"Well-to something.We must at whatever risk recruit our physical strength.If we make the fatal mistake of husbanding our little remnant of food,we may probably prolong our wretched existence a few hours-but we shall remain weak to the end.""Yes,"I growled,"to the end.That,however,will not keep us long waiting.""Well,only let a chance of safety present itself-only allow that a moment of action be necessary-where shall we find the means of action if we allow ourselves to be reduced to physical weakness by inanition?""When this piece of meat is devoured,Uncle,what hope will there remain unto us?""None,my dear Henry,none.But will it do you any good to devour it with your eyes?You appear to me to reason like one without will or decision,like a being without energy.""Then,"cried I,exasperated to a degree which is scarcely to be explained,"you do not mean to tell me-that you-that you-have not lost all hope.
"Certainly not,"replied the Professor with consummate coolness.
"You mean to tell me,Uncle,that we shall get out of this monstrous subterranean shaft?""While there is life there is hope.I beg to assert,Henry,that as long as a man's heart beats,as long as a man's flesh quivers,I do not allow that a being gifted with thought and will can allow himself to despair."What a nerve!The man placed in a position like that we occupied must have been very brave to speak like this.
"Well,"I cried,"what do you mean to do?""Eat what remains of the food we have in our hands;let us swallow the last crumb.It will bel Heaven willing,our last repast.Well,never mind-instead of being exhausted skeletons,we shall be men.""True,"muttered I in a despairing tone,"let us take our fill.""We must,replied my uncle,with a deep sigh,"call it what you will."My uncle took a piece of the meat that remained,and some crusts of biscuit which had escaped the wreck.He divided the whole into three parts.
Each had one pound of food to last him as long as he remained in the interior of the earth.
Each now acted in accordance with his own private character.
My uncle,the Professor,ate greedily,but evidently without appetite,eating simply from some mechanical motion.I put the food inside my lips,and hungry as I was,chewed my morsel without pleasure,and without satisfaction.
Hans,the guide,just as if he had been eider-down hunting,swallowed every mouthful,as though it were a usual affair.He looked like a man equally prepared to enjoy superfluity or total want.
Hans,in all probability,was no more used to starvation than ourselves,but his hardy Icelandic nature had prepared him for many sufferings.As long as he received his three rix-dollars every Saturday night,he was prepared for anything.
The fact was,Hans never troubled himself about much except his money.He had undertaken to serve a certain man at so much per week,and no matter what evils befell his employer or himself,he never found fault or grumbled,so long as his wages were duly paid.
Suddenly my uncle roused himself.He had seen a smile on the face of our guide.I could not make it out.
"What is the matter?"said my uncle.
"Schiedam,"said the guide,producing a bottle of this precious fluid.
We drank.My uncle and myself will own to our dying day that hence we derived strength to exist until the last bitter moment.That precious bottle of Hollands was in reality only half full;but,under the circumstances,it was nectar.
It took some minutes for myself and my uncle to form a decided opinion on the subject.The worthy Professor swallowed about half a pint and did not seem able to drink any more.
"Fortrafflig,"said Hans,swallowing nearly all that was left.
"Excellent-very good,"said my uncle,with as much gusto as if he had just left the steps of the club at Hamburg.
I had begun to feel as if there had been one gleam of hope.Now all thought of the future vanished!
We had consumed our last ounce of food,and it was five o'clock in the morning!
