. There was nothing but coal around them. A sort of emotion kept them silent; even Simon Ford restrained himself. His joy overflowed, not in long phrases, but in short ejaculations. It was perhaps imprudent to venture so far into the crypt. Pooh! they never thought of how they were to get back. The gallery was practicable, not very winding. They met with no noxious exhalations, nor did any chasm bar the path. There was no reason for stopping for a whole hour; James Starr, Madge, Harry, and Simon Ford walked on, though there was nothing to show them what was the exact direction of this unknown tunnel. And they would no doubt have gone farther still, if they had not suddenly come to the end of the wide road which they had followed since their entrance into the mine. The gallery ended in an enormous cavern, neither the height nor depth of which could be calculated. At what altitude arched the roof of this excavation—at what distance was its opposite wall—the darkness totally concealed; but by the light of the lamp the explorers could discover that its dome covered a vast extent of still water—pond or lake—whose picturesque rocky banks were lost in obscurity. “Halt!” exclaimed Ford, stopping suddenly. “Another step, and perhaps we shall fall into some fathomless pit.” “Let us rest awhile, then, my friends,” returned the engineer. “Besides, we ought to be thinking of returning to the cottage.” “Our lamp will give light for another ten hours, sir,” said Harry. “Well, let us make a halt,” replied Starr; “I confess my legs have need of a rest. And you, Madge, don’t you feel tired after so long a walk?” “Not over much, Mr. Starr,” replied the sturdy Scotchwoman; “we have been accustomed to explore the old Aberfoyle mine for whole days together.” “Tired? nonsense!” interrupted Simon Ford; “Madge could go ten times as far, if necessary. But once more, Mr. Starr, wasn’t my communication worth your trouble in coming to hear it? Just dare to say no, Mr. Starr, dare to say no!” “Well, my old friend, I haven’t felt so happy for a long while!” replied the engineer; “the small part of this marvelous mine that we have explored seems to show that its extent is very considerable, at least in length.” “In width and in depth, too, Mr. Starr!” returned Simon Ford. “That we shall know later.” “And I can answer for it! Trust to the instinct of an old miner! It has never deceived me!” “I wish to believe you, Simon,” replied the engineer, smiling. “As far as I can judge from this short exploration, we possess the elements of a working which will last for centuries!” “Centuries!” exclaimed Simon Ford; “I believe you, sir! A thousand years and more will pass before the last bit of coal is taken out of our new mine!” “Heaven grant it!” returned Starr. “As to the quality of the coal which crops out of these walls?” “Superb! Mr. Starr, superb!” answered Ford; “just look at it yourself!” And so saying, with his pick he struck off a fragment of the black rock. “Look! look!” he repeated, holding it close to his lamp; “the surface of this piece of coal is shining! We have here fat coal, rich in bituminous matter; and see how it comes in pieces, almost without dust! Ah, Mr. Starr! twenty years ago this seam would have entered into a strong competition with Swansea and Cardiff! Well, stokers will quarrel for it still, and if it costs little to extract it from the mine, it will not sell at a less price outside.” “Indeed,” said Madge, who had taken the fragment of coal and was examining it with the air of a connoisseur; “that’s good quality of coal. Carry it home, Simon, carry it back to the cottage! I want this first piece of coal to burn under our kettle.” “Well said, wife!” answered the old overman, “and you shall see that I am not mistaken.” “Mr. Starr,” asked Harry, “have you any idea of the probable direction of this long passage which we have been following since our entrance into the new mine?” “No, my lad,” replied the engineer; “with a compass I could perhaps find out its general bearing; but without a compass I am here like a sailor in open sea, in the midst of fogs, when there is no sun by which to calculate his position.” “No doubt, Mr. Starr,” replied Ford; “but pray don’t compare our position with that of the sailor, who has everywhere and always an abyss under his feet! We are on firm ground here, and need never be afraid of foundering.” “I won’t tease you, then, old Simon,” answered James Starr. “Far be it from me even in jest to depreciate the New Aberfoyle mine by an unjust comparison! I only meant to say one thing, and that is that we don’t know where we are.” “We are in the subsoil of the county of Stirling, Mr. Starr,” replied Simon Ford; “and that I assert as if—” “Listen!” said Harry, interrupting the old man. All listened, as the young miner was doing. His ears, which were very sharp, had caught a dull sound, like a distant murmur. His companions were not long in hearing it themselves. It was above their heads, a sort of rolling sound, in which though it was so feeble, the successive and could be distinctly heard. crescendo diminuendo All four stood for some minutes, their ears on the stretch, without uttering a word. All at once Simon Ford exclaimed, “Well, I declare! Are trucks already running on the rails of New Aberfoyle?” “Father,” replied Harry, “it sounds to me just like the noise made by waves rolling on the sea shore.” “We can’t be under the sea though!” cried the old overman. “No,” said the engineer, “but it is not impossible that we should be under Loch Katrine.” “The roof cannot have much thickness just here, if the noise of the water is perceptible.” “Very little indeed,” answered James Starr, “and that is the reason this cavern is so huge.” “You must be right, Mr. Starr,” said Harry. “Besides, the weather is so bad outside,” resumed Starr, “that the waters of the loch must be as rough as those of the Firth of Forth.” “Well! what does it matter after all?” returned Simon Ford; “the seam won’t be any the worse because it is under a loch. It would not be the first time that coal has been looked for under the very bed of the ocean! When we have to work under the bottom of the Caledonian Canal, where will be the harm?” “Well said, Simon,” cried the engineer, who could not restrain a smile at the overman’s enthusiasm; “let us cut our trenches under the waters of the sea! Let us bore the bed of the Atlantic like a strainer; let us with our picks join our brethren of the United States through the subsoil of the ocean! let us dig into the center of the globe if necessary, to tear out the last scrap of coal.” “Are you joking, Mr. Starr?” asked Ford, with a pleased but slightly suspicious look. “I joking, old man? no! but you are so enthusiastic that you carry me away into the regions of impossibility! Come, let us return to the reality, which is sufficiently beautiful; leave our picks here, where we may find them another day, and let’s take the road back to the cottage.” Nothing more could be done for the time. Later, the engineer, accompanied by a brigade of miners, supplied with lamps and all necessary tools, would resume the exploration of New Aberfoyle. It was now time to return to the Dochart pit. The road was easy, the gallery running nearly straight through the rock up to the orifice opened by the dynamite, so there was no fear of their losing themselves. But as James Starr was proceeding towards the gallery Simon Ford stopped him. “Mr. Starr,” said he, “you see this immense cavern, this subterranean lake, whose waters bathe this strand at our feet? Well! it is to this place I mean to change my dwelling, here I will build a new cottage, and if some brave fellows will follow my example, before a year is over there will be one town more inside old England.” James Starr, smiling approval of Ford’s plans, pressed his hand, and all three, preceding Madge, re-entered the gallery, on their way back to the Dochart pit. For the first mile no incident occurred. Harry walked first, holding his lamp above his head. He carefully followed the principal gallery, without ever turning aside into the narrow tunnels which radiated to the right and left. It seemed as if the returning was to be accomplished as easily as the going, when an unexpected accident occurred which rendered the situation of the explorers very serious. Just at a moment when Harry was raising his lamp there came a rush of air, as if caused by the flapping of invisible wings. The lamp escaped from his hands, fell on the rocky ground, and was broken to pieces. James Starr and his companions were suddenly plunged in absolute darkness. All the oil of the lamp was spilt, and it was of no further use. “Well, Harry,” cried his father, “do you want us all to break our necks on the way back to the cottage?” Harry did not answer. He wondered if he ought to suspect the hand of a