Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea

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Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea

by Jules Verne

Contents

List of Illustrations

PART ONE

CHAPTER I
A SHIFTING REEF

The year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident, a mysterious andpuzzling phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten. Not to mentionrumours which agitated the maritime population and excited the public mind,even in the interior of continents, seafaring men were particularly excited.Merchants, common sailors, captains of vessels, skippers, both of Europe andAmerica, naval officers of all countries, and the Governments of several stateson the two continents, were deeply interested in the matter.

For some time past, vessels had been met by “an enormous thing,” a long object,spindle-shaped, occasionally phosphorescent, and infinitely larger and morerapid in its movements than a whale.

The facts relating to this apparition (entered in various log-books) agreed inmost respects as to the shape of the object or creature in question, theuntiring rapidity of its movements, its surprising power of locomotion, and thepeculiar life with which it seemed endowed. If it was a cetacean, it surpassedin size all those hitherto classified in science. Taking into consideration themean of observations made at divers times,—rejecting the timid estimate ofthose who assigned to this object a length of two hundred feet, equally withthe exaggerated opinions which set it down as a mile in width and three inlength,—we might fairly conclude that this mysterious being surpassed greatlyall dimensions admitted by the ichthyologists of the day, if it existed at all.And that it didexist was an undeniable fact; and, with that tendencywhich disposes the human mind in favour of the marvellous, we can understandthe excitement produced in the entire world by this supernatural apparition. Asto classing it in the list of fables, the idea was out of the question.

On the 20th of July, 1866, the steamer Governor Higginson, of theCalcutta and Burnach Steam Navigation Company, had met this moving mass fivemiles off the east coast of Australia. Captain Baker thought at first that hewas in the presence of an unknown sandbank; he even prepared to determine itsexact position, when two columns of water, projected by the inexplicableobject, shot with a hissing noise a hundred and fifty feet up into the air.Now, unless the sandbank had been submitted to the intermittent eruption of ageyser, the Governor Higginsonhad to do neither more nor less than withan aquatic mammal, unknown till then, which threw up from its blow-holescolumns of water mixed with air and vapour.

Similar facts were observed on the 23rd of July in the same year, in thePacific Ocean, by the Columbus, of the West India and Pacific SteamNavigation Company. But this extraordinary cetaceous creature could transportitself from one place to another with surprising velocity; as, in an intervalof three days, the Governor Higginsonand the Columbushadobserved it at two different points of the chart, separated by a distance ofmore than seven hundred nautical leagues.

Fifteen days later, two thousand miles farther off, the Helvetia, of theCompagnie-Nationale, and the Shannon, of the Royal Mail SteamshipCompany, sailing to windward in that portion of the Atlantic lying between theUnited States and Europe, respectively signalled the monster to each other in42° 15′ N. lat. and 60° 35′ W. long. In these simultaneousobservations they thought themselves justified in estimating the minimum lengthof the mammal at more than three hundred and fifty feet, as the Shannonand Helvetiawere of smaller dimensions than it, though they measuredthree hundred feet over all.

Now the largest whales, those which frequent those parts of the sea round theAleutian, Kulammak, and Umgullich islands, have never exceeded the length ofsixty yards, if they attain that.

These reports arriving one after the other, with fresh observations made onboard the transatlantic ship Pereire, a collision which occurred betweenthe Etnaof the Inman line and the monster, a procès verbaldirected by the officers of the French frigate Normandie, a veryaccurate survey made by the staff of Commodore Fitz-James on board the LordClyde, greatly influenced public opinion. Light-thinking people jested uponthe phenomenon, but grave practical countries, such as England, America, andGermany, treated the matter more seriously.

In every place of great resort the monster was the fashion. They sang of it inthe cafés, ridiculed it in the papers, and represented it on the stage. Allkinds of stories were circulated regarding it. There appeared in the paperscaricatures of every gigantic and imaginary creature, from the white whale, theterrible “Moby Dick” of hyperborean regions, to the immense kraken whosetentacles could entangle a ship of five hundred tons, and hurry it into theabyss of the ocean. The legends of ancient times were even resuscitated, andthe opinions of Aristotle and Pliny revived, who admitted the existence ofthese monsters, as well as the Norwegian tales of Bishop Pontoppidan, theaccounts of Paul Heggede, and, last of all, the reports of Mr. Harrington(whose good faith no one could suspect), who affirmed that, being on board theCastillan, in 1857, he had seen this enormous serpent, which had neveruntil that time frequented any other seas but those of the ancient“Constitutionnel.”

Then burst forth the interminable controversy between the credulous and theincredulous in the societies of savants and the scientific journals. “Thequestion of the monster” inflamed all minds. Editors of scientific journals,quarrelling with believers in the supernatural, spilled seas of ink during thismemorable campaign, some even drawing blood; for, from the sea-serpent theycame to direct personalities.

For six months war was waged with various fortune in the leading articles ofthe Geographical Institution of Brazil, the Royal Academy of Science of Berlin,the British Association, the Smithsonian Institution of Washington, in thediscussions of the “Indian Archipelago,” of the Cosmos of the Abbé Moigno, inthe Mittheilungen of Petermann, in the scientific chronicles of the greatjournals of France and other countries. The cheaper journals replied keenly andwith inexhaustible zest. These satirical writers parodied a remark of Linnæus,quoted by the adversaries of the monster, maintaining “that nature did not makefools,” and adjured their contemporaries not to give the lie to nature, byadmitting the existence of krakens, sea-serpents, “Moby Dicks,” and otherlucubrations of delirious sailors. At length an article in a well-knownsatirical journal by a favourite contributor, the chief of the staff, settledthe monster, like Hippolytus, giving it the death-blow amidst an universalburst of laughter. Wit had conquered science.

During the first months of the year 1867 the question seemed buried, never torevive, when new facts were brought before the public. It was then no longer ascientific problem to be solved, but a real danger seriously to be avoided. Thequestion took quite another shape. The monster became a small island, a rock, areef, but a reef of indefinite and shifting proportions.

On the 5th of March, 1867, the Moravian, of the Montreal Ocean Company,finding herself during the night in 27° 30′ lat. and 72° 15′long., struck on her starboard quarter a rock, marked in no chart for that partof the sea. Under the combined efforts of the wind and its four hundredhorse-power, it was going at the rate of thirteen knots. Had it not been forthe superior strength of the hull of the Moravian, she would have beenbroken by the shock and gone down with the 237 passengers she was bringing homefrom Canada.

The accident happened about five o’clock in the morning, as the day wasbreaking. The officers of the quarter-deck hurried to the after-part of thevessel. They examined the sea with the most scrupulous attention. They sawnothing but a strong eddy about three cables’ length distant, as if the surfacehad been violently agitated. The bearings of the place were taken exactly, andthe Moraviancontinued its route without apparent damage. Had it struckon a submerged rock, or on an enormous wreck? they could not tell; but onexamination of the ship’s bottom when undergoing repairs, it was found thatpart of her keel was broken.

This fact, so grave in itself, might perhaps have been forgotten like manyothers if, three weeks after, it had not been re-enacted under similarcircumstances. But, thanks to the nationality of the victim of the shock,thanks to the reputation of the company to which the vessel belonged, thecircumstance became extensively circulated.

The 13th of April, 1867, the sea being beautiful, the breeze favourable, theScotia, of the Cunard Company’s line, found herself in 15° 12′long. and 45° 37′ lat. She was going at the speed of thirteen knots anda half.

At seventeen minutes past four in the afternoon, whilst the passengers wereassembled at lunch in the great saloon, a slight shock was felt on the hull ofthe Scotia, on her quarter, a little aft of the port-paddle.

The Scotiahad not struck, but she had been struck, and seemingly bysomething rather sharp and penetrating than blunt. The shock had been so slightthat no one had been alarmed, had it not been for the shouts of the carpenter’swatch, who rushed on to the bridge, exclaiming, “We are sinking! we aresinking!” At first the passengers were much frightened, but Captain Andersonhastened to reassure them. The danger could not be imminent. The Scotia,divided into seven compartments by strong partitions, could brave with impunityany leak. Captain Anderson went down immediately into the hold. He found thatthe sea was pouring into the fifth compartment; and the rapidity of the influxproved that the force of the water was considerable. Fortunately thiscompartment did not hold the boilers, or the fires would have been immediatelyextinguished. Captain Anderson ordered the engines to be stopped at once, andone of the men went down to ascertain the extent of the injury. Some minutesafterwards they discovered the existence of a large hole, of two yards indiameter, in the ship’s bottom. Such a leak could not be stopped; and theScotia, her paddles half submerged, was obliged to continue her course.She was then three hundred miles from Cape Clear, and after three days’ delay,which caused great uneasiness in Liverpool, she entered the basin of thecompany.

The engineers visited the Scotia, which was put in dry dock. They couldscarcely believe it possible; at two yards and a half below water-mark was aregular rent, in the form of an isosceles triangle. The broken place in theiron plates was so perfectly defined that it could not have been more neatlydone by a punch. It was clear, then, that the instrument producing theperforation was not of a common stamp; and after having been driven withprodigious strength, and piercing an iron plate 1-3/8 inches thick, hadwithdrawn itself by a retrograde motion truly inexplicable.

Such was the last fact, which resulted in exciting once more the torrent ofpublic opinion. From this moment all unlucky casualties which could not beotherwise accounted for were put down to the monster. Upon this imaginarycreature rested the responsibility of all these shipwrecks, which unfortunatelywere considerable; for of three thousand ships whose loss was annually recordedat Lloyd’s, the number of sailing and steam ships supposed to be totally lost,from the absence of all news, amounted to not less than two hundred!

Now, it was the “monster” who, justly or unjustly, was accused of theirdisappearance, and, thanks to it, communication between the differentcontinents became more and more dangerous. The public demanded peremptorilythat the seas should at any price be relieved from this formidable cetacean.

CHAPTER II
PRO AND CON

At the period when these events took place, I had just returned from ascientific research in the disagreeable territory of Nebraska, in the UnitedStates. In virtue of my office as Assistant Professor in the Museum of NaturalHistory in Paris, the French Government had attached me to that expedition.After six months in Nebraska, I arrived in New York towards the end of March,laden with a precious collection. My departure for France was fixed for thefirst days in May. Meanwhile, I was occupying myself in classifying mymineralogical, botanical, and zoological riches, when the accident happened tothe Scotia.

I was perfectly up in the subject which was the question of the day. How couldI be otherwise? I had read and re-read all the American and European paperswithout being any nearer a conclusion. This mystery puzzled me. Under theimpossibility of forming an opinion, I jumped from one extreme to the other.That there really was something could not be doubted, and the incredulous wereinvited to put their finger on the wound of the Scotia.

On my arrival at New York the question was at its height. The hypothesis of thefloating island, and the unapproachable sandbank, supported by minds littlecompetent to form a judgment, was abandoned. And, indeed, unless this shoal hada machine in its stomach, how could it change its position with suchastonishing rapidity?

From the same cause, the idea of a floating hull of an enormous wreck was givenup.

There remained then only two possible solutions of the question, which createdtwo distinct parties: on one side, those who were for a monster of colossalstrength; on the other, those who were for a submarine vessel of enormousmotive power.

But this last hypothesis, plausible as it was, could not stand againstinquiries made in both worlds. That a private gentleman should have such amachine at his command was not likely. Where, when, and how was it built? andhow could its construction have been kept secret? Certainly a Government mightpossess such a destructive machine. And in these disastrous times, when theingenuity of man has multiplied the power of weapons of war, it was possiblethat, without the knowledge of others, a state might try to work such aformidable engine. After the chassepots came the torpedoes, after the torpedoesthe submarine rams, then—the reaction. At least, I hope so.

But the hypothesis of a war machine fell before the declaration of Governments.As public interest was in question, and transatlantic communications suffered,their veracity could not be doubted. But, how admit that the construction ofthis submarine boat had escaped the public eye? For a private gentleman to keepthe secret under such circumstances would be very difficult, and for a statewhose every act is persistently watched by powerful rivals, certainlyimpossible.

After inquiries made in England, France, Russia, Prussia, Spain, Italy, andAmerica, even in Turkey, the hypothesis of a submarine monitor was definitelyrejected.

Upon my arrival in New York several persons did me the honour of consulting meon the phenomenon in question. I had published in France a work in quarto, intwo volumes, entitled “Mysteries of the Great Submarine Grounds.” This book,highly approved of in the learned world, gained for me a special reputation inthis rather obscure branch of Natural History. My advice was asked. As long asI could deny the reality of the fact, I confined myself to a decided negative.But soon, finding myself driven into a corner, I was obliged to explain myselfcategorically. And even “the Honourable Pierre Aronnax, Professor in the Museumof Paris,” was called upon by the New York Heraldto express a definiteopinion of some sort. I did something. I spoke, for want of power to hold mytongue. I discussed the question in all its forms, politically andscientifically; and I give here an extract from a carefully-studied articlewhich I published in the number of the 30th of April. It ran as follows:—

“After examining one by one the different hypotheses, rejecting all othersuggestions, it becomes necessary to admit the existence of a marine animal ofenormous power.

“The great depths of the ocean are entirely unknown to us. Soundings cannotreach them. What passes in those remote depths—what beings live, or can live,twelve or fifteen miles beneath the surface of the waters—what is theorganisation of these animals, we can scarcely conjecture. However, thesolution of the problem submitted to me may modify the form of the dilemma.Either we do know all the varieties of beings which people our planet, or we donot. If we do notknow them all—if Nature has still secrets inichthyology for us, nothing is more conformable to reason than to admit theexistence of fishes, or cetaceans of other kinds, or even of new species, of anorganisation formed to inhabit the strata inaccessible to soundings, and whichan accident of some sort, either fatastical or capricious, has brought at longintervals to the upper level of the ocean.

“If, on the contrary, we doknow all living kinds, we must necessarilyseek for the animal in question amongst those marine beings already classed;and, in that case, I should be disposed to admit the existence of a giganticnarwhal.

“The common narwhal, or unicorn of the sea, often attains a length of sixtyfeet. Increase its size fivefold or tenfold, give it strength proportionate toits size, lengthen its destructive weapons, and you obtain the animal required.It will have the proportions determined by the officers of the Shannon,the instrument required by the perforation of the Scotia, and the powernecessary to pierce the hull of the steamer.

“Indeed, the narwhal is armed with a sort of ivory sword, a halberd, accordingto the expression of certain naturalists. The principal tusk has the hardnessof steel. Some of these tusks have been found buried in the bodies of whales,which the unicorn always attacks with success. Others have been drawn out, notwithout trouble, from the bottoms of ships, which they had pierced through andthrough, as a gimlet pierces a barrel. The Museum of the Faculty of Medicine ofParis possesses one of these defensive weapons, two yards and a quarter inlength, and fifteen inches in diameter at the base.

“Very well! suppose this weapon to be six times stronger and the animal tentimes more powerful; launch it at the rate of twenty miles an hour, and youobtain a shock capable of producing the catastrophe required. Until furtherinformation, therefore, I shall maintain it to be a sea-unicorn of colossaldimensions, armed not with a halberd, but with a real spur, as the armouredfrigates, or the ‘rams’ of war, whose massiveness and motive power it wouldpossess at the same time. Thus may this puzzling phenomenon be explained,unless there be something over and above all that one has ever conjectured,seen, perceived, or experienced; which is just within the bounds ofpossibility.”

These last words were cowardly on my part; but, up to a certain point, I wishedto shelter my dignity as Professor, and not give too much cause for laughter tothe Americans, who laugh well when they do laugh.

I reserved for myself a way of escape. In effect, however, I admitted theexistence of the “monster.” My article was warmly discussed, which procured ita high reputation. It rallied round it a certain number of partisans. Thesolution it proposed gave, at least, full liberty to the imagination. The humanmind delights in grand conceptions of supernatural beings. And the sea isprecisely their best vehicle, the only medium through which these giants(against which terrestrial animals, such as elephants or rhinoceroses, are asnothing) can be produced or developed.

The industrial and commercial papers treated the question chiefly from thispoint of view. The Shipping and Mercantile Gazette, the Lloyd’sList, the Packet-Boat, and the Maritime and Colonial Review,all papers devoted to insurance companies which threatened to raise their ratesof premium, were unanimous on this point. Public opinion had been pronounced.The United States were the first in the field; and in New York they madepreparations for an expedition destined to pursue this narwhal. A frigate ofgreat speed, the Abraham Lincoln, was put in commission as soon aspossible. The arsenals were opened to Commander Farragut, who hastened thearming of his frigate; but, as it always happens, the moment it was decided topursue the monster, the monster did not appear. For two months no one heard itspoken of. No ship met with it. It seemed as if this unicorn knew of the plotsweaving around it. It had been so much talked of, even through the Atlanticcable, that jesters pretended that this slender fly had stopped a telegram onits passage and was making the most of it.

So when the frigate had been armed for a long campaign, and provided withformidable fishing apparatus, no one could tell what course to pursue.Impatience grew apace, when, on the 2nd of July, they learned that a steamer ofthe line of San Francisco, from California to Shanghai, had seen the animalthree weeks before in the North Pacific Ocean. The excitement caused by thisnews was extreme. The ship was revictualled and well stocked with coal.

Three hours before the Abraham Lincolnleft Brooklyn pier, I received aletter worded as follows:—

“To M. ARONNAX, Professor in the Museum of Paris, Fifth AvenueHotel, New York.

“SIR,—If you will consent to join the Abraham Lincolninthis expedition, the Government of the United States will with pleasure seeFrance represented in the enterprise. Commander Farragut has a cabin at yourdisposal.

“Very cordially yours,                    
“J.B. HOBSON,          
“Secretary of Marine.”

CHAPTER III
I FORM MY RESOLUTION

Three seconds before the arrival of J. B. Hobson’s letter, I no more thought ofpursuing the unicorn than of attempting the passage of the North Sea. Threeseconds after reading the letter of the honourable Secretary of Marine, I feltthat my true vocation, the sole end of my life, was to chase this disturbingmonster, and purge it from the world.

But I had just returned from a fatiguing journey, weary and longing for repose.I aspired to nothing more than again seeing my country, my friends, my littlelodging by the Jardin des Plantes, my dear and precious collections. Butnothing could keep me back! I forgot all—fatigue, friends and collections—andaccepted without hesitation the offer of the American Government.

“Besides,” thought I, “all roads lead back to Europe (for my particularbenefit), and I will not hurry me towards the coast of France. This worthyanimal may allow itself to be caught in the seas of Europe (for my particularbenefit), and I will not bring back less than half a yard of his ivory halberdto the Museum of Natural History.” But in the meanwhile I must seek thisnarwhal in the North Pacific Ocean, which, to return to France, was taking theroad to the antipodes.

“Conseil,” I called in an impatient voice.

Conseil was my servant, a true, devoted Flemish boy, who had accompanied me inall my travels. I liked him, and he returned the liking well. He was phlegmaticby nature, regular from principle, zealous from habit, evincing littledisturbance at the different surprises of life, very quick with his hands, andapt at any service required of him; and, despite his name, never givingadvice—even when asked for it.

Conseil had followed me for the last ten years wherever science led. Never oncedid he complain of the length or fatigue of a journey, never make an objectionto pack his portmanteau for whatever country it might be, or however far away,whether China or Congo. Besides all this, he had good health, which defied allsickness, and solid muscles, but no nerves; good morals are understood. Thisboy was thirty years old, and his age to that of his master as fifteen totwenty. May I be excused for saying that I was forty years old?

But Conseil had one fault: he was ceremonious to a degree, and would neverspeak to me but in the third person, which was sometimes provoking.

“Conseil,” said I again, beginning with feverish hands to make preparations formy departure.

Certainly I was sure of this devoted boy. As a rule, I never asked him if itwere convenient for him or not to follow me in my travels; but this time theexpedition in question might be prolonged, and the enterprise might behazardous in pursuit of an animal capable of sinking a frigate as easily as anutshell. Here there was matter for reflection even to the most impassive manin the world. What would Conseil say?

“Conseil,” I called a third time.

Conseil appeared.

“Did you call, sir?” said he, entering.

“Yes, my boy; make preparations for me and yourself too. We leave in twohours.”

“As you please, sir,” replied Conseil, quietly.

“Not an instant to lose;—lock in my trunk all travelling utensils, coats,shirts, and stockings—without counting, as many as you can, and make haste.”

“And your collections, sir?” observed Conseil.

“We will think of them by and by.”

“What! the archiotherium, the hyracotherium, the oreodons, the cheropotamus,and the other skins?”

“They will keep them at the hotel.”

“And your live Babiroussa, sir?”

“They will feed it during our absence; besides, I will give orders to forwardour menagerie to France.”

“We are not returning to Paris, then?” said Conseil.

“Oh! certainly,” I answered, evasively, “by making a curve.”

“Will the curve please you, sir?”

“Oh! it will be nothing; not quite so direct a road, that is all. We take ourpassage in the Abraham Lincoln.”

“As you think proper, sir,” coolly replied Conseil.

“You see, my friend, it has to do with the monster—the famous narwhal. We aregoing to purge it from the seas. The author of a work in quarto in two volumes,on the ‘Mysteries of the Great Submarine Grounds’ cannot forbear embarking withCommander Farragut. A glorious mission, but a dangerous one! We cannot tellwhere we may go; these animals can be very capricious. But we will go whetheror no; we have got a captain who is pretty wide-awake.”

I opened a credit account for Babiroussa, and, Conseil following, I jumped intoa cab. Our luggage was transported to the deck of the frigate immediately. Ihastened on board and asked for Commander Farragut. One of the sailorsconducted me to the poop, where I found myself in the presence of agood-looking officer, who held out his hand to me.

“Monsieur Pierre Aronnax?” said he.

“Himself,” replied I; “Commander Farragut?”

“You are welcome, Professor; your cabin is ready for you.”

I bowed, and desired to be conducted to the cabin destined for me.

The Abraham Lincolnhad been well chosen and equipped for her newdestination. She was a frigate of great speed, fitted with high-pressureengines which admitted a pressure of seven atmospheres. Under this theAbraham Lincolnattained the mean speed of nearly eighteen knots and athird an hour—a considerable speed, but, nevertheless, insufficient to grapplewith this gigantic cetacean.

The interior arrangements of the frigate corresponded to its nauticalqualities. I was well satisfied with my cabin, which was in the after part,opening upon the gunroom.

“We shall be well off here,” said I to Conseil.

“As well, by your honour’s leave, as a hermit-crab in the shell of a whelk,”said Conseil.

I left Conseil to stow our trunks conveniently away, and remounted the poop inorder to survey the preparations for departure.

At that moment Commander Farragut was ordering the last moorings to be castloose which held the Abraham Lincolnto the pier of Brooklyn. So in aquarter of an hour, perhaps less, the frigate would have sailed without me. Ishould have missed this extraordinary, supernatural, and incredible expedition,the recital of which may well meet with some scepticism.

But Commander Farragut would not lose a day nor an hour in scouring the seas inwhich the animal had been sighted. He sent for the engineer.

“Is the steam full on?” asked he.

“Yes, sir,” replied the engineer.

“Go ahead,” cried Commander Farragut.

The quay of Brooklyn, and all that part of New York bordering on the EastRiver, was crowded with spectators. Three cheers burst successively from fivehundred thousand throats; thousands of handkerchiefs were waved above the headsof the compact mass, saluting the Abraham Lincoln, until she reached thewaters of the Hudson, at the point of that elongated peninsula which forms thetown of New York. Then the frigate, following the coast of New Jersey along theright bank of the beautiful river, covered with villas, passed between theforts, which saluted her with their heaviest guns. The Abraham Lincolnanswered by hoisting the American colours three times, whose thirty-nine starsshone resplendent from the mizzen-peak; then modifying its speed to take thenarrow channel marked by buoys placed in the inner bay formed by Sandy HookPoint, it coasted the long sandy beach, where some thousands of spectators gaveit one final cheer. The escort of boats and tenders still followed the frigate,and did not leave her until they came abreast of the lightship, whose twolights marked the entrance of New York Channel.

Six bells struck, the pilot got into his boat, and rejoined the little schoonerwhich was waiting under our lee, the fires were made up, the screw beat thewaves more rapidly, the frigate skirted the low yellow coast of Long Island;and at eight bells, after having lost sight in the north-west of the lights ofFire Island, she ran at full steam on to the dark waters of the Atlantic.

CHAPTER IV
NED LAND

Captain Farragut was a good seaman, worthy of the frigate he commanded. Hisvessel and he were one. He was the soul of it. On the question of the cetaceanthere was no doubt in his mind, and he would not allow the existence of theanimal to be disputed on board. He believed in it, as certain good womenbelieve in the leviathan—by faith, not by reason. The monster did exist, and hehad sworn to rid the seas of it. He was a kind of Knight of Rhodes, a secondDieudonné de Gozon, going to meet the serpent which desolated the island.Either Captain Farragut would kill the narwhal, or the narwhal would kill thecaptain. There was no third course.

The officers on board shared the opinion of their chief. They were everchatting, discussing, and calculating the various chances of a meeting,watching narrowly the vast surface of the ocean. More than one took up hisquarters voluntarily in the cross-trees, who would have cursed such a berthunder any other circumstances. As long as the sun described its daily course,the rigging was crowded with sailors, whose feet were burnt to such an extentby the heat of the deck as to render it unbearable; still the AbrahamLincolnhad not yet breasted the suspected waters of the Pacific. As to theship’s company, they desired nothing better than to meet the unicorn, toharpoon it, hoist it on board, and despatch it. They watched the sea with eagerattention.

Besides, Captain Farragut had spoken of a certain sum of two thousand dollars,set apart for whoever should first sight the monster, were he cabin-boy, commonseaman, or officer.

I leave you to judge how eyes were used on board the Abraham Lincoln.

For my own part I was not behind the others, and left to no one my share ofdaily observations. The frigate might have been called the Argus, for ahundred reasons. Only one amongst us, Conseil, seemed to protest by hisindifference against the question which so interested us all, and seemed to beout of keeping with the general enthusiasm on board.

I have said that Captain Farragut had carefully provided his ship with everyapparatus for catching the gigantic cetacean. No whaler had ever been betterarmed. We possessed every known engine, from the harpoon thrown by the hand tothe barbed arrows of the blunderbuss, and the explosive balls of the duck-gun.On the forecastle lay the perfection of a breech-loading gun, very thick at thebreech, and very narrow in the bore, the model of which had been in theExhibition of 1867. This precious weapon of American origin could throw withease a conical projectile of nine pounds to a mean distance of ten miles.

Thus the Abraham Lincolnwanted for no means of destruction; and, whatwas better still, she had on board Ned Land, the prince of harpooners.

Ned Land was a Canadian, with an uncommon quickness of hand, and who knew noequal in his dangerous occupation. Skill, coolness, audacity, and cunning hepossessed in a superior degree, and it must be a cunning whale or a singularly“cute” cachalot to escape the stroke of his harpoon.

Ned Land was about forty years of age; he was a tall man (more than six feethigh), strongly built, grave and taciturn, occasionally violent, and verypassionate when contradicted. His person attracted attention, but above all theboldness of his look, which gave a singular expression to his face.

Who calls himself Canadian calls himself French; and, little communicative asNed Land was, I must admit that he took a certain liking for me. My nationalitydrew him to me, no doubt. It was an opportunity for him to talk, and for me tohear, that old language of Rabelais, which is still in use in some Canadianprovinces. The harpooner’s family was originally from Quebec, and was already atribe of hardy fishermen when this town belonged to France.

Little by little, Ned Land acquired a taste for chatting, and I loved to hearthe recital of his adventures in the polar seas. He related his fishing, andhis combats, with natural poetry of expression; his recital took the form of anepic poem, and I seemed to be listening to a Canadian Homer singing the Iliadof the regions of the North.

I am portraying this hardy companion as I really knew him. We are old friendsnow, united in that unchangeable friendship which is born and cemented amidstextreme dangers. Ah, brave Ned! I ask no more than to live a hundred yearslonger, that I may have more time to dwell the longer on your memory.

Now, what was Ned Land’s opinion upon the question of the marine monster? Imust admit that he did not believe in the unicorn, and was the only one onboard who did not share that universal conviction. He even avoided the subject,which I one day thought it my duty to press upon him. One magnificent evening,the 30th of July—that is to say, three weeks after our departure—the frigatewas abreast of Cape Blanc, thirty miles to leeward of the coast of Patagonia.We had crossed the tropic of Capricorn, and the Straits of Magellan opened lessthan seven hundred miles to the south. Before eight days were over theAbraham Lincolnwould be ploughing the waters of the Pacific.

Seated on the poop, Ned Land and I were chatting of one thing and another as welooked at this mysterious sea, whose great depths had up to this time beeninaccessible to the eye of man. I naturally led up the conversation to thegiant unicorn, and examined the various chances of success or failure of theexpedition. But, seeing that Ned Land let me speak without saying too muchhimself, I pressed him more closely.

“Well, Ned,” said I, “is it possible that you are not convinced of theexistence of this cetacean that we are following? Have you any particularreason for being so incredulous?”

The harpooner looked at me fixedly for some moments before answering, struckhis broad forehead with his hand (a habit of his), as if to collect himself,and said at last, “Perhaps I have, M. Aronnax.”

“But, Ned, you, a whaler by profession, familiarised with all the great marinemammalia—you, whose imagination might easily accept the hypothesis of enormouscetaceans, youought to be the last to doubt under such circumstances!”

“That is just what deceives you, Professor,” replied Ned. “That the vulgarshould believe in extraordinary comets traversing space, and in the existenceof antediluvian monsters in the heart of the globe, may well be; but neitherastronomer nor geologist believes in such chimeras. As a whaler I have followedmany a cetacean, harpooned a great number, and killed several; but, howeverstrong or well-armed they may have been, neither their tails nor their weaponswould have been able even to scratch the iron plates of a steamer.”

“But, Ned, they tell of ships which the teeth of the narwhal have piercedthrough and through.”

“Wooden ships—that is possible,” replied the Canadian, “but I have never seenit done; and, until further proof, I deny that whales, cetaceans, orsea-unicorns could ever produce the effect you describe.”

“Well, Ned, I repeat it with a conviction resting on the logic of facts. Ibelieve in the existence of a mammal powerfully organised, belonging to thebranch of vertebrata, like the whales, the cachalots, or the dolphins, andfurnished with a horn of defence of great penetrating power.”

“Hum!” said the harpooner, shaking his head with the air of a man who would notbe convinced.

“Notice one thing, my worthy Canadian,” I resumed. “If such an animal is inexistence, if it inhabits the depths of the ocean, if it frequents the stratalying miles below the surface of the water, it must necessarily possess anorganisation the strength of which would defy all comparison.”

“And why this powerful organisation?” demanded Ned.

“Because it requires incalculable strength to keep one’s self in these strataand resist their pressure. Listen to me. Let us admit that the pressure of theatmosphere is represented by the weight of a column of water thirty-two feethigh. In reality the column of water would be shorter, as we are speaking ofsea water, the density of which is greater than that of fresh water. Very well,when you dive, Ned, as many times thirty-two feet of water as there are aboveyou, so many times does your body bear a pressure equal to that of theatmosphere, that is to say, 15 lbs. for each square inch of its surface. Itfollows, then, that at 320 feet this pressure = that of 10 atmospheres, of 100atmospheres at 3200 feet, and of 1000 atmospheres at 32,000 feet, that is,about 6 miles; which is equivalent to saying that if you could attain thisdepth in the ocean, each square three-eighths of an inch of the surface of yourbody would bear a pressure of 5600 lbs. Ah! my brave Ned, do you know how manysquare inches you carry on the surface of your body?”

“I have no idea, M. Aronnax.”

“About 6500; and, as in reality the atmospheric pressure is about 15 lbs. tothe square inch, your 6500 square inches bear at this moment a pressure of97,500 lbs.”

“Without my perceiving it?”

“Without your perceiving it. And if you are not crushed by such a pressure, itis because the air penetrates the interior of your body with equal pressure.Hence perfect equilibrium between the interior and exterior pressure, whichthus neutralise each other, and which allows you to bear it withoutinconvenience. But in the water it is another thing.”

“Yes, I understand,” replied Ned, becoming more attentive; “because the watersurrounds me, but does not penetrate.”

“Precisely, Ned: so that at 32 feet beneath the surface of the sea you wouldundergo a pressure of 97,500 lbs.; at 320 feet, ten times that pressure; at3200 feet, a hundred times that pressure; lastly, at 32,000 feet, a thousandtimes that pressure would be 97,500,000 lbs.—that is to say, that you would beflattened as if you had been drawn from the plates of a hydraulic machine!”

“The devil!” exclaimed Ned.

“Very well, my worthy harpooner, if some vertebrate, several hundred yardslong, and large in proportion, can maintain itself in such depths—of thosewhose surface is represented by millions of square inches, that is by tens ofmillions of pounds, we must estimate the pressure they undergo. Consider, then,what must be the resistance of their bony structure, and the strength of theirorganisation to withstand such pressure!”

“Why!” exclaimed Ned Land, “they must be made of iron plates eight inchesthick, like the armoured frigates.”

“As you say, Ned. And think what destruction such a mass would cause, if hurledwith the speed of an express train against the hull of a vessel.”

“Yes—certainly—perhaps,” replied the Canadian, shaken by these figures, but notyet willing to give in.

“Well, have I convinced you?”

“You have convinced me of one thing, sir, which is that, if such animals doexist at the bottom of the seas, they must necessarily be as strong as yousay.”

“But if they do not exist, mine obstinate harpooner, how explain the accidentto the Scotia?”

CHAPTER V
AT A VENTURE

The voyage of the Abraham Lincolnwas for a long time marked by nospecial incident. But one circumstance happened which showed the wonderfuldexterity of Ned Land, and proved what confidence we might place in him.

The 30th of June, the frigate spoke some American whalers, from whom we learnedthat they knew nothing about the narwhal. But one of them, the captain of theMonroe, knowing that Ned Land had shipped on board the AbrahamLincoln, begged for his help in chasing a whale they had in sight.Commander Farragut, desirous of seeing Ned Land at work, gave him permission togo on board the Monroe. And fate served our Canadian so well that,instead of one whale, he harpooned two with a double blow, striking onestraight to the heart, and catching the other after some minutes’ pursuit.

Decidedly, if the monster ever had to do with Ned Land’s harpoon, I would notbet in its favour.

The frigate skirted the south-east coast of America with great rapidity. The3rd of July we were at the opening of the Straits of Magellan, level with CapeVierges. But Commander Farragut would not take a tortuous passage, but doubledCape Horn.

The ship’s crew agreed with him. And certainly it was possible that they mightmeet the narwhal in this narrow pass. Many of the sailors affirmed that themonster could not pass there, “that he was too big for that!”

The 6th of July, about three o’clock in the afternoon, the AbrahamLincoln, at fifteen miles to the south, doubled the solitary island, thislost rock at the extremity of the American continent, to which some Dutchsailors gave the name of their native town, Cape Horn. The course was takentowards the north-west, and the next day the screw of the frigate was at lastbeating the waters of the Pacific.

“Keep your eyes open!” called out the sailors.

And they were opened widely. Both eyes and glasses, a little dazzled, it istrue, by the prospect of two thousand dollars, had not an instant’s repose. Dayand night they watched the surface of the ocean, and even nyctalopes, whosefaculty of seeing in the darkness multiplies their chances a hundredfold, wouldhave had enough to do to gain the prize.

I myself, for whom money had no charms, was not the least attentive on board.Giving but few minutes to my meals, but a few hours to sleep, indifferent toeither rain or sunshine, I did not leave the poop of the vessel. Now leaning onthe netting of the forecastle, now on the taffrail, I devoured with eagernessthe soft foam which whitened the sea as far as the eye could reach; and howoften have I shared the emotion of the majority of the crew, when somecapricious whale raised its black back above the waves! The poop of the vesselwas crowded in a moment. The cabins poured forth a torrent of sailors andofficers, each with heaving breast and troubled eye watching the course of thecetacean. I looked and looked, till I was nearly blind, whilst Conseil, alwaysphlegmatic, kept repeating in a calm voice:

“If, sir, you would not squint so much, you would see better!”

But vain excitement! The Abraham Lincolnchecked its speed and made forthe animal signalled, a simple whale, or common cachalot, which soondisappeared amidst a storm of execration.

But the weather was good. The voyage was being accomplished under the mostfavourable auspices. It was then the bad season in Australia, the July of thatzone corresponding to our January in Europe, but the sea was beautiful andeasily scanned round a vast circumference.

The 20th of July, the tropic of Capricorn was cut by 105° of longitude, and the27th of the same month we crossed the equator on the 110th meridian. Thispassed, the frigate took a more decided westerly direction, and scoured thecentral waters of the Pacific. Commander Farragut thought, and with reason,that it was better to remain in deep water, and keep clear of continents orislands, which the beast itself seemed to shun (perhaps because there was notenough water for him! suggested the greater part of the crew). The frigatepassed at some distance from the Marquesas and the Sandwich Islands, crossedthe tropic of Cancer, and made for the China Seas. We were on the theatre ofthe last diversions of the monster: and, to say truth, we no longerlivedon board. Hearts palpitated, fearfully preparing themselves forfuture incurable aneurism. The entire ship’s crew were undergoing a nervousexcitement, of which I can give no idea: they could not eat, they could notsleep—twenty times a day, a misconception or an optical illusion of some sailorseated on the taffrail, would cause dreadful perspirations, and these emotions,twenty times repeated, kept us in a state of excitement so violent that areaction was unavoidable.

And truly, reaction soon showed itself. For three months, during which a dayseemed an age, the Abraham Lincolnfurrowed all the waters of theNorthern Pacific, running at whales, making sharp deviations from her course,veering suddenly from one tack to another, stopping suddenly, putting on steam,and backing ever and anon at the risk of deranging her machinery, and not onepoint of the Japanese or American coast was left unexplored.

The warmest partisans of the enterprise now became its most ardent detractors.Reaction mounted from the crew to the captain himself, and certainly, had itnot been for resolute determination on the part of Captain Farragut, thefrigate would have headed due southward. This useless search could not lastmuch longer. The Abraham Lincolnhad nothing to reproach herself with,she had done her best to succeed. Never had an American ship’s crew shown morezeal or patience; its failure could not be placed to their charge—thereremained nothing but to return.

This was represented to the commander. The sailors could not hide theirdiscontent, and the service suffered. I will not say there was a mutiny onboard, but after a reasonable period of obstinacy, Captain Farragut (asColumbus did) asked for three days’ patience. If in three days the monster didnot appear, the man at the helm should give three turns of the wheel, and theAbraham Lincolnwould make for the European seas.

This promise was made on the 2nd of November. It had the effect of rallying theship’s crew. The ocean was watched with renewed attention. Each one wished fora last glance in which to sum up his remembrance. Glasses were used withfeverish activity. It was a grand defiance given to the giant narwhal, and hecould scarcely fail to answer the summons and “appear.”

