Most people think of science fiction as a feature of the modern world, but some of the best science fiction stories were written more than a hundred years ago, by the French writer, Jules Verne. Many things that he wrote about have since come true: his stories Twenty Thousand Leagues Beneath the Sea, and Around the Moon are now more fact than fiction. Here is one that hasn't come true yet—but who knows, perhaps it will soon!

A Journey to the Centre of the Earth

by Jules Verne

My name is Axel. Some years ago, when my parents died, I went to live in Hamburg with my uncle, Professor Lidenbrock, and his god-daughter Grauben. Unknown to my uncle, Grauben and I planned to marry one day. My uncle was a famous scientist who taught the study of rocks and minerals at the University. He was a tall, thin, restless man with a quick temper. I worked as his assistant. He was fond of me and, as long as I did all that he wanted, we got on well together.

One day my uncle brought home an old book about Iceland. As he flicked through the pages a small piece of paper fell out. On it were strange Runic signs, and we puzzled over it for a long time. Suddenly I saw that by reading the message backwards it made sense. It read:

"Go to the Sneffels volcano. Each year, on the last day of June, only one of its craters is in shadow. Go down that crater and you will journey to the centre of the Earth. I have done this."

"That's Arne Saknussemm!" exclaimed my uncle, pointing to the signature. "He was a great scientist in Iceland in the sixteenth century. The greatest of them all! If he could make such a journey, so can we!"

"We can journey to the centre of the Earth?" I asked in alarm.

"Yes, Axel," he replied. "We will follow in his footsteps. And we must leave soon, for we must be at the volcano before July."

So it was that after a few days, during which we packed tools, instruments and clothes, we left Hamburg. Grauben and I were sad to part but she promised to marry me on my return. I wondered to myself if I would return!

It took us about ten days to sail to Reykjavik, the capital of Iceland. My uncle was seasick for the whole voyage, and he only cheered up when we came in sight of the Sneffels volcano. In Reykjavik we stayed at the house of a schoolmaster, who arranged for a guide to take us to the volcano.

The guide's name was Hans. He was tall and strong. He had wise, blue eyes and his chestnut hair reached his broad shoulders. His quiet ways made me feel he could be trusted. He got on well with my uncle, which was very important.

We planned to start on June 10th. Horses were hired to carry our baggage. We bought tools, rifles, gunpowder and gun-cotton, a first-aid box and strong boots. My uncle packed two compasses, and other instruments which would help us on our journey. I was glad to see he packed two portable electric lamps.

We had food for six months but, to my surprise, our only water was in our water flasks.

"We shall find underground springs and fill our flasks as we need to," my uncle said when I questioned him.

I hoped he was right. I knew that many of the springs in Iceland are boiling hot. There were other things, too, which worried me about the journey.

"How can we be sure the volcano is extinct?" I asked. "Just because it hasn't erupted since 1229, we can't be sure it never will again."

"You need not fear," the Professor replied. "There are no signs at all that it will erupt. We'll be quite safe." I could say no more, since he was not a man to argue with. So we set off.

It took us a week to reach the Sneffels volcano. As we climbed it, the going was hard and the wind bitterly cold. We reached the summit at night and I was worn out. But that night we slept well and in the morning were ready to climb down to the bottom of the crater where we could see three huge holes. It was from these great chimneys that the volcano had last erupted.

My uncle ran from one chimney to the other. It was now the end of June and only one chimney was in shadow. That one was to be our way into the centre of the Earth.

Then my uncle called to me. "Look!" he cried. He pointed to a block of rock near the chimney, where I could just make out some worn Runic letters carved in the rock.

"Arne Saknussemm," I read. There could be no doubt that this was the chimney.

On June 30th, with our baggage on our backs, we started on our amazing journey. When I looked down into the chimney, I felt dizzy. The walls went straight down but there were rocks sticking out from the sides. Slowly, with ropes, we let ourselves down from rock to rock.

We rested often and, after ten and a half hours, we reached the bottom of the chimney. Now we were eight hundred and fifty metres down. That night, as I lay down to sleep, I could see a star in the patch of sky above the dark chimney.

The next morning we heaved our packs onto our backs. My uncle lit an electric lamp and we set off through a dark passage. It sloped steeply down and we had difficulty in stopping ourselves from slipping. At long last my uncle called a halt. We ate hungrily and drank some of our water. So far we had seen no underground springs—and already half our water had gone.