mysterious being in this last accident? Could there possibly exist in these depths an enemy whose unaccountable antagonism would one day create serious difficulties? Had someone an interest in defending the new coal field against any attempt at working it? In truth that seemed absurd, yet the facts spoke for themselves, and they accumulated in such a way as to change simple presumptions into certainties. In the meantime the explorers’ situation was bad enough. They had now, in the midst of black darkness, to follow the passage leading to the Dochart pit for nearly five miles. There they would still have an hour’s walk before reaching the cottage. “Come along,” said Simon Ford. “We have no time to lose. We must grope our way along, like blind men. There’s no fear of losing our way. The tunnels which open off our road are only just like those in a molehill, and by following the chief gallery we shall of course reach the opening we got in at. After that, it is the old mine. We know that, and it won’t be the first time that Harry and I have found ourselves there in the dark. Besides, there we shall find the lamps that we left. Forward then! Harry, go first. Mr. Starr, follow him. Madge, you go next, and I will bring up the rear. Above everything, don’t let us get separated.” All complied with the old overman’s instructions. As he said, by groping carefully, they could not mistake the way. It was only necessary to make the hands take the place of the eyes, and to trust to their instinct, which had with Simon Ford and his son become a second nature. James Starr and his companions walked on in the order agreed. They did not speak, but it was not for want of thinking. It became evident that they had an adversary. But what was he, and how were they to defend themselves against these mysteriously-prepared attacks? These disquieting ideas crowded into their brains. However, this was not the moment to get discouraged. Harry, his arms extended, advanced with a firm step, touching first one and then the other side of the passage. If a cleft or side opening presented itself, he felt with his hand that it was not the main way; either the cleft was too shallow, or the opening too narrow, and he thus kept in the right road. In darkness through which the eye could not in the slightest degree pierce, this difficult return lasted two hours. By reckoning the time since they started, taking into consideration that the walking had not been rapid, Starr calculated that he and his companions were near the opening. In fact, almost immediately, Harry stopped. “Have we got to the end of the gallery?” asked Simon Ford. “Yes,” answered the young miner. “Well! have you not found the hole which connects New Aberfoyle with the Dochart pit?” “No,” replied Harry, whose impatient hands met with nothing but a solid wall. The old overman stepped forward, and himself felt the schistous rock. A cry escaped him. Either the explorers had strayed from the right path on their return, or the narrow orifice, broken in the rock by the dynamite, had been recently stopped up. James Starr and his companions were prisoners in New Aberfoyle. 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 Underground City; Or, The Black Indies. 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

At Harry’s call, James Starr, Madge, and Simon Ford entered through the narrow orifice

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 . ALL BY ELECTRICITY here CHAPTER XI: ALL BY ELECTRICITY “Sir,” said Captain Nemo, showing me the instruments hanging on the walls of his room, “here are the contrivances required for the navigation of the . Here, as in the drawing-room, I have them always under my eyes, and they indicate my position and exact direction in the middle of the ocean. Some are known to you, such as the thermometer, which gives the internal temperature of the the barometer, which indicates the weight of the air and foretells the changes of the weather; the hygrometer, which marks the dryness of the atmosphere; the storm-glass, the contents of which, by decomposing, announce the approach of tempests; the compass, which guides my course; the sextant, which shows the latitude by the altitude of the sun; chronometers, by which I calculate the longitude; and glasses for day and night, which I use to examine the points of the horizon, when the rises to the surface of the waves.” Nautilus Nautilus; Nautilus “These are the usual nautical instruments,” I replied, “and I know the use of them. But these others, no doubt, answer to the particular requirements of the . This dial with the movable needle is a manometer, is it not?” Nautilus “It is actually a manometer. But by communication with the water, whose external pressure it indicates, it gives our depth at the same time.” “And these other instruments, the use of which I cannot guess?” “Here, Professor, I ought to give you some explanations. Will you be kind enough to listen to me?” He was silent for a few moments, then he said— “There is a powerful agent, obedient, rapid, easy, which conforms to every use, and reigns supreme on board my vessel. Everything is done by means of it. It lights it, warms it, and is the soul of my mechanical apparatus. This agent is electricity.” “Electricity?” I cried in surprise. “Yes, sir.” “Nevertheless, Captain, you possess an extreme rapidity of movement, which does not agree with the power of electricity. Until now, its dynamic force has remained under restraint, and has only been able to produce a small amount of power.” “Professor,” said Captain Nemo, “my electricity is not everybody’s. You know what sea-water is composed of. In a thousand grammes are found 96½ per cent. of water, and about 2-2/3 per cent. of chloride of sodium; then, in a smaller quantity, chlorides of magnesium and of potassium, bromide of magnesium, sulphate of magnesia, sulphate and carbonate of lime. You see, then, that chloride of sodium forms a large part of it. So it is this sodium that I extract from sea-water, and of which I compose my ingredients. I owe all to the ocean; it produces electricity, and electricity gives heat, light, motion, and, in a word, life to the .” Nautilus “But not the air you breathe?” “Oh! I could manufacture the air necessary for my consumption, but it is useless, because I go up to the surface of the water when I please. However, if electricity does not furnish me with air to breathe, it works at least the powerful pumps that are stored in spacious reservoirs, and which enable me to prolong at need, and as long as I will, my stay in the depths of the sea. It gives a uniform and unintermittent light, which the sun does not. Now look at this clock; it is electrical, and goes with a regularity that defies the best chronometers. I have divided it into twenty-four hours, like the Italian clocks, because for me there is neither night nor day, sun nor moon, but only that factitious light that I take with me to the bottom of the sea. Look! just now, it is ten o’clock in the morning.” “Exactly.” “Another application of electricity. This dial hanging in front of us indicates the speed of the . An electric thread puts it in communication with the screw, and the needle indicates the real speed. Look! now we are spinning along with a uniform speed of fifteen miles an hour.” Nautilus “It is marvelous! And I see, Captain, you were right to make use of this agent that takes the place of wind, water, and steam.” “We have not finished, M. Aronnax,” said Captain Nemo, rising. “If you will follow me, we will examine the stern of the .” Nautilus Really, I knew already the anterior part of this submarine boat, of which this is the exact division, starting from the ship’s head:—the dining-room, five yards long, separated from the library by a water-tight partition; the library, five yards long; the large drawing-room, ten yards long, separated from the Captain’s room by a second water-tight partition; the said room, five yards in length; mine, two and a half yards; and, lastly a reservoir of air, seven and a half yards, that extended to the bows. Total length thirty five yards, or one hundred and five feet. The partitions had doors that were shut hermetically by means of india-rubber instruments, and they ensured the safety of the in case of a leak. Nautilus I followed Captain Nemo through the waist, and arrived at the centre of the boat. There was a sort of well that opened between two partitions. An iron ladder, fastened with an iron hook to the partition, led to the upper end. I asked the Captain what the ladder was used for. “It leads to the small boat,” he said. “What! have you a boat?” I exclaimed, in surprise. “Of course; an excellent vessel, light and insubmersible, that serves either as a fishing or as a pleasure boat.” “But then, when you wish to embark, you are obliged to come to the surface of the