Two days passed, the steam was at half pressure; a thousand schemes were triedto attract the attention and stimulate the apathy of the animal in case itshould be met in those parts. Large quantities of bacon were trailed in thewake of the ship, to the great satisfaction (I must say) of the sharks. Smallcraft radiated in all directions round the Abraham Lincolnas she layto, and did not leave a spot of the sea unexplored. But the night of the 4th ofNovember arrived without the unveiling of this submarine mystery.

The next day, the 5th of November, at twelve, the delay would (morallyspeaking) expire; after that time, Commander Farragut, faithful to his promise,was to turn the course to the south-east and abandon for ever the northernregions of the Pacific.

The frigate was then in 31° 15′ north latitude and 136° 42′ eastlongitude. The coast of Japan still remained less than two hundred miles toleeward. Night was approaching. They had just struck eight bells; large cloudsveiled the face of the moon, then in its first quarter. The sea undulatedpeaceably under the stern of the vessel.

At that moment I was leaning forward on the starboard netting. Conseil,standing near me, was looking straight before him. The crew, perched in theratlines, examined the horizon, which contracted and darkened by degrees.Officers with their night glasses scoured the growing darkness; sometimes theocean sparkled under the rays of the moon, which darted between two clouds,then all trace of light was lost in the darkness.

In looking at Conseil, I could see he was undergoing a little of the generalinfluence. At least I thought so. Perhaps for the first time his nervesvibrated to a sentiment of curiosity.

“Come, Conseil,” said I, “this is the last chance of pocketing the two thousanddollars.”

“May I be permitted to say, sir,” replied Conseil, “that I never reckoned ongetting the prize; and, had the government of the Union offered a hundredthousand dollars, it would have been none the poorer.”

“You are right, Conseil. It is a foolish affair after all, and one upon whichwe entered too lightly. What time lost, what useless emotions! We should havebeen back in France six months ago.”

“In your little room, sir,” replied Conseil, “and in your museum, sir, and Ishould have already classed all your fossils, sir. And the Babiroussa wouldhave been installed in its cage in the Jardin des Plantes, and have drawn allthe curious people of the capital!”

“As you say, Conseil. I fancy we shall run a fair chance of being laughed atfor our pains.”

“That’s tolerably certain,” replied Conseil, quietly; “I think they will makefun of you, sir. And, must I say it?”

“Go on, my good friend.”

“Well, sir, you will only get your deserts.”

“Indeed!”

“When one has the honour of being a savant as you are, sir, one should notexpose one’s self to——”

Conseil had not time to finish his compliment. In the midst of general silencea voice had just been heard. It was the voice of Ned Land shouting—

“Look out there! The very thing we are looking for—on our weather beam!”

CHAPTER VI
AT FULL STEAM

At this cry the whole ship’s crew hurried towards the harpooner,—commander,officers, masters, sailors, cabin boys; even the engineers left their engines,and the stokers their furnaces.

The order to stop her had been given, and the frigate now simply went on by herown momentum. The darkness was then profound, and however good the Canadian’seyes were, I asked myself how he had managed to see, and what he had been ableto see. My heart beat as if it would break. But Ned Land was not mistaken, andwe all perceived the object he pointed to. At two cables’ length from theAbraham Lincoln, on the starboard quarter, the sea seemed to beilluminated all over. It was not a mere phosphoric phenomenon. The monsteremerged some fathoms from the water, and then threw out that very intense butinexplicable light mentioned in the report of several captains. Thismagnificent irradiation must have been produced by an agent of greatshiningpower. The luminous part traced on the sea an immense oval, muchelongated, the centre of which condensed a burning heat, whose overpoweringbrilliancy died out by successive gradations.

“It is only an agglomeration of phosphoric particles,” cried one of theofficers.

“No, sir, certainly not,” I replied. “Never did pholades or salpæ produce sucha powerful light. That brightness is of an essentially electrical nature.Besides, see, see! it moves; it is moving forwards, backwards; it is dartingtowards us!”

A general cry rose from the frigate.

“Silence!” said the Captain; “up with the helm, reverse the engines.”

The steam was shut off, and the Abraham Lincoln, beating to port,described a semicircle.

“Right the helm, go ahead,” cried the Captain.

These orders were executed, and the frigate moved rapidly from the burninglight.

I was mistaken. She tried to sheer off, but the supernatural animal approachedwith a velocity double her own.

We gasped for breath. Stupefaction more than fear made us dumb and motionless.The animal gained on us, sporting with the waves. It made the round of thefrigate, which was then making fourteen knots, and enveloped it with itselectric rings like luminous dust. Then it moved away two or three miles,leaving a phosphorescent track, like those volumes of steam that the expresstrains leave behind. All at once from the dark line of the horizon whither itretired to gain its momentum, the monster rushed suddenly towards theAbraham Lincolnwith alarming rapidity, stopped suddenly about twentyfeet from the hull, and died out,—not diving under the water, for itsbrilliancy did not abate,—but suddenly, and as if the source of this brilliantemanation was exhausted. Then it reappeared on the other side of the vessel, asif it had turned and slid under the hull. Any moment a collision might haveoccurred which would have been fatal to us. However, I was astonished at themanœuvres of the frigate. She fled and did not attack.

On the captain’s face, generally so impassive, was an expression ofunaccountable astonishment.

“M. Aronnax,” he said, “I do not know with what formidable being I have todeal, and I will not imprudently risk my frigate in the midst of this darkness.Besides, how attack this unknown thing, how defend one’s self from it? Wait fordaylight, and the scene will change.”

“You have no further doubt, captain, of the nature of the animal?”

“No, sir; it is evidently a gigantic narwhal, and an electric one.”

“Perhaps,” added I, “one can only approach it with a gymnotus or a torpedo.”

“Undoubtedly,” replied the captain, “if it possesses such dreadful power, it isthe most terrible animal that ever was created. That is why, sir, I must be onmy guard.”

The crew were on their feet all night. No one thought of sleep. The AbrahamLincoln, not being able to struggle with such velocity, had moderated itspace, and sailed at half speed. For its part, the narwhal, imitating thefrigate, let the waves rock it at will, and seemed decided not to leave thescene of the struggle. Towards midnight, however, it disappeared, or, to use amore appropriate term, it “died out” like a large glow-worm. Had it fled? Onecould only fear, not hope. But at seven minutes to one o’clock in the morning adeafening whistling was heard, like that produced by a body of water rushingwith great violence.

The captain, Ned Land, and I, were then on the poop, eagerly peering throughthe profound darkness.

“Ned Land,” asked the commander, “you have often heard the roaring of whales?”

“Often, sir; but never such whales the sight of which brought me in twothousand dollars. If I can only approach within four harpoon lengths of it!”

“But to approach it,” said the commander, “I ought to put a whaler at yourdisposal?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“That will be trifling with the lives of my men.”

“And mine too,” simply said the harpooner.

Towards two o’clock in the morning, the burning light reappeared, not lessintense, about five miles to windward of the Abraham Lincoln.Notwithstanding the distance, and the noise of the wind and sea, one hearddistinctly the loud strokes of the animal’s tail, and even its panting breath.It seemed that, at the moment that the enormous narwhal had come to take breathat the surface of the water, the air was engulfed in its lungs, like the steamin the vast cylinders of a machine of two thousand horse-power.

“Hum!” thought I, “a whale with the strength of a cavalry regiment would be apretty whale!”

We were on the qui vivetill daylight, and prepared for the combat. Thefishing implements were laid along the hammock nettings. The second lieutenantloaded the blunderbusses, which could throw harpoons to the distance of a mile,and long duck-guns, with explosive bullets, which inflicted mortal wounds evento the most terrible animals. Ned Land contented himself with sharpening hisharpoon—a terrible weapon in his hands.

At six o’clock day began to break; and, with the first glimmer of light, theelectric light of the narwhal disappeared. At seven o’clock the day wassufficiently advanced, but a very thick sea fog obscured our view, and the bestspy-glasses could not pierce it. That caused disappointment and anger.

I climbed the mizzen-mast. Some officers were already perched on the mastheads. At eight o’clock the fog lay heavily on the waves, and its thick scrollsrose little by little. The horizon grew wider and clearer at the same time.Suddenly, just as on the day before, Ned Land’s voice was heard:

“The thing itself on the port quarter!” cried the harpooner.

Every eye was turned towards the point indicated. There, a mile and a half fromthe frigate, a long blackish body emerged a yard above the waves. Its tail,violently agitated, produced a considerable eddy. Never did a caudal appendagebeat the sea with such violence. An immense track, of dazzling whiteness,marked the passage of the animal, and described a long curve.

The frigate approached the cetacean. I examined it thoroughly.

The reports of the Shannonand of the Helvetiahad ratherexaggerated its size, and I estimated its length at only two hundred and fiftyfeet. As to its dimensions, I could only conjecture them to be admirablyproportioned. While I watched this phenomenon, two jets of steam and water wereejected from its vents, and rose to the height of 120 feet; thus I ascertainedits way of breathing. I concluded definitely that it belonged to the vertebratebranch, class mammalia.

The crew waited impatiently for their chief’s orders. The latter, after havingobserved the animal attentively, called the engineer. The engineer ran to him.

“Sir,” said the commander, “you have steam up?”

“Yes, sir,” answered the engineer.

“Well, make up your fires and put on all steam.”

Three hurrahs greeted this order. The time for the struggle had arrived. Somemoments after, the two funnels of the frigate vomited torrents of black smoke,and the bridge quaked under the trembling of the boilers.

The Abraham Lincoln, propelled by her wonderful screw, went straight atthe animal. The latter allowed it to come within half a cable’s length; then,as if disdaining to dive, it took a little turn, and stopped a short distanceoff.

This pursuit lasted nearly three-quarters of an hour, without the frigategaining two yards on the cetacean. It was quite evident that at that rate weshould never come up with it.

“Well, Mr. Land,” asked the captain, “do you advise me to put the boats out tosea?”

“No, sir,” replied Ned Land; “because we shall not take that beast easily.”

“What shall we do then?”

“Put on more steam if you can, sir. With your leave, I mean to post myselfunder the bowsprit, and if we get within harpooning distance, I shall throw myharpoon.”

“Go, Ned,” said the captain. “Engineer, put on more pressure.”

Ned Land went to his post. The fires were increased, the screw revolvedforty-three times a minute, and the steam poured out of the valves. We heavedthe log, and calculated that the Abraham Lincolnwas going at the rateof 18½ miles an hour.

But the accursed animal swam too at the rate of 18½ miles an hour.

For a whole hour, the frigate kept up this pace, without gaining six feet. Itwas humiliating for one of the swiftest sailers in the American navy. Astubborn anger seized the crew; the sailors abused the monster, who, as before,disdained to answer them; the captain no longer contented himself with twistinghis beard—he gnawed it.

The engineer was again called.

“You have turned full steam in?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the engineer.

The speed of the Abraham Lincolnincreased. Its masts trembled down totheir stepping holes, and the clouds of smoke could hardly find way out of thenarrow funnels.

They heaved the log a second time.

“Well?” asked the captain of the man at the wheel.

“Nineteen miles and three-tenths, sir.”

“Clap on more steam.”

The engineer obeyed. The manometer showed ten degrees. But the cetacean grewwarm itself, no doubt; for without straining itself, it made 19-3/10 miles.

What a pursuit! No, I cannot describe the emotion that vibrated through me. NedLand kept his post, harpoon in hand. Several times the animal let us gain uponit.—“We shall catch it! we shall catch it!” cried the Canadian. But just as hewas going to strike, the cetacean stole away with a rapidity that could not beestimated at less than thirty miles an hour, and even during our maximum ofspeed, it bullied the frigate, going round and round it. A cry of fury brokefrom everyone!

At noon we were no further advanced than at eight o’clock in the morning.

The captain then decided to take more direct means.

“Ah!” said he, “that animal goes quicker than the Abraham Lincoln. Verywell! we will see whether it will escape these conical bullets. Send your mento the forecastle, sir.”

The forecastle gun was immediately loaded and slewed round. But the shot passedsome feet above the cetacean, which was half a mile off.

“Another, more to the right,” cried the commander, “and five dollars to whoeverwill hit that infernal beast.”

An old gunner with a grey beard—that I can see now—with steady eye and graveface, went up to the gun and took a long aim. A loud report was heard, withwhich were mingled the cheers of the crew.

An old grey-bearded gunner . . . .

The bullet did its work; it hit the animal, but not fatally, and sliding offthe rounded surface, was lost in two miles depth of sea.

The chase began again, and the captain, leaning towards me, said—

“I will pursue that beast till my frigate bursts up.”

“Yes,” answered I; “and you will be quite right to do it.”

I wished the beast would exhaust itself, and not be insensible to fatigue likea steam engine! But it was of no use. Hours passed, without its showing anysigns of exhaustion.

However, it must be said in praise of the Abraham Lincoln, that shestruggled on indefatigably. I cannot reckon the distance she made under threehundred miles during this unlucky day, November the 6th. But night came on, andovershadowed the rough ocean.

Now I thought our expedition was at an end, and that we should never again seethe extraordinary animal. I was mistaken. At ten minutes to eleven in theevening, the electric light reappeared three miles to windward of the frigate,as pure, as intense as during the preceding night.

The narwhal seemed motionless; perhaps, tired with its day’s work, it slept,letting itself float with the undulation of the waves. Now was a chance ofwhich the captain resolved to take advantage.

He gave his orders. The Abraham Lincolnkept up half steam, and advancedcautiously so as not to awake its adversary. It is no rare thing to meet in themiddle of the ocean whales so sound asleep that they can be successfullyattacked, and Ned Land had harpooned more than one during its sleep. TheCanadian went to take his place again under the bowsprit.

The frigate approached noiselessly, stopped at two cables’ lengths from theanimal, and following its track. No one breathed; a deep silence reigned on thebridge. We were not a hundred feet from the burning focus, the light of whichincreased and dazzled our eyes.

At this moment, leaning on the forecastle bulwark, I saw below me Ned Landgrappling the martingale in one hand, brandishing his terrible harpoon in theother, scarcely twenty feet from the motionless animal. Suddenly his armstraightened, and the harpoon was thrown; I heard the sonorous stroke of theweapon, which seemed to have struck a hard body. The electric light went outsuddenly, and two enormous waterspouts broke over the bridge of the frigate,rushing like a torrent from stem to stern, overthrowing men, and breaking thelashings of the spars. A fearful shock followed, and, thrown over the railwithout having time to stop myself, I fell into the sea.

CHAPTER VII
AN UNKNOWN SPECIES OF WHALE

This unexpected fall so stunned me that I have no clear recollection of mysensations at the time. I was at first drawn down to a depth of about twentyfeet. I am a good swimmer (though without pretending to rival Byron or EdgarPoe, who were masters of the art), and in that plunge I did not lose mypresence of mind. Two vigorous strokes brought me to the surface of the water.My first care was to look for the frigate. Had the crew seen me disappear? Hadthe Abraham Lincolnveered round? Would the captain put out a boat?Might I hope to be saved?

The darkness was intense. I caught a glimpse of a black mass disappearing inthe east, its beacon lights dying out in the distance. It was the frigate! Iwas lost.

“Help, help!” I shouted, swimming towards the Abraham Lincolnindesperation.

My clothes encumbered me; they seemed glued to my body, and paralysed mymovements.

I was sinking! I was suffocating!

“Help!”

This was my last cry. My mouth filled with water; I struggled against beingdrawn down the abyss. Suddenly my clothes were seized by a strong hand, and Ifelt myself quickly drawn up to the surface of the sea; and I heard, yes, Iheard these words pronounced in my ear—

“If master would be so good as to lean on my shoulder, master would swim withmuch greater ease.”

I seized with one hand my faithful Conseil’s arm.

“Is it you?” said I, “you?”

“Myself,” answered Conseil; “and waiting master’s orders.”

“That shock threw you as well as me into the sea?”

“No; but being in my master’s service, I followed him.”

The worthy fellow thought that was but natural.

“And the frigate?” I asked.

“The frigate?” replied Conseil, turning on his back; “I think that master hadbetter not count too much on her.”

“You think so?”

“I say that, at the time I threw myself into the sea, I heard the men at thewheel say, ‘The screw and the rudder are broken.’”

“Broken?”

“Yes, broken by the monster’s teeth. It is the only injury the AbrahamLincolnhas sustained. But it is a bad look out for us—she no longeranswers her helm.”

“Then we are lost!”

“Perhaps so,” calmly answered Conseil. “However, we have still several hoursbefore us, and one can do a good deal in some hours.”

Conseil’s imperturbable coolness set me up again. I swam more vigorously; but,cramped by my clothes, which stuck to me like a leaden weight, I felt greatdifficulty in bearing up. Conseil saw this.

“Will master let me make a slit?” said he; and, slipping an open knife under myclothes, he ripped them up from top to bottom very rapidly. Then he cleverlyslipped them off me, while I swam for both of us.

Then I did the same for Conseil, and we continued to swim near to each other.

Nevertheless, our situation was no less terrible. Perhaps our disappearance hadnot been noticed; and if it had been, the frigate could not tack, being withoutits helm. Conseil argued on this supposition, and laid his plans accordingly.This phlegmatic boy was perfectly self-possessed. We then decided that, as ouronly chance of safety was being picked up by the Abraham Lincoln’sboats, we ought to manage so as to wait for them as long as possible. Iresolved then to husband our strength, so that both should not be exhausted atthe same time; and this is how we managed: while one of us lay on our back,quite still, with arms crossed, and legs stretched out, the other would swimand push the other on in front. This towing business did not last more than tenminutes each; and relieving each other thus, we could swim on for some hours,perhaps till daybreak. Poor chance! but hope is so firmly rooted in the heartof man! Moreover, there were two of us. Indeed I declare (though it may seemimprobable) if I sought to destroy all hope,—if I wished to despair, I couldnot.

The collision of the frigate with the cetacean had occurred about eleveno’clock the evening before. I reckoned then we should have eight hours to swimbefore sunrise, an operation quite practicable if we relieved each other. Thesea, very calm, was in our favour. Sometimes I tried to pierce the intensedarkness that was only dispelled by the phosphorescence caused by ourmovements. I watched the luminous waves that broke over my hand, whosemirror-like surface was spotted with silvery rings. One might have said that wewere in a bath of quicksilver.

Near one o’clock in the morning, I was seized with dreadful fatigue. My limbsstiffened under the strain of violent cramp. Conseil was obliged to keep me up,and our preservation devolved on him alone. I heard the poor boy pant; hisbreathing became short and hurried. I found that he could not keep up muchlonger.

“Leave me! leave me!” I said to him.

“Leave my master? Never!” replied he. “I would drown first.”

Just then the moon appeared through the fringes of a thick cloud that the windwas driving to the east. The surface of the sea glittered with its rays. Thiskindly light reanimated us. My head got better again. I looked at all points ofthe horizon. I saw the frigate! She was five miles from us, and looked like adark mass, hardly discernible. But no boats!

I would have cried out. But what good would it have been at such a distance! Myswollen lips could utter no sounds. Conseil could articulate some words, and Iheard him repeat at intervals, “Help! help!”

Our movements were suspended for an instant; we listened. It might be only asinging in the ear, but it seemed to me as if a cry answered the cry fromConseil.

“Did you hear?” I murmured.

“Yes! Yes!”

And Conseil gave one more despairing call.

This time there was no mistake! A human voice responded to ours! Was it thevoice of another unfortunate creature, abandoned in the middle of the ocean,some other victim of the shock sustained by the vessel? Or rather was it a boatfrom the frigate, that was hailing us in the darkness?

Conseil made a last effort, and, leaning on my shoulder, while I struck out ina despairing effort, he raised himself half out of the water, then fell backexhausted.

“What did you see?”

“I saw”—murmured he; “I saw—but do not talk—reserve all your strength!”

What had he seen? Then, I know not why, the thought of the monster came into myhead for the first time! But that voice! The time is past for Jonahs to takerefuge in whales’ bellies! However, Conseil was towing me again. He raised hishead sometimes, looked before us, and uttered a cry of recognition, which wasresponded to by a voice that came nearer and nearer. I scarcely heard it. Mystrength was exhausted; my fingers stiffened; my hand afforded me support nolonger; my mouth, convulsively opening, filled with salt water. Cold crept overme. I raised my head for the last time, then I sank.

At this moment a hard body struck me. I clung to it: then I felt that I wasbeing drawn up, that I was brought to the surface of the water, that my chestcollapsed:—I fainted.

It is certain that I soon came to, thanks to the vigorous rubbings that Ireceived. I half opened my eyes.

“Conseil!” I murmured.

“Does master call me?” asked Conseil.

Just then, by the waning light of the moon which was sinking down to thehorizon, I saw a face which was not Conseil’s and which I immediatelyrecognised.

“Ned!” I cried.

“The same, sir, who is seeking his prize!” replied the Canadian.

“Were you thrown into the sea by the shock to the frigate?”

“Yes, Professor; but more fortunate than you, I was able to find a footingalmost directly upon a floating island.”

“An island?”

“Or, more correctly speaking, on our gigantic narwhal.”

“Explain yourself, Ned!”

“Only I soon found out why my harpoon had not entered its skin and wasblunted.”

“Why, Ned, why?”

“Because, Professor, that beast is made of sheet iron.”

The Canadian’s last words produced a sudden revolution in my brain. I wriggledmyself quickly to the top of the being, or object, half out of the water, whichserved us for a refuge. I kicked it. It was evidently a hard impenetrable body,and not the soft substance that forms the bodies of the great marine mammalia.But this hard body might be a bony carapace, like that of the antediluviananimals; and I should be free to class this monster among amphibious reptiles,such as tortoises or alligators.

Well, no! the blackish back that supported me was smooth, polished, withoutscales. The blow produced a metallic sound; and incredible though it may be, itseemed, I might say, as if it was made of riveted plates.

There was no doubt about it! This monster, this natural phenomenon that hadpuzzled the learned world, and overthrown and misled the imagination of seamenof both hemispheres, it must be owned, a still more astonishing phenomenon,inasmuch as it was a simply human construction.

We had no time to lose, however. We were lying upon the back of a sort ofsubmarine boat, which appeared (as far as I could judge) like a huge fish ofsteel. Ned Land’s mind was made up on this point. Conseil and I could onlyagree with him.

Just then a bubbling began at the back of this strange thing (which wasevidently propelled by a screw), and it began to move. We had only just time toseize hold of the upper part, which rose about seven feet out of the water, andhappily its speed was not great.

“As long as it sails horizontally,” muttered Ned Land, “I do not mind; but ifit takes a fancy to dive, I would not give two straws for my life.”

The Canadian might have said still less. It became really necessary tocommunicate with the beings, whatever they were, shut up inside the machine. Isearched all over the outside for an aperture, a panel, or a man-hole, to use atechnical expression; but the lines of the iron rivets, solidly driven into thejoints of the iron plates, were clear and uniform. Besides, the moondisappeared then, and left us in total darkness.

At last this long night passed. My indistinct remembrance prevents mydescribing all the impressions it made. I can only recall one circumstance.During some lulls of the wind and sea, I fancied I heard several times vaguesounds, a sort of fugitive harmony produced by words of command. What was thenthe mystery of this submarine craft, of which the whole world vainly sought anexplanation? What kind of beings existed in this strange boat? What mechanicalagent caused its prodigious speed?

Daybreak appeared. The morning mists surrounded us, but they soon cleared off.I was about to examine the hull, which formed on deck a kind of horizontalplatform, when I felt it gradually sinking.

“Oh! confound it!” cried Ned Land, kicking the resounding plate. “Open, youinhospitable rascals!”

Happily the sinking movement ceased. Suddenly a noise, like iron worksviolently pushed aside, came from the interior of the boat. One iron plate wasmoved, a man appeared, uttered an odd cry, and disappeared immediately.

Some moments after, eight strong men, with masked faces, appeared noiselessly,and drew us down into their formidable machine.

CHAPTER VIII
MOBILIS IN MOBILI

This forcible abduction, so roughly carried out, was accomplished with therapidity of lightning. I shivered all over. Whom had we to deal with? No doubtsome new sort of pirates, who explored the sea in their own way.

Hardly had the narrow panel closed upon me, when I was enveloped in darkness.My eyes, dazzled with the outer light, could distinguish nothing. I felt mynaked feet cling to the rungs of an iron ladder. Ned Land and Conseil, firmlyseized, followed me. At the bottom of the ladder, a door opened, and shut afterus immediately with a bang.

We were alone. Where, I could not say, hardly imagine. All was black, and sucha dense black that, after some minutes, my eyes had not been able to discerneven the faintest glimmer.

Meanwhile, Ned Land, furious at these proceedings, gave free vent to hisindignation.

“Confound it!” cried he, “here are people who come up to the Scotch forhospitality. They only just miss being cannibals. I should not be surprised atit, but I declare that they shall not eat me without my protesting.”

“Calm yourself, friend Ned, calm yourself,” replied Conseil, quietly. “Do notcry out before you are hurt. We are not quite done for yet.”

“Not quite,” sharply replied the Canadian, “but pretty near, at all events.Things look black. Happily, my bowie knife I have still, and I can always seewell enough to use it. The first of these pirates who lays a hand on me——”

“Do not excite yourself, Ned,” I said to the harpooner, “and do not compromiseus by useless violence. Who knows that they will not listen to us? Let usrather try to find out where we are.”

I groped about. In five steps I came to an iron wall, made of plates boltedtogether. Then turning back I struck against a wooden table, near which wereranged several stools. The boards of this prison were concealed under a thickmat of phormium, which deadened the noise of the feet. The bare walls revealedno trace of window or door. Conseil, going round the reverse way, met me, andwe went back to the middle of the cabin, which measured about twenty feet byten. As to its height, Ned Land, in spite of his own great height, could notmeasure it.

Half an hour had already passed without our situation being bettered, when thedense darkness suddenly gave way to extreme light. Our prison was suddenlylighted—that is to say, it became filled with a luminous matter, so strong thatI could not bear it at first. In its whiteness and intensity I recognised thatelectric light which played round the submarine boat like a magnificentphenomenon of phosphorescence. After shutting my eyes involuntarily, I openedthem, and saw that this luminous agent came from a half globe, unpolished,placed in the roof of the cabin.

“At last one can see,” cried Ned Land, who, knife in hand, stood on thedefensive.

“Yes,” said I; “but we are still in the dark about ourselves.”

“Let master have patience,” said the imperturbable Conseil.

The sudden lighting of the cabin enabled me to examine it minutely. It onlycontained a table and five stools. The invisible door might be hermeticallysealed. No noise was heard. All seemed dead in the interior of this boat. Didit move, did it float on the surface of the ocean, or did it dive into itsdepths? I could not guess.

A noise of bolts was now heard, the door opened, and two men appeared.

One was short, very muscular, broad-shouldered, with robust limbs, strong head,an abundance of black hair, thick moustache, a quick penetrating look, and thevivacity which characterises the population of Southern France.

The second stranger merits a more detailed description. A disciple of Gratioletor Engel would have read his face like an open book. I made out his prevailingqualities directly:—self-confidence,—because his head was well set on hisshoulders, and his black eyes looked around with cold assurance; calmness,—forhis skin, rather pale, showed his coolness of blood; energy,—evinced by therapid contraction of his lofty brows; and courage,—because his deep breathingdenoted great power of lungs.

Whether this person was thirty-five or fifty years of age, I could not say. Hewas tall, had a large forehead, straight nose, a clearly cut mouth, beautifulteeth, with fine taper hands, indicative of a highly nervous temperament. Thisman was certainly the most admirable specimen I had ever met. One particularfeature was his eyes, rather far from each other, and which could take innearly a quarter of the horizon at once.

This faculty—(I verified it later)—gave him a range of vision far superior toNed Land’s. When this stranger fixed upon an object, his eyebrows met, hislarge eyelids closed around so as to contract the range of his vision, and helooked as if he magnified the objects lessened by distance, as if he piercedthose sheets of water so opaque to our eyes, and as if he read the very depthsof the seas.

The two strangers, with caps made from the fur of the sea otter, and shod withsea boots of seal’s skin, were dressed in clothes of a particular texture,which allowed free movement of the limbs. The taller of the two, evidently thechief on board, examined us with great attention, without saying a word; thenturning to his companion, talked with him in an unknown tongue. It was asonorous, harmonious, and flexible dialect, the vowels seeming to admit of veryvaried accentuation.

The other replied by a shake of the head, and added two or three perfectlyincomprehensible words. Then he seemed to question me by a look.

I replied in good French that I did not know his language; but he seemed not tounderstand me, and my situation became more embarrassing.

“If master were to tell our story,” said Conseil, “perhaps these gentlemen mayunderstand some words.”

I began to tell our adventures, articulating each syllable clearly, and withoutomitting one single detail. I announced our names and rank, introducing inperson Professor Aronnax, his servant Conseil, and master Ned Land, theharpooner.

The man with the soft calm eyes listened to me quietly, even politely, and withextreme attention; but nothing in his countenance indicated that he hadunderstood my story. When I finished, he said not a word. There remained oneresource, to speak English. Perhaps they would know this almost universallanguage. I knew it, as well as the German language,—well enough to read itfluently, but not to speak it correctly. But, anyhow, we must make ourselvesunderstood.

“Go on in your turn,” I said to the harpooner; “speak your best Anglo-Saxon,and try to do better than I.”

Ned did not beg off, and recommenced our story.

To his great disgust, the harpooner did not seem to have made himself moreintelligible than I had. Our visitors did not stir. They evidently understoodneither the language of Arago nor of Faraday.

Very much embarrassed, after having vainly exhausted our speaking resources, Iknew not what part to take, when Conseil said—

“If master will permit me, I will relate it in German.”

But in spite of the elegant terms and good accent of the narrator, the Germanlanguage had no success. At last, nonplussed, I tried to remember my firstlessons, and to narrate our adventures in Latin, but with no better success.This last attempt being of no avail, the two strangers exchanged some words intheir unknown language, and retired.

The door shut.

“It is an infamous shame,” cried Ned Land, who broke out for the twentiethtime. “We speak to those rogues in French, English, German, and Latin, and notone of them has the politeness to answer!”

“Calm yourself,” I said to the impetuous Ned, “anger will do no good.”

“But do you see, Professor,” replied our irascible companion, “that we shallabsolutely die of hunger in this iron cage?”

“Bah!” said Conseil, philosophically; “we can hold out some time yet.”

“My friends,” I said, “we must not despair. We have been worse off than this.Do me the favour to wait a little before forming an opinion upon the commanderand crew of this boat.”

“My opinion is formed,” replied Ned Land, sharply. “They are rascals.”

“Good! and from what country?”

“From the land of rogues!”

“My brave Ned, that country is not clearly indicated on the map of the world;but I admit that the nationality of the two strangers is hard to determine.Neither English, French, nor German, that is quite certain. However, I aminclined to think that the commander and his companion were born in lowlatitudes. There is southern blood in them. But I cannot decide by theirappearance whether they are Spaniards, Turks, Arabians, or Indians. As to theirlanguage, it is quite incomprehensible.”

“There is the disadvantage of not knowing all languages,” said Conseil, “or thedisadvantage of not having one universal language.”

As he said these words, the door opened. A steward entered. He brought usclothes, coats and trousers, made of a stuff I did not know. I hastened todress myself, and my companions followed my example. During that time, thesteward—dumb, perhaps deaf—had arranged the table, and laid three plates.

“This is something like,” said Conseil.

“Bah!” said the rancorous harpooner, “what do you suppose they eat here?Tortoise liver, filleted shark, and beefsteaks from sea-dogs.”

“We shall see,” said Conseil.

The dishes, of bell metal, were placed on the table, and we took our places.Undoubtedly we had to do with civilised people, and, had it not been for theelectric light which flooded us, I could have fancied I was in the dining-roomof the Adelphi Hotel at Liverpool, or at the Grand Hotel in Paris. I must say,however, that there was neither bread nor wine. The water was fresh and clear,but it was water, and did not suit Ned Land’s taste. Amongst the dishes whichwere brought to us, I recognised several fish delicately dressed; but of some,although excellent, I could give no opinion, neither could I tell to whatkingdom they belonged, whether animal or vegetable. As to the dinner service,it was elegant, and in perfect taste. Each utensil, spoon, fork, knife, plate,had a letter engraved on it, with a motto above it, of which this is an exactfacsimile:—

MOBILIS IN MOBILI
N.

The letter N was no doubt the initial of the name of the enigmatical person,who commanded at the bottom of the sea.

Ned and Conseil did not reflect much. They devoured the food, and I didlikewise. I was, besides, reassured as to our fate; and it seemed evident thatour hosts would not let us die of want.

However, everything has an end, everything passes away, even the hunger ofpeople who have not eaten for fifteen hours. Our appetites satisfied, we feltovercome with sleep.

“Faith! I shall sleep well,” said Conseil.

“So shall I,” replied Ned Land.

My two companions stretched themselves on the cabin carpet, and were soon soundasleep. For my own part, too many thoughts crowded my brain, too many insolublequestions pressed upon me, too many fancies kept my eyes half open. Where werewe? What strange power carried us on? I felt—or rather fancied I felt—themachine sinking down to the lowest beds of the sea. Dreadful nightmares besetme; I saw in these mysterious asylums a world of unknown animals, amongst whichthis submarine boat seemed to be of the same kind, living, moving, andformidable as they. Then my brain grew calmer, my imagination wandered intovague unconsciousness, and I soon fell into a deep sleep.

CHAPTER IX
NED LAND’S TEMPERS

How long we slept I do not know; but our sleep must have lasted long, for itrested us completely from our fatigues. I woke first. My companions had notmoved, and were still stretched in their corner.

Hardly roused from my somewhat hard couch, I felt my brain freed, my mindclear. I then began an attentive examination of our cell. Nothing was changedinside. The prison was still a prison,—the prisoners, prisoners. However, thesteward, during our sleep, had cleared the table. I breathed with difficulty.The heavy air seemed to oppress my lungs. Although the cell was large, we hadevidently consumed a great part of the oxygen that it contained. Indeed, eachman consumes, in one hour, the oxygen contained in more than 176 pints of air,and this air, charged (as then) with a nearly equal quantity of carbonic acid,becomes unbreathable.

It became necessary to renew the atmosphere of our prison, and no doubt thewhole in the submarine boat. That gave rise to a question in my mind. How wouldthe commander of this floating dwelling-place proceed? Would he obtain air bychemical means, in getting by heat the oxygen contained in chlorate of potash,and in absorbing carbonic acid by caustic potash? Or, a more convenient,economical, and consequently more probable alternative, would he be satisfiedto rise and take breath at the surface of the water, like a cetacean, and sorenew for twenty-four hours the atmospheric provision?

In fact, I was already obliged to increase my respirations to eke out of thiscell the little oxygen it contained, when suddenly I was refreshed by a currentof pure air, and perfumed with saline emanations. It was an invigorating seabreeze, charged with iodine. I opened my mouth wide, and my lungs saturatedthemselves with fresh particles.

At the same time I felt the boat rolling. The iron-plated monster had evidentlyjust risen to the surface of the ocean to breathe, after the fashion of whales.I found out from that the mode of ventilating the boat.

When I had inhaled this air freely, I sought the conduit-pipe, which conveyedto us the beneficial whiff, and I was not long in finding it. Above the doorwas a ventilator, through which volumes of fresh air renewed the impoverishedatmosphere of the cell.

I was making my observations, when Ned and Conseil awoke almost at the sametime, under the influence of this reviving air. They rubbed their eyes,stretched themselves, and were on their feet in an instant.

“Did master sleep well?” asked Conseil, with his usual politeness.

“Very well, my brave boy. And you, Mr. Land?”

“Soundly, Professor. But I don’t know if I am right or not; there seems to be asea breeze!”

A seaman could not be mistaken, and I told the Canadian all that had passedduring his sleep.

“Good!” said he; “that accounts for those roarings we heard, when the supposednarwhal sighted the Abraham Lincoln.”

“Quite so, Master Land; it was taking breath.”

“Only, M. Aronnax, I have no idea what o’clock it is, unless it isdinner-time.”

“Dinner-time! my good fellow? Say rather breakfast-time, for we certainly havebegun another day.”

“So,” said Conseil, “we have slept twenty-four hours?”

“That is my opinion.”

“I will not contradict you,” replied Ned Land. “But dinner or breakfast, thesteward will be welcome, whichever he brings.”

“Master Land, we must conform to the rules on board, and I suppose ourappetites are in advance of the dinner hour.”

“That is just like you, friend Conseil,” said Ned, impatiently. “You are neverout of temper, always calm; you would return thanks before grace, and die ofhunger rather than complain!”

Time was getting on, and we were fearfully hungry; and this time the stewarddid not appear. It was rather too long to leave us, if they really had goodintentions towards us. Ned Land, tormented by the cravings of hunger, got stillmore angry; and, notwithstanding his promise, I dreaded an explosion when hefound himself with one of the crew.

For two hours more Ned Land’s temper increased; he cried, he shouted, but invain. The walls were deaf. There was no sound to be heard in the boat: all wasstill as death. It did not move, for I should have felt the trembling motion ofthe hull under the influence of the screw. Plunged in the depths of the waters,it belonged no longer to earth:—this silence was dreadful.

I felt terrified, Conseil was calm, Ned Land roared.

Just then a noise was heard outside. Steps sounded on the metal flags. Thelocks were turned, the door opened, and the steward appeared.

Before I could rush forward to stop him, the Canadian had thrown him down, andheld him by the throat. The steward was choking under the grip of his powerfulhand.

Conseil was already trying to unclasp the harpooner’s hand from hishalf-suffocated victim, and I was going to fly to the rescue, when suddenly Iwas nailed to the spot by hearing these words in French—

“Be quiet, Master Land; and you, Professor, will you be so good as to listen tome?”

CHAPTER X
THE MAN OF THE SEAS

It was the commander of the vessel who thus spoke.

At these words, Ned Land rose suddenly. The steward, nearly strangled, totteredout on a sign from his master; but such was the power of the commander onboard, that not a gesture betrayed the resentment which this man must have felttowards the Canadian. Conseil, interested in spite of himself, I stupefied,awaited in silence the result of this scene.

The commander, leaning against the corner of a table with his arms folded,scanned us with profound attention. Did he hesitate to speak? Did he regret thewords which he had just spoken in French? One might almost think so.

After some moments of silence, which not one of us dreamed of breaking,“Gentlemen,” said he, in a calm and penetrating voice, “I speak French,English, German, and Latin equally well. I could, therefore, have answered youat our first interview, but I wished to know you first, then to reflect. Thestory told by each one, entirely agreeing in the main points, convinced me ofyour identity. I know now that chance has brought before me M. Pierre Aronnax,Professor of Natural History at the Museum of Paris, entrusted with ascientific mission abroad, Conseil, his servant, and Ned Land, of Canadianorigin, harpooner on board the frigate Abraham Lincolnof the navy ofthe United States of America.”