The following day I was surprised to find we were walking uphill. It was tiring, and I began to hope we would come up to the surface again. Then I would soon be back in Hamburg with Grauben! But the day after, they gallery took us gently downwards again. We had still not found water and I was worried, for we had only half a flask left.

Still we pressed on. Just as I was wondering how long we could last without water, the light from the lamp showed a solid wall in front of us. We looked for a side passage. There was no way forward. We had to go back to find the right way.

Another day passed, and we drank the last of the water. After two days more we were so weak that we could not go on, and stopped to rest. I begged my uncle to return to the surface. But he was still sure we would find water. I begged Hans to turn back, but he was happy to obey my uncle.

"Trust me, Axel," my uncle said. There was nothing more I could do. After a sleep we felt stronger and started down another turning. As the day wore on, I became weaker. I began to feel that we were in a prison of rock from which we would never escape. As I fell down in a faint I cried out to my uncle.

When I came round I could dimly see my uncle asleep beside me. A noise made me sit up. Hans was disappearing with the lamp in his hand. Surely our honest guide would not leave us now! I fell into a troubled sleep and was awakened by the return of Hans. He shook my uncle and told him he had heard water running lower in the cave. Quickly we dressed.

Slowly, we went down. The sound of the water gave me new life. But there was no sign of water and, as we went on, the sound grew fainter. We returned to where the sound was loudest. Hans put his ear to the rock wall, where we could hear an underground river running behind the rock. Hans took up his pickaxe and swung blow after blow until the rock gave way. A jet of water shot into the tunnel, and Hans let out a cry of pain as the water hit him. It was boiling hot! When it cooled in our flasks we drank thirstily. The water made a little stream that now flowed along the side of the passage. We called it "The Hans", after our guide who had saved us.

Now that we had water, I felt strong and full of hope again. The stream would always flow beside us and lead us downwards. Now the passage twisted in all directions. My uncle worked out that we were eleven kilometres under the ground and a hundred and twenty kilometres south-west of Reykjavik. But he wanted to get deeper and was delighted when we came to a steep shaft. It was as steep as the first chimney, but we were able to climb down a huge rock staircase. At the end of that stage of our journey my uncle was better pleased. We were thirty kilometres below the Atlantic Ocean and two hundred kilometres from our starting place.

From then on, each day took us a few kilometres deeper. I led the way, holding my lamp in front of me. Then, suddenly, I found I was alone. I went back and called, but no one answered. Again I shouted. There was no reply. I knew that, with the little stream running beside me, I could easily retrace my steps. I bent down to take a drink. To my horror, there was no water. I had taken a wrong turning!

My way back was hard. There were many side passages and turnings and I could not remember which way I had come.

Turning a corner, I bumped into a solid wall of rock. As I fell I dropped the lamp. It went out and I was alone and lost in the dark. Panic gripped me. I ran from wall to wall, stumbling and shouting. At last I fell down, exhausted.

After a while, I felt my cuts and bruises, then sat in despair, not knowing what to do. In the silence I heard noises like thunder. Then I heard voices. Surely I was going mad! I put my ear to the wall. I still heard voices but could not make out any words. With all my might I shouted, "Help!" I waited but no answer came. My ear was pressed against the rock. At last I heard my uncle's voice calling me.

"Where are you, Axel?" he called.

"I don't know," I shouted. "I'm lost!"

"We'll get you out," he answered. "We're in a big cave with many tunnels leading into it. If you walk downhill you'll reach it."

I set off down the steep slope, sliding and stumbling. Soon the slope became so steep that I began to fall. The ground disappeared from under me. I fell down a deep shaft. My head felt a sharp blow and I remembered no more.

I slowly opened my eyes. My uncle was kneeling beside me and he cried with joy to see I was alive.

"You are safe, Axel," he said. "You will soon be better. Sleep and rest and get strong again."

I was too weak to ask what had happened to me. I sank into a deep sleep. In the morning my bandaged head ached but I felt stronger. As we ate breakfast, my uncle told me that there had been a rockfall in the tunnel I had been in. I had pitched down with the falling rock, into the cave where now my uncle and Hans were caring for me. It was a miracle that I had not been killed.

Now that I was feeling better, I started to look round the cave. I could see clearly and yet no lamp was burning. There were sounds, too: the sounds of waves and of wind. I thought I must be imagining these things and asked my uncle about them.