water?” “Not at all. This boat is attached to the upper part of the hull of the , and occupies a cavity made for it. It is decked, quite water-tight, and held together by solid bolts. This ladder leads to a man-hole made in the hull of the , that corresponds with a similar hole made in the side of the boat. By this double opening I get into the small vessel. They shut the one belonging to the I shut the other by means of screw pressure. I undo the bolts, and the little boat goes up to the surface of the sea with prodigious rapidity. I then open the panel of the bridge, carefully shut till then; I mast it, hoist my sail, take my oars, and I’m off.” Nautilus Nautilus Nautilus; “But how do you get back on board?” “I do not come back, M. Aronnax; the comes to me.” Nautilus “By your orders?” “By my orders. An electric thread connects us. I telegraph to it, and that is enough.” “Really,” I said, astonished at these marvels, “nothing can be more simple.” After having passed by the cage of the staircase that led to the platform, I saw a cabin six feet long, in which Conseil and Ned Land, enchanted with their repast, were devouring it with avidity. Then a door opened into a kitchen nine feet long, situated between the large storerooms. There electricity, better than gas itself, did all the cooking. The streams under the furnaces gave out to the sponges of platina a heat which was regularly kept up and distributed. They also heated a distilling apparatus, which, by evaporation, furnished excellent drinkable water. Near this kitchen was a bathroom comfortably furnished, with hot and cold water taps. Next to the kitchen was the berthroom of the vessel, sixteen feet long. But the door was shut, and I could not see the management of it, which might have given me an idea of the number of men employed on board the . Nautilus At the bottom was a fourth partition that separated this office from the engine-room. A door opened, and I found myself in the compartment where Captain Nemo—certainly an engineer of a very high order—had arranged his locomotive machinery. This engine-room, clearly lighted, did not measure less than sixty-five feet in length. It was divided into two parts; the first contained the materials for producing electricity, and the second the machinery that connected it with the screw. I examined it with great interest, in order to understand the machinery of the . Nautilus “You see,” said the Captain, “I use Bunsen’s contrivances, not Ruhmkorff’s. Those would not have been powerful enough. Bunsen’s are fewer in number, but strong and large, which experience proves to be the best. The electricity produced passes forward, where it works, by electro-magnets of great size, on a system of levers and cog-wheels that transmit the movement to the axle of the screw. This one, the diameter of which is nineteen feet, and the thread twenty-three feet, performs about a hundred and twenty revolutions in a second.” “And you get then?” “A speed of fifty miles an hour.” “I have seen the manœuvre before the , and I have my own ideas as to its speed. But this is not enough. We must see where we go. We must be able to direct it to the right, to the left, above, below. How do you get to the great depths, where you find an increasing resistance, which is rated by hundreds of atmospheres? How do you return to the surface of the ocean? And how do you maintain yourselves in the requisite medium? Am I asking too much?” Nautilus Abraham Lincoln “Not at all, Professor,” replied the Captain, with some hesitation; “since you may never leave this submarine boat. Come into the saloon, it is our usual study, and there you will learn all you want to know about the .” Nautilus 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

ALL BY ELECTRICITY

Getting to the top of Kilimanjaro is often a challenge filled with many dynamics that few ever see as the work is often put in during hours of darkness, extreme conditions, and outside of one’s comfort zones. Those sleeping and eating comfortably in the safety of their lives have no clue how mentally, physically, and spiritually involved it is to climb. Most often than not, strangers and people on similar quests to their peaks form our critical support team, as though the mountains may be different individually, the climb is always identical. It is often our bodies, the mortal parts of us that give in first until their masters, the brain takes over and conquers them to rise beyond the pain and be disciplined enough to take instruction and keep going. Self-discipline and sacrifice are therefore important virtues that teach our systems the importance of mind over matter and allow the flesh to succumb to the mind and not the other way round. In simple terms, teaching yourself to do what you do not like or want to do, is a key factor for success. This may be in small things like reading a book, rising early to put in a gym workout, or eating the right things and not the ‘nice’ things… As you gain altitude, the air thins. This is symbolic of the lessening resources available the higher you go and this is when some on the journey will either stop or fall back. The stopping is not always a sign of failure but often a symptom of inadequate preparation for the journey. As if to test you further, this point is often where additional external factors will come in to harden the climb. The cold symbolizes the personal rejection and criticism you will get from your own environment as people who once held you close will distance themselves from you and feed negatively into your mind. Personal relationships suffer, the good people saw in you are never mentioned and it becomes very difficult to breathe the way you have been accustomed to. Know yourself, know your body A climbing guide, mentor, or coach is always someone who has been on this journey before and seen and observed different people. By looking into your eyes, and checking a few vital signs, he will tell if your mind is still in the condition to climb or if you have reached your limit. He will check if you have enough to feed the now weak body for the terrain ahead and will know if there is value in you ascending greater heights where the risks are even greater. Regardless of your guide, you often will have the ability to know what you are and not capable of as no one can take you beyond your own dreams and strengths. Part of this process involves prior altitude training, endurance exercises, extended fasts or diets, multi-day overnight camps in unfamiliar areas such as simulators, exposure to rain, cold, and darkness, and using your climbing gear before the actual climb. No formula 1 driver even wins a race in a new car he has only driven for the first time on a course he has never driven before. Practice builds habits and habits build characteristics that add up to build a climber's character. It is this character and pedigree that then becomes your internal compass and fueler when the air thins out and the cold sets in…in the darkness of the final ascent. In the darkness of the final ascent, there are no friends or observers. As you build up your life towards the final peak, you will rise and fall in many different areas of your life as you acclimatize. This will be on areas like church leadership, social club positions, networks of friends, business ventures, and interests. You will make money and lose some. In all these, you will always have people on similar paths to cheer you on and others to criticize you. It will be an ongoing interactive growth process where lots of feedback will be available as many will be watching you and many have a lot to say. On the mountain, however, as the hour hand strikes midnight, darkness engulfs the skies and the cold blanket takes over the peak, it all goes quiet and even the torches of those ahead of you are not visible. Learn to act alone, learn to find true depth and meaning for all actions within your heart. You will not find observers and you will not find followers in the darkness so get yourself used to being in situations where you are alone and not reacting to the words of counsel of people. Be a proactive person and not a reactive one. This is a unique skill that will keep you stepping forward and listening inward. Few ever make it to the peak and the peak though beautiful is for a limited time only and not built to sustain may and for long: It is therefore vital to have a clear vision and purpose for your climb before taking on the journey as many perish along the way, not because of only foolishness, but a lack of clarity of purpose, climbing strategy, and pure ignorance. The climb will consume you as the top is hostile and not designed to accommodate ordinary people in their ordinary course of life. There is no food growing at the top, Mo restaurants, and no waiters…you live off what’s inside you already and the light