I bowed assent. It was not a question that the commander put to me. Thereforethere was no answer to be made. This man expressed himself with perfect ease,without any accent. His sentences were well turned, his words clear, and hisfluency of speech remarkable. Yet, I did not recognise in him afellow-countryman.

He continued the conversation in these terms:

“You have doubtless thought, sir, that I have delayed long in paying you thissecond visit. The reason is that, your identity recognised, I wished to weighmaturely what part to act towards you. I have hesitated much. Most annoyingcircumstances have brought you into the presence of a man who has broken allthe ties of humanity. You have come to trouble my existence.”

“Unintentionally!” said I.

“Unintentionally?” replied the stranger, raising his voice a little; “was itunintentionally that the Abraham Lincolnpursued me all over the seas?Was it unintentionally that you took passage in this frigate? Was itunintentionally that your cannon balls rebounded off the plating of my vessel?Was it unintentionally that Mr. Ned Land struck me with his harpoon?”

I detected a restrained irritation in these words. But to these recriminationsI had a very natural answer to make and I made it.

“Sir,” said I, “no doubt you are ignorant of the discussions which have takenplace concerning you in America and Europe. You do not know that diversaccidents, caused by collisions with your submarine machine, have excitedpublic feeling in the two continents. I omit the hypotheses without number bywhich it was sought to explain the inexplicable phenomenon of which you alonepossess the secret. But you must understand that, in pursuing you over the highseas of the Pacific, the Abraham Lincolnbelieved itself to be chasingsome powerful sea-monster, of which it was necessary to rid the ocean at anyprice.”

A half-smile curled the lips of the commander: then, in a calmer tone—

“M. Aronnax,” he replied, “dare you affirm that your frigate would not as soonhave pursued and cannonaded a submarine boat as a monster?”

This question embarrassed me, for certainly Captain Farragut might not havehesitated. He might have thought it his duty to destroy a contrivance of thiskind, as he would a gigantic narwhal.

“You understand then, sir,” continued the stranger, “that I have the right totreat you as enemies?”

I answered nothing, purposely. For what good would it be to discuss such aproposition, when force could destroy the best arguments?

“I have hesitated some time,” continued the commander; “nothing obliged me toshow you hospitality. If I chose to separate myself from you, I should have nointerest in seeing you again; I could place you upon the deck of this vesselwhich has served you as a refuge, I could sink beneath the waters, and forgetthat you had ever existed. Would not that be my right?”

“It might be the right of a savage,” I answered, “but not that of a civilisedman.”

“Professor,” replied the commander, quickly, “I am not what you call acivilised man! I have done with society entirely, for reasons which I alonehave the right of appreciating. I do not therefore obey its laws, and I desireyou never to allude to them before me again!”

This was said plainly. A flash of anger and disdain kindled in the eyes of theUnknown, and I had a glimpse of a terrible past in the life of this man. Notonly had he put himself beyond the pale of human laws, but he had made himselfindependent of them, free in the strictest acceptation of the word, quitebeyond their reach! Who then would dare to pursue him at the bottom of the sea,when, on its surface, he defied all attempts made against him? What vesselcould resist the shock of his submarine monitor? What cuirass, however thick,could withstand the blows of his spur? No man could demand from him an accountof his actions; God, if he believed in one—his conscience, if he had one—werethe sole judges to whom he was answerable.

These reflections crossed my mind rapidly, whilst the stranger personage wassilent, absorbed, and as if wrapped up in himself. I regarded him with fearmingled with interest, as doubtless, Œdipus regarded the Sphinx.

After rather a long silence, the commander resumed the conversation.

“I have hesitated,” said he, “but I have thought that my interest might bereconciled with that pity to which every human being has a right. You willremain on board my vessel, since fate has cast you there. You will be free;and, in exchange for this liberty, I shall only impose one single condition.Your word of honour to submit to it will suffice.”

“Speak, sir,” I answered. “I suppose this condition is one which a man ofhonour may accept?”

“Yes, sir; it is this. It is possible that certain events, unforeseen, mayoblige me to consign you to your cabins for some hours or some days, as thecase may be. As I desire never to use violence, I expect from you, more thanall the others, a passive obedience. In thus acting, I take all theresponsibility: I acquit you entirely, for I make it an impossibility for youto see what ought not to be seen. Do you accept this condition?”

Then things took place on board which, to say the least, were singular, andwhich ought not to be seen by people who were not placed beyond the pale ofsocial laws. Amongst the surprises which the future was preparing for me, thismight not be the least.

“We accept,” I answered; “only I will ask your permission, sir, to address onequestion to you—one only.”

“Speak, sir.”

“You said that we should be free on board.”

“Entirely.”

“I ask you, then, what you mean by this liberty?”

“Just the liberty to go, to come, to see, to observe even all that passeshere,—save under rare circumstances,—the liberty, in short, which we enjoyourselves, my companions and I.”

It was evident that we did not understand one another.

“Pardon me, sir,” I resumed, “but this liberty is only what every prisoner hasof pacing his prison. It cannot suffice us.”

“It must suffice you, however.”

“What! we must renounce for ever seeing our country, our friends, our relationsagain?”

“Yes, sir. But to renounce that unendurable worldly yoke which men believe tobe liberty, is not perhaps so painful as you think.”

“Well,” exclaimed Ned Land, “never will I give my word of honour not to try toescape.”

“I did not ask you for your word of honour, Master Land,” answered thecommander, coldly.

“Sir,” I replied, beginning to get angry in spite of myself, “you abuse yoursituation towards us; it is cruelty.”

“No, sir, it is clemency. You are my prisoners of war. I keep you, when Icould, by a word, plunge you into the depths of the ocean. You attacked me. Youcame to surprise a secret which no man in the world must penetrate,—the secretof my whole existence. And you think that I am going to send you back to thatworld which must know me no more? Never! In retaining you, it is not you whom Iguard—it is myself.”

These words indicated a resolution taken on the part of the commander, againstwhich no arguments would prevail.

“So, sir,” I rejoined, “you give us simply the choice between life and death?”

“Simply.”

“My friends,” said I, “to a question thus put, there is nothing to answer. Butno word of honour binds us to the master of this vessel.”

“None, sir,” answered the Unknown.

Then, in a gentler tone, he continued—

“Now, permit me to finish what I have to say to you. I know you, M. Aronnax.You and your companions will not, perhaps, have so much to complain of in thechance which has bound you to my fate. You will find amongst the books whichare my favourite study the work which you have published on ‘the depths of thesea.’ I have often read it. You have carried out your work as far asterrestrial science permitted you. But you do not know all—you have not seenall. Let me tell you then, Professor, that you will not regret the time passedon board my vessel. You are going to visit the land of marvels.”

These words of the commander had a great effect upon me. I cannot deny it. Myweak point was touched; and I forgot, for a moment, that the contemplation ofthese sublime subjects was not worth the loss of liberty. Besides, I trusted tothe future to decide this grave question. So I contented myself with saying—

“By what name ought I to address you?”

“Sir,” replied the commander, “I am nothing to you but Captain Nemo; and youand your companions are nothing to me but the passengers of theNautilus.”

Captain Nemo called. A steward appeared. The captain gave him his orders inthat strange language which I did not understand. Then, turning towards theCanadian and Conseil—

“A repast awaits you in your cabin,” said he. “Be so good as to follow thisman.

“And now, M. Aronnax, our breakfast is ready. Permit me to lead the way.”

“I am at your service, Captain.”

I followed Captain Nemo; and as soon as I had passed through the door, I foundmyself in a kind of passage lighted by electricity, similar to the waist of aship. After we had proceeded a dozen yards, a second door opened before me.

I then entered a dining-room, decorated and furnished in severe taste. Highoaken sideboards, inlaid with ebony, stood at the two extremities of the room,and upon their shelves glittered china, porcelain, and glass of inestimablevalue. The plate on the table sparkled in the rays which the luminous ceilingshed around, while the light was tempered and softened by exquisite paintings.

In the centre of the room was a table richly laid out. Captain Nemo indicatedthe place I was to occupy.

The breakfast consisted of a certain number of dishes, the contents of whichwere furnished by the sea alone; and I was ignorant of the nature and mode ofpreparation of some of them. I acknowledged that they were good, but they had apeculiar flavour, which I easily became accustomed to. These different alimentsappeared to me to be rich in phosphorus, and I thought they must have a marineorigin.

Captain Nemo looked at me. I asked him no questions, but he guessed mythoughts, and answered of his own accord the questions which I was burning toaddress to him.

“The greater part of these dishes are unknown to you,” he said to me. “However,you may partake of them without fear. They are wholesome and nourishing. For along time I have renounced the food of the earth, and am never ill now. Mycrew, who are healthy, are fed on the same food.”

“So,” said I, “all these eatables are the produce of the sea?”

“Yes, Professor, the sea supplies all my wants. Sometimes I cast my nets intow, and I draw them in ready to break. Sometimes I hunt in the midst of thiselement, which appears to be inaccessible to man, and quarry the game whichdwells in my submarine forests. My flocks, like those of Neptune’s oldshepherds, graze fearlessly in the immense prairies of the ocean. I have a vastproperty there, which I cultivate myself, and which is always sown by the handof the Creator of all things.”

“I can understand perfectly, sir, that your nets furnish excellent fish foryour table; I can understand also that you hunt aquatic game in your submarineforests; but I cannot understand at all how a particle of meat, no matter howsmall, can figure in your bill of fare.”

“This, which you believe to be meat, Professor, is nothing else than fillet ofturtle. Here are also some dolphins’ livers, which you take to be ragout ofpork. My cook is a clever fellow, who excels in dressing these various productsof the ocean. Taste all these dishes. Here is a preserve of holothuria, which aMalay would declare to be unrivalled in the world; here is a cream, of whichthe milk has been furnished by the cetacea, and the sugar by the great fucus ofthe North Sea; and lastly, permit me to offer you some preserve of anemones,which is equal to that of the most delicious fruits.”

I tasted, more from curiosity than as a connoisseur, whilst Captain Nemoenchanted me with his extraordinary stories.

“You like the sea, Captain?”

“Yes; I love it! The sea is everything. It covers seven-tenths of theterrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is an immense desert,where man is never lonely, for he feels life stirring on all sides. The sea isonly the embodiment of a supernatural and wonderful existence. It is nothingbut love and emotion; it is the ‘Living Infinite,’ as one of your poets hassaid. In fact, Professor, Nature manifests herself in it by her three kingdoms,mineral, vegetable, and animal. The sea is the vast reservoir of Nature. Theglobe began with sea, so to speak; and who knows if it will not end with it? Init is supreme tranquillity. The sea does not belong to despots. Upon itssurface men can still exercise unjust laws, fight, tear one another to pieces,and be carried away with terrestrial horrors. But at thirty feet below itslevel, their reign ceases, their influence is quenched, and their powerdisappears. Ah! sir, live—live in the bosom of the waters! There only isindependence! There I recognise no masters! There I am free!”

Captain Nemo suddenly became silent in the midst of this enthusiasm, by whichhe was quite carried away. For a few moments he paced up and down, muchagitated. Then he became more calm, regained his accustomed coldness ofexpression, and turning towards me—

“Now, Professor,” said he, “if you wish to go over the Nautilus, I am atyour service.”

Captain Nemo rose. I followed him. A double door, contrived at the back of thedining-room, opened, and I entered a room equal in dimensions to that which Ihad just quitted.

It was a library. High pieces of furniture, of black violet ebony inlaid withbrass, supported upon their wide shelves a great number of books uniformlybound. They followed the shape of the room, terminating at the lower part inhuge divans, covered with brown leather, which were curved, to afford thegreatest comfort. Light movable desks, made to slide in and out at will,allowed one to rest one’s book while reading. In the centre stood an immensetable, covered with pamphlets, amongst which were some newspapers, already ofold date. The electric light flooded everything; it was shed from fourunpolished globes half sunk in the volutes of the ceiling. I looked with realadmiration at this room, so ingeniously fitted up, and I could scarcely believemy eyes.

“Captain Nemo,” said I to my host, who had just thrown himself on one of thedivans, “this is a library which would do honour to more than one of thecontinental palaces, and I am absolutely astounded when I consider that it canfollow you to the bottom of the seas.”

“Where could one find greater solitude or silence, Professor?” replied CaptainNemo. “Did your study in the Museum afford you such perfect quiet?”

“No, sir; and I must confess that it is a very poor one after yours. You musthave six or seven thousand volumes here.”

“Twelve thousand, M. Aronnax. These are the only ties which bind me to theearth. But I had done with the world on the day when my Nautilusplungedfor the first time beneath the waters. That day I bought my last volumes, mylast pamphlets, my last papers, and from that time I wish to think that men nolonger think or write. These books, Professor, are at your service besides, andyou can make use of them freely.”

I thanked Captain Nemo, and went up to the shelves of the library. Works onscience, morals, and literature abounded in every language; but I did not seeone single work on political economy; that subject appeared to be strictlyproscribed. Strange to say, all these books were irregularly arranged, inwhatever language they were written; and this medley proved that the Captain ofthe Nautilusmust have read indiscriminately the books which he took upby chance.

“Sir,” said I to the Captain, “I thank you for having placed this library at mydisposal. It contains treasures of science, and I shall profit by them.”

“This room is not only a library,” said Captain Nemo, “it is also asmoking-room.”

“A smoking-room!” I cried. “Then one may smoke on board?”

“Certainly.”

“Then, sir, I am forced to believe that you have kept up a communication withHavannah.”

“Not any,” answered the Captain. “Accept this cigar, M. Aronnax; and, though itdoes not come from Havannah, you will be pleased with it, if you are aconnoisseur.”

I took the cigar which was offered me; its shape recalled the London ones, butit seemed to be made of leaves of gold. I lighted it at a little brazier, whichwas supported upon an elegant bronze stem, and drew the first whiffs with thedelight of a lover of smoking who has not smoked for two days.

“It is excellent, but it is not tobacco.”

“No!” answered the Captain, “this tobacco comes neither from Havannah nor fromthe East. It is a kind of sea-weed, rich in nicotine, with which the seaprovides me, but somewhat sparingly.”

At that moment Captain Nemo opened a door which stood opposite to that by whichI had entered the library, and I passed into an immense drawing-room splendidlylighted.

It was a vast four-sided room, thirty feet long, eighteen wide, and fifteenhigh. A luminous ceiling, decorated with light arabesques, shed a soft clearlight over all the marvels accumulated in this museum. For it was in fact amuseum, in which an intelligent and prodigal hand had gathered all thetreasures of nature and art, with the artistic confusion which distinguishes apainter’s studio.

Thirty first-rate pictures, uniformly framed, separated by bright drapery,ornamented the walls, which were hung with tapestry of severe design. I sawworks of great value, the greater part of which I had admired in the specialcollections of Europe, and in the exhibitions of paintings. The several schoolsof the old masters were represented by a Madonna of Raphael, a Virgin ofLeonardo da Vinci, a nymph of Corregio, a woman of Titan, an Adoration ofVeronese, an Assumption of Murillo, a portrait of Holbein, a monk of Velasquez,a martyr of Ribera, a fair of Rubens, two Flemish landscapes of Teniers, threelittle “genre” pictures of Gerard Dow, Metsu, and Paul Potter, two specimens ofGéricault and Prudhon, and some sea-pieces of Backhuysen and Vernet. Amongstthe works of modern painters were pictures with the signatures of Delacroix,Ingres, Decamps, Troyon, Meissonier, Daubigny, etc.; and some admirable statuesin marble and bronze, after the finest antique models, stood upon pedestals inthe corners of this magnificent museum. Amazement, as the Captain of theNautilushad predicted, had already begun to take possession of me.

“Professor,” said this strange man, “you must excuse the unceremonious way inwhich I receive you, and the disorder of this room.”

“Sir,” I answered, “without seeking to know who you are, I recognise in you anartist.”

“An amateur, nothing more, sir. Formerly I loved to collect these beautifulworks created by the hand of man. I sought them greedily, and ferreted them outindefatigably, and I have been able to bring together some objects of greatvalue. These are my last souvenirs of that world which is dead to me. In myeyes, your modern artists are already old; they have two or three thousandyears of existence; I confound them in my own mind. Masters have no age.”

“And these musicians?” said I, pointing out some works of Weber, Rossini,Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn, Meyerbeer, Hérold, Wagner, Auber, Gounod, and anumber of others, scattered over a large model piano-organ which occupied oneof the panels of the drawing-room.

“These musicians,” replied Captain Nemo, “are the contemporaries of Orpheus;for in the memory of the dead all chronological differences are effaced; and Iam dead, Professor; as much dead as those of your friends who are sleeping sixfeet under the earth!”

Captain Nemo was silent, and seemed lost in a profound reverie. I contemplatedhim with deep interest, analysing in silence the strange expression of hiscountenance. Leaning on his elbow against an angle of a costly mosaic table, heno longer saw me,—he had forgotten my presence.

I did not disturb this reverie, and continued my observation of the curiositieswhich enriched this drawing-room.

Under elegant glass cases, fixed by copper rivets, were classed and labelledthe most precious productions of the sea which had ever been presented to theeye of a naturalist. My delight as a professor may be conceived.

The division containing the zoophytes presented the most curious specimens ofthe two groups of polypi and echinodermes. In the first group, the tubipores,were gorgones arranged like a fan, soft sponges of Syria, ises of the Moluccas,pennatules, an admirable virgularia of the Norwegian seas, variegatedunbellulairæ, alcyonariæ, a whole series of madrepores, which my master MilneEdwards has so cleverly classified, amongst which I remarked some wonderfulflabellinæ oculinæ of the Island of Bourbon, the “Neptune’s car” of theAntilles, superb varieties of corals—in short, every species of those curiouspolypi of which entire islands are formed, which will one day becomecontinents. Of the echinodermes, remarkable for their coating of spines,asteri, sea-stars, pantacrinæ, comatules, astérophons, echini, holothuri, etc.,represented individually a complete collection of this group.

A somewhat nervous conchyliologist would certainly have fainted before othermore numerous cases, in which were classified the specimens of molluscs. It wasa collection of inestimable value, which time fails me to describe minutely.Amongst these specimens I will quote from memory only the elegant royalhammer-fish of the Indian Ocean, whose regular white spots stood out brightlyon a red and brown ground, an imperial spondyle, bright-coloured, bristlingwith spines, a rare specimen in the European museums—(I estimated its value atnot less than £1000); a common hammer-fish of the seas of New Holland, which isonly procured with difficulty; exotic buccardia of Senegal; fragile whitebivalve shells, which a breath might shatter like a soap-bubble; severalvarieties of the aspirgillum of Java, a kind of calcareous tube, edged withleafy folds, and much debated by amateurs; a whole series of trochi, some agreenish-yellow, found in the American seas, others a reddish-brown, natives ofAustralian waters; others from the Gulf of Mexico, remarkable for theirimbricated shell; stellari found in the Southern Seas; and last, the rarest ofall, the magnificent spur of New Zealand; and every description of delicate andfragile shells to which science has given appropriate names.

Apart, in separate compartments, were spread out chaplets of pearls of thegreatest beauty, which reflected the electric light in little sparks of fire;pink pearls, torn from the pinna-marina of the Red Sea; green pearls of thehaliotyde iris; yellow, blue and black pearls, the curious productions of thedivers molluscs of every ocean, and certain mussels of the water-courses of theNorth; lastly, several specimens of inestimable value which had been gatheredfrom the rarest pintadines. Some of these pearls were larger than a pigeon’segg, and were worth as much, and more than that which the traveller Taverniersold to the Shah of Persia for three millions, and surpassed the one in thepossession of the Imaum of Muscat, which I had believed to be unrivalled in theworld.

Therefore, to estimate the value of this collection was simply impossible.Captain Nemo must have expended millions in the acquirement of these variousspecimens, and I was thinking what source he could have drawn from, to havebeen able thus to gratify his fancy for collecting, when I was interrupted bythese words—

“You are examining my shells, Professor? Unquestionably they must beinteresting to a naturalist; but for me they have a far greater charm, for Ihave collected them all with my own hand, and there is not a sea on the face ofthe globe which has escaped my researches.”

“I can understand, Captain, the delight of wandering about in the midst of suchriches. You are one of those who have collected their treasures themselves. Nomuseum in Europe possesses such a collection of the produce of the ocean. Butif I exhaust all my admiration upon it, I shall have none left for the vesselwhich carries it. I do not wish to pry into your secrets; but I must confessthat this Nautilus, with the motive power which is confined in it, thecontrivances which enable it to be worked, the powerful agent which propels it,all excite my curiosity to the highest pitch. I see suspended on the walls ofthis room instruments of whose use I am ignorant.”

“You will find these same instruments in my own room, Professor, where I shallhave much pleasure in explaining their use to you. But first come and inspectthe cabin which is set apart for your own use. You must see how you will beaccommodated on board the Nautilus.”

I followed Captain Nemo, who, by one of the doors opening from each panel ofthe drawing-room, regained the waist. He conducted me towards the bow, andthere I found, not a cabin, but an elegant room, with a bed, dressing-table,and several other pieces of furniture.

I could only thank my host.

“Your room adjoins mine,” said he, opening a door, “and mine opens into thedrawing-room that we have just quitted.”

I entered the Captain’s room: it had a severe, almost a monkish, aspect. Asmall iron bedstead, a table, some articles for the toilet; the whole lightedby a skylight. No comforts, the strictest necessaries only.

Captain Nemo pointed to a seat.

“Be so good as to sit down,” he said. I seated myself, and he began thus:

Captain Nemo’s state-room

CHAPTER XI
ALL BY ELECTRICITY

“Sir,” said Captain Nemo, showing me the instruments hanging on the walls ofhis room, “here are the contrivances required for the navigation of theNautilus. Here, as in the drawing-room, I have them always under myeyes, and they indicate my position and exact direction in the middle of theocean. Some are known to you, such as the thermometer, which gives the internaltemperature of the Nautilus;the barometer, which indicates the weightof the air and foretells the changes of the weather; the hygrometer, whichmarks the dryness of the atmosphere; the storm-glass, the contents of which, bydecomposing, announce the approach of tempests; the compass, which guides mycourse; the sextant, which shows the latitude by the altitude of the sun;chronometers, by which I calculate the longitude; and glasses for day andnight, which I use to examine the points of the horizon, when theNautilusrises to the surface of the waves.”

“These are the usual nautical instruments,” I replied, “and I know the use ofthem. But these others, no doubt, answer to the particular requirements of theNautilus. This dial with the movable needle is a manometer, is it not?”

“It is actually a manometer. But by communication with the water, whoseexternal pressure it indicates, it gives our depth at the same time.”

“And these other instruments, the use of which I cannot guess?”

“Here, Professor, I ought to give you some explanations. Will you be kindenough to listen to me?”

He was silent for a few moments, then he said—

“There is a powerful agent, obedient, rapid, easy, which conforms to every use,and reigns supreme on board my vessel. Everything is done by means of it. Itlights it, warms it, and is the soul of my mechanical apparatus. This agent iselectricity.”

“Electricity?” I cried in surprise.

“Yes, sir.”

“Nevertheless, Captain, you possess an extreme rapidity of movement, which doesnot agree with the power of electricity. Until now, its dynamic force hasremained under restraint, and has only been able to produce a small amount ofpower.”

“Professor,” said Captain Nemo, “my electricity is not everybody’s. You knowwhat sea-water is composed of. In a thousand grammes are found 96½ per cent. ofwater, and about 2-2/3 per cent. of chloride of sodium; then, in a smallerquantity, chlorides of magnesium and of potassium, bromide of magnesium,sulphate of magnesia, sulphate and carbonate of lime. You see, then, thatchloride of sodium forms a large part of it. So it is this sodium that Iextract from sea-water, and of which I compose my ingredients. I owe all to theocean; it produces electricity, and electricity gives heat, light, motion, and,in a word, life to the Nautilus.”

“But not the air you breathe?”

“Oh! I could manufacture the air necessary for my consumption, but it isuseless, because I go up to the surface of the water when I please. However, ifelectricity does not furnish me with air to breathe, it works at least thepowerful pumps that are stored in spacious reservoirs, and which enable me toprolong at need, and as long as I will, my stay in the depths of the sea. Itgives a uniform and unintermittent light, which the sun does not. Now look atthis clock; it is electrical, and goes with a regularity that defies the bestchronometers. I have divided it into twenty-four hours, like the Italianclocks, because for me there is neither night nor day, sun nor moon, but onlythat factitious light that I take with me to the bottom of the sea. Look! justnow, it is ten o’clock in the morning.”

“Exactly.”

“Another application of electricity. This dial hanging in front of us indicatesthe speed of the Nautilus. An electric thread puts it in communicationwith the screw, and the needle indicates the real speed. Look! now we arespinning along with a uniform speed of fifteen miles an hour.”

“It is marvelous! And I see, Captain, you were right to make use of this agentthat takes the place of wind, water, and steam.”

“We have not finished, M. Aronnax,” said Captain Nemo, rising. “If you willfollow me, we will examine the stern of the Nautilus.”

Really, I knew already the anterior part of this submarine boat, of which thisis the exact division, starting from the ship’s head:—the dining-room, fiveyards long, separated from the library by a water-tight partition; the library,five yards long; the large drawing-room, ten yards long, separated from theCaptain’s room by a second water-tight partition; the said room, five yards inlength; mine, two and a half yards; and, lastly a reservoir of air, seven and ahalf yards, that extended to the bows. Total length thirty-five yards, or onehundred and five feet. The partitions had doors that were shut hermetically bymeans of india-rubber instruments, and they ensured the safety of theNautilusin case of a leak.

I followed Captain Nemo through the waist, and arrived at the centre of theboat. There was a sort of well that opened between two partitions. An ironladder, fastened with an iron hook to the partition, led to the upper end. Iasked the Captain what the ladder was used for.

“It leads to the small boat,” he said.

“What! have you a boat?” I exclaimed, in surprise.

“Of course; an excellent vessel, light and insubmersible, that serves either asa fishing or as a pleasure boat.”

“But then, when you wish to embark, you are obliged to come to the surface ofthe water?”

“Not at all. This boat is attached to the upper part of the hull of theNautilus, and occupies a cavity made for it. It is decked, quitewater-tight, and held together by solid bolts. This ladder leads to a man-holemade in the hull of the Nautilus, that corresponds with a similar holemade in the side of the boat. By this double opening I get into the smallvessel. They shut the one belonging to the Nautilus;I shut the other bymeans of screw pressure. I undo the bolts, and the little boat goes up to thesurface of the sea with prodigious rapidity. I then open the panel of thebridge, carefully shut till then; I mast it, hoist my sail, take my oars, andI’m off.”

“But how do you get back on board?”

“I do not come back, M. Aronnax; the Nautiluscomes to me.”

“By your orders?”

“By my orders. An electric thread connects us. I telegraph to it, and that isenough.”

“Really,” I said, astonished at these marvels, “nothing can be more simple.”

After having passed by the cage of the staircase that led to the platform, Isaw a cabin six feet long, in which Conseil and Ned Land, enchanted with theirrepast, were devouring it with avidity. Then a door opened into a kitchen ninefeet long, situated between the large storerooms. There electricity, betterthan gas itself, did all the cooking. The streams under the furnaces gave outto the sponges of platina a heat which was regularly kept up and distributed.They also heated a distilling apparatus, which, by evaporation, furnishedexcellent drinkable water. Near this kitchen was a bathroom comfortablyfurnished, with hot and cold water taps.

Next to the kitchen was the berthroom of the vessel, sixteen feet long. But thedoor was shut, and I could not see the management of it, which might have givenme an idea of the number of men employed on board the Nautilus.

At the bottom was a fourth partition that separated this office from theengine-room. A door opened, and I found myself in the compartment where CaptainNemo—certainly an engineer of a very high order—had arranged his locomotivemachinery. This engine-room, clearly lighted, did not measure less thansixty-five feet in length. It was divided into two parts; the first containedthe materials for producing electricity, and the second the machinery thatconnected it with the screw. I examined it with great interest, in order tounderstand the machinery of the Nautilus.

“You see,” said the Captain, “I use Bunsen’s contrivances, not Ruhmkorff’s.Those would not have been powerful enough. Bunsen’s are fewer in number, butstrong and large, which experience proves to be the best. The electricityproduced passes forward, where it works, by electro-magnets of great size, on asystem of levers and cog-wheels that transmit the movement to the axle of thescrew. This one, the diameter of which is nineteen feet, and the threadtwenty-three feet, performs about a hundred and twenty revolutions in asecond.”

“And you get then?”

“A speed of fifty miles an hour.”

“I have seen the Nautilusmanœuvre before the Abraham Lincoln,and I have my own ideas as to its speed. But this is not enough. We must seewhere we go. We must be able to direct it to the right, to the left, above,below. How do you get to the great depths, where you find an increasingresistance, which is rated by hundreds of atmospheres? How do you return to thesurface of the ocean? And how do you maintain yourselves in the requisitemedium? Am I asking too much?”

“Not at all, Professor,” replied the Captain, with some hesitation; “since youmay never leave this submarine boat. Come into the saloon, it is our usualstudy, and there you will learn all you want to know about theNautilus.”

CHAPTER XII
SOME FIGURES

A moment after we were seated on a divan in the saloon smoking. The Captainshowed me a sketch that gave the plan, section, and elevation of theNautilus. Then he began his description in these words:—

“Here, M. Aronnax, are the several dimensions of the boat you are in. It is anelongated cylinder with conical ends. It is very like a cigar in shape, a shapealready adopted in London in several constructions of the same sort. The lengthof this cylinder, from stem to stern, is exactly 232 feet, and its maximumbreadth is twenty-six feet. It is not built quite like your long-voyagesteamers, but its lines are sufficiently long, and its curves prolonged enough,to allow the water to slide off easily, and oppose no obstacle to its passage.These two dimensions enable you to obtain by a simple calculation the surfaceand cubic contents of the Nautilus. Its area measures 6032 feet; and itscontents about 1500 cubic yards—that is to say, when completely immersed itdisplaces 50,000 feet of water, or weighs 1500 tons.

“When I made the plans for this submarine vessel, I meant that nine-tenthsshould be submerged: consequently, it ought only to displace nine-tenths of itsbulk—that is to say, only to weigh that number of tons. I ought not, therefore,to have exceeded that weight, constructing it on the aforesaid dimensions.

“The Nautilusis composed of two hulls, one inside, the other outside,joined by T-shaped irons, which render it very strong. Indeed, owing to thiscellular arrangement it resists like a block, as if it were solid. Its sidescannot yield; it coheres spontaneously, and not by the closeness of its rivets;and the homogenity of its construction, due to the perfect union of thematerials, enables it to defy the roughest seas.

“These two hulls are composed of steel plates, whose density is from .7 to .8that of water. The first is not less than two inches and a half thick andweighs 394 tons. The second envelope, the keel, twenty inches high and tenthick, weighs alone sixty-two tons. The engine, the ballast, the severalaccessories and apparatus appendages, the partitions and bulkheads, weigh961.62 tons. Do you follow all this?”

“I do.”

“Then, when the Nautilusis afloat under these circumstances, one-tenthis out of the water. Now, if I have made reservoirs of a size equal to thistenth, or capable of holding 150 tons, and if I fill them with water, the boat,weighing then 1507 tons, will be completely immersed. That would happen,Professor. These reservoirs are in the lower parts of the Nautilus. Iturn on taps and they fill, and the vessel sinks that had just been level withthe surface.”

“Well, Captain, but now we come to the real difficulty. I can understand yourrising to the surface; but diving below the surface, does not your submarinecontrivance encounter a pressure, and consequently undergo an upward thrust ofone atmosphere for every thirty feet of water, just about fifteen pounds persquare inch?”

“Just so, sir.”

“Then, unless you quite fill the Nautilus, I do not see how you can drawit down to those depths.”

“Professor, you must not confound statics with dynamics or you will be exposedto grave errors. There is very little labour spent in attaining the lowerregions of the ocean, for all bodies have a tendency to sink. When I wanted tofind out the necessary increase of weight required to sink the Nautilus,I had only to calculate the reduction of volume that sea-water acquiresaccording to the depth.”

“That is evident.”

“Now, if water is not absolutely incompressible, it is at least capable of veryslight compression. Indeed, after the most recent calculations this reductionis only .000436 of an atmosphere for each thirty feet of depth. If we want tosink 3000 feet, I should keep account of the reduction of bulk under a pressureequal to that of a column of water of a thousand feet. The calculation iseasily verified. Now, I have supplementary reservoirs capable of holding ahundred tons. Therefore I can sink to a considerable depth. When I wish to riseto the level of the sea, I only let off the water, and empty all the reservoirsif I want the Nautilusto emerge from the tenth part of her totalcapacity.”

I had nothing to object to these reasonings.

“I admit your calculations, Captain,” I replied; “I should be wrong to disputethem since daily experience confirms them; but I foresee a real difficulty inthe way.”

“What, sir?”

“When you are about 1000 feet deep, the walls of the Nautilusbear apressure of 100 atmospheres. If, then, just now you were to empty thesupplementary reservoirs, to lighten the vessel, and to go up to the surface,the pumps must overcome the pressure of 100 atmospheres, which is 1500 poundsper square inch. From that a power——”

“That electricity alone can give,” said the Captain, hastily. “I repeat, sir,that the dynamic power of my engines is almost infinite. The pumps of theNautilushave an enormous power, as you must have observed when theirjets of water burst like a torrent upon the Abraham Lincoln. Besides Iuse subsidiary reservoirs only to attain a mean depth of 750 to 1000 fathoms,and that with a view of managing my machines. Also, when I have a mind to visitthe depths of the ocean five or six miles below the surface, I make use ofslower but not less infallible means.”

“What are they, Captain?”

“That involves my telling you how the Nautilusis worked.”

“I am impatient to learn.”

“To steer this boat to starboard or port, to turn—in a word, following ahorizontal plan, I use an ordinary rudder fixed on the back of the stern-post,and with one wheel and some tackle to steer by. But I can also make theNautilusrise and sink, and sink and rise, by a vertical movement bymeans of two inclined planes fastened to its sides, opposite the centre offlotation, planes that move in every direction, and that are worked by powerfullevers from the interior. If the planes are kept parallel with the boat, itmoves horizontally. If slanted, the Nautilus, according to thisinclination, and under the influence of the screw, either sinks diagonally orrises diagonally as it suits me. And even if I wish to rise more quickly to thesurface, I ship the screw, and the pressure of the water causes theNautilusto rise vertically like a balloon filled with hydrogen.”

“Bravo, Captain! But how can the steersman follow the route in the middle ofthe waters?”

“The steersman is placed in a glazed box, that is raised about the hull of theNautilus, and furnished with lenses.”

“Are these lenses capable of resisting such pressure?”

“Perfectly. Glass, which breaks at a blow, is, nevertheless, capable ofoffering considerable resistance. During some experiments of fishing byelectric light in 1864 in the Northern Seas, we saw plates less than a third ofan inch thick resist a pressure of sixteen atmospheres. Now, the glass that Iuse is not less than thirty times thicker.”

“Granted. But, after all, in order to see, the light must exceed the darkness,and in the midst of the darkness in the water, how can you see?”

“Behind the steersman’s cage is placed a powerful electric reflector, the raysfrom which light up the sea for half a mile in front.”

“Ah! bravo, bravo, Captain! Now I can account for this phosphorescence in thesupposed narwhal that puzzled us so. I now ask you if the boarding of theNautilusand of the Scotia, that has made such a noise, has beenthe result of a chance rencontre?”

“Quite accidental, sir. I was sailing only one fathom below the surface of thewater, when the shock came. It had no bad result.”

“None, sir. But now, about your rencontre with the Abraham Lincoln?”

“Professor, I am sorry for one of the best vessels in the American navy; butthey attacked me, and I was bound to defend myself. I contented myself,however, with putting the frigate hors de combat;she will not have anydifficulty in getting repaired at the next port.”

“Ah, Commander! your Nautilusis certainly a marvellous boat.”

“Yes, Professor; and I love it as if it were part of myself. If dangerthreatens one of your vessels on the ocean, the first impression is the feelingof an abyss above and below. On the Nautilusmen’s hearts never failthem. No defects to be afraid of, for the double shell is as firm as iron; norigging to attend to; no sails for the wind to carry away; no boilers to burst;no fire to fear, for the vessel is made of iron, not of wood; no coal to runshort, for electricity is the only mechanical agent; no collision to fear, forit alone swims in deep water; no tempest to brave, for when it dives below thewater, it reaches absolute tranquillity. There, sir! that is the perfection ofvessels! And if it is true that the engineer has more confidence in the vesselthan the builder, and the builder than the captain himself, you understand thetrust I repose in my Nautilus;for I am at once captain, builder, andengineer.”

“But how could you construct this wonderful Nautilusin secret?”

“Each separate portion, M. Aronnax, was brought from different parts of theglobe. The keel was forged at Creusot, the shaft of the screw at Penn &Co.’s, London, the iron plates of the hull at Laird’s of Liverpool, the screwitself at Scott’s at Glasgow. The reservoirs were made by Cail & Co. atParis, the engine by Krupp in Prussia, its beak in Motala’s workshop in Sweden,its mathematical instruments by Hart Brothers, of New York, etc.; and each ofthese people had my orders under different names.”

“But these parts had to be put together and arranged?”

“Professor, I had set up my workshops upon a desert island in the ocean. Theremy workmen, that is to say, the brave men that I instructed and educated, andmyself have put together our Nautilus. Then when the work was finished,fire destroyed all trace of our proceedings on this island, that I could havejumped over if I had liked.”

“Then the cost of this vessel is great?”

“M. Aronnax, an iron vessel costs £45 per ton. Now the Nautilusweighed1500. It came therefore to £67,500, and £80,000 more for fitting it up, andabout £200,000 with the works of art and the collections it contains.”

“One last question, Captain Nemo.”

“Ask it, Professor.”

“You are rich?”

“Immensely rich, sir; and I could, without missing it, pay the national debt ofFrance.”

I stared at the singular person who spoke thus. Was he playing upon mycredulity? The future would decide that.

CHAPTER XIII
THE BLACK RIVER

The portion of the terrestrial globe which is covered by water is estimated atupwards of eighty millions of acres. This fluid mass comprises two billions twohundred and fifty millions of cubic miles, forming a spherical body of adiameter of sixty leagues, the weight of which would be three quintillions oftons. To comprehend the meaning of these figures, it is necessary to observethat a quintillion is to a billion as a billion is to unity; in other words,there are as many billions in a quintillion as there are units in a billion.This mass of fluid is equal to about the quantity of water which would bedischarged by all the rivers of the earth in forty thousand years.

