A Journey into the Interior of the Earth Chapter 9

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Chapter 9 Of A Journey into the Interior of the Earth by Jules Verne Translated by Frederick Malison This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 9 Iceland. But what next?
The day for our departure arrived. The day before it, our kind friend, Monsieur Thompson, brought us letters of introduction to Count Trampa, the Governor of Iceland, Monsieur Pictorsen, the Bishop Suffragan, and Monsieur Finnsen, Mayor of Reykjavik. My uncle expressed his gratitude by tremendous compressions of both his hands. On the second, at six in the evening, all our precious baggage being safely on board the Valkyria, the captain took us into a very narrow cabin. Is the wind favourable? my uncle asked. Excellent, replied Captain Bjarne. A south-easter. We shall pass down the sound full speed, with all sails set. In a few minutes, the schooner, under her mizzen, brigantine, top sail and top gallant sail, loosed from her moorings and made full sail through the straits. In an hour the captain of Denmark seemed to sink below the distant waves, and the Valkyria was skirting the coast by Elsinore. In my nervous frame of mind, I expected to see the ghost of Hamlet wandering on the legendary castle terrace.
Sublime madman, I said, no doubt you would approve of our expedition. Perhaps you would keep us company to the centre of the globe to find the solution of your eternal doubts.
But there was no ghostly shape upon the ancient walls. Indeed, the castle is much younger than the heroic prince of Denmark. It now answers the purpose of a sumptuous lodge for the doorkeeper of the Straits of the Sound, before which every year there pass fifteen thousand ships of all nations.
The castle of Kronzberg soon disappeared in the mist, as well as the tower of Helsingborg, built on the Swedish coast, and the schooner passed lightly on her way urged by the breezes of the catagot. The Valkyria was a splendid sailor, but on a sailing vessel you can place no dependents. She was taken to Reykjavik, coal, household goods, earthenware, woolen clothing and a cargo of wheat. The crew consisted of five men, all Danes.
How long would the passage take? my uncle asked. Ten days, the captain replied, if we don't meet a Norwester in passing the Faroes. But are you not subject to considerable delays?
No, M. Liedembrock, don't be uneasy. We shall get there in very good time. At evening the schooner doubled the scull at the northern point of Denmark, in the night past the Skager rack, skirted Norway by Cape Linnes and entered the North Sea.
In two days more we sighted the coast of Scotland near Peterhead, and the Valkyria turned her lead towards the Faroe Islands, passing between the Orkneys and Shetlands.
Soon the schooner encountered the great Atlantic swell. She had to tack against the north wind, and reached the Faroes only with some difficulty. On the eighth, the captain made out Megannis, the southernmost of these islands, and from that moment took a straight course for Cape Portland, the most southerly point of Iceland.
The passage was marked by nothing unusual. I bore the troubles of the sea pretty well. My uncle, to his own intense disgust and his greater shame, was ill all through the voyage. He therefore was unable to converse with the captain about Snafell, the way to get to it, the facilities for transport. He was obliged to put off these inquiries until his arrival, and spent all his time at full length in his cabin, of which the timbers creaked and shook with every pit she took. It must be confessed he was not undeserving of his punishment. On the eleventh we reached Cape Portland. The clear open weather gave us a good view of Myrtles Yokel, which overhangs it. The Cape is merely a low hill with steep sides, standing lonely by the beach. The Valkyria kept at some distance from the coast, taking a westerly course amidst great shoals of whales and sharks. Soon we came in sight of an enormous perforated rock, through which the sea dashed furiously. The Westman Islet seemed to rise out of the ocean like a group of rocks in a liquid plain.
From that time the schooner took a wide berth and swept at a great distance round Cape Reikines, which forms the western point of Iceland. The rough sea prevented my uncle from coming on deck to admire these shattered and surf-beaten coasts.
Forty-eight hours after, coming out of a storm which forced the schooner to scud under bare poles, we sighted east of us the beacon on Cape Skagen, where dangerous rocks extended far away seaward. An Icelandic pilot came on board, and in three hours the Valkyria dropped her anchor before Reykjavik in Foxa Bay.