snacks you carried along. Your water bottle will freeze, your candy bar ice out and ordinary tasks like going to the toilet will not be possible. Know what you are getting yourself into when you take than pinnacle office. Don’t expect to love the same life you lead at base camp and have the same luxuries. Expect change, anticipate crisis and have a plan for all possible scenarios you will face at the top. The view will be stunning and you will see the world in ways you never imagined and in ways, few will ever experience. However stunning it gets, take your pictures, absorb the moments, learn something, leave your mark and make your way down in time to avoid the burn of the rising sun that will blind you with the snow glare and dehydrate you further. Everything has a season and time and when the season changes, those that don’t adapt will die. So as the sun rises, make your way down with a plan in mind and a pace that takes you back to base with the wisdom of a climber and not the arrogance of a politician. You did not ascend to be worshiped nor are you now any better a person than your fellow brother…however the wisdom you gained must now be a tool that guides and feeds the minds and souls of those youngsters who aspire to climb and see the world too in positions you have achieved. There will be more mountains to climb and higher ones each time. The locations and timings will differ and so will your purpose and vision each time. In some you will climb as a guide, in others as the main climber … the formulae don’t change. Your heart and mind are what will affect your approach. Finally climbing is not for everyone, just as the top is not for every climber. At base camp will always be cooks, porters, medics, cleaners, assistants, and a whole lot of crew that far outnumber the climbers. These dedicated men and women feed off knowing their work has contributed to your successful climb and ignorant and weak as they may seem, a smile, a word of thanks is all they need to keep doing what they do. It must be accepted that base is where they are good and the base is where their peak is and it’s not for lack of vision that they do not climb…..it is for you that they do what they do. You bring back pictures and experiences that keep their spirits content!! Keep climbing and keep learning!!!

Lessons from Kilimanjaro

Lecciones del Kilimanjaro

Servant Leadership 101: By , Professional Scrum Trainer, Stephanie Ockerman Scrum.org This is part of a series of posts about servant leadership to influence change and inspire greatness . My goal is to make servant leadership more understandable and actionable for everyone regardless of position, title, or status. Because this is the only way to create meaningful change in our complex world. Instead of feeding into division, fear, and disempowerment, we will lead by inspiring, enabling, and empowering. Now that we’ve covered the essentials of , let’s dive into how you make decisions that enable and empower others. self-organization and intrinsic motivation There is no recipe to follow. There is no map to navigate. because your actions must be based on your specific context at a specific moment in time. You need a compass What does this person or team need right now to feel empowered? What does this person or team need to learn right now in order to grow more capable? Before we dive in, ground yourself in truly BEING a servant-leader. Remember this means that . you measure YOUR success by the growth and success of OTHERS And helping others become more empowered and enabled is one step in this journey. Navigating the Choices as a Servant-Leader We know that we must restrain from solving problems on behalf of others when our goal is for them to learn, grow, and take greater responsibility. Imagine a compass with the following navigation points around the face: Teach Facilitate Point North Coach Take Action Do Nothing Now consider a difficult situation you have right now. It could involve work, an organization you volunteer with, a community association you are involved in, or even your family and friends. Is this a time to teach concepts or skills? Teaching is in service of others, and people learn best through experience rather than lecture. As an example, when I work with Scrum Teams, they sometimes need me to teach them concepts and techniques. I do this when they don’t yet have the knowledge or experience, and they need my support in getting some. This enables them to take ownership of an aspect of their work. As a servant-leader, maybe you are doing the teaching. Or maybe you support them by lining up formal training from experts. Is this a time I need to facilitate? Facilitation is about creating space for others to fill with their ideas and insights and create their own decisions rather than “running a meeting.” Yes, facilitation happens in a meeting, but it’s about much more than driving through an agenda. Lyssa Adkins refers to this as creating the “container” in her book . Coaching Agile Teams Do they have physical space conducive to collaboration, visualization, and creativity? Do they have space to think and work, free from distractions? Do they have space for experimentation, failure, learning, and growth? As an example, when I work with organizations who want to enable business agility, I facilitate collaborative working sessions that help them create clarity around where they are, where they want to go, and steps they want to take to get there. Successful facilitation requires that people can openly collaborate, share ideas, challenge ideas, be creative, and make consensus-based decisions. Is this a time to point north? This is using the idea of a “North Star” for guidance. As a servant-leader, you point north to reinforce values, vision, and principles. This provides a simple reminder to let those things guide a person or team’s decisions. It involves a light touch and then stepping back. This is often helped by having a . strong foundation Is this a time to coach? Help people connect to what’s important to them and what they want, break through limiting beliefs, and explore new perspectives. As an example, when working with groups who are struggling to deal with conflicting approaches to a problem, I often employ coaching techniques. I ask questions that help them understand and appreciate each other’s perspectives, assess how the different ideas do and do not align to the desired outcomes, and even get creative to to find even better solutions. I help them find their way to action and to take responsibility for their actions and outcomes. think beyond what is assumed to be possible Is this a time to take action to remove barriers beyond the team’s control or to intervene for the safety of the team? For example, if an organizational process is causing a lot of extra effort without meaningful benefits gained, servant-leaders help . remove those barriers You may also need to intervene to protect the team and the empirical process in the event of unhealthy escalating conflict. Is this a time to intentionally do nothing? They have the knowledge and tools they need to make a decision and execute on it. Doing nothing is a sign that you trust them, and they get to fully own their work and learn from the experience. Rely on boundaries, accountabilities, shared goals, and intrinsic motivation. Make it Real Here are a few questions I use to help guide myself and to coach other servant-leaders in navigating these choices: What will enable this person/ this team’s growth and success? What is most important right now? How might this enable/ undermine self-organization? What’s the worst that could happen? And what could be learned from that? What’s the best that could happen? And what could be learned from that? How might offering my “guidance” and “ideas” impact their creativity and sense of ownership? As you answer these questions, remember that it’s not about you. It’s about them. Let go of your own status and ego. And consider both the short-term and long-term implications of your choice for empowering and enabling others. Remember anyone can be a servant-leader. Whether you are a Scrum Master, a member of any team, a manager, or a leader in the community, servant leadership helps you always consider how your actions can empower and enable others. This is part of a series of posts about servant leadership to influence change and inspire greatness . My goal is to make servant leadership more understandable and actionable for everyone regardless of position, title, or status. Because this is the only way to create meaningful change in our complex world. Instead of feeding into division, fear, and disempowerment, we will lead by inspiring, enabling, and empowering. Read all of the posts in the servant-leadership 101 series: Originally published at www.agilesocks.com on December 13, 2018.