During the geological epochs, the igneous period succeeded to the aqeous. Theocean originally prevailed everywhere. Then by degrees, in the silurian period,the tops of the mountains began to appear, the islands emerged, thendisappeared in partial deluges, reappeared, became settled, formed continents,till at length the earth became geographically arranged, as we see in thepresent day. The solid had wrested from the liquid thirty-seven million sixhundred and fifty-seven square miles, equal to twelve billion nine hundred andsixty millions of acres.

The shape of continents allows us to divide the waters into five greatportions: the Arctic or Frozen Ocean, the Antarctic or Frozen Ocean, theIndian, the Atlantic, and the Pacific Oceans.

The Pacific Ocean extends from north to south between the two polar circles,and from east to west between Asia and America, over an extent of 145 degreesof longitude. It is the quietest of seas; its currents are broad and slow, ithas medium tides, and abundant rain. Such was the ocean that my fate destinedme first to travel over under these strange conditions.

“Sir,” said Captain Nemo, “we will, if you please, take our bearings and fixthe starting-point of this voyage. It is a quarter to twelve; I will go upagain to the surface.”

The Captain pressed an electric clock three times. The pumps began to drive thewater from the tanks; the needle of the manometer marked by a differentpressure the ascent of the Nautilus, then it stopped.

“We have arrived,” said the Captain.

I went to the central staircase which opened on to the platform, clambered upthe iron steps, and found myself on the upper part of the Nautilus.

The platform was only three feet out of water. The front and back of theNautiluswas of that spindle-shape which caused it justly to be comparedto a cigar. I noticed that its iron plates, slightly overlaying each other,resembled the shell which clothes the bodies of our large terrestrial reptiles.It explained to me how natural it was, in spite of all glasses, that this boatshould have been taken for a marine animal.

Toward the middle of the platform the long-boat, half buried in the hull of thevessel, formed a slight excrescence. Fore and aft rose two cages of mediumheight with inclined sides, and partly closed by thick lenticular glasses; onedestined for the steersman who directed the Nautilus, the othercontaining a brilliant lantern to give light on the road.

The sea was beautiful, the sky pure. Scarcely could the long vehicle feel thebroad undulations of the ocean. A light breeze from the east rippled thesurface of the waters. The horizon, free from fog, made observation easy.Nothing was in sight. Not a quicksand, not an island. A vast desert.

Captain Nemo, by the help of his sextant, took the altitude of the sun, whichought also to give the latitude. He waited for some moments till its disctouched the horizon. Whilst taking observations not a muscle moved, theinstrument could not have been more motionless in a hand of marble.

Captain Nemo took the Sun’s altitude

“Twelve o’clock, sir,” said he. “When you like——”

I cast a last look upon the sea, slightly yellowed by the Japanese coast, anddescended to the saloon.

“And now, sir, I leave you to your studies,” added the Captain; “our course isE.N.E., our depth is twenty-six fathoms. Here are maps on a large scale bywhich you may follow it. The saloon is at your disposal, and with yourpermission, I will retire.” Captain Nemo bowed, and I remained alone, lost inthoughts all bearing on the commander of the Nautilus.

For a whole hour was I deep in these reflections, seeking to pierce thismystery so interesting to me. Then my eyes fell upon the vast planispherespread upon the table, and I placed my finger on the very spot where the givenlatitude and longitude crossed.

The sea has its large rivers like the continents. They are special currentsknown by their temperature and their colour. The most remarkable of these isknown by the name of the Gulf Stream. Science has decided on the globe thedirection of five principal currents: one in the North Atlantic, a second inthe South, a third in the North Pacific, a fourth in the South, and a fifth inthe Southern Indian Ocean. It is even probable that a sixth current existed atone time or another in the Northern Indian Ocean, when the Caspian and AralSeas formed but one vast sheet of water.

At this point indicated on the planisphere one of these currents was rolling,the Kuro-Scivo of the Japanese, the Black River, which, leaving the Gulf ofBengal, where it is warmed by the perpendicular rays of a tropical sun, crossesthe Straits of Malacca along the coast of Asia, turns into the North Pacific tothe Aleutian Islands, carrying with it trunks of camphor-trees and otherindigenous productions, and edging the waves of the ocean with the pure indigoof its warm water. It was this current that the Nautiluswas to follow.I followed it with my eye; saw it lose itself in the vastness of the Pacific,and felt myself drawn with it, when Ned Land and Conseil appeared at the doorof the saloon.

My two brave companions remained petrified at the sight of the wonders spreadbefore them.

“Where are we, where are we?” exclaimed the Canadian. “In the museum atQuebec?”

“My friends,” I answered, making a sign for them to enter, “you are not inCanada, but on board the Nautilus, fifty yards below the level of thesea.”

“But, M. Aronnax,” said Ned Land, “can you tell me how many men there are onboard? Ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred?”

“I cannot answer you, Mr. Land; it is better to abandon for a time all idea ofseizing the Nautilusor escaping from it. This ship is a masterpiece ofmodern industry, and I should be sorry not to have seen it. Many people wouldaccept the situation forced upon us, if only to move amongst such wonders. Sobe quiet and let us try and see what passes around us.”

“See!” exclaimed the harpooner, “but we can see nothing in this iron prison! Weare walking—we are sailing—blindly.”

Ned Land had scarcely pronounced these words when all was suddenly darkness.The luminous ceiling was gone, and so rapidly that my eyes received a painfulimpression.

We remained mute, not stirring, and not knowing what surprise awaited us,whether agreeable or disagreeable. A sliding noise was heard: one would havesaid that panels were working at the sides of the Nautilus.

“It is the end of the end!” said Ned Land.

Suddenly light broke at each side of the saloon, through two oblong openings.The liquid mass appeared vividly lit up by the electric gleam. Two crystalplates separated us from the sea. At first I trembled at the thought that thisfrail partition might break, but strong bands of copper bound them, giving analmost infinite power of resistance.

The sea was distinctly visible for a mile all round the Nautilus. What aspectacle! What pen can describe it? Who could paint the effects of the lightthrough those transparent sheets of water, and the softness of the successivegraduations from the lower to the superior strata of the ocean?

We know the transparency of the sea and that its clearness is far beyond thatof rock-water. The mineral and organic substances which it holds in suspensionheightens its transparency. In certain parts of the ocean at the Antilles,under seventy-five fathoms of water, can be seen with surprising clearness abed of sand. The penetrating power of the solar rays does not seem to cease fora depth of one hundred and fifty fathoms. But in this middle fluid travelledover by the Nautilus, the electric brightness was produced even in thebosom of the waves. It was no longer luminous water, but liquid light.

On each side a window opened into this unexplored abyss. The obscurity of thesaloon showed to advantage the brightness outside, and we looked out as if thispure crystal had been the glass of an immense aquarium.

“You wished to see, friend Ned; well, you see now.”

“Curious! curious!” muttered the Canadian, who, forgetting his ill-temper,seemed to submit to some irresistible attraction; “and one would come furtherthan this to admire such a sight!”

“Ah!” thought I to myself, “I understand the life of this man; he has made aworld apart for himself, in which he treasures all his greatest wonders.”

For two whole hours an aquatic army escorted the Nautilus. During theirgames, their bounds, while rivalling each other in beauty, brightness, andvelocity, I distinguished the green labre; the banded mullet, marked by adouble line of black; the round-tailed goby, of a white colour, with violetspots on the back; the Japanese scombrus, a beautiful mackerel of those seas,with a blue body and silvery head; the brilliant azurors, whose name alonedefies description; some banded spares, with variegated fins of blue andyellow; the woodcocks of the seas, some specimens of which attain a yard inlength; Japanese salamanders, spider lampreys, serpents six feet long, witheyes small and lively, and a huge mouth bristling with teeth; with many otherspecies.

Our imagination was kept at its height, interjections followed quickly on eachother. Ned named the fish, and Conseil classed them. I was in ecstasies withthe vivacity of their movements and the beauty of their forms. Never had itbeen given to me to surprise these animals, alive and at liberty, in theirnatural element. I will not mention all the varieties which passed before mydazzled eyes, all the collection of the seas of China and Japan. These fish,more numerous than the birds of the air, came, attracted, no doubt, by thebrilliant focus of the electric light.

Suddenly there was daylight in the saloon, the iron panels closed again, andthe enchanting vision disappeared. But for a long time I dreamt on till my eyesfell on the instruments hanging on the partition. The compass still showed thecourse to be N.N.E., the manometer indicated a pressure of five atmospheres,equivalent to a depth of twenty-five fathoms, and the electric log gave a speedof fifteen miles an hour. I expected Captain Nemo, but he did not appear. Theclock marked the hour of five.

Ned Land and Conseil returned to their cabin, and I retired to my chamber. Mydinner was ready. It was composed of turtle soup made of the most delicatehawksbills, of a surmullet served with puff paste (the liver of which, preparedby itself, was most delicious), and fillets of the emperor-holocanthus, thesavour of which seemed to me superior even to salmon.

I passed the evening reading, writing, and thinking. Then sleep overpowered me,and I stretched myself on my couch of zostera, and slept profoundly, whilst theNautiluswas gliding rapidly through the current of the Black River.

CHAPTER XIV
A NOTE OF INVITATION

The next day was the 9th of November. I awoke after a long sleep of twelvehours. Conseil came, according to custom, to know “how I had passed the night,”and to offer his services. He had left his friend the Canadian sleeping like aman who had never done anything else all his life. I let the worthy fellowchatter as he pleased, without caring to answer him. I was pre-occupied by theabsence of the Captain during our sitting of the day before, and hoping to seehim to-day.

As soon as I was dressed I went into the saloon. It was deserted.

I plunged into the study of the shell treasures hidden behind the glasses. Irevelled also in great herbals filled with the rarest marine plants, which,although dried up, retained their lovely colours. Amongst these precioushydrophytes I remarked some vorticellæ, pavonariæ, delicate ceramies withscarlet tints, some fan-shaped agari, and some natabuli like flat mushrooms,which at one time used to be classed as zoophytes; in short, a perfect seriesof algæ.

The whole day passed without my being honoured by a visit from Captain Nemo.The panels of the saloon did not open. Perhaps they did not wish us to tire ofthese beautiful things.

The course of the Nautiluswas E.N.E., her speed twelve knots, the depthbelow the surface between twenty-five and thirty fathoms.

The next day, 10th of November, the same desertion, the same solitude. I didnot see one of the ship’s crew: Ned and Conseil spent the greater part of theday with me. They were astonished at the inexplicable absence of the Captain.Was this singular man ill?—had he altered his intentions with regard to us?

After all, as Conseil said, we enjoyed perfect liberty, we were delicately andabundantly fed. Our host kept to his terms of the treaty. We could notcomplain, and, indeed, the singularity of our fate reserved such wonderfulcompensation for us, that we had no right to accuse it as yet.

That day I commenced the journal of these adventures which has enabled me torelate them with more scrupulous exactitude and minute detail. I wrote it onpaper made from the zostera marina.

11th November, early in the morning. The fresh air spreading over the interiorof the Nautilustold me that we had come to the surface of the ocean torenew our supply of oxygen. I directed my steps to the central staircase, andmounted the platform.

It was six o’clock, the weather was cloudy, the sea grey but calm. Scarcely abillow. Captain Nemo, whom I hoped to meet, would he be there? I saw no one butthe steersman imprisoned in his glass cage. Seated upon the projection formedby the hull of the pinnace, I inhaled the salt breeze with delight.

By degrees the fog disappeared under the action of the sun’s rays, the radiantorb rose from behind the eastern horizon. The sea flamed under its glance likea train of gunpowder. The clouds scattered in the heights were coloured withlively tints of beautiful shades, and numerous “mare’s tails,” which betokenedwind for that day. But what was wind to this Nautiluswhich tempestscould not frighten!

I was admiring this joyous rising of the sun, so gay, and so lifegiving, when Iheard steps approaching the platform. I was prepared to salute Captain Nemo,but it was his second (whom I had already seen on the Captain’s first visit)who appeared. He advanced on the platform, not seeming to see me. With hispowerful glass to his eye he scanned every point of the horizon with greatattention. This examination over, he approached the panel and pronounced asentence in exactly these terms. I have remembered it, for every morning it wasrepeated under exactly the same conditions. It was thus worded—

“Nautron respoc lorni virch.”

What it meant I could not say.

These words pronounced, the second descended. I thought that theNautiluswas about to return to its submarine navigation. I regained thepanel and returned to my chamber.

Five days sped thus, without any change in our situation. Every morning Imounted the platform. The same phrase was pronounced by the same individual.But Captain Nemo did not appear.

I had made up my mind that I should never see him again, when, on the 16thNovember, on returning to my room with Ned and Conseil, I found upon my table anote addressed to me. I opened it impatiently. It was written in a bold, clearhand, the characters rather pointed, recalling the German type. The note wasworded as follows—

16th of November, 1867.

TOPROFESSORARONNAX, On board theNautilus.

Captain Nemo invites Professor Aronnax to a hunting-party, which will takeplace to-morrow morning in the forests of the island of Crespo. He hopes thatnothing will prevent the Professor from being present, and he will withpleasure see him joined by his companions.

CAPTAINNEMO, Commander of the Nautilus.

“A hunt!” exclaimed Ned.

“And in the forests of the island of Crespo!” added Conseil.

“Oh! then the gentleman is going on terra firma?” replied Ned Land.

“That seems to me to be clearly indicated,” said I, reading the letter oncemore.

“Well, we must accept,” said the Canadian. “But once more on dry ground, weshall know what to do. Indeed, I shall not be sorry to eat a piece of freshvenison.”

Without seeking to reconcile what was contradictory between Captain Nemo’smanifest aversion to islands and continents, and his invitation to hunt in aforest, I contented myself with replying—

“Let us first see where the island of Crespo is.”

I consulted the planisphere, and in 32° 40′ north lat. and 157°50′ west long., I found a small island, recognised in 1801 by CaptainCrespo, and marked in the ancient Spanish maps as Rocca de la Plata, themeaning of which is “The Silver Rock.” We were then about eighteen hundredmiles from our starting-point, and the course of the Nautilus, a littlechanged, was bringing it back towards the south-east.

I showed this little rock lost in the midst of the North Pacific to mycompanions.

“If Captain Nemo does sometimes go on dry ground,” said I, “he at least choosesdesert islands.”

Ned Land shrugged his shoulders without speaking, and Conseil and he left me.

After supper, which was served by the steward mute and impassive, I went tobed, not without some anxiety.

The next morning, the 17th of November, on awakening, I felt that theNautiluswas perfectly still. I dressed quickly and entered the saloon.

Captain Nemo was there, waiting for me. He rose, bowed, and asked me if it wasconvenient for me to accompany him. As he made no allusion to his absenceduring the last eight days, I did not mention it, and simply answered that mycompanions and myself were ready to follow him.

We entered the dining-room, where breakfast was served.

“M. Aronnax,” said the Captain, “pray, share my breakfast without ceremony; wewill chat as we eat. For though I promised you a walk in the forest, I did notundertake to find hotels there. So breakfast as a man who will most likely nothave his dinner till very late.”

I did honour to the repast. It was composed of several kinds of fish, andslices of holothuridæ (excellent zoophytes), and different sorts of sea-weed.Our drink consisted of pure water, to which the Captain added some drops of afermented liquor, extracted by the Kamschatcha method from a sea-weed knownunder the name of Rhodomenia palmata. Captain Nemo ate at first withoutsaying a word. Then he began—

“Sir, when I proposed to you to hunt in my submarine forest of Crespo, youevidently thought me mad. Sir, you should never judge lightly of any man.”

“But Captain, believe me——”

“Be kind enough to listen, and you will then see whether you have any cause toaccuse me of folly and contradiction.”

“I listen.”

“You know as well as I do, Professor, that man can live under water, providinghe carries with him a sufficient supply of breathable air. In submarine works,the workman, clad in an impervious dress, with his head in a metal helmet,receives air from above by means of forcing pumps and regulators.”

“That is a diving apparatus,” said I.

“Just so, but under these conditions the man is not at liberty; he is attachedto the pump which sends him air through an india-rubber tube, and if we wereobliged to be thus held to the Nautilus, we could not go far.”

“And the means of getting free?” I asked.

“It is to use the Rouquayrol apparatus, invented by two of your own countrymen,which I have brought to perfection for my own use, and which will allow you torisk yourself under these new physiological conditions without any organwhatever suffering. It consists of a reservoir of thick iron plates, in which Istore the air under a pressure of fifty atmospheres. This reservoir is fixed onthe back by means of braces, like a soldier’s knapsack. Its upper part forms abox in which the air is kept by means of a bellows, and therefore cannot escapeunless at its normal tension. In the Rouquayrol apparatus such as we use, twoindia-rubber pipes leave this box and join a sort of tent which holds the noseand mouth; one is to introduce fresh air, the other to let out the foul, andthe tongue closes one or the other according to the wants of the respirator.But I, in encountering great pressures at the bottom of the sea, was obliged toshut my head, like that of a diver in a ball of copper; and it is to this ballof copper that the two pipes, the inspirator and the expirator, open.”

“Perfectly, Captain Nemo; but the air that you carry with you must soon beused; when it only contains fifteen per cent. of oxygen it is no longer fit tobreathe.”

“Right! but I told you, M. Aronnax, that the pumps of the Nautilusallowme to store the air under considerable pressure, and on these conditions thereservoir of the apparatus can furnish breathable air for nine or ten hours.”

“I have no further objections to make,” I answered; “I will only ask you onething, Captain—how can you light your road at the bottom of the sea?”

“With the Ruhmkorff apparatus, M. Aronnax; one is carried on the back, theother is fastened to the waist. It is composed of a Bunsen pile, which I do notwork with bichromate of potash, but with sodium. A wire is introduced whichcollects the electricity produced, and directs it towards a particularly madelantern. In this lantern is a spiral glass which contains a small quantity ofcarbonic gas. When the apparatus is at work this gas becomes luminous, givingout a white and continuous light. Thus provided, I can breathe and I can see.”

“Captain Nemo, to all my objections you make such crushing answers, that I dareno longer doubt. But if I am forced to admit the Rouquayrol and Ruhmkorffapparatus, I must be allowed some reservations with regard to the gun I am tocarry.”

“But it is not a gun for powder,” answered the Captain.

“Then it is an air-gun.”

“Doubtless! How would you have me manufacture gunpowder on board, withouteither saltpetre, sulphur, or charcoal?”

“Besides,” I added, “to fire under water in a medium eight hundred andfifty-five times denser than the air, we must conquer very considerableresistance.”

“That would be no difficulty. There exist guns, according to Fulton, perfectedin England by Philip Coles and Burley, in France by Furcy, and in Italy byLandi, which are furnished with a peculiar system of closing, which can fireunder these conditions. But I repeat, having no powder, I use air under greatpressure, which the pumps of the Nautilusfurnish abundantly.”

“But this air must be rapidly used?”

“Well, have I not my Rouquayrol reservoir, which can furnish it at need? A tapis all that is required. Besides, M. Aronnax, you must see yourself that,during our submarine hunt, we can spend but little air and but few balls.”

“But it seems to me that in this twilight, and in the midst of this fluid,which is very dense compared with the atmosphere, shots could not go far, noreasily prove mortal.”

“Sir, on the contrary, with this gun every blow is mortal; and however lightlythe animal is touched, it falls as if struck by a thunderbolt.”

“Why?”

“Because the balls sent by this gun are not ordinary balls, but little cases ofglass (invented by Leniebroek, an Austrian chemist), of which I have a largesupply. These glass cases are covered with a case of steel, and weighted with apellet of lead; they are real Leyden bottles, into which the electricity isforced to a very high tension. With the slightest shock they are discharged,and the animal, however strong it may be, falls dead. I must tell you thatthese cases are size number four, and that the charge for an ordinary gun wouldbe ten.”

“I will argue no longer,” I replied, rising from the table; “I have nothingleft me but to take my gun. At all events, I will go where you go.”

Captain Nemo then led me aft; and in passing before Ned’s and Conseil’s cabin,I called my two companions, who followed immediately. We then came to a kind ofcell near the machinery-room, in which we were to put on our walking-dress.

CHAPTER XV
A WALK ON THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA

This cell was, to speak correctly, the arsenal and wardrobe of theNautilus. A dozen diving apparatuses hung from the partition, waitingour use.

Ned Land, on seeing them, showed evident repugnance to dress himself in one.

“But, my worthy Ned, the forests of the Island of Crespo are nothing butsubmarine forests.”

“Good!” said the disappointed harpooner, who saw his dreams of fresh meat fadeaway. “And you, M. Aronnax, are you going to dress yourself in those clothes?”

“There is no alternative, Master Ned.”

“As you please, sir,” replied the harpooner, shrugging his shoulders; “but asfor me, unless I am forced, I will never get into one.”

“No one will force you, Master Ned,” said Captain Nemo.

“Is Conseil going to risk it?” asked Ned.

“I follow my master wherever he goes,” replied Conseil.

At the Captain’s call two of the ship’s crew came to help us to dress in theseheavy and impervious clothes, made of india-rubber without seam, andconstructed expressly to resist considerable pressure. One would have thoughtit a suit of armour, both supple and resisting. This suit formed trousers andwaistcoat. The trousers were finished off with thick boots, weighted with heavyleaden soles. The texture of the waistcoat was held together by bands ofcopper, which crossed the chest, protecting it from the great pressure of thewater, and leaving the lungs free to act; the sleeves ended in gloves, which inno way restrained the movement of the hands. There was a vast differencenoticeable between these consummate apparatuses and the old cork breastplates,jackets, and other contrivances in vogue during the eighteenth century.

Captain Nemo and one of his companions (a sort of Hercules, who must havepossessed great strength), Conseil, and myself, were soon enveloped in thedresses. There remained nothing more to be done but to enclose our heads in themetal box. But before proceeding to this operation, I asked the Captain’spermission to examine the guns we were to carry.

One of the Nautilusmen gave me a simple gun, the butt end of which,made of steel, hollow in the centre, was rather large. It served as a reservoirfor compressed air, which a valve, worked by a spring, allowed to escape into ametal tube. A box of projectiles, in a groove in the thickness of the butt end,contained about twenty of these electric balls, which, by means of a spring,were forced into the barrel of the gun. As soon as one shot was fired, anotherwas ready.

“Captain Nemo,” said I, “this arm is perfect, and easily handled: I only ask tobe allowed to try it. But how shall we gain the bottom of the sea?”

“At this moment, Professor, the Nautilusis stranded in five fathoms,and we have nothing to do but to start.”

“But how shall we get off?”

“You shall see.”

Captain Nemo thrust his head into the helmet, Conseil and I did the same, notwithout hearing an ironical “Good sport!” from the Canadian. The upper part ofour dress terminated in a copper collar upon which was screwed the metalhelmet. Three holes, protected by thick glass, allowed us to see in alldirections, by simply turning our head in the interior of the head-dress. Assoon as it was in position, the Rouquayrol apparatus on our backs began to act;and, for my part, I could breathe with ease.

With the Ruhmkorff lamp hanging from my belt, and the gun in my hand, I wasready to set out. But to speak the truth, imprisoned in these heavy garments,and glued to the deck by my leaden soles, it was impossible for me to take astep.

I was ready to set out

But this state of things was provided for. I felt myself being pushed into alittle room contiguous to the wardrobe-room. My companions followed, towedalong in the same way. I heard a water-tight door, furnished withstopper-plates, close upon us, and we were wrapped in profound darkness.

After some minutes, a loud hissing was heard. I felt the cold mount from myfeet to my chest. Evidently from some part of the vessel they had, by means ofa tap, given entrance to the water, which was invading us, and with which theroom was soon filled. A second door cut in the side of the Nautilusthenopened. We saw a faint light. In another instant our feet trod the bottom ofthe sea.

And now, how can I retrace the impression left upon me by that walk under thewaters? Words are impotent to relate such wonders! Captain Nemo walked infront, his companion followed some steps behind. Conseil and I remained neareach other, as if an exchange of words had been possible through our metalliccases. I no longer felt the weight of my clothing, or of my shoes, of myreservoir of air, or my thick helmet, in the midst of which my head rattledlike an almond in its shell.

The light, which lit the soil thirty feet below the surface of the ocean,astonished me by its power. The solar rays shone through the watery masseasily, and dissipated all colour, and I clearly distinguished objects at adistance of a hundred and fifty yards. Beyond that the tints darkened into finegradations of ultramarine, and faded into vague obscurity. Truly this waterwhich surrounded me was but another air denser than the terrestrial atmosphere,but almost as transparent. Above me was the calm surface of the sea.

We were walking on fine, even sand, not wrinkled, as on a flat shore, whichretains the impression of the billows. This dazzling carpet, really areflector, repelled the rays of the sun with wonderful intensity, whichaccounted for the vibration which penetrated every atom of liquid. Shall I bebelieved when I say that, at the depth of thirty feet, I could see as if I wasin broad daylight?

For a quarter of an hour I trod on this sand, sown with the impalpable dust ofshells. The hull of the Nautilus, resembling a long shoal, disappearedby degrees; but its lantern, when darkness should overtake us in the waters,would help to guide us on board by its distinct rays.

Soon forms of objects outlined in the distance were discernible. I recognisedmagnificent rocks, hung with a tapestry of zoophytes of the most beautifulkind, and I was at first struck by the peculiar effect of this medium.

It was then ten in the morning; the rays of the sun struck the surface of thewaves at rather an oblique angle, and at the touch of their light, decomposedby refraction as through a prism, flowers, rocks, plants, shells, and polypiwere shaded at the edges by the seven solar colours. It was marvellous, a feastfor the eyes, this complication of coloured tints, a perfect kaleidoscope ofgreen, yellow, orange, violet, indigo, and blue; in one word, the whole paletteof an enthusiastic colourist! Why could I not communicate to Conseil the livelysensations which were mounting to my brain, and rival him in expressions ofadmiration? For aught I knew, Captain Nemo and his companion might be able toexchange thoughts by means of signs previously agreed upon. So, for want ofbetter, I talked to myself; I declaimed in the copper box which covered myhead, thereby expending more air in vain words than was perhaps expedient.

Various kinds of isis, clusters of pure tuft-coral, prickly fungi, and anemonesformed a brilliant garden of flowers, enamelled with porphitæ, decked withtheir collarettes of blue tentacles, sea-stars studding the sandy bottom,together with asterophytons like fine lace embroidered by the hands of naïads,whose festoons were waved by the gentle undulations caused by our walk. It wasa real grief to me to crush under my feet the brilliant specimens of molluscswhich strewed the ground by thousands, of hammer-heads, donaciae (veritablebounding shells), of staircases, and red helmet-shells, angel-wings, and manyothers produced by this inexhaustible ocean. But we were bound to walk, so wewent on, whilst above our heads waved shoals of physalides leaving theirtentacles to float in their train, medusæ whose umbrellas of opal or rose-pink,escalloped with a band of blue, sheltered us from the rays of the sun and fierypelagiæ, which, in the darkness, would have strewn our path with phosphorescentlight.

All these wonders I saw in the space of a quarter of a mile, scarcely stopping,and following Captain Nemo, who beckoned me on by signs. Soon the nature of thesoil changed; to the sandy plain succeeded an extent of slimy mud, which theAmericans call “ooze,” composed of equal parts of silicious and calcareousshells. We then travelled over a plain of sea-weed of wild and luxuriantvegetation. This sward was of close texture, and soft to the feet, and rivalledthe softest carpet woven by the hand of man. But whilst verdure was spread atour feet, it did not abandon our heads. A light network of marine plants, ofthat inexhaustible family of sea-weeds of which more than two thousand kindsare known, grew on the surface of the water. I saw long ribbons of fucusfloating, some globular, others tuberous; laurenciæ and cladostephi of mostdelicate foliage, and some rhodomeniæ palmatæ, resembling the fan of a cactus.I noticed that the green plants kept nearer the top of the sea, whilst the redwere at a greater depth, leaving to the black or brown hydrophytes the care offorming gardens and parterres in the remote beds of the ocean.

We had quitted the Nautilusabout an hour and a half. It was near noon;I knew by the perpendicularity of the sun’s rays, which were no longerrefracted. The magical colours disappeared by degrees, and the shades ofemerald and sapphire were effaced. We walked with a regular step, which rangupon the ground with astonishing intensity; the slightest noise was transmittedwith a quickness to which the ear is unaccustomed on the earth; indeed, wateris a better conductor of sound than air, in the ratio of four to one. At thisperiod the earth sloped downwards; the light took a uniform tint. We were at adepth of a hundred and five yards and twenty inches, undergoing a pressure ofsix atmospheres.

At this depth I could still see the rays of the sun, though feebly; to theirintense brilliancy had succeeded a reddish twilight, the lowest state betweenday and night; but we could still see well enough; it was not necessary toresort to the Ruhmkorff apparatus as yet. At this moment Captain Nemo stopped;he waited till I joined him, and then pointed to an obscure mass, looming inthe shadow, at a short distance.

“It is the forest of the Island of Crespo,” thought I;—and I was not mistaken.

CHAPTER XVI
A SUBMARINE FOREST

We had at last arrived on the borders of this forest, doubtless one of thefinest of Captain Nemo’s immense domains. He looked upon it as his own, andconsidered he had the same right over it that the first men had in the firstdays of the world. And, indeed, who would have disputed with him the possessionof this submarine property? What other hardier pioneer would come, hatchet inhand, to cut down the dark copses?

This forest was composed of large tree-plants; and the moment we penetratedunder its vast arcades, I was struck by the singular position of theirbranches—a position I had not yet observed.

Not a herb which carpeted the ground, not a branch which clothed the trees, waseither broken or bent, nor did they extend horizontally; all stretched up tothe surface of the ocean. Not a filament, not a ribbon, however thin they mightbe, but kept as straight as a rod of iron. The fuci and llianas grew in rigidperpendicular lines, due to the density of the element which had produced them.Motionless, yet when bent to one side by the hand, they directly resumed theirformer position. Truly it was the region of perpendicularity!

I soon accustomed myself to this fantastic position, as well as to thecomparative darkness which surrounded us. The soil of the forest seemed coveredwith sharp blocks, difficult to avoid. The submarine flora struck me as beingvery perfect, and richer even than it would have been in the arctic or tropicalzones, where these productions are not so plentiful. But for some minutes Iinvoluntarily confounded the genera, taking zoophytes for hydrophytes, animalsfor plants; and who would not have been mistaken? The fauna and the flora aretoo closely allied in this submarine world.

These plants are self-propagated, and the principle of their existence is inthe water, which upholds and nourishes them. The greater number, instead ofleaves, shot forth blades of capricious shapes, comprised within a scale ofcolours,—pink, carmine, green, olive, fawn, and brown. I saw there (but notdried up, as our specimens of the Nautilusare) pavonari spread like afan, as if to catch the breeze; scarlet ceramies, whose laminaries extendedtheir edible shoots of fern-shaped nereocysti, which grow to a height offifteen feet; clusters of acetabuli, whose stems increase in size upwards; andnumbers of other marine plants, all devoid of flowers!

“Curious anomaly, fantastic element!” said an ingenious naturalist, “in whichthe animal kingdom blossoms, and the vegetable does not!”

Under these numerous shrubs (as large as trees of the temperate zone), andunder their damp shadow, were massed together real bushes of living flowers,hedges of zoophytes, on which blossomed some zebrameandrines, with crookedgrooves, some yellow caryophylliæ; and, to complete the allusion, thefish-flies flew from branch to branch like a swarm of humming-birds, whilstyellow lepisacomthi, with bristling jaws, dactylopteri, and monocentrides roseat our feet like a flight of snipes.

In about an hour Captain Nemo gave the signal to halt. I, for my part, was notsorry, and we stretched ourselves under an arbour of alariæ, the long thinblades of which stood up like arrows.

This short rest seemed delicious to me; there was nothing wanting but the charmof conversation; but, impossible to speak, impossible to answer, I only put mygreat copper head to Conseil’s. I saw the worthy fellow’s eyes glistening withdelight, and to show his satisfaction, he shook himself in his breastplate ofair in the most comical way in the world.

After four hours of this walking I was surprised not to find myself dreadfullyhungry. How to account for this state of the stomach I could not tell. Butinstead I felt an insurmountable desire to sleep, which happens to all divers.And my eyes soon closed behind the thick glasses, and I fell into a heavyslumber, which the movement alone had prevented before. Captain Nemo and hisrobust companion, stretched in the clear crystal, set us the example.

How long I remained buried in this drowsiness I cannot judge; but, when I woke,the sun seemed sinking towards the horizon. Captain Nemo had already risen, andI was beginning to stretch my limbs, when an unexpected apparition brought mebriskly to my feet.

A few steps off, a monstrous sea-spider, about thirty-eight inches high, waswatching me with squinting eyes, ready to spring upon me. Though my diver’sdress was thick enough to defend me from the bite of this animal, I could nothelp shuddering with horror. Conseil and the sailor of the Nautilusawoke at this moment. Captain Nemo pointed out the hideous crustacean, which ablow from the butt end of the gun knocked over, and I saw the horrible claws ofthe monster writhe in terrible convulsions. This accident reminded me thatother animals more to be feared might haunt these obscure depths, against whoseattacks my diving-dress would not protect me. I had never thought of it before,but I now resolved to be upon my guard. Indeed, I thought that this halt wouldmark the termination of our walk; but I was mistaken, for, instead of returningto the Nautilus, Captain Nemo continued his bold excursion. The groundwas still on the incline, its declivity seemed to be getting greater, and to beleading us to greater depths. It must have been about three o’clock when wereached a narrow valley, between high perpendicular walls, situated aboutseventy-five fathoms deep. Thanks to the perfection of our apparatus, we wereforty-five fathoms below the limit which nature seems to have imposed on man asto his submarine excursions.

I say seventy-five fathoms, though I had no instrument by which to judge thedistance. But I knew that even in the clearest waters the solar rays could notpenetrate further. And accordingly the darkness deepened. At ten paces not anobject was visible. I was groping my way, when I suddenly saw a brilliant whitelight. Captain Nemo had just put his electric apparatus into use; his companiondid the same, and Conseil and I followed their example. By turning a screw Iestablished a communication between the wire and the spiral glass, and the sea,lit by our four lanterns, was illuminated for a circle of thirty-six yards.

Captain Nemo was still plunging into the dark depths of the forest, whose treeswere getting scarcer at every step. I noticed that vegetable life disappearedsooner than animal life. The medusæ had already abandoned the arid soil, fromwhich a great number of animals, zoophytes, articulata, molluscs, and fishes,still obtained sustenance.

As we walked, I thought the light of our Ruhmkorff apparatus could not fail todraw some inhabitant from its dark couch. But if they did approach us, they atleast kept at a respectful distance from the hunters. Several times I sawCaptain Nemo stop, put his gun to his shoulder, and after some moments drop itand walk on. At last, after about four hours, this marvellous excursion came toan end. A wall of superb rocks, in an imposing mass, rose before us, a heap ofgigantic blocks, an enormous, steep granite shore, forming dark grottos, butwhich presented no practicable slope; it was the prop of the Island of Crespo.It was the earth! Captain Nemo stopped suddenly. A gesture of his brought usall to a halt, and, however desirous I might be to scale the wall, I wasobliged to stop. Here ended Captain Nemo’s domains. And he would not go beyondthem. Further on was a portion of the globe he might not trample upon.

The return began. Captain Nemo had returned to the head of his little band,directing their course without hesitation. I thought we were not following thesame road to return to the Nautilus. The new road was very steep, andconsequently very painful. We approached the surface of the sea rapidly. Butthis return to the upper strata was not so sudden as to cause relief from thepressure too rapidly, which might have produced serious disorder in ourorganisation, and brought on internal lesions, so fatal to divers. Very soonlight reappeared and grew, and the sun being low on the horizon, the refractionedged the different objects with a spectral ring. At ten yards and a half deep,we walked amidst a shoal of little fishes of all kinds, more numerous than thebirds of the air, and also more agile; but no aquatic game worthy of a shot hadas yet met our gaze, when at that moment I saw the Captain shoulder his gunquickly, and follow a moving object into the shrubs. He fired;—I heard a slighthissing, and a creature fell stunned at some distance from us. It was amagnificent sea-otter, an enhydrus, the only exclusively marine quadruped. Thisotter was five feet long, and must have been very valuable. Its skin,chestnut-brown above and silvery underneath, would have made one of thosebeautiful furs so sought after in the Russian and Chinese markets; the finenessand the lustre of its coat would certainly fetch £80. I admired this curiousmammal, with its rounded head ornamented with short ears, its round eyes, andwhite whiskers like those of a cat, with webbed feet and nails, and tuftedtail. This precious animal, hunted and tracked by fishermen, has now becomevery rare, and taken refuge chiefly in the northern parts of the Pacific, orprobably its race would soon become extinct.

Captain Nemo’s companion took the beast, threw it over his shoulder, and wecontinued our journey. For one hour a plain of sand lay stretched before us.Sometimes it rose to within two yards and some inches of the surface of thewater. I then saw our image clearly reflected, drawn inversely, and above usappeared an identical group reflecting our movements and our actions; in aword, like us in every point, except that they walked with their heads downwardand their feet in the air.

Another effect I noticed, which was the passage of thick clouds which formedand vanished rapidly; but on reflection I understood that these seeming cloudswere due to the varying thickness of the reeds at the bottom, and I could evensee the fleecy foam which their broken tops multiplied on the water, and theshadows of large birds passing above our heads, whose rapid flight I coulddiscern on the surface of the sea.

On this occasion, I was witness to one of the finest gun-shots which ever madethe nerves of a hunter thrill. A large bird of great breadth of wing, clearlyvisible, approached, hovering over us. Captain Nemo’s companion shouldered hisgun and fired, when it was only a few yards above the waves. The creature fellstunned, and the force of its fall brought it within the reach of the dexteroushunter’s grasp. It was an albatross of the finest kind.

Our march had not been interrupted by this incident. For two hours we followedthese sandy plains, then fields of algæ very disagreeable to cross. Candidly, Icould do no more when I saw a glimmer of light, which, for a half mile, brokethe darkness of the waters. It was the lantern of the Nautilus. Beforetwenty minutes were over we should be on board, and I should be able to breathewith ease, for it seemed that my reservoir supplied air very deficient inoxygen. But I did not reckon on an accidental meeting, which delayed ourarrival for some time.

I had remained some steps behind, when I presently saw Captain Nemo cominghurriedly towards me. With his strong hand he bent me to the ground, hiscompanion doing the same to Conseil. At first I knew not what to think of thissudden attack, but I was soon reassured by seeing the Captain lie down besideme, and remain immovable.

I was stretched on the ground, just under the shelter of a bush of algæ, when,raising my head, I saw some enormous mass, casting phosphorescent gleams, passblusteringly by.

