"What time is it, commander?" said he.
I pulled forth my chronometer; it was just six o'clock.
"Well, then," said he, "look at the sun. The sun has swung round to the west, but hasn't fallen any."
I looked at the sun, which, sure enough, stood as high as at mid-day. I was paralyzed with a nameless dread. I stood rooted to the deck in anticipation of some dreadful horror.
"Good heavens!" I gasped, "what—what do you mean?"
"I mean," said he, "the sun is not going to fall again on this course. It's we who are going to fall."
"The sun will fall to its usual position at midnight," I stammered; "wait—wait till midnight."
"The sun won't fall at midnight," said the professor. "I am afraid to tell you why," he added.
"In God's name," I shouted, "tell me the meaning of this!"
I will never forget the feeling that crazed me as the professor said: "I fear, commander, we are falling into the interior of the earth!"