Anyone Can be a Servant-Leader

This ethical model checklist was developed by Amy Shah, MD, MBA, MS to help individuals and small groups determine if AI used for their project or work is beneficial and uses ethical principles. The first item in the checklist is to determine the goal of the work/project and if AI is suitable for that goal. Goal: What is the goal that I will be using AI for in my project/work? To the best of my ability, can I determine if the AI was developed with ethical principles in mind? Is the AI transparent and clear about what inputs and decision making that Explainability - went into its recommendations? Does this AI appear to treat individuals and/or groups of individuals equitably? Fairness - Does this AI minimize security risks and prevent security attacks that might Robustness - cause private information to be leaked? Can individuals and groups see how the AI works and evaluate its function? Transparency - Can this AI be trusted or be trustworthy? Does this AI prioritize and safeguard consumers’ privacy and data rights and provide Privacy- explicit assurances to users about how their personal data will be used and protected? To the best of my ability, can I determine if the AI treats individuals and groups in an ethical manner? Does the AI have consistency of values and actions so that what is advised and what
is done are in harmony? Integrity - Does the AI acknowledge the inherent value of all individuals and treat all with
dignity? Respect - Can the use of this AI be considered responsible? Are we able to have
awareness that our actions have consequences that can be positive or negative? Is there a way
we could be held accountable for the actions of this AI? Responsibility - Are the ethical decisions of the AI unbiased? Do the actions of the AI treat everyone Fairness - equally regardless of status, position, or personal attributes? Does the use of the AI account for empathy and understanding towards others?
Do all stakeholders have equal say? Are we keeping in mind that there is a human element in
every decision we make? Compassion - Does use of AI allow for respectful disagreement? Courage means doing what is
right despite the idea being risky or unpopular. It means standing up for what you believe in. Is
there room for dissenting thought in your project or goal? Courage - Have you made AI related decisions based on being informed on the issues and
facts while also taking into account the stakeholders? Wisdom - To the best of my ability, have I determined if AI involvement will
affect human medical decision making? If so, have I considered the
following principles? Does the AI cause any harm to individuals or groups? Non- Non-maleficence - maleficence means “do no harm.” Does the AI actively help others welfare and health outcomes? Does the AI allow an environment that maximizes health for the Beneficence - Health maximization - individual and opportunities for health of the public? Does the AI use scarce medical resources efficiently? Efficiency - Does the AI allow for the patient’s right to determine what will happen
to the and encourage their ability to make their own medical choices. Respect for autonomy - Does the AI allow for equity for all people so that all people can have health care at
the same quality? Justice - Does the use of AI weigh the individual needs versus the needs of the greater
good in a beneficial and equitable way? Proportionality - This checklist for individuals and groups is meant to help with taking careful consideration about the safety of AI in one’s work project or goal. This was developed based on the following reference materials.  For more information, please see this article: https://hackernoon.com/human-mental-health-and-artificial-intelligence References: Peter Schröder-Bäck, et al. Teaching seven principles for public health ethics: towards a curriculum for a short course on ethics in public health programmes. Schröder-Bäck et al. BMC Medical Ethics 2014, 15:73 http://www.biomedcentral.com/1472-6939/15/73 https://axies.digital/ethical-decision-making/ https://www.ibm.com/policy/ibm-artificial-intelligence-pillars/ Images created by DALL-E/ChatGPT

AI Ethical Checklist for Small Group and Individual Use Advisement
Developed March 21, 2024

The Underground City; Or, The Black Indies by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . THE “MONK” here CHAPTER XVII. THE “MONK” This name revealed everything to the old overman. It was that of the last “monk” of the Dochart pit. In former days, before the invention of the safety-lamp, Simon had known this fierce man, whose business it was to go daily, at the risk of his life, to produce partial explosions of fire-damp in the passages. He used to see this strange solitary being, prowling about the mine, always accompanied by a monstrous owl, which he called Harfang, who assisted him in his perilous occupation, by soaring with a lighted match to places Silfax was unable to reach. One day this old man disappeared, and at the same time also, a little orphan girl born in the mine, who had no relation but himself, her great-grandfather. It was perfectly evident now that this child was Nell. During the fifteen years, up to the time when she was saved by Harry, they must have lived in some secret abyss of the mine. The old overman, full of mingled compassion and anger, made known to the engineer and Harry all that the name of Silfax had revealed to him. It explained the whole mystery. Silfax was the mysterious being so long vainly sought for in the depths of New Aberfoyle. “So you knew him, Simon?” demanded Mr. Starr. “Yes, that I did,” replied the overman. “The Harfang man, we used to call him. Why, he was old then! He must be fifteen or twenty years older than I am. A wild, savage sort of fellow, who held aloof from everyone and was known to fear nothing—neither fire nor water. It was his own fancy to follow the trade of ‘monk,’ which few would have liked. The constant danger of the business had unsettled his brain. He was prodigiously strong, and he knew the mine as no one else—at any rate, as well as I did. He lived on a small allowance. In faith, I believed him dead years ago.” “But,” resumed James Starr, “what does he mean by those words, ‘You have robbed me of the last vein of our old mine’?” “Ah! there it is,” replied Simon; “for a long time it had been a fancy of his—I told you his mind was deranged—that he had a right to the mine of Aberfoyle; so he became more and more savage in temper the deeper the Dochart pit—his pit!—was worked out. It just seemed as if it was his own body that suffered from every blow of the pickax. You must remember that, Madge?” “Ay, that I do, Simon,” replied she. “I can recollect all this,” resumed Simon, “since I have seen the name of Silfax on the door. But I tell you, I thought the man was dead, and never imagined that the spiteful being we have so long sought for could be the old fireman of the Dochart pit.” “Well, now, then,” said Starr, “it is all quite plain. Chance made known to Silfax the new vein of coal. With the egotism of madness, he believed himself the owner of a treasure he must conceal and defend. Living in the mine, and wandering about day and night, he perceived that you had discovered the secret, and had written in all haste to beg me to come. Hence the letter contradicting yours; hence, after my arrival, all the accidents that occurred, such as the block of stone thrown at Harry, the broken ladder at the Yarrow shaft, the obstruction of the openings into the wall of the new cutting; hence, in short, our imprisonment, and then our deliverance, brought about by the kind assistance of Nell, who acted of course without the knowledge of this man Silfax, and contrary to his intentions.” “You describe everything exactly as it must have happened, Mr. Starr,” returned old Simon. “The old ‘Monk’ is mad enough now, at any rate!” “All the better,” quoth Madge. “I don’t know that,” said Starr, shaking his head; “it is a terrible sort of madness this.” “Ah! now I understand that the very thought of him must have terrified poor little Nell, and also I see that she could not bear to denounce her grandfather. What a miserable time she must have had of it with the old man!” “Miserable with a vengeance,” replied Simon, “between that savage and his owl, as savage as himself. Depend upon it, that bird isn’t dead. That was what put our lamp out, and also so nearly cut the rope by which Harry and Nell were suspended.” “And then, you see,” said Madge, “this news of the