My blood froze in my veins as I recognised two formidable sharks whichthreatened us. It was a couple of tintoreas, terrible creatures, with enormoustails and a dull glassy stare, the phosphorescent matter ejected from holespierced around the muzzle. Monstrous brutes! which would crush a whole man intheir iron jaws. I did not know whether Conseil stopped to classify them; formy part, I noticed their silver bellies, and their huge mouths bristling withteeth, from a very unscientific point of view, and more as a possible victimthan as a naturalist.

Happily the voracious creatures do not see well. They passed without seeing us,brushing us with their brownish fins, and we escaped by a miracle from a dangercertainly greater than meeting a tiger full-face in the forest. Half an hourafter, guided by the electric light, we reached the Nautilus. Theoutside door had been left open, and Captain Nemo closed it as soon as we hadentered the first cell. He then pressed a knob. I heard the pumps working inthe midst of the vessel, I felt the water sinking from around me, and in a fewmoments the cell was entirely empty. The inside door then opened, and weentered the vestry.

There our diving-dress was taken off, not without some trouble; and, fairlyworn out from want of food and sleep. I returned to my room, in great wonder atthis surprising excursion at the bottom of the sea.

CHAPTER XVII
FOUR THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE PACIFIC

The next morning, the 18th of November, I had quite recovered from my fatiguesof the day before, and I went up on to the platform, just as the secondlieutenant was uttering his daily phrase.

I was admiring the magnificent aspect of the ocean when Captain Nemo appeared.He did not seem to be aware of my presence, and began a series of astronomicalobservations. Then, when he had finished, he went and leant on the cage of thewatch-light, and gazed abstractedly on the ocean. In the meantime, a number ofthe sailors of the Nautilus, all strong and healthy men, had come uponto the platform. They came to draw up the nets that had been laid all night.These sailors were evidently of different nations, although the European typewas visible in all of them. I recognised some unmistakable Irishmen, Frenchmen,some Sclaves, and a Greek, or a Candiote. They were civil, and only used thatodd language among themselves, the origin of which I could not guess, neithercould I question them.

The nets were hauled in. They were a large kind of “chaluts,” like those on theNormandy coasts, great pockets that the waves and a chain fixed in the smallermeshes kept open. These pockets, drawn by iron poles, swept through the water,and gathered in everything in their way. That day they brought up curiousspecimens from those productive coasts.

I reckoned that the haul had brought in more than nine hundredweight of fish.It was a fine haul, but not to be wondered at. Indeed, the nets are let downfor several hours, and enclose in their meshes an infinite variety. We had nolack of excellent food, and the rapidity of the Nautilusand theattraction of the electric light could always renew our supply. These severalproductions of the sea were immediately lowered through the panel to thesteward’s room, some to be eaten fresh, and others pickled.

The fishing ended, the provision of air renewed, I thought that theNautiluswas about to continue its submarine excursion, and waspreparing to return to my room, when, without further preamble, the Captainturned to me, saying:

“Professor, is not this ocean gifted with real life? It has its tempers and itsgentle moods. Yesterday it slept as we did, and now it has woke after a quietnight. Look!” he continued, “it wakes under the caresses of the sun. It isgoing to renew its diurnal existence. It is an interesting study to watch theplay of its organisation. It has a pulse, arteries, spasms; and I agree withthe learned Maury, who discovered in it a circulation as real as thecirculation of blood in animals.

“Yes, the ocean has indeed circulation, and to promote it, the Creator hascaused things to multiply in it—caloric, salt, and animalculae.”

When Captain Nemo spoke thus, he seemed altogether changed, and aroused anextraordinary emotion in me.

“Also,” he added, “true existence is there; and I can imagine the foundationsof nautical towns, clusters of submarine houses, which, like theNautilus, would ascend every morning to breathe at the surface of thewater, free towns, independent cities. Yet who knows whether some despot——”

Captain Nemo finished his sentence with a violent gesture. Then, addressing meas if to chase away some sorrowful thought:

“M. Aronnax,” he asked, “do you know the depth of the ocean?”

“I only know, Captain, what the principal soundings have taught us.”

“Could you tell me them, so that I can suit them to my purpose?”

“These are some,” I replied, “that I remember. If I am not mistaken, a depth of8,000 yards has been found in the North Atlantic, and 2,500 yards in theMediterranean. The most remarkable soundings have been made in the SouthAtlantic, near the thirty-fifth parallel, and they gave 12,000 yards, 14,000yards, and 15,000 yards. To sum up all, it is reckoned that if the bottom ofthe sea were levelled, its mean depth would be about one and three-quarterleagues.”

“Well, Professor,” replied the Captain, “we shall show you better than that Ihope. As to the mean depth of this part of the Pacific, I tell you it is only4,000 yards.”

Having said this, Captain Nemo went towards the panel, and disappeared down theladder. I followed him, and went into the large drawing-room. The screw wasimmediately put in motion, and the log gave twenty miles an hour.

During the days and weeks that passed, Captain Nemo was very sparing of hisvisits. I seldom saw him. The lieutenant pricked the ship’s course regularly onthe chart, so I could always tell exactly the route of the Nautilus.

Nearly every day, for some time, the panels of the drawing-room were opened,and we were never tired of penetrating the mysteries of the submarine world.

The general direction of the Nautiluswas south-east, and it keptbetween 100 and 150 yards of depth. One day, however, I do not know why, beingdrawn diagonally by means of the inclined planes, it touched the bed of thesea. The thermometer indicated a temperature of 4.25 (cent.): a temperaturethat at this depth seemed common to all latitudes.

At three o’clock in the morning of the 26th of November the Nautiluscrossed the tropic of Cancer at 172° long. On 27th instant it sighted theSandwich Islands, where Cook died, February 14, 1779. We had then gone 4,860leagues from our starting-point. In the morning, when I went on the platform, Isaw two miles to windward, Hawaii, the largest of the seven islands that formthe group. I saw clearly the cultivated ranges, and the several mountain-chainsthat run parallel with the side, and the volcanoes that overtop Mouna-Rea,which rise 5,000 yards above the level of the sea. Besides other things thenets brought up, were several flabellariae and graceful polypi, that arepeculiar to that part of the ocean. The direction of the Nautiluswasstill to the south-east. It crossed the equator December 1, in 142° long.; andon the 4th of the same month, after crossing rapidly and without anything inparticular occurring, we sighted the Marquesas group. I saw, three miles off,Martin’s peak in Nouka-Hiva, the largest of the group that belongs to France. Ionly saw the woody mountains against the horizon, because Captain Nemo did notwish to bring the ship to the wind. There the nets brought up beautifulspecimens of fish: some with azure fins and tails like gold, the flesh of whichis unrivalled; some nearly destitute of scales, but of exquisite flavour;others, with bony jaws, and yellow-tinged gills, as good as bonitos; all fishthat would be of use to us. After leaving these charming islands protected bythe French flag, from the 4th to the 11th of December the Nautilussailed over about 2,000 miles.

During the daytime of the 11th of December I was busy reading in the largedrawing-room. Ned Land and Conseil watched the luminous water through thehalf-open panels. The Nautiluswas immovable. While its reservoirs werefilled, it kept at a depth of 1,000 yards, a region rarely visited in theocean, and in which large fish were seldom seen.

I was then reading a charming book by Jean Mace, The Slaves of the Stomach, andI was learning some valuable lessons from it, when Conseil interrupted me.

“Will master come here a moment?” he said, in a curious voice.

“What is the matter, Conseil?”

“I want master to look.”

I rose, went, and leaned on my elbows before the panes and watched.

In a full electric light, an enormous black mass, quite immovable, wassuspended in the midst of the waters. I watched it attentively, seeking to findout the nature of this gigantic cetacean. But a sudden thought crossed my mind.“A vessel!” I said, half aloud.

“Yes,” replied the Canadian, “a disabled ship that has sunk perpendicularly.”

Ned Land was right; we were close to a vessel of which the tattered shroudsstill hung from their chains. The keel seemed to be in good order, and it hadbeen wrecked at most some few hours. Three stumps of masts, broken off abouttwo feet above the bridge, showed that the vessel had had to sacrifice itsmasts. But, lying on its side, it had filled, and it was heeling over to port.This skeleton of what it had once been was a sad spectacle as it lay lost underthe waves, but sadder still was the sight of the bridge, where some corpses,bound with ropes, were still lying. I counted five—four men, one of whom wasstanding at the helm, and a woman standing by the poop, holding an infant inher arms. She was quite young. I could distinguish her features, which thewater had not decomposed, by the brilliant light from the Nautilus. Inone despairing effort, she had raised her infant above her head—poor littlething!—whose arms encircled its mother’s neck. The attitude of the four sailorswas frightful, distorted as they were by their convulsive movements, whilstmaking a last effort to free themselves from the cords that bound them to thevessel. The steersman alone, calm, with a grave, clear face, his grey hairglued to his forehead, and his hand clutching the wheel of the helm, seemedeven then to be guiding the three broken masts through the depths of the ocean.

What a scene! We were dumb; our hearts beat fast before this shipwreck, takenas it were from life and photographed in its last moments. And I saw already,coming towards it with hungry eyes, enormous sharks, attracted by the humanflesh.

However, the Nautilus, turning, went round the submerged vessel, and inone instant I read on the stern—“The Florida, Sunderland.”

CHAPTER XVIII
VANIKORO

This terrible spectacle was the forerunner of the series of maritimecatastrophes that the Nautiluswas destined to meet with in its route.As long as it went through more frequented waters, we often saw the hulls ofshipwrecked vessels that were rotting in the depths, and deeper down cannons,bullets, anchors, chains, and a thousand other iron materials eaten up by rust.However, on the 11th of December we sighted the Pomotou Islands, the old“dangerous group” of Bougainville, that extend over a space of 500 leagues atE.S.E. to W.N.W., from the Island Ducie to that of Lazareff. This group coversan area of 370 square leagues, and it is formed of sixty groups of islands,among which the Gambier group is remarkable, over which France exercises sway.These are coral islands, slowly raised, but continuous, created by the dailywork of polypi. Then this new island will be joined later on to the neighboringgroups, and a fifth continent will stretch from New Zealand and New Caledonia,and from thence to the Marquesas.

One day, when I was suggesting this theory to Captain Nemo, he replied coldly:

“The earth does not want new continents, but new men.”

Chance had conducted the Nautilustowards the Island ofClermont-Tonnere, one of the most curious of the group, that was discovered in1822 by Captain Bell of the Minerva. I could study now the madreporal system,to which are due the islands in this ocean.

Madrepores (which must not be mistaken for corals) have a tissue lined with acalcareous crust, and the modifications of its structure have induced M. MilneEdwards, my worthy master, to class them into five sections. The animalculethat the marine polypus secretes live by millions at the bottom of their cells.Their calcareous deposits become rocks, reefs, and large and small islands.Here they form a ring, surrounding a little inland lake, that communicates withthe sea by means of gaps. There they make barriers of reefs like those on thecoasts of New Caledonia and the various Pomoton islands. In other places, likethose at Reunion and at Maurice, they raise fringed reefs, high, straightwalls, near which the depth of the ocean is considerable.

Some cable-lengths off the shores of the Island of Clermont I admired thegigantic work accomplished by these microscopical workers. These walls arespecially the work of those madrepores known as milleporas, porites,madrepores, and astraeas. These polypi are found particularly in the rough bedsof the sea, near the surface; and consequently it is from the upper part thatthey begin their operations, in which they bury themselves by degrees with thedebris of the secretions that support them. Such is, at least, Darwin’s theory,who thus explains the formation of the atolls, a superior theory (to mymind) to that given of the foundation of the madreporical works, summits ofmountains or volcanoes, that are submerged some feet below the level of thesea.

I could observe closely these curious walls, for perpendicularly they were morethan 300 yards deep, and our electric sheets lighted up this calcareous matterbrilliantly. Replying to a question Conseil asked me as to the time thesecolossal barriers took to be raised, I astonished him much by telling him thatlearned men reckoned it about the eighth of an inch in a hundred years.

Towards evening Clermont-Tonnerre was lost in the distance, and the route ofthe Nautiluswas sensibly changed. After having crossed the tropic ofCapricorn in 135° longitude, it sailed W.N.W., making again for the tropicalzone. Although the summer sun was very strong, we did not suffer from heat, forat fifteen or twenty fathoms below the surface, the temperature did not riseabove from ten to twelve degrees.

On 15th of December, we left to the east the bewitching group of the Societiesand the graceful Tahiti, queen of the Pacific. I saw in the morning, some milesto the windward, the elevated summits of the island. These waters furnished ourtable with excellent fish, mackerel, bonitos, and some varieties of asea-serpent.

On the 25th of December the Nautilussailed into the midst of the NewHebrides, discovered by Quiros in 1606, and that Bougainville explored in 1768,and to which Cook gave its present name in 1773. This group is composedprincipally of nine large islands, that form a band of 120 leagues N.N.S. toS.S.W., between 15° and 2° S. lat., and 164 deg. and 168° long. We passedtolerably near to the Island of Aurou, that at noon looked like a mass of greenwoods, surmounted by a peak of great height.

That day being Christmas Day, Ned Land seemed to regret sorely thenon-celebration of “Christmas,” the family fete of which Protestants are sofond. I had not seen Captain Nemo for a week, when, on the morning of the 27th,he came into the large drawing-room, always seeming as if he had seen you fiveminutes before. I was busily tracing the route of the Nautiluson theplanisphere. The Captain came up to me, put his finger on one spot on thechart, and said this single word.

“Vanikoro.”

The effect was magical! It was the name of the islands on which La Perouse hadbeen lost! I rose suddenly.

“The Nautilushas brought us to Vanikoro?” I asked.

“Yes, Professor,” said the Captain.

“And I can visit the celebrated islands where the Boussole and the Astrolabestruck?”

“If you like, Professor.”

“When shall we be there?”

“We are there now.”

Followed by Captain Nemo, I went up on to the platform, and greedily scannedthe horizon.

To the N.E. two volcanic islands emerged of unequal size, surrounded by a coralreef that measured forty miles in circumference. We were close to Vanikoro,really the one to which Dumont d’Urville gave the name of Isle de la Recherche,and exactly facing the little harbour of Vanou, situated in 16° 4′ S.lat., and 164° 32′ E. long. The earth seemed covered with verdure fromthe shore to the summits in the interior, that were crowned by Mount Kapogo,476 feet high. The Nautilus, having passed the outer belt of rocks by anarrow strait, found itself among breakers where the sea was from thirty toforty fathoms deep. Under the verdant shade of some mangroves I perceived somesavages, who appeared greatly surprised at our approach. In the long blackbody, moving between wind and water, did they not see some formidable cetaceanthat they regarded with suspicion?

Just then Captain Nemo asked me what I knew about the wreck of La Perouse.

“Only what everyone knows, Captain,” I replied.

“And could you tell me what everyone knows about it?” he inquired, ironically.

“Easily.”

I related to him all that the last works of Dumont d’Urville had madeknown—works from which the following is a brief account.

La Perouse, and his second, Captain de Langle, were sent by Louis XVI, in 1785,on a voyage of circumnavigation. They embarked in the corvettes Boussole andthe Astrolabe, neither of which were again heard of. In 1791, the FrenchGovernment, justly uneasy as to the fate of these two sloops, manned two largemerchantmen, the Recherche and the Esperance, which left Brest the 28th ofSeptember under the command of Bruni d’Entrecasteaux.

Two months after, they learned from Bowen, commander of the Albemarle, that thedebris of shipwrecked vessels had been seen on the coasts of New Georgia. ButD’Entrecasteaux, ignoring this communication—rather uncertain, besides—directedhis course towards the Admiralty Islands, mentioned in a report of CaptainHunter’s as being the place where La Perouse was wrecked.

They sought in vain. The Esperance and the Recherche passed before Vanikorowithout stopping there, and, in fact, this voyage was most disastrous, as itcost D’Entrecasteaux his life, and those of two of his lieutenants, besidesseveral of his crew.

Captain Dillon, a shrewd old Pacific sailor, was the first to find unmistakabletraces of the wrecks. On the 15th of May, 1824, his vessel, the St. Patrick,passed close to Tikopia, one of the New Hebrides. There a Lascar came alongsidein a canoe, sold him the handle of a sword in silver that bore the print ofcharacters engraved on the hilt. The Lascar pretended that six years before,during a stay at Vanikoro, he had seen two Europeans that belonged to somevessels that had run aground on the reefs some years ago.

Dillon guessed that he meant La Perouse, whose disappearance had troubled thewhole world. He tried to get on to Vanikoro, where, according to the Lascar, hewould find numerous debris of the wreck, but winds and tides prevented him.

Dillon returned to Calcutta. There he interested the Asiatic Society and theIndian Company in his discovery. A vessel, to which was given the name of theRecherche, was put at his disposal, and he set out, 23rd January, 1827,accompanied by a French agent.

The Recherche, after touching at several points in the Pacific, cast anchorbefore Vanikoro, 7th July, 1827, in that same harbour of Vanou where theNautiluswas at this time.

There it collected numerous relics of the wreck—iron utensils, anchors,pulley-strops, swivel-guns, an 18 lb.-shot, fragments of astronomicalinstruments, a piece of crown work, and a bronze clock, bearing thisinscription—“Bazin m’a fait,” the mark of the foundry of the arsenal at Brestabout 1785. There could be no further doubt.

Dillon, having made all inquiries, stayed in the unlucky place till October.Then he quitted Vanikoro, and directed his course towards New Zealand; put intoCalcutta, 7th April, 1828, and returned to France, where he was warmly welcomedby Charles X.

But at the same time, without knowing Dillon’s movements, Dumont d’Urville hadalready set out to find the scene of the wreck. And they had learned from awhaler that some medals and a cross of St. Louis had been found in the hands ofsome savages of Louisiade and New Caledonia. Dumont d’Urville, commander of theAstrolabe, had then sailed, and two months after Dillon had left Vanikoro heput into Hobart Town. There he learned the results of Dillon’s inquiries, andfound that a certain James Hobbs, second lieutenant of the Union of Calcutta,after landing on an island situated 8° 18′ S. lat., and 156° 30′E. long., had seen some iron bars and red stuffs used by the natives of theseparts. Dumont d’Urville, much perplexed, and not knowing how to credit thereports of low-class journals, decided to follow Dillon’s track.

On the 10th of February, 1828, the Astrolabe appeared off Tikopia, and took asguide and interpreter a deserter found on the island; made his way to Vanikoro,sighted it on the 12th inst., lay among the reefs until the 14th, and not untilthe 20th did he cast anchor within the barrier in the harbour of Vanou.

On the 23rd, several officers went round the island and brought back someunimportant trifles. The natives, adopting a system of denials and evasions,refused to take them to the unlucky place. This ambiguous conduct led them tobelieve that the natives had ill-treated the castaways, and indeed they seemedto fear that Dumont d’Urville had come to avenge La Perouse and his unfortunatecrew.

However, on the 26th, appeased by some presents, and understanding that theyhad no reprisals to fear, they led M. Jacquireot to the scene of the wreck.

There, in three or four fathoms of water, between the reefs of Pacou and Vanou,lay anchors, cannons, pigs of lead and iron, embedded in the limy concretions.The large boat and the whaler belonging to the Astrolabe were sent to thisplace, and, not without some difficulty, their crews hauled up an anchorweighing 1,800 lbs., a brass gun, some pigs of iron, and two copperswivel-guns.

Dumont d’Urville, questioning the natives, learned too that La Perouse, afterlosing both his vessels on the reefs of this island, had constructed a smallerboat, only to be lost a second time. Where, no one knew.

But the French Government, fearing that Dumont d’Urville was not acquaintedwith Dillon’s movements, had sent the sloop Bayonnaise, commanded by Legoarantde Tromelin, to Vanikoro, which had been stationed on the west coast ofAmerica. The Bayonnaise cast her anchor before Vanikoro some months after thedeparture of the Astrolabe, but found no new document; but stated that thesavages had respected the monument to La Perouse. That is the substance of whatI told Captain Nemo.

“So,” he said, “no one knows now where the third vessel perished that wasconstructed by the castaways on the island of Vanikoro?”

“No one knows.”

Captain Nemo said nothing, but signed to me to follow him into the largesaloon. The Nautilussank several yards below the waves, and the panelswere opened.

I hastened to the aperture, and under the crustations of coral, covered withfungi, syphonules, alcyons, madrepores, through myriads of charmingfish—girelles, glyphisidri, pompherides, diacopes, and holocentres—I recognisedcertain debris that the drags had not been able to tear up—iron stirrups,anchors, cannons, bullets, capstan fittings, the stem of a ship, all objectsclearly proving the wreck of some vessel, and now carpeted with living flowers.While I was looking on this desolate scene, Captain Nemo said, in a sad voice:

“Commander La Perouse set out 7th December, 1785, with his vessels La Boussoleand the Astrolabe. He first cast anchor at Botany Bay, visited the FriendlyIsles, New Caledonia, then directed his course towards Santa Cruz, and put intoNamouka, one of the Hapai group. Then his vessels struck on the unknown reefsof Vanikoro. The Boussole, which went first, ran aground on the southerlycoast. The Astrolabe went to its help, and ran aground too. The first vesselwas destroyed almost immediately. The second, stranded under the wind, resistedsome days. The natives made the castaways welcome. They installed themselves inthe island, and constructed a smaller boat with the debris of the two largeones. Some sailors stayed willingly at Vanikoro; the others, weak and ill, setout with La Perouse. They directed their course towards the Solomon Islands,and there perished, with everything, on the westerly coast of the chief islandof the group, between Capes Deception and Satisfaction.”

“How do you know that?”

“By this, that I found on the spot where was the last wreck.”

Captain Nemo showed me a tin-plate box, stamped with the French arms, andcorroded by the salt water. He opened it, and I saw a bundle of papers, yellowbut still readable.

They were the instructions of the naval minister to Commander La Perouse,annotated in the margin in Louis XVI’s handwriting.

“Ah! it is a fine death for a sailor!” said Captain Nemo, at last. “A coraltomb makes a quiet grave; and I trust that I and my comrades will find noother.”

CHAPTER XIX
TORRES STRAITS

During the night of the 27th or 28th of December, the Nautilusleft theshores of Vanikoro with great speed. Her course was south-westerly, and inthree days she had gone over the 750 leagues that separated it from LaPerouse’s group and the south-east point of Papua.

Early on the 1st of January, 1863, Conseil joined me on the platform.

“Master, will you permit me to wish you a happy New Year?”

“What! Conseil; exactly as if I was at Paris in my study at the Jardin desPlantes? Well, I accept your good wishes, and thank you for them. Only, I willask you what you mean by a ‘Happy New Year’ under our circumstances? Do youmean the year that will bring us to the end of our imprisonment, or the yearthat sees us continue this strange voyage?”

“Really, I do not know how to answer, master. We are sure to see curiousthings, and for the last two months we have not had time for dullness. The lastmarvel is always the most astonishing; and, if we continue this progression, Ido not know how it will end. It is my opinion that we shall never again see thelike. I think then, with no offence to master, that a happy year would be onein which we could see everything.”

On 2nd January we had made 11,340 miles, or 5,250 French leagues, since ourstarting-point in the Japan Seas. Before the ship’s head stretched thedangerous shores of the coral sea, on the north-east coast of Australia. Ourboat lay along some miles from the redoubtable bank on which Cook’s vessel waslost, 10th June, 1770. The boat in which Cook was struck on a rock, and, if itdid not sink, it was owing to a piece of coral that was broken by the shock,and fixed itself in the broken keel.

I had wished to visit the reef, 360 leagues long, against which the sea, alwaysrough, broke with great violence, with a noise like thunder. But just then theinclined planes drew the Nautilusdown to a great depth, and I could seenothing of the high coral walls. I had to content myself with the differentspecimens of fish brought up by the nets. I remarked, among others, somegermons, a species of mackerel as large as a tunny, with bluish sides, andstriped with transverse bands, that disappear with the animal’s life.

These fish followed us in shoals, and furnished us with very delicate food. Wetook also a large number of gilt-heads, about one and a half inches long,tasting like dorys; and flying pyrapeds like submarine swallows, which, in darknights, light alternately the air and water with their phosphorescent light.Among the molluscs and zoophytes, I found in the meshes of the net severalspecies of alcyonarians, echini, hammers, spurs, dials, cerites, and hyalleae.The flora was represented by beautiful floating seaweeds, laminariae, andmacrocystes, impregnated with the mucilage that transudes through their pores;and among which I gathered an admirable Nemastoma Geliniarois, that was classedamong the natural curiosities of the museum.

Two days after crossing the coral sea, 4th January, we sighted the Papuancoasts. On this occasion, Captain Nemo informed me that his intention was toget into the Indian Ocean by the Strait of Torres. His communication endedthere.

The Torres Straits are nearly thirty-four leagues wide; but they are obstructedby an innumerable quantity of islands, islets, breakers, and rocks, that makeits navigation almost impracticable; so that Captain Nemo took all needfulprecautions to cross them. The Nautilus, floating betwixt wind andwater, went at a moderate pace. Her screw, like a cetacean’s tail, beat thewaves slowly.

Profiting by this, I and my two companions went up on to the deserted platform.Before us was the steersman’s cage, and I expected that Captain Nemo was theredirecting the course of the Nautilus. I had before me the excellentcharts of the Straits of Torres, and I consulted them attentively. Round theNautilusthe sea dashed furiously. The course of the waves, that wentfrom south-east to north-west at the rate of two and a half miles, broke on thecoral that showed itself here and there.

“This is a bad sea!” remarked Ned Land.

“Detestable indeed, and one that does not suit a boat like theNautilus.”

“The Captain must be very sure of his route, for I see there pieces of coralthat would do for its keel if it only touched them slightly.”

Indeed the situation was dangerous, but the Nautilusseemed to slidelike magic off these rocks. It did not follow the routes of the Astrolabe andthe Zelee exactly, for they proved fatal to Dumont d’Urville. It bore morenorthwards, coasted the Islands of Murray, and came back to the south-westtowards Cumberland Passage. I thought it was going to pass it by, when, goingback to north-west, it went through a large quantity of islands and isletslittle known, towards the Island Sound and Canal Mauvais.

I wondered if Captain Nemo, foolishly imprudent, would steer his vessel intothat pass where Dumont d’Urville’s two corvettes touched; when, swerving again,and cutting straight through to the west, he steered for the Island of Gilboa.

It was then three in the afternoon. The tide began to recede, being quite full.The Nautilusapproached the island, that I still saw, with itsremarkable border of screw-pines. He stood off it at about two miles distant.Suddenly a shock overthrew me. The Nautilusjust touched a rock, andstayed immovable, laying lightly to port side.

When I rose, I perceived Captain Nemo and his lieutenant on the platform. Theywere examining the situation of the vessel, and exchanging words in theirincomprehensible dialect.

She was situated thus: Two miles, on the starboard side, appeared Gilboa,stretching from north to west like an immense arm. Towards the south and eastsome coral showed itself, left by the ebb. We had run aground, and in one ofthose seas where the tides are middling—a sorry matter for the floating of theNautilus. However, the vessel had not suffered, for her keel was solidlyjoined. But, if she could neither glide off nor move, she ran the risk of beingfor ever fastened to these rocks, and then Captain Nemo’s submarine vesselwould be done for.

I was reflecting thus, when the Captain, cool and calm, always master ofhimself, approached me.

“An accident?” I asked.

“No; an incident.”

“But an incident that will oblige you perhaps to become an inhabitant of thisland from which you flee?”

Captain Nemo looked at me curiously, and made a negative gesture, as much as tosay that nothing would force him to set foot on terra firma again. Then hesaid:

“Besides, M. Aronnax, the Nautilusis not lost; it will carry you yetinto the midst of the marvels of the ocean. Our voyage is only begun, and I donot wish to be deprived so soon of the honour of your company.”

“However, Captain Nemo,” I replied, without noticing the ironical turn of hisphrase, “the Nautilusran aground in open sea. Now the tides are notstrong in the Pacific; and, if you cannot lighten the Nautilus, I do notsee how it will be reinflated.”

“The tides are not strong in the Pacific: you are right there, Professor; butin Torres Straits one finds still a difference of a yard and a half between thelevel of high and low seas. To-day is 4th January, and in five days the moonwill be full. Now, I shall be very much astonished if that satellite does notraise these masses of water sufficiently, and render me a service that I shouldbe indebted to her for.”

Having said this, Captain Nemo, followed by his lieutenant, re-descended to theinterior of the Nautilus. As to the vessel, it moved not, and wasimmovable, as if the coralline polypi had already walled it up with their indestructible cement.

“Well, sir?” said Ned Land, who came up to me after the departure of theCaptain.

“Well, friend Ned, we will wait patiently for the tide on the 9th instant; forit appears that the moon will have the goodness to put it off again.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“And this Captain is not going to cast anchor at all since the tide willsuffice?” said Conseil, simply.

The Canadian looked at Conseil, then shrugged his shoulders.

“Sir, you may believe me when I tell you that this piece of iron will navigateneither on nor under the sea again; it is only fit to be sold for its weight. Ithink, therefore, that the time has come to part company with Captain Nemo.”

“Friend Ned, I do not despair of this stout Nautilus, as you do; and infour days we shall know what to hold to on the Pacific tides. Besides, flightmight be possible if we were in sight of the English or Provencal coast; but onthe Papuan shores, it is another thing; and it will be time enough to come tothat extremity if the Nautilusdoes not recover itself again, which Ilook upon as a grave event.”

“But do they know, at least, how to act circumspectly? There is an island; onthat island there are trees; under those trees, terrestrial animals, bearers ofcutlets and roast beef, to which I would willingly give a trial.”

“In this, friend Ned is right,” said Conseil, “and I agree with him. Could notmaster obtain permission from his friend Captain Nemo to put us on land, ifonly so as not to lose the habit of treading on the solid parts of our planet?”

“I can ask him, but he will refuse.”

“Will master risk it?” asked Conseil, “and we shall know how to rely upon theCaptain’s amiability.”

To my great surprise, Captain Nemo gave me the permission I asked for, and hegave it very agreeably, without even exacting from me a promise to return tothe vessel; but flight across New Guinea might be very perilous, and I shouldnot have counselled Ned Land to attempt it. Better to be a prisoner on boardthe Nautilusthan to fall into the hands of the natives.

At eight o’clock, armed with guns and hatchets, we got off the Nautilus.The sea was pretty calm; a slight breeze blew on land. Conseil and I rowing, wesped along quickly, and Ned steered in the straight passage that the breakersleft between them. The boat was well handled, and moved rapidly.

Ned Land could not restrain his joy. He was like a prisoner that had escapedfrom prison, and knew not that it was necessary to re-enter it.

“Meat! We are going to eat some meat; and what meat!” he replied. “Real game!no, bread, indeed.”

“I do not say that fish is not good; we must not abuse it; but a piece of freshvenison, grilled on live coals, will agreeably vary our ordinary course.”

“Glutton!” said Conseil, “he makes my mouth water.”

“It remains to be seen,” I said, “if these forests are full of game, and if thegame is not such as will hunt the hunter himself.”

“Well said, M. Aronnax,” replied the Canadian, whose teeth seemed sharpenedlike the edge of a hatchet; “but I will eat tiger—loin of tiger—if there is noother quadruped on this island.”

“Friend Ned is uneasy about it,” said Conseil.

“Whatever it may be,” continued Ned Land, “every animal with four paws withoutfeathers, or with two paws without feathers, will be saluted by my first shot.”

“Very well! Master Land’s imprudences are beginning.”

“Never fear, M. Aronnax,” replied the Canadian; “I do not want twenty-fiveminutes to offer you a dish, of my sort.”

At half-past eight the Nautilusboat ran softly aground on a heavy sand,after having happily passed the coral reef that surrounds the Island of Gilboa.

CHAPTER XX
A FEW DAYS ON LAND

I was much impressed on touching land. Ned Land tried the soil with his feet,as if to take possession of it. However, it was only two months before that wehad become, according to Captain Nemo, “passengers on board theNautilus,” but, in reality, prisoners of its commander.

In a few minutes we were within musket-shot of the coast. The whole horizon washidden behind a beautiful curtain of forests. Enormous trees, the trunks ofwhich attained a height of 200 feet, were tied to each other by garlands ofbindweed, real natural hammocks, which a light breeze rocked. They weremimosas, figs, hibisci, and palm trees, mingled together in profusion; andunder the shelter of their verdant vault grew orchids, leguminous plants, andferns.

But, without noticing all these beautiful specimens of Papuan flora, theCanadian abandoned the agreeable for the useful. He discovered a coco-tree,beat down some of the fruit, broke them, and we drunk the milk and ate the nutwith a satisfaction that protested against the ordinary food on theNautilus.

“Excellent!” said Ned Land.

“Exquisite!” replied Conseil.

“And I do not think,” said the Canadian, “that he would object to ourintroducing a cargo of coco-nuts on board.”

“I do not think he would, but he would not taste them.”

“So much the worse for him,” said Conseil.

“And so much the better for us,” replied Ned Land. “There will be more for us.”

“One word only, Master Land,” I said to the harpooner, who was beginning toravage another coco-nut tree. “Coco-nuts are good things, but before fillingthe canoe with them it would be wise to reconnoitre and see if the island doesnot produce some substance not less useful. Fresh vegetables would be welcomeon board the Nautilus.”

“Master is right,” replied Conseil; “and I propose to reserve three places inour vessel, one for fruits, the other for vegetables, and the third for thevenison, of which I have not yet seen the smallest specimen.”

“Conseil, we must not despair,” said the Canadian.

“Let us continue,” I returned, “and lie in wait. Although the island seemsuninhabited, it might still contain some individuals that would be less hardthan we on the nature of game.”

“Ho! ho!” said Ned Land, moving his jaws significantly.

“Well, Ned!” said Conseil.

“My word!” returned the Canadian, “I begin to understand the charms ofanthropophagy.”

“Ned! Ned! what are you saying? You, a man-eater? I should not feel safe withyou, especially as I share your cabin. I might perhaps wake one day to findmyself half devoured.”

“Friend Conseil, I like you much, but not enough to eat you unnecessarily.”

“I would not trust you,” replied Conseil. “But enough. We must absolutely bringdown some game to satisfy this cannibal, or else one of these fine mornings,master will find only pieces of his servant to serve him.”

While we were talking thus, we were penetrating the sombre arches of theforest, and for two hours we surveyed it in all directions.

Chance rewarded our search for eatable vegetables, and one of the most usefulproducts of the tropical zones furnished us with precious food that we missedon board. I would speak of the bread-fruit tree, very abundant in the island ofGilboa; and I remarked chiefly the variety destitute of seeds, which bears inMalaya the name of “rima.”

Ned Land knew these fruits well. He had already eaten many during his numerousvoyages, and he knew how to prepare the eatable substance. Moreover, the sightof them excited him, and he could contain himself no longer.

“Master,” he said, “I shall die if I do not taste a little of this bread-fruitpie.”

“Taste it, friend Ned—taste it as you want. We are here to makeexperiments—make them.”

“It won’t take long,” said the Canadian.

And, provided with a lentil, he lighted a fire of dead wood that crackledjoyously. During this time, Conseil and I chose the best fruits of thebread-fruit. Some had not then attained a sufficient degree of maturity; andtheir thick skin covered a white but rather fibrous pulp. Others, the greaternumber yellow and gelatinous, waited only to be picked.

These fruits enclosed no kernel. Conseil brought a dozen to Ned Land, whoplaced them on a coal fire, after having cut them in thick slices, and whiledoing this repeating:

“You will see, master, how good this bread is. More so when one has beendeprived of it so long. It is not even bread,” added he, “but a delicatepastry. You have eaten none, master?”

“No, Ned.”

“Very well, prepare yourself for a juicy thing. If you do not come for more, Iam no longer the king of harpooners.”

After some minutes, the part of the fruits that was exposed to the fire wascompletely roasted. The interior looked like a white pasty, a sort of softcrumb, the flavour of which was like that of an artichoke.

It must be confessed this bread was excellent, and I ate of it with greatrelish.

“What time is it now?” asked the Canadian.

“Two o’clock at least,” replied Conseil.

“How time flies on firm ground!” sighed Ned Land.

“Let us be off,” replied Conseil.

We returned through the forest, and completed our collection by a raid upon thecabbage-palms, that we gathered from the tops of the trees, little beans that Irecognised as the “abrou” of the Malays, and yams of a superior quality.

We were loaded when we reached the boat. But Ned Land did not find hisprovisions sufficient. Fate, however, favoured us. Just as we were pushing off,he perceived several trees, from twenty-five to thirty feet high, a species ofpalm-tree.

At last, at five o’clock in the evening, loaded with our riches, we quitted theshore, and half an hour after we hailed the Nautilus. No one appeared onour arrival. The enormous iron-plated cylinder seemed deserted. The provisionsembarked, I descended to my chamber, and after supper slept soundly.

The next day, 6th January, nothing new on board. Not a sound inside, not a signof life. The boat rested along the edge, in the same place in which we had leftit. We resolved to return to the island. Ned Land hoped to be more fortunatethan on the day before with regard to the hunt, and wished to visit anotherpart of the forest.

At dawn we set off. The boat, carried on by the waves that flowed to shore,reached the island in a few minutes.

We landed, and, thinking that it was better to give in to the Canadian, wefollowed Ned Land, whose long limbs threatened to distance us. He wound up thecoast towards the west: then, fording some torrents, he gained the high plainthat was bordered with admirable forests. Some kingfishers were rambling alongthe water-courses, but they would not let themselves be approached. Theircircumspection proved to me that these birds knew what to expect from bipeds ofour species, and I concluded that, if the island was not inhabited, at leasthuman beings occasionally frequented it.

After crossing a rather large prairie, we arrived at the skirts of a littlewood that was enlivened by the songs and flight of a large number of birds.

“There are only birds,” said Conseil.

“But they are eatable,” replied the harpooner.

“I do not agree with you, friend Ned, for I see only parrots there.”

“Friend Conseil,” said Ned, gravely, “the parrot is like pheasant to those whohave nothing else.”

“And,” I added, “this bird, suitably prepared, is worth knife and fork.”

Indeed, under the thick foliage of this wood, a world of parrots were flyingfrom branch to branch, only needing a careful education to speak the humanlanguage. For the moment, they were chattering with parrots of all colours, andgrave cockatoos, who seemed to meditate upon some philosophical problem, whilstbrilliant red lories passed like a piece of bunting carried away by the breeze,papuans, with the finest azure colours, and in all a variety of winged thingsmost charming to behold, but few eatable.

However, a bird peculiar to these lands, and which has never passed the limitsof the Arrow and Papuan islands, was wanting in this collection. But fortunereserved it for me before long.