"Yes, you are quite right," he told me.

"Are we back on the surface?" I asked.

"No," he told me firmly. "In a while you may see for yourself. When you are fit, we will start on our voyage."

What could he mean by "voyage"? I could wait no longer to find out. "Uncle," I said, "I'm strong and well enough now. Show me what you have found."

We walked out of the dim cave into bright light. My eyes were dazzled by the light shining on water.

"I have called it 'The Lidenbrock Sea'," my uncle said proudly. It was indeed a sea. Waves broke on the shore. Cliffs stretched into the distance. The light was not warm like the sun's nor cold like the moon's. It was strong and even. I was sure it was from natural electricity of some kind.

We still seemed to be in a cave. Yet what cave was big enough to hold such a great sea? It was kilometres high, for the clouds above us were higher than normal clouds. There was no way to judge the length or width of the cave, for the sea stretched further than we could see. After forty days in dark underground tunnels, it was a joy to breathe sea air and to gaze into the distance.

Together, my uncle and I walked along the shore. We came to a vast forest of giant mushroom trees, ten or twelve metres high. There were other plants too, but all of them were plants that had grown on Earth millions of years ago. On the sandy shore we found the dried bones of prehistoric animals. It was like finding treasure.

"Look!" I cried. "The jawbone of a mammoth."

My uncle however was eager to explore the sea. The next morning found me perfectly well again. I even went for a swim before eating the breakfast Hans had made for us. Then my uncle worked out that we were fourteen hundred kilometres from Iceland and still moving south-east. This put us about a hundred and thirty kilometres below the mountains of Scotland.

"But how can we get nearer to the centre of the Earth on a flat sea?" I asked him.

"I don't know," he replied, "but I'm sure that, if we cross the sea, we'll find more openings leading downwards."

I asked him how we could cross the sea without a boat. Hans, he told me, was already at work building a raft.

By evening the raft was finished, and floating on the Lidenbrock Sea.

We loaded the raft the next morning. A blanket served as a sail. With Hans at the tiller, we were ready to leave. Before leaving however we named our little harbour Port Grauben. The thought of Grauben made me long to return home. But the way home was now forward. We sailed out into the sea.

The weather was fine, the clouds high and the wind strong. Hans threw out a fishing line and landed a fine big fish. My uncle said it was a fish long extinct on Earth. Hans had caught a living fossil! Hours passed and there was no sight of land. My uncle was growing restless. He wanted to get to a lower depth, and began to wonder if we had come the wrong way. In silence we sailed on.

My uncle dropped a pickaxe, tied to a piece of cord, to measure the depth of the sea. The cord was over three hundred and fifty metres long, but it did not touch bottom. Then, when we pulled the pickaxe back on board, we found teeth marks on the iron. Nothing less than a monster crocodile could have made such marks! I checked our guns in case we should need them. We could feel danger everywhere, but saw nothing. Weary of watching, I fell asleep. A violent shock awoke me. The raft was lifted up and thrown thirty metres or more.

Hans pointed to a dark mass rising and falling in the water a short distance away. It looked like a giant porpoise.

My uncle pointed to a huge sea-lizard and a crocodile with rows of teeth.

"And there's a monster whale," he yelled. "See it lashing the water with its tail!"

We all stared at the sight in amazement and horror. The smallest of these animals could snap our raft in half. More terrifying animals appeared—a huge turtle and a serpent ten metres long, darting its head above the waves. All the monsters were moving towards us and I held my rifle at the ready. The serpent and the crocodile circled nearer. The rest seemed to disappear. I was about to shoot when Hans stopped me.

The monsters were not going to attack us. Instead they flew at one another, lashing the water and rising out of the foaming waves. We then saw that there were only two animals. One had the snout of a porpoise, the head of a lizard and the teeth of a crocodile. We were seeing a prehistoric ichthyosaurus fighting a plesiosaurus!

The ichthyosaurus must have been thirty metres long. Its great jaws were terrifying. The body of the plesiosaurus was protected by a thick shell and its long neck rose ten metres above the waves. The great beasts fought with fury, using teeth and tails. Huge waves nearly overturned us. For over two hours they fought. Then both animals sank below the surface. The head of the wounded plesiosaurus rose up, whipping and waving, coiling and uncoiling. Slowly it lost its strength and lay still. The battle was over. We breathes again but feared the ichthyosaurus still below the sea. For the moment we were safe.