marriage of our son with his granddaughter added to his rancor and ill-will.” “To be sure,” said Simon. “To think that his Nell should marry one of the robbers of his own coal mine would just drive him wild altogether.” “He will have to make up his mind to it, however,” cried Harry. “Mad as he is, we shall manage to convince him that Nell is better off with us here than ever she was in the caverns of the pit. I am sure, Mr. Starr, if we could only catch him, we should be able to make him listen to reason.” “My poor Harry! there is no reasoning with a madman,” replied the engineer. “Of course it is better to know your enemy than not; but you must not fancy all is right because we have found out who he is. We must be on our guard, my friends; and to begin with, Harry, you positively must question Nell. She will perceive that her silence is no longer reasonable. Even for her grandfather’s own interest, she ought to speak now. For his own sake, as well as for ours, these insane plots must be put a stop to.” “I feel sure, Mr. Starr,” answered Harry, “that Nell will of herself propose to tell you what she knows. You see it was from a sense of duty that she has been silent hitherto. My mother was very right to take her to her room just now. She much needed time to recover her spirits; but now I will go for her.” “You need not do so, Harry,” said the maiden in a clear and firm voice, as she entered at that moment the room in which they were. Nell was very pale; traces of tears were in her eyes; but her whole manner showed that she had nerved herself to act as her loyal heart dictated as her duty. “Nell!” cried Harry, springing towards her. The girl arrested her lover by a gesture, and continued, “Your father and mother, and you, Harry, must now know all. And you too, Mr. Starr, must remain ignorant of nothing that concerns the child you have received, and whom Harry—unfortunately for him, alas!—drew from the abyss.” “Oh, Nell! what are you saying?” cried Harry. “Allow her to speak,” said James Starr in a decided tone. “I am the granddaughter of old Silfax,” resumed Nell. “I never knew a mother till the day I came here,” added she, looking at Madge. “Blessed be that day, my daughter!” said the old woman. “I knew no father till I saw Simon Ford,” continued Nell; “nor friend till the day when Harry’s hand touched mine. Alone with my grandfather I have lived during fifteen years in the remote and most solitary depths of the mine. I say my grandfather, but I can scarcely use the expression, for I seldom saw him. When he disappeared from Old Aberfoyle, he concealed himself in caverns known only to himself. In his way he was kind to me, dreadful as he was; he fed me with whatever he could procure from outside the mine; but I can dimly recollect that in my earliest years I was the nursling of a goat, the death of which was a bitter grief to me. My grandfather, seeing my distress, brought me another animal—a dog he said it was. But, unluckily, this dog was lively, and barked. Grandfather did not like anything cheerful. He had a horror of noise, and had taught me to be silent; the dog he could not teach to be quiet, so the poor animal very soon disappeared. My grandfather’s companion was a ferocious bird, Harfang, of which, at first, I had a perfect horror; but this creature, in spite of my dislike to it, took such a strong affection for me, that I could not help returning it. It even obeyed me better than its master, which used to make me quite uneasy, for my grandfather was jealous. Harfang and I did not dare to let him see us much together; we both knew it would be dangerous. But I am talking too much about myself: the great thing is about you.” with “No, my child,” said James Starr, “tell us everything that comes to your mind.” “My grandfather,” continued Nell, “always regarded your abode in the mine with a very evil eye—not that there was any lack of space. His chosen refuge was far—very far from you. But he could not bear to feel that you were there. If I asked any questions about the people up above us, his face grew dark, he gave no answer, and continued quite silent for a long time afterwards. But when he perceived that, not content with the old domain, you seemed to think of encroaching upon his, then indeed his anger burst forth. He swore that, were you to succeed in reaching the new mine, you should assuredly perish. Notwithstanding his great age, his strength is astonishing, and his threats used to make me tremble.” “Go on, Nell, my child,” said Simon to the girl, who paused as though to collect her thoughts. “On the occasion of your first attempt,” resumed Nell, “as soon as my grandfather saw that you were fairly inside the gallery leading to New Aberfoyle, he stopped up the opening, and turned it into a prison for you. I only knew you as shadows dimly seen in the gloom of the pit, but I could not endure the idea that you would die of hunger in these horrid places; and so, at the risk of being detected, I succeeded in obtaining bread and water for you during some days. I should have liked to help you to escape, but it was so difficult to avoid the vigilance of my grandfather. You were about to die. Then arrived Jack Ryan and the others. By the providence of God I met with them, and instantly guided them to where you were. When my grandfather discovered what I had done, his rage against me was terrible. I expected death at his hands. After that my life became insupportable to me. My grandfather completely lost his senses. He proclaimed himself King of Darkness and Flame; and when he heard your tools at work on coal-beds which he considered entirely his own, he became furious and beat me cruelly. I would have fled from him, but it was impossible, so narrowly did he watch me. At last, in a fit of ungovernable fury, he threw me down into the abyss where you found me, and disappeared, vainly calling on Harfang, which faithfully stayed by me, to follow him. I know not how long I remained there, but I felt I was at the point of death when you, my Harry, came and saved me. But now you all see that the grandchild of old Silfax can never be the wife of Harry Ford, because it would be certain death to you all!” “Nell!” cried Harry. “No,” continued the maiden, “my resolution is taken. By one means only can your ruin be averted; I must return to my grandfather. He threatens to destroy the whole of New Aberfoyle. His is a soul incapable of mercy or forgiveness, and no mortal can say to what horrid deed the spirit of revenge will lead him. My duty is clear; I should be the most despicable creature on earth did I hesitate to perform it. Farewell! I thank you all heartily. You only have taught me what happiness is. Whatever may befall, believe that my whole heart remains with you.” At these words, Simon, Madge, and Harry started up in an agony of grief, exclaiming in tones of despair, “What, Nell! is it possible you would leave us?” James Starr put them all aside with an air of authority, and, going straight up to Nell, he took both her hands in his, saying quietly, “Very right, my child; you have said exactly what you ought to say; and now listen to what we have to say in reply. We shall not let you go away; if necessary, we shall keep you by force. Do you think we could be so base as to accept of your generous proposal? These threats of Silfax are formidable—no doubt about it! But, after all, a man is but a man, and we can take precautions. You will tell us, will you not, even for his own sake, all you can about his habits and his lurking-places? All we want to do is to put it out of his power to do harm, and perhaps bring him to reason.” “You want to do what is quite impossible,” said Nell. “My grandfather is everywhere and nowhere. I have never seen his retreats. I have never seen him sleep. If he meant to conceal himself, he used to leave me alone, and vanish. When I took my resolution, Mr. Starr, I was aware of everything you could say against it. Believe me, there is but one way to render Silfax powerless, and that will be by my return to him. Invisible himself, he sees everything that goes on. Just think whether it is likely he could discover your very thoughts and intentions, from that time when the letter was written to Mr. Starr, up to now that my marriage with Harry has been arranged, if he did not possess the extraordinary faculty of knowing everything. As far as I am able to judge, my grandfather, in his very insanity, is a man of most powerful mind. He formerly used to talk to me on very lofty subjects. He taught me the existence of God, and never deceived me but on one point, which was—that he made me believe that all men were base and perfidious, because he wished to inspire me with his own hatred of all the human race. When Harry brought me to the cottage, you thought I was simply ignorant of mankind, but, far beyond that, I was in mortal fear of you all. Ah, forgive me! I assure you, for many days I believed myself in the power of wicked wretches, and I longed to escape. You, Madge, first led me to perceive the truth, not by anything you said, but by the sight of your daily life, for I saw that your husband and son loved and respected you! Then all these good and happy workmen, who so revere and trust Mr. Starr, I used to think they were slaves; and when, for the first time, I saw the whole population of Aberfoyle come to church and kneel down to pray to God, and praise Him for His infinite goodness, I said to myself, ‘My grandfather has deceived me.’ But now, enlightened by all you have taught me, I am inclined to think he himself is deceived. I mean to return to the secret passages I formerly frequented with him. He is certain to be on the watch. I will call to him; he will hear me, and who knows but that, by returning to him, I may be able to bring him to the knowledge of the truth?” The maiden spoke without interruption, for all felt that it was good for her to open her whole heart to her friends. But when, exhausted by emotion, and with eyes full of tears, she ceased speaking, Harry turned to old Madge and said, “Mother, what should you think of the man who could forsake the noble girl whose words you have been listening to?” “I should think he was a base coward,” said Madge, “and, were he my son, I should renounce and curse him.” “Nell, do you hear what our mother says?” resumed Harry. “Wherever you go I will follow you. If you persist in leaving us, we will go away together.” “Harry! Harry!” cried Nell. Overcome by her feelings, the girl’s lips blanched, and she sank into the arms of Madge, who begged she might be left alone with her. 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 Underground City; Or, The Black Indies. 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

THE “MONK”

Fabre's Book of Insects by Jean-Henri Fabre, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE SISYPHUS CHAPTER XIII. THE SISYPHUS You are not tired, I hope, of hearing about the Scavenger Beetles with a talent for making balls. I have told you of the Sacred Beetle and of the Spanish Copris, and now I wish to say a few words of yet another of these creatures. In the insect world we meet with a great many model mothers: it is only fair, for once to draw attention to a good father. Now a good father is rarely seen except among the higher animals. The bird is excellent in this respect, and the furred folk perform their duties honourably. Lower in the scale of living creatures the father is generally indifferent to his family. Very few insects are exceptions to this rule. This heartlessness, which would be detestable in the higher ranks of the animal kingdom, where the weakness of the young demands prolonged care, is excusable among insect fathers. For the robustness of the new-born insect enables it to gather its food unaided, provided it be in a suitable place. When all that the Pieris need do for the safety of the race is to lay her eggs on the leaves of a cabbage, of what use would a father’s care be? The mother’s botanical [ ]instinct needs no assistance. At laying-time the other parent would be in the way. 199 Most insects adopt this simple method of upbringing. They merely choose a dining-room which will be the home of the family once it is hatched, or else a place that will allow the young ones to find suitable fare for themselves. There is no need for the father in such cases. He generally dies without lending the least assistance in the work of setting up his offspring in life. Things do not always happen, however, in quite such a primitive fashion. There are tribes that provide a dowry for their families, that prepare board and lodging for them in advance. The Bees and Wasps in particular are masters in the industry of making cellars, jars, and satchels, in which the ration of honey is hoarded: they are perfect in the art of creating burrows stocked with the game that forms the food of their grubs. Well, this enormous labour, which is one of building and provisioning combined, this toil in which the insect’s whole life is spent, is done by the mother alone. It wears her out; it utterly exhausts her. The father drunk with sunlight, stands idle at the edge of the workyard, watching his plucky helpmate at her job. Why does he not lend the mother a helping hand? It is now or never. Why does he not follow the example of the Swallow couple, both of whom bring their bit of straw, their blob of mortar to the building and their [ ]Midge to the young ones? He does nothing of the kind. Possibly he puts forward his comparative weakness as an excuse. It is a poor argument; for to cut a disk out of a leaf, to scrape some cotton from a downy plant, to collect a little bit of cement in muddy places would not overtax his strength. He could very easily help, at any rate as a labourer; he is quite fit to gather materials for the mother, with her greater intelligence, to fit in place. The real reason of his inactivity is sheer incapability. 200 It is strange that the most gifted of the industrial insects should know nothing of a father’s duties. One would expect the highest talents to be developed in him by the needs of the young; but he remains as dull-witted as a Butterfly, whose family is reared at so small a cost. We are baffled at every turn by the question: Why is a particular instinct given to one insect and denied to another? It baffles us so thoroughly that we are extremely surprised when we find in the scavenger the noble qualities that are denied to the honey-gatherer. Various Scavenger Beetles are accustomed to help in the burden of housekeeping, and know the value of working in double harness. The Geotrupes couple, for instance, prepare their larva’s food together: the father lends his mate the assistance of his powerful press in the manufacture of the tightly packed sausage-shaped ration. He is a splendid [ ]example of domestic habits, and one extremely surprising amid the general egoism. 201 To this example my constant studies of the subject have enabled me to add three others, all furnished by the Guild of Scavengers. One of them is the Sisyphus, the smallest and most zealous of all our pill-rollers. He is the liveliest and most agile of them all, and recks nothing of awkward somersaults and headlong falls on the impossible roads to which his obstinacy brings him back again and again. It was in reference to these wild gymnastics that Latreille gave him the name of Sisyphus. As you know, that unhappy wretch of classical fame had a terrible task. He was forced to roll a huge stone uphill; and each time he succeeded in toiling to the top of the mountain the stone slipped from his grasp and rolled to the bottom. I like this myth. It is the history of a good many of us. So far as I am concerned, for half a century and more I have painfully climbed the steep ascent, spending my strength recklessly in the struggle to hoist up to safety that crushing burden, my daily bread. Hardly is the loaf balanced when it slips off, slides down, and is lost in the abyss. The Sisyphus with whom we are now concerned knows none of these bitter trials. Untroubled by the steep slopes he gaily trundles his load, at one time bread for himself, at another bread for his children. He is very [ ]scarce in these parts; and I should never have managed to secure a suitable number of subjects for my studies had it not been for an assistant whom I have already mentioned more than once. 202 I speak of my little son Paul, aged seven. He is my enthusiastic companion on my hunting expeditions, and knows better than any one of his age the secrets of the Cicada, the Locust, the Cricket, and especially the Scavenger Beetle. Twenty paces away his sharp eyes will distinguish the real mound that marks a burrow from casual heaps of earth. His delicate ears catch the Grasshopper’s faint song, which is quite unheard by me. He lends me his sight and hearing; and I, in exchange, present him with ideas, which he receives attentively. Little Paul has his own insect-cages, in which the Sacred Beetle makes pears for him; his own little garden, no larger than a pocket-handkerchief, where he grows beans, often digging them up to see if the tiny roots are any longer; his forest plantation, in which stand four oaks a hand’s-breadth high, still furnished on one side with the acorn that feeds them. It all makes a welcome change from grammar, which gets on none the worse for it. When the month of May is near at hand Paul and I get up early one morning—so early that we start without our breakfast—and we explore, at the foot of the mountain, [ ]the meadows where the flocks have been. Here we find the Sisyphus. Paul is so zealous in his search that we soon have a sufficient number of couples. 