After passing through a moderately thick copse, we found a plain obstructedwith bushes. I saw then those magnificent birds, the disposition of whose longfeathers obliges them to fly against the wind. Their undulating flight,graceful aerial curves, and the shading of their colours, attracted and charmedone’s looks. I had no trouble in recognising them.

“Birds of paradise!” I exclaimed.

The Malays, who carry on a great trade in these birds with the Chinese, haveseveral means that we could not employ for taking them. Sometimes they putsnares on the top of high trees that the birds of paradise prefer to frequent.Sometimes they catch them with a viscous birdlime that paralyses theirmovements. They even go so far as to poison the fountains that the birdsgenerally drink from. But we were obliged to fire at them during flight, whichgave us few chances to bring them down; and, indeed, we vainly exhausted onehalf our ammunition.

About eleven o’clock in the morning, the first range of mountains that form thecentre of the island was traversed, and we had killed nothing. Hunger drove uson. The hunters had relied on the products of the chase, and they were wrong.Happily Conseil, to his great surprise, made a double shot and securedbreakfast. He brought down a white pigeon and a wood-pigeon, which, cleverlyplucked and suspended from a skewer, was roasted before a red fire of deadwood. While these interesting birds were cooking, Ned prepared the fruit of thebread-tree. Then the wood-pigeons were devoured to the bones, and declaredexcellent. The nutmeg, with which they are in the habit of stuffing theircrops, flavours their flesh and renders it delicious eating.

“Now, Ned, what do you miss now?”

“Some four-footed game, M. Aronnax. All these pigeons are only side-dishes andtrifles; and until I have killed an animal with cutlets I shall not becontent.”

“Nor I, Ned, if I do not catch a bird of paradise.”

“Let us continue hunting,” replied Conseil. “Let us go towards the sea. We havearrived at the first declivities of the mountains, and I think we had betterregain the region of forests.”

That was sensible advice, and was followed out. After walking for one hour wehad attained a forest of sago-trees. Some inoffensive serpents glided away fromus. The birds of paradise fled at our approach, and truly I despaired ofgetting near one when Conseil, who was walking in front, suddenly bent down,uttered a triumphal cry, and came back to me bringing a magnificent specimen.

“Ah! bravo, Conseil!”

“Master is very good.”

“No, my boy; you have made an excellent stroke. Take one of these living birds,and carry it in your hand.”

“If master will examine it, he will see that I have not deserved great merit.”

“Why, Conseil?”

“Because this bird is as drunk as a quail.”

“Drunk!”

“Yes, sir; drunk with the nutmegs that it devoured under the nutmeg-tree, underwhich I found it. See, friend Ned, see the monstrous effects of intemperance!”

“By Jove!” exclaimed the Canadian, “because I have drunk gin for two months,you must needs reproach me!”

However, I examined the curious bird. Conseil was right. The bird, drunk withthe juice, was quite powerless. It could not fly; it could hardly walk.

This bird belonged to the most beautiful of the eight species that are found inPapua and in the neighbouring islands. It was the “large emerald bird, the mostrare kind.” It measured three feet in length. Its head was comparatively small,its eyes placed near the opening of the beak, and also small. But the shades ofcolour were beautiful, having a yellow beak, brown feet and claws, nut-colouredwings with purple tips, pale yellow at the back of the neck and head, andemerald colour at the throat, chestnut on the breast and belly. Two horned,downy nets rose from below the tail, that prolonged the long light feathers ofadmirable fineness, and they completed the whole of this marvellous bird, thatthe natives have poetically named the “bird of the sun.”

But if my wishes were satisfied by the possession of the bird of paradise, theCanadian’s were not yet. Happily, about two o’clock, Ned Land brought down amagnificent hog; from the brood of those the natives call “bari-outang.” Theanimal came in time for us to procure real quadruped meat, and he was wellreceived. Ned Land was very proud of his shot. The hog, hit by the electricball, fell stone dead. The Canadian skinned and cleaned it properly, afterhaving taken half a dozen cutlets, destined to furnish us with a grilled repastin the evening. Then the hunt was resumed, which was still more marked by Nedand Conseil’s exploits.

Indeed, the two friends, beating the bushes, roused a herd of kangaroos thatfled and bounded along on their elastic paws. But these animals did not take toflight so rapidly but what the electric capsule could stop their course.

“Ah, Professor!” cried Ned Land, who was carried away by the delights of thechase, “what excellent game, and stewed, too! What a supply for theNautilus!Two! three! five down! And to think that we shall eat thatflesh, and that the idiots on board shall not have a crumb!”

I think that, in the excess of his joy, the Canadian, if he had not talked somuch, would have killed them all. But he contented himself with a single dozenof these interesting marsupians. These animals were small. They were a speciesof those “kangaroo rabbitss” that live habitually in the hollows of trees, andwhose speed is extreme; but they are moderately fat, and furnish, at least,estimable food. We were very satisfied with the results of the hunt. Happy Nedproposed to return to this enchanting island the next day, for he wished todepopulate it of all the eatable quadrupeds. But he had reckoned without hishost.

At six o’clock in the evening we had regained the shore; our boat was moored tothe usual place. The Nautilus, like a long rock, emerged from the wavestwo miles from the beach. Ned Land, without waiting, occupied himself about theimportant dinner business. He understood all about cooking well. The“bari-outang,” grilled on the coals, soon scented the air with a deliciousodour.

Indeed, the dinner was excellent. Two wood-pigeons completed this extraordinarymenu. The sago pasty, the artocarpus bread, some mangoes, half a dozenpineapples, and the liquor fermented from some coco-nuts, overjoyed us. I eventhink that my worthy companions’ ideas had not all the plainness desirable.

“Suppose we do not return to the Nautilusthis evening?” said Conseil.

“Suppose we never return?” added Ned Land.

Just then a stone fell at our feet and cut short the harpooner’s proposition.

CHAPTER XXI
CAPTAIN NEMO’S THUNDERBOLT

We looked at the edge of the forest without rising, my hand stopping in theaction of putting it to my mouth, Ned Land’s completing its office.

“Stones do not fall from the sky,” remarked Conseil, “or they would merit thename aerolites.”

A second stone, carefully aimed, that made a savoury pigeon’s leg fall fromConseil’s hand, gave still more weight to his observation. We all three arose,shouldered our guns, and were ready to reply to any attack.

“Are they apes?” cried Ned Land.

“Very nearly—they are savages.”

“To the boat!” I said, hurrying to the sea.

It was indeed necessary to beat a retreat, for about twenty natives armed withbows and slings appeared on the skirts of a copse that masked the horizon tothe right, hardly a hundred steps from us.

Our boat was moored about sixty feet from us. The savages approached us, notrunning, but making hostile demonstrations. Stones and arrows fell thickly.

Ned Land had not wished to leave his provisions; and, in spite of his imminentdanger, his pig on one side and kangaroos on the other, he went tolerably fast.In two minutes we were on the shore. To load the boat with provisions and arms,to push it out to sea, and ship the oars, was the work of an instant. We hadnot gone two cable-lengths, when a hundred savages, howling and gesticulating,entered the water up to their waists. I watched to see if their apparitionwould attract some men from the Nautiluson to the platform. But no. Theenormous machine, lying off, was absolutely deserted.

Twenty minutes later we were on board. The panels were open. After making theboat fast, we entered into the interior of the Nautilus.

I descended to the drawing-room, from whence I heard some chords. Captain Nemowas there, bending over his organ, and plunged in a musical ecstasy.

“Captain!”

He did not hear me.

“Captain!” I said, touching his hand.

He shuddered, and, turning round, said, “Ah! it is you, Professor? Well, haveyou had a good hunt, have you botanised successfully?”

“Yes Captain; but we have unfortunately brought a troop of bipeds, whosevicinity troubles me.”

“What bipeds?”

“Savages.”

“Savages!” he echoed, ironically. “So you are astonished, Professor, at havingset foot on a strange land and finding savages? Savages! where are there notany? Besides, are they worse than others, these whom you call savages?”

“But Captain——”

“How many have you counted?”

“A hundred at least.”

“M. Aronnax,” replied Captain Nemo, placing his fingers on the organ stops,“when all the natives of Papua are assembled on this shore, the Nautiluswill have nothing to fear from their attacks.”

The Captain’s fingers were then running over the keys of the instrument, and Iremarked that he touched only the black keys, which gave his melodies anessentially Scotch character. Soon he had forgotten my presence, and hadplunged into a reverie that I did not disturb. I went up again on to theplatform: night had already fallen; for, in this low latitude, the sun setsrapidly and without twilight. I could only see the island indistinctly; but thenumerous fires, lighted on the beach, showed that the natives did not think ofleaving it. I was alone for several hours, sometimes thinking of thenatives—but without any dread of them, for the imperturbable confidence of theCaptain was catching—sometimes forgetting them to admire the splendours of thenight in the tropics. My remembrances went to France in the train of thosezodiacal stars that would shine in some hours’ time. The moon shone in themidst of the constellations of the zenith.

The night slipped away without any mischance, the islanders frightened no doubtat the sight of a monster aground in the bay. The panels were open, and wouldhave offered an easy access to the interior of the Nautilus.

At six o’clock in the morning of the 8th January I went up on to the platform.The dawn was breaking. The island soon showed itself through the dissipatingfogs, first the shore, then the summits.

The natives were there, more numerous than on the day before—five or sixhundred perhaps—some of them, profiting by the low water, had come on to thecoral, at less than two cable-lengths from the Nautilus. I distinguishedthem easily; they were true Papuans, with athletic figures, men of good race,large high foreheads, large, but not broad and flat, and white teeth. Theirwoolly hair, with a reddish tinge, showed off on their black shining bodieslike those of the Nubians. From the lobes of their ears, cut and distended,hung chaplets of bones. Most of these savages were naked. Amongst them, Iremarked some women, dressed from the hips to knees in quite a crinoline ofherbs, that sustained a vegetable waistband. Some chiefs had ornamented theirnecks with a crescent and collars of glass beads, red and white; nearly allwere armed with bows, arrows, and shields and carried on their shoulders a sortof net containing those round stones which they cast from their slings withgreat skill. One of these chiefs, rather near to the Nautilus, examinedit attentively. He was, perhaps, a “mado” of high rank, for he was draped in amat of banana-leaves, notched round the edges, and set off with brilliantcolours.

I could easily have knocked down this native, who was within a short length;but I thought that it was better to wait for real hostile demonstrations.Between Europeans and savages, it is proper for the Europeans to parry sharply,not to attack.

During low water the natives roamed about near the Nautilus, but werenot troublesome; I heard them frequently repeat the word “Assai,” and by theirgestures I understood that they invited me to go on land, an invitation that Ideclined.

So that, on that day, the boat did not push off, to the great displeasure ofMaster Land, who could not complete his provisions.

This adroit Canadian employed his time in preparing the viands and meat that hehad brought off the island. As for the savages, they returned to the shoreabout eleven o’clock in the morning, as soon as the coral tops began todisappear under the rising tide; but I saw their numbers had increasedconsiderably on the shore. Probably they came from the neighbouring islands, orvery likely from Papua. However, I had not seen a single native canoe. Havingnothing better to do, I thought of dragging these beautiful limpid waters,under which I saw a profusion of shells, zoophytes, and marine plants.Moreover, it was the last day that the Nautiluswould pass in theseparts, if it float in open sea the next day, according to Captain Nemo’spromise.

I therefore called Conseil, who brought me a little light drag, very like thosefor the oyster fishery. Now to work! For two hours we fished unceasingly, butwithout bringing up any rarities. The drag was filled with midas-ears, harps,melames, and particularly the most beautiful hammers I have ever seen. We alsobrought up some sea-slugs, pearl-oysters, and a dozen little turtles that werereserved for the pantry on board.

But just when I expected it least, I put my hand on a wonder, I might say anatural deformity, very rarely met with. Conseil was just dragging, and his netcame up filled with divers ordinary shells, when, all at once, he saw me plungemy arm quickly into the net, to draw out a shell, and heard me utter a cry.

“What is the matter, sir?” he asked in surprise. “Has master been bitten?”

“No, my boy; but I would willingly have given a finger for my discovery.”

“What discovery?”

“This shell,” I said, holding up the object of my triumph.

“It is simply an olive porphyry, genus olive, order of the pectinibranchidæ,class of gasteropods, sub-class mollusca.”

“Yes, Conseil; but, instead of being rolled from right to left, this oliveturns from left to right.”

“Is it possible?”

“Yes, my boy; it is a left shell.”

Shells are all right-handed, with rare exceptions; and, when by chance theirspiral is left, amateurs are ready to pay their weight in gold.

Conseil and I were absorbed in the contemplation of our treasure, and I waspromising myself to enrich the museum with it, when a stone unfortunatelythrown by a native struck against, and broke, the precious object in Conseil’shand. I uttered a cry of despair! Conseil took up his gun, and aimed at asavage who was poising his sling at ten yards from him. I would have stoppedhim, but his blow took effect and broke the bracelet of amulets which encircledthe arm of the savage.

Conseil seized his gun

“Conseil!” cried I. “Conseil!”

“Well, sir! do you not see that the cannibal has commenced the attack?”

“A shell is not worth the life of a man,” said I.

“Ah! the scoundrel!” cried Conseil; “I would rather he had broken my shoulder!”

Conseil was in earnest, but I was not of his opinion. However, the situationhad changed some minutes before, and we had not perceived. A score of canoessurrounded the Nautilus. These canoes, scooped out of the trunk of atree, long, narrow, well adapted for speed, were balanced by means of a longbamboo pole, which floated on the water. They were managed by skilful,half-naked paddlers, and I watched their advance with some uneasiness. It wasevident that these Papuans had already had dealings with the Europeans and knewtheir ships. But this long iron cylinder anchored in the bay, without masts orchimneys, what could they think of it? Nothing good, for at first they kept ata respectful distance. However, seeing it motionless, by degrees they tookcourage, and sought to familiarise themselves with it. Now this familiarity wasprecisely what it was necessary to avoid. Our arms, which were noiseless, couldonly produce a moderate effect on the savages, who have little respect foraught but blustering things. The thunderbolt without the reverberations ofthunder would frighten man but little, though the danger lies in the lightning,not in the noise.

At this moment the canoes approached the Nautilus, and a shower ofarrows alighted on her.

I went down to the saloon, but found no one there. I ventured to knock at thedoor that opened into the Captain’s room. “Come in,” was the answer.

I entered, and found Captain Nemo deep in algebraical calculations of xand other quantities.

“I am disturbing you,” said I, for courtesy’s sake.

“That is true, M. Aronnax,” replied the Captain; “but I think you have seriousreasons for wishing to see me?”

“Very grave ones; the natives are surrounding us in their canoes, and in a fewminutes we shall certainly be attacked by many hundreds of savages.”

“Ah!” said Captain Nemo quietly, “they are come with their canoes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, sir, we must close the hatches.”

“Exactly, and I came to say to you——”

“Nothing can be more simple,” said Captain Nemo. And, pressing an electricbutton, he transmitted an order to the ship’s crew.

“It is all done, sir,” said he, after some moments. “The pinnace is ready, andthe hatches are closed. You do not fear, I imagine, that these gentlemen couldstave in walls on which the balls of your frigate have had no effect?”

“No, Captain; but a danger still exists.”

“What is that, sir?”

“It is that to-morrow, at about this hour, we must open the hatches to renewthe air of the Nautilus. Now, if, at this moment, the Papuans shouldoccupy the platform, I do not see how you could prevent them from entering.”

“Then, sir, you suppose that they will board us?”

“I am certain of it.”

“Well, sir, let them come. I see no reason for hindering them. After all, thesePapuans are poor creatures, and I am unwilling that my visit to the islandshould cost the life of a single one of these wretches.”

Upon that I was going away; But Captain Nemo detained me, and asked me to sitdown by him. He questioned me with interest about our excursions on shore, andour hunting; and seemed not to understand the craving for meat that possessedthe Canadian. Then the conversation turned on various subjects, and, withoutbeing more communicative, Captain Nemo showed himself more amiable.

Amongst other things, we happened to speak of the situation of theNautilus, run aground in exactly the same spot in this strait whereDumont d’Urville was nearly lost. Apropos of this:

“This D’Urville was one of your great sailors,” said the Captain to me, “one ofyour most intelligent navigators. He is the Captain Cook of you Frenchmen.Unfortunate man of science, after having braved the icebergs of the South Pole,the coral reefs of Oceania, the cannibals of the Pacific, to perish miserablyin a railway train! If this energetic man could have reflected during the lastmoments of his life, what must have been uppermost in his last thoughts, do yousuppose?”

So speaking, Captain Nemo seemed moved, and his emotion gave me a betteropinion of him. Then, chart in hand, we reviewed the travels of the Frenchnavigator, his voyages of circumnavigation, his double detention at the SouthPole, which led to the discovery of Adelaide and Louis Philippe, and fixing thehydrographical bearings of the principal islands of Oceania.

“That which your D’Urville has done on the surface of the seas,” said CaptainNemo, “that have I done under them, and more easily, more completely than he.The Astrolabe and the Zelee, incessantly tossed about by the hurricane, couldnot be worth the Nautilus, quiet repository of labour that she is, trulymotionless in the midst of the waters.

“To-morrow,” added the Captain, rising, “to-morrow, at twenty minutes to threep.m., the Nautilusshall float, and leave the Strait of Torresuninjured.”

Having curtly pronounced these words, Captain Nemo bowed slightly. This was todismiss me, and I went back to my room.

There I found Conseil, who wished to know the result of my interview with theCaptain.

“My boy,” said I, “when I feigned to believe that his Nautiluswasthreatened by the natives of Papua, the Captain answered me very sarcastically.I have but one thing to say to you: Have confidence in him, and go to sleep inpeace.”

“Have you no need of my services, sir?”

“No, my friend. What is Ned Land doing?”

“If you will excuse me, sir,” answered Conseil, “friend Ned is busy making akangaroo-pie which will be a marvel.”

I remained alone and went to bed, but slept indifferently. I heard the noise ofthe savages, who stamped on the platform, uttering deafening cries. The nightpassed thus, without disturbing the ordinary repose of the crew. The presenceof these cannibals affected them no more than the soldiers of a masked batterycare for the ants that crawl over its front.

At six in the morning I rose. The hatches had not been opened. The inner airwas not renewed, but the reservoirs, filled ready for any emergency, were nowresorted to, and discharged several cubic feet of oxygen into the exhaustedatmosphere of the Nautilus.

I worked in my room till noon, without having seen Captain Nemo, even for aninstant. On board no preparations for departure were visible.

I waited still some time, then went into the large saloon. The clock markedhalf-past two. In ten minutes it would be high-tide: and, if Captain Nemo hadnot made a rash promise, the Nautiluswould be immediately detached. Ifnot, many months would pass ere she could leave her bed of coral.

However, some warning vibrations began to be felt in the vessel. I heard thekeel grating against the rough calcareous bottom of the coral reef.

At five-and-twenty minutes to three, Captain Nemo appeared in the saloon.

“We are going to start,” said he.

“Ah!” replied I.

“I have given the order to open the hatches.”

“And the Papuans?”

“The Papuans?” answered Captain Nemo, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

“Will they not come inside the Nautilus?”

“How?”

“Only by leaping over the hatches you have opened.”

“M. Aronnax,” quietly answered Captain Nemo, “they will not enter the hatchesof the Nautilusin that way, even if they were open.”

I looked at the Captain.

“You do not understand?” said he.

“Hardly.”

“Well, come and you will see.”

I directed my steps towards the central staircase. There Ned Land and Conseilwere slyly watching some of the ship’s crew, who were opening the hatches,while cries of rage and fearful vociferations resounded outside.

The port lids were pulled down outside. Twenty horrible faces appeared. But thefirst native who placed his hand on the stair-rail, struck from behind by someinvisible force, I know not what, fled, uttering the most fearful cries andmaking the wildest contortions.

Ten of his companions followed him. They met with the same fate.

Conseil was in ecstasy. Ned Land, carried away by his violent instincts, rushedon to the staircase. But the moment he seized the rail with both hands, he, inhis turn, was overthrown.

“I am struck by a thunderbolt,” cried he, with an oath.

This explained all. It was no rail; but a metallic cable charged withelectricity from the deck communicating with the platform. Whoever touched itfelt a powerful shock—and this shock would have been mortal if Captain Nemo haddischarged into the conductor the whole force of the current. It might truly besaid that between his assailants and himself he had stretched a network ofelectricity which none could pass with impunity.

Meanwhile, the exasperated Papuans had beaten a retreat paralysed with terror.As for us, half laughing, we consoled and rubbed the unfortunate Ned Land, whoswore like one possessed.

But at this moment the Nautilus, raised by the last waves of the tide,quitted her coral bed exactly at the fortieth minute fixed by the Captain. Herscrew swept the waters slowly and majestically. Her speed increased gradually,and, sailing on the surface of the ocean, she quitted safe and sound thedangerous passes of the Straits of Torres.

CHAPTER XXII
“ÆGRI SOMNIA”

The following day 10th January, the Nautiluscontinued her coursebetween two seas, but with such remarkable speed that I could not estimate itat less than thirty-five miles an hour. The rapidity of her screw was such thatI could neither follow nor count its revolutions. When I reflected that thismarvellous electric agent, after having afforded motion, heat, and light to theNautilus, still protected her from outward attack, and transformed herinto an ark of safety which no profane hand might touch without beingthunderstricken, my admiration was unbounded, and from the structure itextended to the engineer who had called it into existence.

Our course was directed to the west, and on the 11th of January we doubled CapeWessel, situation in 135° long. and 10° north lat., which forms the east point ofthe Gulf of Carpentaria. The reefs were still numerous, but more equalised, andmarked on the chart with extreme precision. The Nautiluseasily avoidedthe breakers of Money to port and the Victoria reefs to starboard, placed at130° long. and on the 10th parallel, which we strictly followed.

On the 13th of January, Captain Nemo arrived in the Sea of Timor, andrecognised the island of that name in 122° long.

From this point the direction of the Nautilusinclined towards thesouth-west. Her head was set for the Indian Ocean. Where would the fancy ofCaptain Nemo carry us next? Would he return to the coast of Asia or would heapproach again the shores of Europe? Improbable conjectures both, to a man whofled from inhabited continents. Then would he descend to the south? Was hegoing to double the Cape of Good Hope, then Cape Horn, and finally go as far asthe Antarctic pole? Would he come back at last to the Pacific, where hisNautiluscould sail free and independently? Time would show.

After having skirted the sands of Cartier, of Hibernia, Seringapatam, andScott, last efforts of the solid against the liquid element, on the 14th ofJanuary we lost sight of land altogether. The speed of the Nautiluswasconsiderably abated, and with irregular course she sometimes swam in the bosomof the waters, sometimes floated on their surface.

During this period of the voyage, Captain Nemo made some interestingexperiments on the varied temperature of the sea, in different beds. Underordinary conditions these observations are made by means of rather complicatedinstruments, and with somewhat doubtful results, by means of thermometricalsounding-leads, the glasses often breaking under the pressure of the water, oran apparatus grounded on the variations of the resistance of metals to theelectric currents. Results so obtained could not be correctly calculated. Onthe contrary, Captain Nemo went himself to test the temperature in the depthsof the sea, and his thermometer, placed in communication with the differentsheets of water, gave him the required degree immediately and accurately.

It was thus that, either by overloading her reservoirs or by descendingobliquely by means of her inclined planes, the Nautilussuccessivelyattained the depth of three, four, five, seven, nine, and ten thousand yards,and the definite result of this experience was that the sea preserved anaverage temperature of four degrees and a half at a depth of five thousandfathoms under all latitudes.

On the 16th of January, the Nautilusseemed becalmed only a few yardsbeneath the surface of the waves. Her electric apparatus remained inactive andher motionless screw left her to drift at the mercy of the currents. I supposedthat the crew was occupied with interior repairs, rendered necessary by theviolence of the mechanical movements of the machine.

My companions and I then witnessed a curious spectacle. The hatches of thesaloon were open, and, as the beacon light of the Nautiluswas not inaction, a dim obscurity reigned in the midst of the waters. I observed thestate of the sea, under these conditions, and the largest fish appeared to meno more than scarcely defined shadows, when the Nautilusfound herselfsuddenly transported into full light. I thought at first that the beacon hadbeen lighted, and was casting its electric radiance into the liquid mass. I wasmistaken, and after a rapid survey perceived my error.

The Nautilusfloated in the midst of a phosphorescent bed which, in thisobscurity, became quite dazzling. It was produced by myriads of luminousanimalculae, whose brilliancy was increased as they glided over the metallichull of the vessel. I was surprised by lightning in the midst of these luminoussheets, as though they had been rivulets of lead melted in an ardent furnace ormetallic masses brought to a white heat, so that, by force of contrast, certainportions of light appeared to cast a shade in the midst of the generalignition, from which all shade seemed banished. No; this was not the calmirradiation of our ordinary lightning. There was unusual life and vigour: thiswas truly living light!

In reality, it was an infinite agglomeration of coloured infusoria, ofveritable globules of jelly, provided with a threadlike tentacle, and of whichas many as twenty-five thousand have been counted in less than two cubichalf-inches of water.

During several hours the Nautilusfloated in these brilliant waves, andour admiration increased as we watched the marine monsters disportingthemselves like salamanders. I saw there in the midst of this fire that burnsnot the swift and elegant porpoise (the indefatigable clown of the ocean), andsome swordfish ten feet long, those prophetic heralds of the hurricane whoseformidable sword would now and then strike the glass of the saloon. Thenappeared the smaller fish, the balista, the leaping mackerel, wolf-thorn-tails,and a hundred others which striped the luminous atmosphere as they swam. Thisdazzling spectacle was enchanting! Perhaps some atmospheric condition increasedthe intensity of this phenomenon. Perhaps some storm agitated the surface ofthe waves. But at this depth of some yards, the Nautiluswas unmoved byits fury and reposed peacefully in still water.

So we progressed, incessantly charmed by some new marvel. The days passedrapidly away, and I took no account of them. Ned, according to habit, tried tovary the diet on board. Like snails, we were fixed to our shells, and I declareit is easy to lead a snail’s life.

Thus this life seemed easy and natural, and we thought no longer of the life weled on land; but something happened to recall us to the strangeness of oursituation.

On the 18th of January, the Nautiluswas in 105° long. and 15° S. lat.The weather was threatening, the sea rough and rolling. There was a strong eastwind. The barometer, which had been going down for some days, foreboded acoming storm. I went up on to the platform just as the second lieutenant wastaking the measure of the horary angles, and waited, according to habit tillthe daily phrase was said. But on this day it was exchanged for another phrasenot less incomprehensible. Almost directly, I saw Captain Nemo appear with aglass, looking towards the horizon.

For some minutes he was immovable, without taking his eye off the point ofobservation. Then he lowered his glass and exchanged a few words with hislieutenant. The latter seemed to be a victim to some emotion that he tried invain to repress. Captain Nemo, having more command over himself, was cool. Heseemed, too, to be making some objections to which the lieutenant replied byformal assurances. At least I concluded so by the difference of their tones andgestures. For myself, I had looked carefully in the direction indicated withoutseeing anything. The sky and water were lost in the clear line of the horizon.

However, Captain Nemo walked from one end of the platform to the other, withoutlooking at me, perhaps without seeing me. His step was firm, but less regularthan usual. He stopped sometimes, crossed his arms, and observed the sea. Whatcould he be looking for on that immense expanse?

The Nautiluswas then some hundreds of miles from the nearest coast.

The lieutenant had taken up the glass and examined the horizon steadfastly,going and coming, stamping his foot and showing more nervous agitation than hissuperior officer. Besides, this mystery must necessarily be solved, and beforelong; for, upon an order from Captain Nemo, the engine, increasing itspropelling power, made the screw turn more rapidly.

Just then the lieutenant drew the Captain’s attention again. The latter stoppedwalking and directed his glass towards the place indicated. He looked long. Ifelt very much puzzled, and descended to the drawing-room, and took out anexcellent telescope that I generally used. Then, leaning on the cage of thewatch-light that jutted out from the front of the platform, set myself to lookover all the line of the sky and sea.

But my eye was no sooner applied to the glass than it was quickly snatched outof my hands.

I turned round. Captain Nemo was before me, but I did not know him. His facewas transfigured. His eyes flashed sullenly; his teeth were set; his stiffbody, clenched fists, and head shrunk between his shoulders, betrayed theviolent agitation that pervaded his whole frame. He did not move. My glass,fallen from his hands, had rolled at his feet.

Had I unwittingly provoked this fit of anger? Did this incomprehensible personimagine that I had discovered some forbidden secret? No; I was not the objectof this hatred, for he was not looking at me; his eye was steadily fixed uponthe impenetrable point of the horizon. At last Captain Nemo recovered himself.His agitation subsided. He addressed some words in a foreign language to hislieutenant, then turned to me. “M. Aronnax,” he said, in rather an imperioustone, “I require you to keep one of the conditions that bind you to me.”

“What is it, Captain?”

“You must be confined, with your companions, until I think fit to release you.”

“You are the master,” I replied, looking steadily at him. “But may I ask youone question?”

“None, sir.”

There was no resisting this imperious command, it would have been useless. Iwent down to the cabin occupied by Ned Land and Conseil, and told them theCaptain’s determination. You may judge how this communication was received bythe Canadian.

But there was not time for altercation. Four of the crew waited at the door,and conducted us to that cell where we had passed our first night on board theNautilus.

Ned Land would have remonstrated, but the door was shut upon him.

“Will master tell me what this means?” asked Conseil.

I told my companions what had passed. They were as much astonished as I, andequally at a loss how to account for it.

Meanwhile, I was absorbed in my own reflections, and could think of nothing butthe strange fear depicted in the Captain’s countenance. I was utterly at a lossto account for it, when my cogitations were disturbed by these words from NedLand:

“Hallo! breakfast is ready.”

And indeed the table was laid. Evidently Captain Nemo had given this order atthe same time that he had hastened the speed of the Nautilus.

“Will master permit me to make a recommendation?” asked Conseil.

“Yes, my boy.”

“Well, it is that master breakfasts. It is prudent, for we do not know what mayhappen.”

“You are right, Conseil.”

“Unfortunately,” said Ned Land, “they have only given us the ship’s fare.”

“Friend Ned,” asked Conseil, “what would you have said if the breakfast hadbeen entirely forgotten?”

This argument cut short the harpooner’s recriminations.

We sat down to table. The meal was eaten in silence.

Just then the luminous globe that lighted the cell went out, and left us intotal darkness. Ned Land was soon asleep, and what astonished me was thatConseil went off into a heavy slumber. I was thinking what could have causedhis irresistible drowsiness, when I felt my brain becoming stupefied. In spiteof my efforts to keep my eyes open, they would close. A painful suspicionseized me. Evidently soporific substances had been mixed with the food we hadjust taken. Imprisonment was not enough to conceal Captain Nemo’s projects fromus, sleep was more necessary. I then heard the panels shut. The undulations ofthe sea, which caused a slight rolling motion, ceased. Had the Nautilusquitted the surface of the ocean? Had it gone back to the motionless bed ofwater? I tried to resist sleep. It was impossible. My breathing grew weak. Ifelt a mortal cold freeze my stiffened and half-paralysed limbs. My eyelids,like leaden caps, fell over my eyes. I could not raise them; a morbid sleep,full of hallucinations, bereft me of my being. Then the visions disappeared,and left me in complete insensibility.

CHAPTER XXIII
THE CORAL KINGDOM

The next day I woke with my head singularly clear. To my great surprise, I wasin my own room. My companions, no doubt, had been reinstated in their cabin,without having perceived it any more than I. Of what had passed during thenight they were as ignorant as I was, and to penetrate this mystery I onlyreckoned upon the chances of the future.

I then thought of quitting my room. Was I free again or a prisoner? Quite free.I opened the door, went to the half-deck, went up the central stairs. Thepanels, shut the evening before, were open. I went on to the platform.

Ned Land and Conseil waited there for me. I questioned them; they knew nothing.Lost in a heavy sleep in which they had been totally unconscious, they had beenastonished at finding themselves in their cabin.

As for the Nautilus, it seemed quiet and mysterious as ever. It floatedon the surface of the waves at a moderate pace. Nothing seemed changed onboard.

The second lieutenant then came on to the platform, and gave the usual orderbelow.

As for Captain Nemo, he did not appear.

Of the people on board, I only saw the impassive steward, who served me withhis usual dumb regularity.

About two o’clock, I was in the drawing-room, busied in arranging my notes,when the Captain opened the door and appeared. I bowed. He made a slightinclination in return, without speaking. I resumed my work, hoping that hewould perhaps give me some explanation of the events of the preceding night. Hemade none. I looked at him. He seemed fatigued; his heavy eyes had not beenrefreshed by sleep; his face looked very sorrowful. He walked to and fro, satdown and got up again, took a chance book, put it down, consulted hisinstruments without taking his habitual notes, and seemed restless and uneasy.At last, he came up to me, and said:

“Are you a doctor, M. Aronnax?”

I so little expected such a question that I stared some time at him withoutanswering.

“Are you a doctor?” he repeated. “Several of your colleagues have studiedmedicine.”

“Well,” said I, “I am a doctor and resident surgeon to the hospital. Ipractised several years before entering the museum.”

“Very well, sir.”

My answer had evidently satisfied the Captain. But, not knowing what he wouldsay next, I waited for other questions, reserving my answers according tocircumstances.

“M. Aronnax, will you consent to prescribe for one of my men?” he asked.

“Is he ill?”

“Yes.”

“I am ready to follow you.”

“Come, then.”

I own my heart beat, I do not know why. I saw certain connection between theillness of one of the crew and the events of the day before; and this mysteryinterested me at least as much as the sick man.

Captain Nemo conducted me to the poop of the Nautilus, and took me intoa cabin situated near the sailors’ quarters.

There, on a bed, lay a man about forty years of age, with a resolute expressionof countenance, a true type of an Anglo-Saxon.

I leant over him. He was not only ill, he was wounded. His head, swathed inbandages covered with blood, lay on a pillow. I undid the bandages, and thewounded man looked at me with his large eyes and gave no sign of pain as I didit. It was a horrible wound. The skull, shattered by some deadly weapon, leftthe brain exposed, which was much injured. Clots of blood had formed in thebruised and broken mass, in colour like the dregs of wine.

There was both contusion and suffusion of the brain. His breathing was slow,and some spasmodic movements of the muscles agitated his face. I felt hispulse. It was intermittent. The extremities of the body were growing coldalready, and I saw death must inevitably ensue. After dressing the unfortunateman’s wounds, I readjusted the bandages on his head, and turned to CaptainNemo.

“What caused this wound?” I asked.

“What does it signify?” he replied, evasively. “A shock has broken one of thelevers of the engine, which struck myself. But your opinion as to his state?”

I hesitated before giving it.

“You may speak,” said the Captain. “This man does not understand French.”

I gave a last look at the wounded man.

“He will be dead in two hours.”

“Can nothing save him?”

“Nothing.”

Captain Nemo’s hand contracted, and some tears glistened in his eyes, which Ithought incapable of shedding any.

For some moments I still watched the dying man, whose life ebbed slowly. Hispallor increased under the electric light that was shed over his death-bed. Ilooked at his intelligent forehead, furrowed with premature wrinkles, producedprobably by misfortune and sorrow. I tried to learn the secret of his life fromthe last words that escaped his lips.

“You can go now, M. Aronnax,” said the Captain.

I left him in the dying man’s cabin, and returned to my room much affected bythis scene. During the whole day, I was haunted by uncomfortable suspicions,and at night I slept badly, and between my broken dreams I fancied I hearddistant sighs like the notes of a funeral psalm. Were they the prayers of thedead, murmured in that language that I could not understand?

The next morning I went on to the bridge. Captain Nemo was there before me. Assoon as he perceived me he came to me.

“Professor, will it be convenient to you to make a submarine excursion to-day?”

“With my companions?” I asked.

“If they like.”

“We obey your orders, Captain.”

“Will you be so good then as to put on your cork jackets?”

It was not a question of dead or dying. I rejoined Ned Land and Conseil, andtold them of Captain Nemo’s proposition. Conseil hastened to accept it, andthis time the Canadian seemed quite willing to follow our example.

It was eight o’clock in the morning. At half-past eight we were equipped forthis new excursion, and provided with two contrivances for light and breathing.The double door was open; and, accompanied by Captain Nemo, who was followed bya dozen of the crew, we set foot, at a depth of about thirty feet, on the solidbottom on which the Nautilusrested.

A slight declivity ended in an uneven bottom, at fifteen fathoms depth. Thisbottom differed entirely from the one I had visited on my first excursion underthe waters of the Pacific Ocean. Here, there was no fine sand, no submarineprairies, no sea-forest. I immediately recognised that marvellous region inwhich, on that day, the Captain did the honours to us. It was the coralkingdom.

The light produced a thousand charming varieties, playing in the midst of thebranches that were so vividly coloured. I seemed to see the membraneous andcylindrical tubes tremble beneath the undulation of the waters. I was temptedto gather their fresh petals, ornamented with delicate tentacles, some justblown, the others budding, while a small fish, swimming swiftly, touched themslightly, like flights of birds. But if my hand approached these livingflowers, these animated, sensitive plants, the whole colony took alarm. Thewhite petals re-entered their red cases, the flowers faded as I looked, and thebush changed into a block of stony knobs.

Chance had thrown me just by the most precious specimens of the zoophyte. Thiscoral was more valuable than that found in the Mediterranean, on the coasts ofFrance, Italy and Barbary. Its tints justified the poetical names of “Flower ofBlood,” and “Froth of Blood,” that trade has given to its most beautifulproductions. Coral is sold for £20 per ounce; and in this place the watery bedswould make the fortunes of a company of coral-divers. This precious matter,often confused with other polypi, formed then the inextricable plots called“macciota,” and on which I noticed several beautiful specimens of pink coral.

But soon the bushes contract, and the arborisations increase. Real petrifiedthickets, long joists of fantastic architecture, were disclosed before us.Captain Nemo placed himself under a dark gallery, where by a slight declivitywe reached a depth of a hundred yards. The light from our lamps producedsometimes magical effects, following the rough outlines of the natural archesand pendants disposed like lustres, that were tipped with points of fire.

At last, after walking two hours, we had attained a depth of about threehundred yards, that is to say, the extreme limit on which coral begins to form.But there was no isolated bush, nor modest brushwood, at the bottom of loftytrees. It was an immense forest of large mineral vegetations, enormouspetrified trees, united by garlands of elegant sea-bindweed, all adorned withclouds and reflections. We passed freely under their high branches, lost in theshade of the waves.

Captain Nemo had stopped. I and my companions halted, and, turning round, I sawhis men were forming a semi-circle round their chief. Watching attentively, Iobserved that four of them carried on their shoulders an object of an oblongshape.

