Chapter 8 - Page 2

_Ellenora's_ funnel unrolled in thesky, the bridge shook with the quivering of the struggling steam; wewere on board, and owners for the time of two berths, one over theother, in the only saloon cabin on board.

At a quarter past the moorings were loosed and the throbbing steamerpursued her way over the dark waters of the Great Belt.

The night was dark; there was a sharp breeze and a rough sea, a fewlights appeared on shore through the thick darkness; later on, Icannot tell when, a dazzling light from some lighthouse threw abright stream of fire along the waves; and this is all I can rememberof this first portion of our sail.

At seven in the morning we landed at Korsor, a small town on the westcoast of Zealand. There we were transferred from the boat to anotherline of railway, which took us by just as flat a country as the plainof Holstein.

Three hours' travelling brought us to the capital of Denmark. Myuncle had not shut his eyes all night. In his impatience I believe hewas trying to accelerate the train with his feet.

At last he discerned a stretch of sea.

"The Sound!" he cried.

At our left was a huge building that looked like a hospital.

"That's a lunatic asylum," said one of or travelling companions.

Very good! thought I, just the place we want to end our days in; andgreat as it is, that asylum is not big enough to contain allProfessor Liedenbrock's madness!

At ten in the morning, at last, we set our feet in Copenhagen; theluggage was put upon a carriage and taken with ourselves to thePhoenix Hotel in Breda Gate. This took half an hour, for the stationis out of the town. Then my uncle, after a hasty toilet, dragged meafter him. The porter at the hotel could speak German and English;but the Professor, as a polyglot, questioned him in good Danish, andit was in the same language that that personage directed him to theMuseum of Northern Antiquities.

The curator of this curious establishment, in which wonders aregathered together out of which the ancient history of the countrymight be reconstructed by means of its stone weapons, its cups andits jewels, was a learned savant, the friend of the Danish consul atHamburg, Professor Thomsen.

My uncle had a cordial letter of introduction to him. As a generalrule one savant greets another with coolness. But here the case wasdifferent. M. Thomsen, like a good friend, gave the ProfessorLiedenbrock a cordial greeting, and he even vouchsafed the samekindness to his nephew. It is hardly necessary to say the secret wassacredly kept from the excellent curator; we were simplydisinterested travellers visiting Iceland out of harmless curiosity.

M. Thomsen placed his services at our disposal, and we visited thequays with the object of finding out the next vessel to sail.

I was yet in hopes that there would be no means of getting toIceland. But there was no such luck. A