203 All that is needed for their well-being is a wire-gauze cover, with a bed of sand and a supply of their food—to obtain which we too turn scavengers. These creatures are so small, hardly the size of a cherry-stone! And so curious in shape withal! A dumpy body, the hinder end of which is pointed, and very long legs, resembling a Spider’s when outspread. The hind-legs are of amazing length, and are curved, which is most useful for clasping and squeezing the pellet. Soon the time comes for establishing the family. With equal zeal father and mother alike take part in kneading, carting, and stowing away the provisions for the young ones. With the cleaver of the fore-legs a morsel of the right size is cut from the food placed at their disposal. The two insects work at the piece together, giving it little pats, pressing it, and shaping it into a ball as large as a big pea. As in the Sacred Beetle’s workshop, the accurately round shape is obtained without the mechanical trick of rolling the ball. The material is modelled into a sphere before it is moved, before it is even loosened from its support. Here, once more, we have an expert in geometry familiar with the best form for preserving food.[ ] 204 The ball is soon ready. It must now, by vigorous rolling, be given the crust which will protect the soft stuff within from becoming too dry. The mother, who can be recognised by her slightly larger size, harnesses herself in the place of honour, in front. With her long hind-legs on the ground and her fore-legs on the ball, she hauls it towards her, backwards. The father pushes behind in the reverse position, head downwards. It is precisely the same method as that of the Sacred Beetle when working in twos, but it has another object. The Sisyphus team conveys a store of food for the grubs, whereas the big pill-rollers trundle a banquet which they themselves will eat up underground. THE SISYPHUS The mother harnesses herself in the place of honour, in front. The father pushes behind in the reverse position, head downwards The couple start off along the ground. They have no definite goal, but walk in a direct line, without regard to the obstacles that lie in the way. In this backward march the obstacles could not be avoided; but even if they were seen the Sisyphus would not try to go round them. For she even makes obstinate attempts to climb the wire-work of my cage. This is an arduous and impossible task. Clawing the meshes of the gauze with her hind-legs the mother pulls the load towards her; then, putting her fore-legs round it, she holds it suspended in air. The father, finding nothing to stand upon, clings to the ball—encrusts himself in it, so to speak, thus adding his weight to that of the lump, and taking no further pains. The effort is too great to last. [ ]The ball and its rider, forming one mass, fall to the floor. The mother, from above, looks down for a moment in surprise, and then drops to recover the load and renew her impossible attempt to scale the side. After repeated falls the climb is abandoned. 205 Even on level ground the carting is not carried on without difficulty. At every moment the load swerves on some mound made by a bit of gravel; and the team topple over and kick about, upside down. This is a trifle, the merest trifle. These tumbles, which so often fling the Sisyphus on his back, cause him no concern; one would even think he liked them. After all, the ball has to be hardened and made of the right consistency. And this being the case, bumps falls, and jolts are all part of the programme. This mad steeple-chasing goes on for hours. At last the mother, regarding the work as completed, goes off a little way in search of a suitable spot. The father mounts guard, squatting on the treasure. If his companion’s absence be unduly long, he relieves his boredom by spinning the ball nimbly between his uplifted hind legs. He treats his precious pellet as a juggler treats his ball. He tests its perfect shape with his curved legs, the branches of his compasses. No one who sees him frisking in that jubilant attitude can doubt his lively satisfaction—the satisfaction of a father assured of his children’s future.[ ] 206 “It is I,” he seems to say, “I who kneaded this round loaf, I who made this bread for my sons!” And he lifts on high, for all to see, this magnificent testimony to his industry. Meanwhile the mother has chosen a site for the burrow. A shallow pit is made, a mere beginning of the work. The ball is rolled near it. The father, that vigilant guardian, does not let go, while the mother digs with her legs and forehead. Soon the hollow is big enough to hold the pellet. She insists on having it quite close to her; she must feel it bobbing up and down behind her, on her back, safe from parasites, before she decides to go farther. She is afraid of what might happen to it if it were left on the edge of the burrow until the home were completed. There are plenty of Midges and other such insects to grab it. One cannot be too careful. The ball therefore is inserted, half in and half out of the partly-formed basin. The mother, underneath, gets her legs round it and pulls: the father above, lets it down gently, and sees that the hole is not choked up with falling earth. All goes well. The digging is resumed and the descent continues, always with the same caution; one of the insects pulling the load, the other regulating the drop and clearing away anything that might hinder the operation. A few more efforts, and the ball disappears underground with the two miners. What [ ]follows for some time to come can only be a repetition of what has already been done. We must wait half a day or so. 207 If we keep careful watch we shall see the father come up again to the surface by himself, and crouch in the sand near the burrow. Detained below by duties in which her companion can be of no assistance to her, the mother usually postpones her appearance till the morrow. At last she shows herself. The father leaves the place where he was snoozing, and joins her. The reunited couple go back to the spot where their food-stuffs are to be found, and having refreshed themselves they gather up more materials. The two then set to work again. Once more they model, cart, and store the ball together. I am delighted with this constancy. That it is really the rule I dare not declare. There must, no doubt, be flighty, fickle Beetles. No matter: the little I have seen gives me a high opinion of the domestic habits of the Sisyphus. It is time to inspect the burrow. At no great depth we find a tiny niche, just large enough to allow the mother to move round her work. The smallness of the chamber tells us that the father cannot remain there for long. When the studio is ready, he must go away to leave the sculptress room to turn. The contents of the cellar consist of a single ball, a [ ]masterpiece of art. It is a copy of the Sacred Beetle’s pear on a very much reduced scale, its smallness making the polish of the surface and the elegance of the curves all the more striking. Its diameter, at the broadest point, measures one-half to three-quarters of an inch. 208 One more observation about the Sisyphus. Six couples under the wire-gauze cover gave me fifty-seven pears containing one egg each—an average of over nine grubs to each couple. The Sacred Beetle is far from reaching this figure. To what cause are we to attribute this large brood? I can see but one: the fact that the father works as well as the mother. Family burdens that would exceed the strength of one are not too heavy when there are two to bear them. 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. Jean-Henri Fabre (2021). Fabre's Book of Insects. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/67000/pg67000-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 www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

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