We occupied, in this place, the centre of a vast glade surrounded by the loftyfoliage of the submarine forest. Our lamps threw over this place a sort ofclear twilight that singularly elongated the shadows on the ground. At the endof the glade the darkness increased, and was only relieved by little sparksreflected by the points of coral.

Ned Land and Conseil were near me. We watched, and I thought I was going towitness a strange scene. On observing the ground, I saw that it was raised incertain places by slight excrescences encrusted with limy deposits, anddisposed with a regularity that betrayed the hand of man.

In the midst of the glade, on a pedestal of rocks roughly piled up, stood across of coral that extended its long arms that one might have thought weremade of petrified blood. Upon a sign from Captain Nemo one of the men advanced;and at some feet from the cross he began to dig a hole with a pickaxe that hetook from his belt. I understood all! This glade was a cemetery, this hole atomb, this oblong object the body of the man who had died in the night! TheCaptain and his men had come to bury their companion in this generalresting-place, at the bottom of this inaccessible ocean!

The grave was being dug slowly; the fish fled on all sides while their retreatwas being thus disturbed; I heard the strokes of the pickaxe, which sparkledwhen it hit upon some flint lost at the bottom of the waters. The hole was soonlarge and deep enough to receive the body. Then the bearers approached; thebody, enveloped in a tissue of white linen, was lowered into the damp grave.Captain Nemo, with his arms crossed on his breast, and all the friends of himwho had loved them, knelt in prayer.

All fell on their knees in an attitude of prayer

The grave was then filled in with the rubbish taken from the ground, whichformed a slight mound. When this was done, Captain Nemo and his men rose; then,approaching the grave, they knelt again, and all extended their hands in signof a last adieu. Then the funeral procession returned to the Nautilus,passing under the arches of the forest, in the midst of thickets, along thecoral bushes, and still on the ascent. At last the light of the ship appeared,and its luminous track guided us to the Nautilus. At one o’clock we hadreturned.

As soon as I had changed my clothes I went up on to the platform, and, a preyto conflicting emotions, I sat down near the binnacle. Captain Nemo joined me.I rose and said to him:

“So, as I said he would, this man died in the night?”

“Yes, M. Aronnax.”

“And he rests now, near his companions, in the coral cemetery?”

“Yes, forgotten by all else, but not by us. We dug the grave, and the polypiundertake to seal our dead for eternity.” And, burying his face quickly in hishands, he tried in vain to suppress a sob. Then he added: “Our peacefulcemetery is there, some hundred feet below the surface of the waves.”

“Your dead sleep quietly, at least, Captain, out of the reach of sharks.”

“Yes, sir, of sharks and men,” gravely replied the Captain.

PART TWO

CHAPTER I
THE INDIAN OCEAN

We now come to the second part of our journey under the sea. The first endedwith the moving scene in the coral cemetery which left such a deep impressionon my mind. Thus, in the midst of this great sea, Captain Nemo’s life waspassing, even to his grave, which he had prepared in one of its deepestabysses. There, not one of the ocean’s monsters could trouble the last sleep ofthe crew of the Nautilus, of those friends riveted to each other indeath as in life. “Nor any man, either,” had added the Captain. Still the samefierce, implacable defiance towards human society!

I could no longer content myself with the theory which satisfied Conseil.

That worthy fellow persisted in seeing in the Commander of the Nautilusone of those unknown savantswho return mankind contempt forindifference. For him, he was a misunderstood genius who, tired of earth’sdeceptions, had taken refuge in this inaccessible medium, where he might followhis instincts freely. To my mind, this explains but one side of Captain Nemo’scharacter. Indeed, the mystery of that last night during which we had beenchained in prison, the sleep, and the precaution so violently taken by theCaptain of snatching from my eyes the glass I had raised to sweep the horizon,the mortal wound of the man, due to an unaccountable shock of theNautilus, all put me on a new track. No; Captain Nemo was not satisfiedwith shunning man. His formidable apparatus not only suited his instinct offreedom, but perhaps also the design of some terrible retaliation.

At this moment nothing is clear to me; I catch but a glimpse of light amidstall the darkness, and I must confine myself to writing as events shall dictate.

That day, the 24th of January, 1868, at noon, the second officer came to takethe altitude of the sun. I mounted the platform, lit a cigar, and watched theoperation. It seemed to me that the man did not understand French; for severaltimes I made remarks in a loud voice, which must have drawn from him someinvoluntary sign of attention, if he had understood them; but he remainedundisturbed and dumb.

As he was taking observations with the sextant, one of the sailors of theNautilus(the strong man who had accompanied us on our first submarineexcursion to the Island of Crespo) came to clean the glasses of the lantern. Iexamined the fittings of the apparatus, the strength of which was increased ahundredfold by lenticular rings, placed similar to those in a lighthouse, andwhich projected their brilliance in a horizontal plane. The electric lamp wascombined in such a way as to give its most powerful light. Indeed, it wasproduced in vacuo, which insured both its steadiness and its intensity. Thisvacuum economised the graphite points between which the luminous arc wasdeveloped—an important point of economy for Captain Nemo, who could not easilyhave replaced them; and under these conditions their waste was imperceptible.When the Nautiluswas ready to continue its submarine journey, I wentdown to the saloon. The panel was closed, and the course marked direct west.

We were furrowing the waters of the Indian Ocean, a vast liquid plain, with asurface of 1,200,000,000 of acres, and whose waters are so clear andtransparent that any one leaning over them would turn giddy. TheNautilususually floated between fifty and a hundred fathoms deep. Wewent on so for some days. To any one but myself, who had a great love for thesea, the hours would have seemed long and monotonous; but the daily walks onthe platform, when I steeped myself in the reviving air of the ocean, the sightof the rich waters through the windows of the saloon, the books in the library,the compiling of my memoirs, took up all my time, and left me not a moment ofennui or weariness.

For some days we saw a great number of aquatic birds, sea-mews or gulls. Somewere cleverly killed and, prepared in a certain way, made very acceptablewater-game. Amongst large-winged birds, carried a long distance from all landsand resting upon the waves from the fatigue of their flight, I saw somemagnificent albatrosses, uttering discordant cries like the braying of an ass,and birds belonging to the family of the long-wings.

As to the fish, they always provoked our admiration when we surprised thesecrets of their aquatic life through the open panels. I saw many kinds which Inever before had a chance of observing.

I shall notice chiefly ostracions peculiar to the Red Sea, the Indian Ocean,and that part which washes the coast of tropical America. These fishes, likethe tortoise, the armadillo, the sea-hedgehog, and the Crustacea, are protectedby a breastplate which is neither chalky nor stony, but real bone. In some ittakes the form of a solid triangle, in others of a solid quadrangle. Amongstthe triangular I saw some an inch and a half in length, with wholesome fleshand a delicious flavour; they are brown at the tail, and yellow at the fins,and I recommend their introduction into fresh water, to which a certain numberof sea-fish easily accustom themselves. I would also mention quadrangularostracions, having on the back four large tubercles; some dotted over withwhite spots on the lower part of the body, and which may be tamed like birds;trigons provided with spikes formed by the lengthening of their bony shell, andwhich, from their strange gruntings, are called “seapigs”; also dromedarieswith large humps in the shape of a cone, whose flesh is very tough andleathery.

I now borrow from the daily notes of Master Conseil. “Certain fish of the genuspetrodon peculiar to those seas, with red backs and white chests, which aredistinguished by three rows of longitudinal filaments; and some electrical,seven inches long, decked in the liveliest colours. Then, as specimens of otherkinds, some ovoides, resembling an egg of a dark brown colour, marked withwhite bands, and without tails; diodons, real sea-porcupines, furnished withspikes, and capable of swelling in such a way as to look like cushionsbristling with darts; hippocampi, common to every ocean; some pegasi withlengthened snouts, which their pectoral fins, being much elongated and formedin the shape of wings, allow, if not to fly, at least to shoot into the air;pigeon spatulae, with tails covered with many rings of shell; macrognathi withlong jaws, an excellent fish, nine inches long, and bright with most agreeablecolours; pale-coloured calliomores, with rugged heads; and plenty ofchaetodons, with long and tubular muzzles, which kill insects by shooting them,as from an air-gun, with a single drop of water. These we may call theflycatchers of the seas.

“In the eighty-ninth genus of fishes, classed by Lacepede, belonging to thesecond lower class of bony, characterised by opercules and bronchial membranes,I remarked the scorpaena, the head of which is furnished with spikes, and whichhas but one dorsal fin; these creatures are covered, or not, with littleshells, according to the sub-class to which they belong. The second sub-classgives us specimens of didactyles fourteen or fifteen inches in length, withyellow rays, and heads of a most fantastic appearance. As to the firstsub-class, it gives several specimens of that singular looking fishappropriately called a ‘seafrog,’ with large head, sometimes pierced withholes, sometimes swollen with protuberances, bristling with spikes, and coveredwith tubercles; it has irregular and hideous horns; its body and tail arecovered with callosities; its sting makes a dangerous wound; it is bothrepugnant and horrible to look at.”

From the 21st to the 23rd of January the Nautiluswent at the rate oftwo hundred and fifty leagues in twenty-four hours, being five hundred andforty miles, or twenty-two miles an hour. If we recognised so many differentvarieties of fish, it was because, attracted by the electric light, they triedto follow us; the greater part, however, were soon distanced by our speed,though some kept their place in the waters of the Nautilusfor a time.The morning of the 24th, in 12° 5′ S. lat., and 94° 33′ long., weobserved Keeling Island, a coral formation, planted with magnificent cocos, andwhich had been visited by Mr. Darwin and Captain Fitzroy. The Nautilusskirted the shores of this desert island for a little distance. Its netsbrought up numerous specimens of polypi and curious shells of mollusca. Someprecious productions of the species of delphinulae enriched the treasures ofCaptain Nemo, to which I added an astraea punctifera, a kind of parasitepolypus often found fixed to a shell.

Soon Keeling Island disappeared from the horizon, and our course was directedto the north-west in the direction of the Indian Peninsula.

From Keeling Island our course was slower and more variable, often taking usinto great depths. Several times they made use of the inclined planes, whichcertain internal levers placed obliquely to the waterline. In that way we wentabout two miles, but without ever obtaining the greatest depths of the IndianSea, which soundings of seven thousand fathoms have never reached. As to thetemperature of the lower strata, the thermometer invariably indicated 4° abovezero. I only observed that in the upper regions the water was always colder inthe high levels than at the surface of the sea.

On the 25th of January the ocean was entirely deserted; the Nautiluspassed the day on the surface, beating the waves with its powerful screw andmaking them rebound to a great height. Who under such circumstances would nothave taken it for a gigantic cetacean? Three parts of this day I spent on theplatform. I watched the sea. Nothing on the horizon, till about four o’clock asteamer running west on our counter. Her masts were visible for an instant, butshe could not see the Nautilus, being too low in the water. I fanciedthis steamboat belonged to the P. O. Company, which runs from Ceylon to Sydney,touching at King George’s Point and Melbourne.

At five o’clock in the evening, before that fleeting twilight which binds nightto day in tropical zones, Conseil and I were astonished by a curious spectacle.

It was a shoal of argonauts travelling along on the surface of the ocean. Wecould count several hundreds. They belonged to the tubercle kind which arepeculiar to the Indian seas.

These graceful molluscs moved backwards by means of their locomotive tube,through which they propelled the water already drawn in. Of their eighttentacles, six were elongated, and stretched out floating on the water, whilstthe other two, rolled up flat, were spread to the wing like a light sail. I sawtheir spiral-shaped and fluted shells, which Cuvier justly compares to anelegant skiff. A boat indeed! It bears the creature which secretes it withoutits adhering to it.

For nearly an hour the Nautilusfloated in the midst of this shoal ofmolluscs. Then I know not what sudden fright they took. But as if at a signalevery sail was furled, the arms folded, the body drawn in, the shells turnedover, changing their centre of gravity, and the whole fleet disappeared underthe waves. Never did the ships of a squadron manœuvre with more unity.

At that moment night fell suddenly, and the reeds, scarcely raised by thebreeze, lay peaceably under the sides of the Nautilus.

The next day, 26th of January, we cut the equator at the eighty-second meridianand entered the northern hemisphere. During the day a formidable troop ofsharks accompanied us, terrible creatures, which multiply in these seas andmake them very dangerous. They were “cestracio philippi” sharks, with brownbacks and whitish bellies, armed with eleven rows of teeth—eyed sharks—theirthroat being marked with a large black spot surrounded with white like an eye.There were also some Isabella sharks, with rounded snouts marked with darkspots. These powerful creatures often hurled themselves at the windows of thesaloon with such violence as to make us feel very insecure. At such times NedLand was no longer master of himself. He wanted to go to the surface andharpoon the monsters, particularly certain smooth-hound sharks, whose mouth isstudded with teeth like a mosaic; and large tiger-sharks nearly six yards long,the last named of which seemed to excite him more particularly. But theNautilus, accelerating her speed, easily left the most rapid of thembehind.

The 27th of January, at the entrance of the vast Bay of Bengal, we metrepeatedly a forbidding spectacle, dead bodies floating on the surface of thewater. They were the dead of the Indian villages, carried by the Ganges to thelevel of the sea, and which the vultures, the only undertakers of the country,had not been able to devour. But the sharks did not fail to help them at theirfuneral work.

About seven o’clock in the evening, the Nautilus, half-immersed, wassailing in a sea of milk. At first sight the ocean seemed lactified. Was it theeffect of the lunar rays? No; for the moon, scarcely two days old, was stilllying hidden under the horizon in the rays of the sun. The whole sky, thoughlit by the sidereal rays, seemed black by contrast with the whiteness of thewaters.

Conseil could not believe his eyes, and questioned me as to the cause of thisstrange phenomenon. Happily I was able to answer him.

“It is called a milk sea,” I explained. “A large extent of white wavelets oftento be seen on the coasts of Amboyna, and in these parts of the sea.”

“But, sir,” said Conseil, “can you tell me what causes such an effect? for Isuppose the water is not really turned into milk.”

“No, my boy; and the whiteness which surprises you is caused only by thepresence of myriads of infusoria, a sort of luminous little worm, gelatinousand without colour, of the thickness of a hair, and whose length is not morethan seven-thousandths of an inch. These insects adhere to one anothersometimes for several leagues.”

“Several leagues!” exclaimed Conseil.

“Yes, my boy; and you need not try to compute the number of these infusoria.You will not be able, for, if I am not mistaken, ships have floated on thesemilk seas for more than forty miles.”

Towards midnight the sea suddenly resumed its usual colour; but behind us, evento the limits of the horizon, the sky reflected the whitened waves, and for along time seemed impregnated with the vague glimmerings of an aurora borealis.

CHAPTER II
A NOVEL PROPOSAL OF CAPTAIN NEMO’S

On the 28th of February, when at noon the Nautiluscame to the surfaceof the sea, in 9° 4′ N. lat., there was land in sight about eight milesto westward. The first thing I noticed was a range of mountains about twothousand feet high, the shapes of which were most capricious. On taking thebearings, I knew that we were nearing the island of Ceylon, the pearl whichhangs from the lobe of the Indian Peninsula.

Captain Nemo and his second appeared at this moment. The Captain glanced at themap. Then turning to me, said:

“The Island of Ceylon, noted for its pearl-fisheries. Would you like to visitone of them, M. Aronnax?”

“Certainly, Captain.”

“Well, the thing is easy. Though, if we see the fisheries, we shall not see thefishermen. The annual exportation has not yet begun. Never mind, I will giveorders to make for the Gulf of Manaar, where we shall arrive in the night.”

The Captain said something to his second, who immediately went out. Soon theNautilusreturned to her native element, and the manometer showed thatshe was about thirty feet deep.

“Well, sir,” said Captain Nemo, “you and your companions shall visit the Bankof Manaar, and if by chance some fisherman should be there, we shall see him atwork.”

“Agreed, Captain!”

“By the bye, M. Aronnax you are not afraid of sharks?”

“Sharks!” exclaimed I.

This question seemed a very hard one.

“Well?” continued Captain Nemo.

“I admit, Captain, that I am not yet very familiar with that kind of fish.”

“We are accustomed to them,” replied Captain Nemo, “and in time you will betoo. However, we shall be armed, and on the road we may be able to hunt some ofthe tribe. It is interesting. So, till to-morrow, sir, and early.”

This said in a careless tone, Captain Nemo left the saloon. Now, if you wereinvited to hunt the bear in the mountains of Switzerland, what would you say?

“Very well! to-morrow we will go and hunt the bear.” If you were asked to huntthe lion in the plains of Atlas, or the tiger in the Indian jungles, what wouldyou say?

“Ha! ha! it seems we are going to hunt the tiger or the lion!” But when you areinvited to hunt the shark in its natural element, you would perhaps reflectbefore accepting the invitation. As for myself, I passed my hand over myforehead, on which stood large drops of cold perspiration. “Let us reflect,”said I, “and take our time. Hunting otters in submarine forests, as we did inthe Island of Crespo, will pass; but going up and down at the bottom of thesea, where one is almost certain to meet sharks, is quite another thing! I knowwell that in certain countries, particularly in the Andaman Islands, thenegroes never hesitate to attack them with a dagger in one hand and a runningnoose in the other; but I also know that few who affront those creatures everreturn alive. However, I am not a negro, and if I were I think a littlehesitation in this case would not be ill-timed.”

At this moment Conseil and the Canadian entered, quite composed, and evenjoyous. They knew not what awaited them.

“Faith, sir,” said Ned Land, “your Captain Nemo—the devil take him!—has justmade us a very pleasant offer.”

“Ah!” said I, “you know?”

“If agreeable to you, sir,” interrupted Conseil, “the commander of theNautilushas invited us to visit the magnificent Ceylon fisheriesto-morrow, in your company; he did it kindly, and behaved like a realgentleman.”

“He said nothing more?”

“Nothing more, sir, except that he had already spoken to you of this littlewalk.”

“Sir,” said Conseil, “would you give us some details of the pearl fishery?”

“As to the fishing itself,” I asked, “or the incidents, which?”

“On the fishing,” replied the Canadian; “before entering upon the ground, it isas well to know something about it.”

“Very well; sit down, my friends, and I will teach you.”

Ned and Conseil seated themselves on an ottoman, and the first thing theCanadian asked was:

“Sir, what is a pearl?”

“My worthy Ned,” I answered, “to the poet, a pearl is a tear of the sea; to theOrientals, it is a drop of dew solidified; to the ladies, it is a jewel of anoblong shape, of a brilliancy of mother-of-pearl substance, which they wear ontheir fingers, their necks, or their ears; for the chemist it is a mixture ofphosphate and carbonate of lime, with a little gelatine; and lastly, fornaturalists, it is simply a morbid secretion of the organ that produces themother-of-pearl amongst certain bivalves.”

“Branch of molluscs,” said Conseil.

“Precisely so, my learned Conseil; and, amongst these testacea the earshell,the tridacnae, the turbots, in a word, all those which secrete mother-of-pearl,that is, the blue, bluish, violet, or white substance which lines the interiorof their shells, are capable of producing pearls.”

“Mussels too?” asked the Canadian.

“Yes, mussels of certain waters in Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Saxony, Bohemia,and France.”

“Good! For the future I shall pay attention,” replied the Canadian.

“But,” I continued, “the particular mollusc which secretes the pearl is thepearl-oyster, the meleagrina margaritifera, that precious pintadine. The pearlis nothing but a nacreous formation, deposited in a globular form, eitheradhering to the oyster shell, or buried in the folds of the creature. On theshell it is fast; in the flesh it is loose; but always has for a kernel a smallhard substance, may be a barren egg, may be a grain of sand, around which thepearly matter deposits itself year after year successively, and by thinconcentric layers.”

“Are many pearls found in the same oyster?” asked Conseil.

“Yes, my boy. Some are a perfect casket. One oyster has been mentioned, thoughI allow myself to doubt it, as having contained no less than a hundred andfifty sharks.”

“A hundred and fifty sharks!” exclaimed Ned Land.

“Did I say sharks?” said I hurriedly. “I meant to say a hundred and fiftypearls. Sharks would not be sense.”

“Certainly not,” said Conseil; “but will you tell us now by what means theyextract these pearls?”

“They proceed in various ways. When they adhere to the shell, the fishermenoften pull them off with pincers; but the most common way is to lay the oysterson mats of the seaweed which covers the banks. Thus they die in the open air;and at the end of ten days they are in a forward state of decomposition. Theyare then plunged into large reservoirs of sea-water; then they are opened andwashed.”

“The price of these pearls varies according to their size?” asked Conseil.

“Not only according to their size,” I answered, “but also according to theirshape, their water (that is, their colour), and their lustre: that is, thatbright and diapered sparkle which makes them so charming to the eye. The mostbeautiful are called virgin pearls, or paragons. They are formed alone in thetissue of the mollusc, are white, often opaque, and sometimes have thetransparency of an opal; they are generally round or oval. The round are madeinto bracelets, the oval into pendants, and, being more precious, are soldsingly. Those adhering to the shell of the oyster are more irregular in shape,and are sold by weight. Lastly, in a lower order are classed those small pearlsknown under the name of seed-pearls; they are sold by measure, and areespecially used in embroidery for church ornaments.”

“But,” said Conseil, “is this pearl-fishery dangerous?”

“No,” I answered, quickly; “particularly if certain precautions are taken.”

“What does one risk in such a calling?” said Ned Land, “the swallowing of somemouthfuls of sea-water?”

“As you say, Ned. By the bye,” said I, trying to take Captain Nemo’s carelesstone, “are you afraid of sharks, brave Ned?”

“I!” replied the Canadian; “a harpooner by profession? It is my trade to makelight of them.”

“But,” said I, “it is not a question of fishing for them with an iron-swivel,hoisting them into the vessel, cutting off their tails with a blow of achopper, ripping them up, and throwing their heart into the sea!”

“Then, it is a question of——”

“Precisely.”

“In the water?”

“In the water.”

“Faith, with a good harpoon! You know, sir, these sharks are ill-fashionedbeasts. They turn on their bellies to seize you, and in that time——”

Ned Land had a way of saying “seize” which made my blood run cold.

“Well, and you, Conseil, what do you think of sharks?”

“Me!” said Conseil. “I will be frank, sir.”

“So much the better,” thought I.

“If you, sir, mean to face the sharks, I do not see why your faithful servantshould not face them with you.”

CHAPTER III
A PEARL OF TEN MILLIONS

The next morning at four o’clock I was awakened by the steward whom CaptainNemo had placed at my service. I rose hurriedly, dressed, and went into thesaloon.

Captain Nemo was awaiting me.

“M. Aronnax,” said he, “are you ready to start?”

“I am ready.”

“Then please to follow me.”

“And my companions, Captain?”

“They have been told and are waiting.”

“Are we not to put on our diver’s dresses?” asked I.

“Not yet. I have not allowed the Nautilusto come too near this coast,and we are some distance from the Manaar Bank; but the boat is ready, and willtake us to the exact point of disembarking, which will save us a long way. Itcarries our diving apparatus, which we will put on when we begin our submarinejourney.”

Captain Nemo conducted me to the central staircase, which led on the platform.Ned and Conseil were already there, delighted at the idea of the “pleasureparty” which was preparing. Five sailors from the Nautilus, with theiroars, waited in the boat, which had been made fast against the side.

The night was still dark. Layers of clouds covered the sky, allowing but fewstars to be seen. I looked on the side where the land lay, and saw nothing buta dark line enclosing three parts of the horizon, from south-west to north-west.The Nautilus, having returned during the night up the westerncoast of Ceylon, was now west of the bay, or rather gulf, formed by themainland and the Island of Manaar. There, under the dark waters, stretched thepintadine bank, an inexhaustible field of pearls, the length of which is morethan twenty miles.

Captain Nemo, Ned Land, Conseil, and I took our places in the stern of theboat. The master went to the tiller; his four companions leaned on their oars,the painter was cast off, and we sheered off.

The boat went towards the south; the oarsmen did not hurry. I noticed thattheir strokes, strong in the water, only followed each other every ten seconds,according to the method generally adopted in the navy. Whilst the craft wasrunning by its own velocity, the liquid drops struck the dark depths of thewaves crisply like spats of melted lead. A little billow, spreading wide, gavea slight roll to the boat, and some samphire reeds flapped before it.

We were silent. What was Captain Nemo thinking of? Perhaps of the land he wasapproaching, and which he found too near to him, contrary to the Canadian’sopinion, who thought it too far off. As to Conseil, he was merely there fromcuriosity.

About half-past five the first tints on the horizon showed the upper line ofcoast more distinctly. Flat enough in the east, it rose a little to the south.Five miles still lay between us, and it was indistinct owing to the mist on thewater. At six o’clock it became suddenly daylight, with that rapidity peculiarto tropical regions, which know neither dawn nor twilight. The solar rayspierced the curtain of clouds, piled up on the eastern horizon, and the radiantorb rose rapidly. I saw land distinctly, with a few trees scattered here andthere. The boat neared Manaar Island, which was rounded to the south. CaptainNemo rose from his seat and watched the sea.

At a sign from him the anchor was dropped, but the chain scarcely ran, for itwas little more than a yard deep, and this spot was one of the highest pointsof the bank of pintadines.

“Here we are, M. Aronnax,” said Captain Nemo. “You see that enclosed bay? Here,in a month will be assembled the numerous fishing boats of the exporters, andthese are the waters their divers will ransack so boldly. Happily, this bay iswell situated for that kind of fishing. It is sheltered from the strongestwinds; the sea is never very rough here, which makes it favourable for thediver’s work. We will now put on our dresses, and begin our walk.”

I did not answer, and, while watching the suspected waves, began with the helpof the sailors to put on my heavy sea-dress. Captain Nemo and my companionswere also dressing. None of the Nautilusmen were to accompany us onthis new excursion.

Soon we were enveloped to the throat in india-rubber clothing; the airapparatus fixed to our backs by braces. As to the Ruhmkorff apparatus, therewas no necessity for it. Before putting my head into the copper cap, I hadasked the question of the Captain.

“They would be useless,” he replied. “We are going to no great depth, and thesolar rays will be enough to light our walk. Besides, it would not be prudentto carry the electric light in these waters; its brilliancy might attract someof the dangerous inhabitants of the coast most inopportunely.”

As Captain Nemo pronounced these words, I turned to Conseil and Ned Land. Butmy two friends had already encased their heads in the metal cap, and they couldneither hear nor answer.

One last question remained to ask of Captain Nemo.

“And our arms?” asked I; “our guns?”

“Guns! What for? Do not mountaineers attack the bear with a dagger in theirhand, and is not steel surer than lead? Here is a strong blade; put it in yourbelt, and we start.”

I looked at my companions; they were armed like us, and, more than that, NedLand was brandishing an enormous harpoon, which he had placed in the boatbefore leaving the Nautilus.

Then, following the Captain’s example, I allowed myself to be dressed in theheavy copper helmet, and our reservoirs of air were at once in activity. Aninstant after we were landed, one after the other, in about two yards of waterupon an even sand. Captain Nemo made a sign with his hand, and we followed himby a gentle declivity till we disappeared under the waves.

Over our feet, like coveys of snipe in a bog, rose shoals of fish, of the genusmonoptera, which have no other fins but their tail. I recognized the Javanese,a real serpent two and a half feet long, of a livid colour underneath, andwhich might easily be mistaken for a conger eel if it were not for the goldenstripes on its side. In the genus stromateus, whose bodies are very flat andoval, I saw some of the most brilliant colours, carrying their dorsal fin likea scythe; an excellent eating fish, which, dried and pickled, is known by thename of Karawade; then some tranquebars, belonging to the genus apsiphoroides,whose body is covered with a shell cuirass of eight longitudinal plates.

The heightening sun lit the mass of waters more and more. The soil changed bydegrees. To the fine sand succeeded a perfect causeway of boulders, coveredwith a carpet of molluscs and zoophytes. Amongst the specimens of thesebranches I noticed some placenae, with thin unequal shells, a kind of ostracionpeculiar to the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean; some orange lucinae with roundedshells; rockfish three feet and a half long, which raised themselves under thewaves like hands ready to seize one. There were also some panopyres, slightlyluminous; and lastly, some oculines, like magnificent fans, forming one of therichest vegetations of these seas.

In the midst of these living plants, and under the arbours of the hydrophytes,were layers of clumsy articulates, particularly some raninae, whose carapaceformed a slightly rounded triangle; and some horrible looking parthenopes.

At about seven o’clock we found ourselves at last surveying the oyster-banks onwhich the pearl-oysters are reproduced by millions.

Captain Nemo pointed with his hand to the enormous heap of oysters; and I couldwell understand that this mine was inexhaustible, for Nature’s creative poweris far beyond man’s instinct of destruction. Ned Land, faithful to hisinstinct, hastened to fill a net which he carried by his side with some of thefinest specimens. But we could not stop. We must follow the Captain, who seemedto guide himself by paths known only to himself. The ground was sensiblyrising, and sometimes, on holding up my arm, it was above the surface of thesea. Then the level of the bank would sink capriciously. Often we rounded highrocks scarped into pyramids. In their dark fractures huge crustacea, perchedupon their high claws like some war-machine, watched us with fixed eyes, andunder our feet crawled various kinds of annelides.

At this moment there opened before us a large grotto dug in a picturesque heapof rocks and carpeted with all the thick warp of the submarine flora. At firstit seemed very dark to me. The solar rays seemed to be extinguished bysuccessive gradations, until its vague transparency became nothing more thandrowned light. Captain Nemo entered; we followed. My eyes soon accustomedthemselves to this relative state of darkness. I could distinguish the archesspringing capriciously from natural pillars, standing broad upon their granitebase, like the heavy columns of Tuscan architecture. Why had ourincomprehensible guide led us to the bottom of this submarine crypt? I was soonto know. After descending a rather sharp declivity, our feet trod the bottom ofa kind of circular pit. There Captain Nemo stopped, and with his hand indicatedan object I had not yet perceived. It was an oyster of extraordinarydimensions, a gigantic tridacne, a goblet which could have contained a wholelake of holy-water, a basin the breadth of which was more than two yards and ahalf, and consequently larger than that ornamenting the saloon of theNautilus. I approached this extraordinary mollusc. It adhered by itsfilaments to a table of granite, and there, isolated, it developed itself inthe calm waters of the grotto. I estimated the weight of this tridacne at 600lbs. Such an oyster would contain 30 lbs. of meat; and one must have thestomach of a Gargantua to demolish some dozens of them.

Captain Nemo was evidently acquainted with the existence of this bivalve, andseemed to have a particular motive in verifying the actual state of thistridacne. The shells were a little open; the Captain came near and put hisdagger between to prevent them from closing; then with his hand he raised themembrane with its fringed edges, which formed a cloak for the creature. There,between the folded plaits, I saw a loose pearl, whose size equalled that of acoco-nut. Its globular shape, perfect clearness, and admirable lustre made italtogether a jewel of inestimable value. Carried away by my curiosity, Istretched out my hand to seize it, weigh it, and touch it; but the Captainstopped me, made a sign of refusal, and quickly withdrew his dagger, and thetwo shells closed suddenly. I then understood Captain Nemo’s intention. Inleaving this pearl hidden in the mantle of the tridacne he was allowing it togrow slowly. Each year the secretions of the mollusc would add new concentriccircles. I estimated its value at £500,000 at least.

After ten minutes Captain Nemo stopped suddenly. I thought he had haltedpreviously to returning. No; by a gesture he bade us crouch beside him in adeep fracture of the rock, his hand pointed to one part of the liquid mass,which I watched attentively.

About five yards from me a shadow appeared, and sank to the ground. Thedisquieting idea of sharks shot through my mind, but I was mistaken; and onceagain it was not a monster of the ocean that we had anything to do with.

It was a man, a living man, an Indian, a fisherman, a poor devil who, Isuppose, had come to glean before the harvest. I could see the bottom of hiscanoe anchored some feet above his head. He dived and went up successively. Astone held between his feet, cut in the shape of a sugar loaf, whilst a ropefastened him to his boat, helped him to descend more rapidly. This was all hisapparatus. Reaching the bottom, about five yards deep, he went on his knees andfilled his bag with oysters picked up at random. Then he went up, emptied it,pulled up his stone, and began the operation once more, which lasted thirtyseconds.

The diver did not see us. The shadow of the rock hid us from sight. And howshould this poor Indian ever dream that men, beings like himself, should bethere under the water watching his movements and losing no detail of thefishing? Several times he went up in this way, and dived again. He did notcarry away more than ten at each plunge, for he was obliged to pull them fromthe bank to which they adhered by means of their strong byssus. And how many ofthose oysters for which he risked his life had no pearl in them! I watched himclosely; his manœuvres were regular; and for the space of half an hour nodanger appeared to threaten him.

I was beginning to accustom myself to the sight of this interesting fishing,when suddenly, as the Indian was on the ground, I saw him make a gesture ofterror, rise, and make a spring to return to the surface of the sea.

I understood his dread. A gigantic shadow appeared just above the unfortunatediver. It was a shark of enormous size advancing diagonally, his eyes on fire,and his jaws open. I was mute with horror and unable to move.

The voracious creature shot towards the Indian, who threw himself on one sideto avoid the shark’s fins; but not its tail, for it struck his chest andstretched him on the ground.

This scene lasted but a few seconds: the shark returned, and, turning on hisback, prepared himself for cutting the Indian in two, when I saw Captain Nemorise suddenly, and then, dagger in hand, walk straight to the monster, ready tofight face to face with him. The very moment the shark was going to snap theunhappy fisherman in two, he perceived his new adversary, and, turning over,made straight towards him.

I can still see Captain Nemo’s position. Holding himself well together, hewaited for the shark with admirable coolness; and, when it rushed at him, threwhimself on one side with wonderful quickness, avoiding the shock, and buryinghis dagger deep into its side. But it was not all over. A terrible combatensued.

A terrible combat began

The shark had seemed to roar, if I might say so. The blood rushed in torrentsfrom its wound. The sea was dyed red, and through the opaque liquid I coulddistinguish nothing more. Nothing more until the moment when, like lightning, Isaw the undaunted Captain hanging on to one of the creature’s fins, struggling,as it were, hand to hand with the monster, and dealing successive blows at hisenemy, yet still unable to give a decisive one.

The shark’s struggles agitated the water with such fury that the rockingthreatened to upset me.

I wanted to go to the Captain’s assistance, but, nailed to the spot withhorror, I could not stir.

I saw the haggard eye; I saw the different phases of the fight. The Captainfell to the earth, upset by the enormous mass which leant upon him. The shark’sjaws opened wide, like a pair of factory shears, and it would have been allover with the Captain; but, quick as thought, harpoon in hand, Ned Land rushedtowards the shark and struck it with its sharp point.

The waves were impregnated with a mass of blood. They rocked under the shark’smovements, which beat them with indescribable fury. Ned Land had not missed hisaim. It was the monster’s death-rattle. Struck to the heart, it struggled indreadful convulsions, the shock of which overthrew Conseil.

But Ned Land had disentangled the Captain, who, getting up without any wound,went straight to the Indian, quickly cut the cord which held him to his stone,took him in his arms, and, with a sharp blow of his heel, mounted to thesurface.

We all three followed in a few seconds, saved by a miracle, and reached thefisherman’s boat.

Captain Nemo’s first care was to recall the unfortunate man to life again. Idid not think he could succeed. I hoped so, for the poor creature’s immersionwas not long; but the blow from the shark’s tail might have been hisdeath-blow.

Happily, with the Captain’s and Conseil’s sharp friction, I saw consciousnessreturn by degrees. He opened his eyes. What was his surprise, his terror even,at seeing four great copper heads leaning over him! And, above all, what musthe have thought when Captain Nemo, drawing from the pocket of his dress a bagof pearls, placed it in his hand! This munificent charity from the man of thewaters to the poor Cingalese was accepted with a trembling hand. His wonderingeyes showed that he knew not to what super-human beings he owed both fortuneand life.

At a sign from the Captain we regained the bank, and, following the roadalready traversed, came in about half an hour to the anchor which held thecanoe of the Nautilusto the earth.

Once on board, we each, with the help of the sailors, got rid of the heavycopper helmet.

Captain Nemo’s first word was to the Canadian.

“Thank you, Master Land,” said he.

“It was in revenge, Captain,” replied Ned Land. “I owed you that.”

A ghastly smile passed across the Captain’s lips, and that was all.

“To the Nautilus,” said he.

The boat flew over the waves. Some minutes after we met the shark’s dead bodyfloating. By the black marking of the extremity of its fins, I recognised theterrible melanopteron of the Indian Seas, of the species of shark so properlycalled. It was more than twenty-five feet long; its enormous mouth occupiedone-third of its body. It was an adult, as was known by its six rows of teethplaced in an isosceles triangle in the upper jaw.

Whilst I was contemplating this inert mass, a dozen of these voracious beastsappeared round the boat; and, without noticing us, threw themselves upon thedead body and fought with one another for the pieces.

At half-past eight we were again on board the Nautilus. There Ireflected on the incidents which had taken place in our excursion to the ManaarBank.

Two conclusions I must inevitably draw from it—one bearing upon theunparalleled courage of Captain Nemo, the other upon his devotion to a humanbeing, a representative of that race from which he fled beneath the sea.Whatever he might say, this strange man had not yet succeeded in entirelycrushing his heart.

When I made this observation to him, he answered in a slightly moved tone:

“That Indian, sir, is an inhabitant of an oppressed country; and I am still,and shall be, to my last breath, one of them!”

CHAPTER IV
THE RED SEA

In the course of the day of the 29th of January, the island of Ceylondisappeared under the horizon, and the Nautilus, at a speed of twentymiles an hour, slid into the labyrinth of canals which separate the Maldivesfrom the Laccadives. It coasted even the Island of Kiltan, a land originallycoraline, discovered by Vasco da Gama in 1499, and one of the nineteenprincipal islands of the Laccadive Archipelago, situated between 10° and 14°30′ N. lat., and 69° 50′ 72″ E. long.

We had made 16,220 miles, or 7,500 (French) leagues from our starting-point inthe Japanese Seas.

The next day (30th January), when the Nautiluswent to the surface ofthe ocean there was no land in sight. Its course was N.N.E., in the directionof the Sea of Oman, between Arabia and the Indian Peninsula, which serves as anoutlet to the Persian Gulf. It was evidently a block without any possibleegress. Where was Captain Nemo taking us to? I could not say. This, however,did not satisfy the Canadian, who that day came to me asking where we weregoing.

“We are going where our Captain’s fancy takes us, Master Ned.”

“His fancy cannot take us far, then,” said the Canadian. “The Persian Gulf hasno outlet: and, if we do go in, it will not be long before we are out again.”

“Very well, then, we will come out again, Master Land; and if, after thePersian Gulf, the Nautiluswould like to visit the Red Sea, the Straitsof Bab-el-mandeb are there to give us entrance.”

“I need not tell you, sir,” said Ned Land, “that the Red Sea is as much closedas the Gulf, as the Isthmus of Suez is not yet cut; and, if it was, a boat asmysterious as ours would not risk itself in a canal cut with sluices. Andagain, the Red Sea is not the road to take us back to Europe.”

“But I never said we were going back to Europe.”

“What do you suppose, then?”

“I suppose that, after visiting the curious coasts of Arabia and Egypt, theNautiluswill go down the Indian Ocean again, perhaps cross the Channelof Mozambique, perhaps off the Mascarenhas, so as to gain the Cape of GoodHope.”

“And once at the Cape of Good Hope?” asked the Canadian, with peculiaremphasis.

“Well, we shall penetrate into that Atlantic which we do not yet know. Ah!friend Ned, you are getting tired of this journey under the sea; you aresurfeited with the incessantly varying spectacle of submarine wonders. For mypart, I shall be sorry to see the end of a voyage which it is given to so fewmen to make.”

For four days, till the 3rd of February, the Nautilusscoured the Sea ofOman, at various speeds and at various depths. It seemed to go at random, as ifhesitating as to which road it should follow, but we never passed the Tropic ofCancer.

In quitting this sea we sighted Muscat for an instant, one of the mostimportant towns of the country of Oman. I admired its strange aspect,surrounded by black rocks upon which its white houses and forts stood inrelief. I saw the rounded domes of its mosques, the elegant points of itsminarets, its fresh and verdant terraces. But it was only a vision! TheNautilussoon sank under the waves of that part of the sea.

We passed along the Arabian coast of Mahrah and Hadramaut, for a distance ofsix miles, its undulating line of mountains being occasionally relieved by someancient ruin. The 5th of February we at last entered the Gulf of Aden, aperfect funnel introduced into the neck of Bab-el-mandeb, through which theIndian waters entered the Red Sea.

The 6th of February, the Nautilusfloated in sight of Aden, perched upona promontory which a narrow isthmus joins to the mainland, a kind ofinaccessible Gibraltar, the fortifications of which were rebuilt by the Englishafter taking possession in 1839. I caught a glimpse of the octagon minarets ofthis town, which was at one time the richest commercial magazine on the coast.

I certainly thought that Captain Nemo, arrived at this point, would back outagain; but I was mistaken, for he did no such thing, much to my surprise.

The next day, the 7th of February, we entered the Straits of Bab-el-mandeb, thename of which, in the Arab tongue, means The Gate of Tears.

To twenty miles in breadth, it is only thirty-two in length. And for theNautilus, starting at full speed, the crossing was scarcely the work ofan hour. But I saw nothing, not even the Island of Perim, with which theBritish Government has fortified the position of Aden. There were too manyEnglish or French steamers of the line of Suez to Bombay, Calcutta toMelbourne, and from Bourbon to the Mauritius, furrowing this narrow passage,for the Nautilusto venture to show itself. So it remained prudentlybelow. At last about noon, we were in the waters of the Red Sea.

I would not even seek to understand the caprice which had decided Captain Nemoupon entering the gulf. But I quite approved of the Nautilusenteringit. Its speed was lessened: sometimes it kept on the surface, sometimes itdived to avoid a vessel, and thus I was able to observe the upper and lowerparts of this curious sea.

The 8th of February, from the first dawn of day, Mocha came in sight, now aruined town, whose walls would fall at a gunshot, yet which shelters here andthere some verdant date-trees; once an important city, containing six publicmarkets, and twenty-six mosques, and whose walls, defended by fourteen forts,formed a girdle of two miles in circumference.

The Nautilusthen approached the African shore, where the depth of thesea was greater. There, between two waters clear as crystal, through the openpanels we were allowed to contemplate the beautiful bushes of brilliant coraland large blocks of rock clothed with a splendid fur of green algæ and fuci. What an indescribablespectacle, and what variety of sites and landscapes along these sandbanks andvolcanic islands which bound the Libyan coast! But where these shrubs appearedin all their beauty was on the eastern coast, which the Nautilussoongained. It was on the coast of Tehama, for there not only did this display ofzoophytes flourish beneath the level of the sea, but they also formedpicturesque interlacings which unfolded themselves about sixty feet above thesurface, more capricious but less highly coloured than those whose freshnesswas kept up by the vital power of the waters.

What charming hours I passed thus at the window of the saloon! What newspecimens of submarine flora and fauna did I admire under the brightness of ourelectric lantern!

The 9th of February the Nautilusfloated in the broadest part of the RedSea, which is comprised between Souakin, on the west coast, and Komfidah, onthe east coast, with a diameter of ninety miles.

That day at noon, after the bearings were taken, Captain Nemo mounted theplatform, where I happened to be, and I was determined not to let him go downagain without at least pressing him regarding his ulterior projects. As soon ashe saw me he approached and graciously offered me a cigar.

“Well, sir, does this Red Sea please you? Have you sufficiently observed thewonders it covers, its fishes, its zoophytes, its parterres of sponges, and itsforests of coral? Did you catch a glimpse of the towns on its borders?”

“Yes, Captain Nemo,” I replied; “and the Nautilusis wonderfully fittedfor such a study. Ah! it is an intelligent boat!”

“Yes, sir, intelligent and invulnerable. It fears neither the terrible tempestsof the Red Sea, nor its currents, nor its sandbanks.”

“Certainly,” said I, “this sea is quoted as one of the worst, and in the timeof the ancients, if I am not mistaken, its reputation was detestable.”

“Detestable, M. Aronnax. The Greek and Latin historians do not speak favourablyof it, and Strabo says it is very dangerous during the Etesian winds and in therainy season. The Arabian Edrisi portrays it under the name of the Gulf ofColzoum, and relates that vessels perished there in great numbers on thesandbanks and that no one would risk sailing in the night. It is, he pretends,a sea subject to fearful hurricanes, strewn with inhospitable islands, and‘which offers nothing good either on its surface or in its depths.’”

“One may see,” I replied, “that these historians never sailed on board theNautilus.”

“Just so,” replied the Captain, smiling; “and in that respect moderns are notmore advanced than the ancients. It required many ages to find out themechanical power of steam. Who knows if, in another hundred years, we may notsee a second Nautilus?Progress is slow, M. Aronnax.”

“It is true,” I answered; “your boat is at least a century before its time,perhaps an era. What a misfortune that the secret of such an invention shoulddie with its inventor!”

Captain Nemo did not reply. After some minutes’ silence he continued:

“You were speaking of the opinions of ancient historians upon the dangerousnavigation of the Red Sea.”

“It is true,” said I; “but were not their fears exaggerated?”

“Yes and no, M. Aronnax,” replied Captain Nemo, who seemed to know the Red Seaby heart. “That which is no longer dangerous for a modern vessel, well rigged,strongly built, and master of its own course, thanks to obedient steam, offeredall sorts of perils to the ships of the ancients. Picture to yourself thosefirst navigators venturing in ships made of planks sewn with the cords of thepalmtree, saturated with the grease of the seadog, and covered with powderedresin! They had not even instruments wherewith to take their bearings, and theywent by guess amongst currents of which they scarcely knew anything. Under suchconditions shipwrecks were, and must have been, numerous. But in our time,steamers running between Suez and the South Seas have nothing more to fear fromthe fury of this gulf, in spite of contrary trade-winds. The captain andpassengers do not prepare for their departure by offering propitiatorysacrifices; and, on their return, they no longer go ornamented with wreaths andgilt fillets to thank the gods in the neighbouring temple.”

“I agree with you,” said I; “and steam seems to have killed all gratitude inthe hearts of sailors. But, Captain, since you seem to have especially studiedthis sea, can you tell me the origin of its name?”

“There exist several explanations on the subject, M. Aronnax. Would you like toknow the opinion of a chronicler of the fourteenth century?”

“Willingly.”

“This fanciful writer pretends that its name was given to it after the passageof the Israelites, when Pharaoh perished in the waves which closed at the voiceof Moses.”

“A poet’s explanation, Captain Nemo,” I replied; “but I cannot content myselfwith that. I ask you for your personal opinion.”

“Here it is, M. Aronnax. According to my idea, we must see in this appellationof the Red Sea a translation of the Hebrew word ‘Edom’; and if the ancientsgave it that name, it was on account of the particular colour of its waters.”

“But up to this time I have seen nothing but transparent waves and without anyparticular colour.”

“Very likely; but as we advance to the bottom of the gulf, you will see thissingular appearance. I remember seeing the Bay of Tor entirely red, like a seaof blood.”

“And you attribute this colour to the presence of a microscopic seaweed?”

“Yes.”

“So, Captain Nemo, it is not the first time you have overrun the Red Sea onboard the Nautilus?”

“No, sir.”

“As you spoke a while ago of the passage of the Israelites and of thecatastrophe to the Egyptians, I will ask whether you have met with the tracesunder the water of this great historical fact?”

“No, sir; and for a good reason.”

“What is it?”

“It is that the spot where Moses and his people passed is now so blocked upwith sand that the camels can barely bathe their legs there. You can wellunderstand that there would not be water enough for my Nautilus.”

“And the spot?” I asked.

“The spot is situated a little above the Isthmus of Suez, in the arm whichformerly made a deep estuary, when the Red Sea extended to the Salt Lakes. Now,whether this passage were miraculous or not, the Israelites, nevertheless,crossed there to reach the Promised Land, and Pharaoh’s army perished preciselyon that spot; and I think that excavations made in the middle of the sand wouldbring to light a large number of arms and instruments of Egyptian origin.”

“That is evident,” I replied; “and for the sake of archaeologists let us hopethat these excavations will be made sooner or later, when new towns areestablished on the isthmus, after the construction of the Suez Canal; a canal,however, very useless to a vessel like the Nautilus.”

“Very likely; but useful to the whole world,” said Captain Nemo. “The ancientswell understood the utility of a communication between the Red Sea and theMediterranean for their commercial affairs: but they did not think of digging acanal direct, and took the Nile as an intermediate. Very probably the canalwhich united the Nile to the Red Sea was begun by Sesostris, if we may believetradition. One thing is certain, that in the year 615 before Jesus Christ,Necos undertook the works of an alimentary canal to the waters of the Nileacross the plain of Egypt, looking towards Arabia. It took four days to go upthis canal, and it was so wide that two triremes could go abreast. It wascarried on by Darius, the son of Hystaspes, and probably finished by PtolemyII. Strabo saw it navigated: but its decline from the point of departure, nearBubastes, to the Red Sea was so slight that it was only navigable for a fewmonths in the year. This canal answered all commercial purposes to the age ofAntonius, when it was abandoned and blocked up with sand. Restored by order ofthe Caliph Omar, it was definitely destroyed in 761 or 762 by Caliph Al-Mansor,who wished to prevent the arrival of provisions to Mohammed-ben-Abdallah, whohad revolted against him. During the expedition into Egypt, your GeneralBonaparte discovered traces of the works in the Desert of Suez; and, surprisedby the tide, he nearly perished before regaining Hadjaroth, at the very placewhere Moses had encamped three thousand years before him.”

“Well, Captain, what the ancients dared not undertake, this junction betweenthe two seas, which will shorten the road from Cadiz to India, M. Lesseps hassucceeded in doing; and before long he will have changed Africa into an immenseisland.”

“Yes, M. Aronnax; you have the right to be proud of your countryman. Such a manbrings more honour to a nation than great captains. He began, like so manyothers, with disgust and rebuffs; but he has triumphed, for he has the geniusof will. And it is sad to think that a work like that, which ought to have beenan international work and which would have sufficed to make a reignillustrious, should have succeeded by the energy of one man. All honour to M.Lesseps!”

“Yes! honour to the great citizen,” I replied, surprised by the manner in whichCaptain Nemo had just spoken.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I cannot take you through the Suez Canal; butyou will be able to see the long jetty of Port Said after to-morrow, when weshall be in the Mediterranean.”

“The Mediterranean!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, sir; does that astonish you?”

“What astonishes me is to think that we shall be there the day afterto-morrow.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, Captain, although by this time I ought to have accustomed myself to besurprised at nothing since I have been on board your boat.”

“But the cause of this surprise?”

“Well! it is the fearful speed you will have to put on the Nautilus, ifthe day after to-morrow she is to be in the Mediterranean, having made theround of Africa, and doubled the Cape of Good Hope!”

“Who told you that she would make the round of Africa and double the Cape ofGood Hope, sir?”

“Well, unless the Nautilussails on dry land, and passes above theisthmus——”

“Or beneath it, M. Aronnax.”

“Beneath it?”

“Certainly,” replied Captain Nemo quietly. “A long time ago Nature made underthis tongue of land what man has this day made on its surface.”

“What! such a passage exists?”

“Yes; a subterranean passage, which I have named the Arabian Tunnel. It takesus beneath Suez and opens into the Gulf of Pelusium.”

“But this isthmus is composed of nothing but quicksands?”

“To a certain depth. But at fifty-five yards only there is a solid layer ofrock.”

“Did you discover this passage by chance?” I asked more and more surprised.

“Chance and reasoning, sir; and by reasoning even more than by chance. Not onlydoes this passage exist, but I have profited by it several times. Without thatI should not have ventured this day into the impassable Red Sea. I noticed thatin the Red Sea and in the Mediterranean there existed a certain number offishes of a kind perfectly identical. Certain of the fact, I asked myself wasit possible that there was no communication between the two seas? If there was,the subterranean current must necessarily run from the Red Sea to theMediterranean, from the sole cause of difference of level. I caught a largenumber of fishes in the neighbourhood of Suez. I passed a copper ring throughtheir tails, and threw them back into the sea. Some months later, on the coastof Syria, I caught some of my fish ornamented with the ring. Thus thecommunication between the two was proved. I then sought for it with myNautilus;I discovered it, ventured into it, and before long, sir, youtoo will have passed through my Arabian tunnel!”

CHAPTER V
THE ARABIAN TUNNEL

That same evening, in 21° 30′ N. lat., the Nautilusfloated onthe surface of the sea, approaching the Arabian coast. I saw Djeddah, the mostimportant counting-house of Egypt, Syria, Turkey, and India. I distinguishedclearly enough its buildings, the vessels anchored at the quays, and thosewhose draught of water obliged them to anchor in the roads. The sun, rather lowon the horizon, struck full on the houses of the town, bringing out theirwhiteness. Outside, some wooden cabins, and some made of reeds, showed thequarter inhabited by the Bedouins. Soon Djeddah was shut out from view by theshadows of night, and the Nautilusfound herself under water slightlyphosphorescent.

The next day, the 10th of February, we sighted several ships running towindward. The Nautilusreturned to its submarine navigation; but atnoon, when her bearings were taken, the sea being deserted, she rose again toher waterline.

Accompanied by Ned and Conseil, I seated myself on the platform. The coast onthe eastern side looked like a mass faintly printed upon a damp fog.

We were leaning on the sides of the pinnace, talking of one thing and another,when Ned Land, stretching out his hand towards a spot on the sea, said:

“Do you see anything there, sir?”

“No, Ned,” I replied; “but I have not your eyes, you know.”

“Look well,” said Ned, “there, on the starboard beam, about the height of thelantern! Do you not see a mass which seems to move?”

“Certainly,” said I, after close attention; “I see something like a long blackbody on the top of the water.”

And certainly before long the black object was not more than a mile from us. Itlooked like a great sandbank deposited in the open sea. It was a giganticdugong!

Ned Land looked eagerly. His eyes shone with covetousness at the sight of theanimal. His hand seemed ready to harpoon it. One would have thought he wasawaiting the moment to throw himself into the sea and attack it in its element.

At this instant Captain Nemo appeared on the platform. He saw the dugong,understood the Canadian’s attitude, and, addressing him, said:

“If you held a harpoon just now, Master Land, would it not burn your hand?”

“Just so, sir.”

“And you would not be sorry to go back, for one day, to your trade of afisherman and to add this cetacean to the list of those you have alreadykilled?”

“I should not, sir.”

“Well, you can try.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Ned Land, his eyes flaming.

“Only,” continued the Captain, “I advise you for your own sake not to miss thecreature.”

“Is the dugong dangerous to attack?” I asked, in spite of the Canadian’s shrugof the shoulders.

“Yes,” replied the Captain; “sometimes the animal turns upon its assailants andoverturns their boat. But for Master Land this danger is not to be feared. Hiseye is prompt, his arm sure.”

At this moment seven men of the crew, mute and immovable as ever, mounted theplatform. One carried a harpoon and a line similar to those employed incatching whales. The pinnace was lifted from the bridge, pulled from itssocket, and let down into the sea. Six oarsmen took their seats, and thecoxswain went to the tiller. Ned, Conseil, and I went to the back of the boat.

“You are not coming, Captain?” I asked.

“No, sir; but I wish you good sport.”

The boat put off, and, lifted by the six rowers, drew rapidly towards thedugong, which floated about two miles from the Nautilus.

Arrived some cables-length from the cetacean, the speed slackened, and the oarsdipped noiselessly into the quiet waters. Ned Land, harpoon in hand, stood inthe fore part of the boat. The harpoon used for striking the whale is generallyattached to a very long cord which runs out rapidly as the wounded creaturedraws it after him. But here the cord was not more than ten fathoms long, andthe extremity was attached to a small barrel which, by floating, was to showthe course the dugong took under the water.

I stood and carefully watched the Canadian’s adversary. This dugong, which alsobears the name of the halicore, closely resembles the manatee; its oblong bodyterminated in a lengthened tail, and its lateral fins in perfect fingers. Itsdifference from the manatee consisted in its upper jaw, which was armed withtwo long and pointed teeth which formed on each side diverging tusks.

This dugong which Ned Land was preparing to attack was of colossal dimensions;it was more than seven yards long. It did not move, and seemed to be sleepingon the waves, which circumstance made it easier to capture.

The boat approached within six yards of the animal. The oars rested on therowlocks. I half rose. Ned Land, his body thrown a little back, brandished theharpoon in his experienced hand.

Suddenly a hissing noise was heard, and the dugong disappeared. The harpoon,although thrown with great force; had apparently only struck the water.

“Curse it!” exclaimed the Canadian furiously; “I have missed it!”

“No,” said I; “the creature is wounded—look at the blood; but your weapon hasnot stuck in his body.”

“My harpoon! my harpoon!” cried Ned Land.

The sailors rowed on, and the coxswain made for the floating barrel. Theharpoon regained, we followed in pursuit of the animal.

The latter came now and then to the surface to breathe. Its wound had notweakened it, for it shot onwards with great rapidity.

The boat, rowed by strong arms, flew on its track. Several times it approachedwithin some few yards, and the Canadian was ready to strike, but the dugongmade off with a sudden plunge, and it was impossible to reach it.

Imagine the passion which excited impatient Ned Land! He hurled at theunfortunate creature the most energetic expletives in the English tongue. Formy part, I was only vexed to see the dugong escape all our attacks.

We pursued it without relaxation for an hour, and I began to think it wouldprove difficult to capture, when the animal, possessed with the perverse ideaof vengeance of which he had cause to repent, turned upon the pinnace andassailed us in its turn.

This manœuvre did not escape the Canadian.

“Look out!” he cried.

The coxswain said some words in his outlandish tongue, doubtless warning themen to keep on their guard.

The dugong came within twenty feet of the boat, stopped, sniffed the airbriskly with its large nostrils (not pierced at the extremity, but in the upperpart of its muzzle). Then, taking a spring, he threw himself upon us.

The pinnace could not avoid the shock, and half upset, shipped at least twotons of water, which had to be emptied; but, thanks to the coxswain, we caughtit sideways, not full front, so we were not quite overturned. While Ned Land,clinging to the bows, belaboured the gigantic animal with blows from hisharpoon, the creature’s teeth were buried in the gunwale, and it lifted thewhole thing out of the water, as a lion does a roebuck. We were upset over oneanother, and I know not how the adventure would have ended, if the Canadian,still enraged with the beast, had not struck it to the heart.

I heard its teeth grind on the iron plate, and the dugong disappeared, carryingthe harpoon with him. But the barrel soon returned to the surface, and shortlyafter the body of the animal, turned on its back. The boat came up with it,took it in tow, and made straight for the Nautilus.

It required tackle of enormous strength to hoist the dugong on to the platform.It weighed 10,000 lbs.

The next day, 11th February, the larder of the Nautiluswas enriched bysome more delicate game. A flight of sea-swallows rested on theNautilus. It was a species of the Sterna nilotica, peculiar to Egypt;its beak is black, head grey and pointed, the eye surrounded by white spots,the back, wings, and tail of a greyish colour, the belly and throat white, andclaws red. They also took some dozen of Nile ducks, a wild bird of highflavour, its throat and upper part of the head white with black spots.

About five o’clock in the evening we sighted to the north the Cape ofRas-Mohammed. This cape forms the extremity of Arabia Petraea, comprisedbetween the Gulf of Suez and the Gulf of Acabah.

The Nautiluspenetrated into the Straits of Jubal, which leads to theGulf of Suez. I distinctly saw a high mountain, towering between the two gulfsof Ras-Mohammed. It was Mount Horeb, that Sinai at the top of which Moses sawGod face to face.

At six o’clock the Nautilus, sometimes floating, sometimes immersed,passed some distance from Tor, situated at the end of the bay, the waters ofwhich seemed tinted with red, an observation already made by Captain Nemo. Thennight fell in the midst of a heavy silence, sometimes broken by the cries ofthe pelican and other night-birds, and the noise of the waves breaking upon theshore, chafing against the rocks, or the panting of some far-off steamerbeating the waters of the Gulf with its noisy paddles.

From eight to nine o’clock the Nautilusremained some fathoms under thewater. According to my calculation we must have been very near Suez. Throughthe panel of the saloon I saw the bottom of the rocks brilliantly lit up by ourelectric lamp. We seemed to be leaving the Straits behind us more and more.

At a quarter-past nine, the vessel having returned to the surface, I mountedthe platform. Most impatient to pass through Captain Nemo’s tunnel, I could notstay in one place, so came to breathe the fresh night air.

Soon in the shadow I saw a pale light, half discoloured by the fog, shiningabout a mile from us.

“A floating lighthouse!” said someone near me.

I turned, and saw the Captain.

“It is the floating light of Suez,” he continued. “It will not be long beforewe gain the entrance of the tunnel.”

“The entrance cannot be easy?”

“No, sir; for that reason I am accustomed to go into the steersman’s cage andmyself direct our course. And now, if you will go down, M. Aronnax, theNautilusis going under the waves, and will not return to the surfaceuntil we have passed through the Arabian Tunnel.”

Captain Nemo led me towards the central staircase; half way down he opened adoor, traversed the upper deck, and landed in the pilot’s cage, which it may beremembered rose at the extremity of the platform. It was a cabin measuring sixfeet square, very much like that occupied by the pilot on the steamboats of theMississippi or Hudson. In the midst worked a wheel, placed vertically, andcaught to the tiller-rope, which ran to the back of the Nautilus. Fourlight-ports with lenticular glasses, let in a groove in the partition of thecabin, allowed the man at the wheel to see in all directions.

This cabin was dark; but soon my eyes accustomed themselves to the obscurity,and I perceived the pilot, a strong man, with his hands resting on the spokesof the wheel. Outside, the sea appeared vividly lit up by the lantern, whichshed its rays from the back of the cabin to the other extremity of theplatform.

“Now,” said Captain Nemo, “let us try to make our passage.”

Electric wires connected the pilot’s cage with the machinery room, and fromthere the Captain could communicate simultaneously to his Nautilusthedirection and the speed. He pressed a metal knob, and at once the speed of thescrew diminished.

I looked in silence at the high straight wall we were running by at thismoment, the immovable base of a massive sandy coast. We followed it thus for anhour only some few yards off.

Captain Nemo did not take his eye from the knob, suspended by its twoconcentric circles in the cabin. At a simple gesture, the pilot modified thecourse of the Nautilusevery instant.

I had placed myself at the port-scuttle, and saw some magnificent substructuresof coral, zoophytes, seaweed, and fucus, agitating their enormous claws, whichstretched out from the fissures of the rock.

At a quarter-past ten, the Captain himself took the helm. A large gallery,black and deep, opened before us. The Nautiluswent boldly into it. Astrange roaring was heard round its sides. It was the waters of the Red Sea,which the incline of the tunnel precipitated violently towards theMediterranean. The Nautiluswent with the torrent, rapid as an arrow, inspite of the efforts of the machinery, which, in order to offer more effectiveresistance, beat the waves with reversed screw.

On the walls of the narrow passage I could see nothing but brilliant rays,straight lines, furrows of fire, traced by the great speed, under the brilliantelectric light. My heart beat fast.

At thirty-five minutes past ten, Captain Nemo quitted the helm, and, turning tome, said:

“The Mediterranean!”

In less than twenty minutes, the Nautilus, carried along by the torrent,had passed through the Isthmus of Suez.

CHAPTER VI
THE GRECIAN ARCHIPELAGO

The next day, the 12th of February, at the dawn of day, the Nautilusrose to the surface. I hastened on to the platform. Three miles to the souththe dim outline of Pelusium was to be seen. A torrent had carried us from onesea to another. About seven o’clock Ned and Conseil joined me.

“Well, Sir Naturalist,” said the Canadian, in a slightly jovial tone, “and theMediterranean?”

“We are floating on its surface, friend Ned.”

“What!” said Conseil, “this very night.”

“Yes, this very night; in a few minutes we have passed this impassableisthmus.”

“I do not believe it,” replied the Canadian.

“Then you are wrong, Master Land,” I continued; “this low coast which roundsoff to the south is the Egyptian coast. And you who have such good eyes, Ned,you can see the jetty of Port Said stretching into the sea.”

The Canadian looked attentively.

“Certainly you are right, sir, and your Captain is a first-rate man. We are inthe Mediterranean. Good! Now, if you please, let us talk of our own littleaffair, but so that no one hears us.”

I saw what the Canadian wanted, and, in any case, I thought it better to lethim talk, as he wished it; so we all three went and sat down near the lantern,where we were less exposed to the spray of the blades.

“Now, Ned, we listen; what have you to tell us?”

“What I have to tell you is very simple. We are in Europe; and before CaptainNemo’s caprices drag us once more to the bottom of the Polar Seas, or lead usinto Oceania, I ask to leave the Nautilus.”

I wished in no way to shackle the liberty of my companions, but I certainlyfelt no desire to leave Captain Nemo.

Thanks to him, and thanks to his apparatus, I was each day nearer thecompletion of my submarine studies; and I was rewriting my book of submarinedepths in its very element. Should I ever again have such an opportunity ofobserving the wonders of the ocean? No, certainly not! And I could not bringmyself to the idea of abandoning the Nautilusbefore the cycle ofinvestigation was accomplished.

“Friend Ned, answer me frankly, are you tired of being on board? Are you sorrythat destiny has thrown us into Captain Nemo’s hands?”

The Canadian remained some moments without answering. Then, crossing his arms,he said:

“Frankly, I do not regret this journey under the seas. I shall be glad to havemade it; but, now that it is made, let us have done with it. That is my idea.”

“It will come to an end, Ned.”

“Where and when?”

“Where I do not know—when I cannot say; or, rather, I suppose it will end whenthese seas have nothing more to teach us.”

“Then what do you hope for?” demanded the Canadian.

“That circumstances may occur as well six months hence as now by which we mayand ought to profit.”

“Oh!” said Ned Land, “and where shall we be in six months, if you please, SirNaturalist?”

“Perhaps in China; you know the Nautilusis a rapid traveller. It goesthrough water as swallows through the air, or as an express on the land. Itdoes not fear frequented seas; who can say that it may not beat the coasts ofFrance, England, or America, on which flight may be attempted as advantageouslyas here.”

“M. Aronnax,” replied the Canadian, “your arguments are rotten at thefoundation. You speak in the future, ‘We shall be there! we shall be here!’ Ispeak in the present, ‘We are here, and we must profit by it.’”

Ned Land’s logic pressed me hard, and I felt myself beaten on that ground. Iknew not what argument would now tell in my favour.

“Sir,” continued Ned, “let us suppose an impossibility: if Captain Nemo shouldthis day offer you your liberty; would you accept it?”

“I do not know,” I answered.

“And if,” he added, “the offer made you this day was never to be renewed, wouldyou accept it?”

“Friend Ned, this is my answer. Your reasoning is against me. We must not relyon Captain Nemo’s good-will. Common prudence forbids him to set us at liberty.On the other side, prudence bids us profit by the first opportunity to leavethe Nautilus.”

“Well, M. Aronnax, that is wisely said.”

“Only one observation—just one. The occasion must be serious, and our firstattempt must succeed; if it fails, we shall never find another, and CaptainNemo will never forgive us.”

“All that is true,” replied the Canadian. “But your observation applies equallyto all attempts at flight, whether in two years’ time, or in two days’. But thequestion is still this: If a favourable opportunity presents itself, it must beseized.”

“Agreed! And now, Ned, will you tell me what you mean by a favourableopportunity?”

“It will be that which, on a dark night, will bring the Nautilusa shortdistance from some European coast.”

“And you will try and save yourself by swimming?”

“Yes, if we were near enough to the bank, and if the vessel was floating at thetime. Not if the bank was far away, and the boat was under the water.”

“And in that case?”

“In that case, I should seek to make myself master of the pinnace. I know howit is worked. We must get inside, and the bolts once drawn, we shall come tothe surface of the water, without even the pilot, who is in the bows,perceiving our flight.”

“Well, Ned, watch for the opportunity; but do not forget that a hitch will ruinus.”

“I will not forget, sir.”

“And now, Ned, would you like to know what I think of your project?”

“Certainly, M. Aronnax.”

“Well, I think—I do not say I hope—I think that this favourable opportunitywill never present itself.”

“Why not?”

“Because Captain Nemo cannot hide from himself that we have not given up allhope of regaining our liberty, and he will be on his guard, above all, in theseas and in the sight of European coasts.”

“We shall see,” replied Ned Land, shaking his head determinedly.

“And now, Ned Land,” I added, “let us stop here. Not another word on thesubject. The day that you are ready, come and let us know, and we will followyou. I rely entirely upon you.”

Thus ended a conversation which, at no very distant time, led to such graveresults. I must say here that facts seemed to confirm my foresight, to theCanadian’s great despair. Did Captain Nemo distrust us in these frequentedseas? or did he only wish to hide himself from the numerous vessels, of allnations, which ploughed the Mediterranean? I could not tell; but we wereoftener between waters and far from the coast. Or, if the Nautilusdidemerge, nothing was to be seen but the pilot’s cage; and sometimes it went togreat depths, for, between the Grecian Archipelago and Asia Minor we could nottouch the bottom by more than a thousand fathoms.

Thus I only knew we were near the Island of Carpathos, one of the Sporades, byCaptain Nemo reciting these lines from Virgil:

“Est Carpathio Neptuni gurgite vates,
Caeruleus Proteus,”

as he pointed to a spot on the planisphere.

It was indeed the ancient abode of Proteus, the old shepherd of Neptune’sflocks, now the Island of Scarpanto, situated between Rhodes and Crete. I sawnothing but the granite base through the glass panels of the saloon.

The next day, the 14th of February, I resolved to employ some hours in studyingthe fishes of the Archipelago; but for some reason or other the panels remainedhermetically sealed. Upon taking the course of the Nautilus, I foundthat we were going towards Candia, the ancient Isle of Crete. At the time Iembarked on the Abraham Lincoln, the whole of this island had risen ininsurrection against the despotism of the Turks. But how the insurgents hadfared since that time I was absolutely ignorant, and it was not Captain Nemo,deprived of all land communications, who could tell me.

I made no allusion to this event when that night I found myself alone with himin the saloon. Besides, he seemed to be taciturn and preoccupied. Then,contrary to his custom, he ordered both panels to be opened, and, going fromone to the other, observed the mass of waters attentively. To what end I couldnot guess; so, on my side, I employed my time in studying the fish passingbefore my eyes.

In the midst of the waters a man appeared, a diver, carrying at his belt aleathern purse. It was not a body abandoned to the waves; it was a living man,swimming with a strong hand, disappearing occasionally to take breath at thesurface.

I turned towards Captain Nemo, and in an agitated voice exclaimed:

“A man shipwrecked! He must be saved at any price!”

“A man! A shipwrecked sailor!” I cried

The Captain did not answer me, but came and leaned against the panel.

The man had approached, and, with his face flattened against the glass, waslooking at us.

To my great amazement, Captain Nemo signed to him. The diver answered with hishand, mounted immediately to the surface of the water, and did not appearagain.

“Do not be uncomfortable,” said Captain Nemo. “It is Nicholas of Cape Matapan,surnamed Pesca. He is well known in all the Cyclades. A bold diver! water ishis element, and he lives more in it than on land, going continually from oneisland to another, even as far as Crete.”

“You know him, Captain?”

“Why not, M. Aronnax?”

Saying which, Captain Nemo went towards a piece of furniture standing near theleft panel of the saloon. Near this piece of furniture, I saw a chest boundwith iron, on the cover of which was a copper plate, bearing the cypher of theNautiluswith its device.

At that moment, the Captain, without noticing my presence, opened the piece offurniture, a sort of strong box, which held a great many ingots.

They were ingots of gold. From whence came this precious metal, whichrepresented an enormous sum? Where did the Captain gather this gold from? andwhat was he going to do with it?

I did not say one word. I looked. Captain Nemo took the ingots one by one, andarranged them methodically in the chest, which he filled entirely. I estimatedthe contents at more than 4,000 lbs. weight of gold, that is to say, nearly£200,000.

The chest was securely fastened, and the Captain wrote an address on the lid,in characters which must have belonged to Modern Greece.

This done, Captain Nemo pressed a knob, the wire of which communicated with thequarters of the crew. Four men appeared, and, not without some trouble, pushedthe chest out of the saloon. Then I heard them hoisting it up the ironstaircase by means of pulleys.

At that moment, Captain Nemo turned to me.

“And you were saying, sir?” said he.

“I was saying nothing, Captain.”

“Then, sir, if you will allow me, I will wish you good night.”

Whereupon he turned and left the saloon.

I returned to my room much troubled, as one may believe. I vainly tried tosleep—I sought the connecting link between the apparition of the diver and thechest filled with gold. Soon, I felt by certain movements of pitching andtossing that the Nautiluswas leaving the depths and returning to thesurface.

Then I heard steps upon the platform; and I knew they were unfastening thepinnace and launching it upon the waves. For one instant it struck the side ofthe Nautilus, then all noise ceased.

Two hours after, the same noise, the same going and coming was renewed; theboat was hoisted on board, replaced in its socket, and the Nautilusagain plunged under the waves.

So these millions had been transported to their address. To what point of thecontinent? Who was Captain Nemo’s correspondent?

The next day I related to Conseil and the Canadian the events of the night,which had excited my curiosity to the highest degree. My companions were notless surprised than myself.

“But where does he take his millions to?” asked Ned Land.

To that there was no possible answer. I returned to the saloon after havingbreakfast and set to work. Till five o’clock in the evening I employed myselfin arranging my notes. At that moment—(ought I to attribute it to some peculiaridiosyncrasy)—I felt so great a heat that I was obliged to take off my coat. Itwas strange, for we were under low latitudes; and even then theNautilus, submerged as it was, ought to experience no change oftemperature. I looked at the manometer; it showed a depth of sixty feet, towhich atmospheric heat could never attain.

I continued my work, but the temperature rose to such a pitch as to beintolerable.

“Could there be fire on board?” I asked myself.

I was leaving the saloon, when Captain Nemo entered; he approached thethermometer, consulted it, and, turning to me, said:

“Forty-two degrees.”

“I have noticed it, Captain,” I replied; “and if it gets much hotter we cannotbear it.”

“Oh, sir, it will not get hotter if we do not wish it.”

“You can reduce it as you please, then?”

“No; but I can go farther from the stove which produces it.”

“It is outward, then!”

“Certainly; we are floating in a current of boiling water.”

“Is it possible!” I exclaimed.

“Look.”

The panels opened, and I saw the sea entirely white all round. A sulphuroussmoke was curling amid the waves, which boiled like water in a copper. I placedmy hand on one of the panes of glass, but the heat was so great that I quicklytook it off again.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Near the Island of Santorin, sir,” replied the Captain. “I wished to give youa sight of the curious spectacle of a submarine eruption.”

“I thought,” said I, “that the formation of these new islands was ended.”

“Nothing is ever ended in the volcanic parts of the sea,” replied Captain Nemo;“and the globe is always being worked by subterranean fires. Already, in thenineteenth year of our era, according to Cassiodorus and Pliny, a new island,Theia (the divine), appeared in the very place where these islets have recentlybeen formed. Then they sank under the waves, to rise again in the year 69, whenthey again subsided. Since that time to our days the Plutonian work has beensuspended. But on the 3rd of February, 1866, a new island, which they namedGeorge Island, emerged from the midst of the sulphurous vapour near NeaKamenni, and settled again the 6th of the same month. Seven days after, the13th of February, the Island of Aphroessa appeared, leaving between Nea Kamenniand itself a canal ten yards broad. I was in these seas when the phenomenonoccurred, and I was able therefore to observe all the different phases. TheIsland of Aphroessa, of round form, measured 300 feet in diameter, and 30 feetin height. It was composed of black and vitreous lava, mixed with fragments offelspar. And lately, on the 10th of March, a smaller island, called Reka,showed itself near Nea Kamenni, and since then these three have joinedtogether, forming but one and the same island.”

“And the canal in which we are at this moment?” I asked.

“Here it is,” replied Captain Nemo, showing me a map of the Archipelago. “Yousee, I have marked the new islands.”

I returned to the glass. The Nautiluswas no longer moving, the heat wasbecoming unbearable. The sea, which till now had been white, was red, owing tothe presence of salts of iron. In spite of the ship’s being hermeticallysealed, an insupportable smell of sulphur filled the saloon, and the brilliancyof the electricity was entirely extinguished by bright scarlet flames. I was ina bath, I was choking, I was broiled.

“We can remain no longer in this boiling water,” said I to the Captain.

“It would not be prudent,” replied the impassive Captain Nemo.

An order was given; the Nautilustacked about and left the furnace itcould not brave with impunity. A quarter of an hour after we were breathingfresh air on the surface. The thought then struck me that, if Ned Land hadchosen this part of the sea for our flight, we should never have come alive outof this sea of fire.

The next day, the 16th of February, we left the basin which, between Rhodes andAlexandria, is reckoned about 1,500 fathoms in depth, and the Nautilus,passing some distance from Cerigo, quitted the Grecian Archipelago after havingdoubled Cape Matapan.

CHAPTER VII
THE MEDITERRANEAN IN FORTY-EIGHT HOURS

The Mediterranean, the blue sea par excellence, “the great sea” of the Hebrews,“the sea” of the Greeks, the “mare nostrum” of the Romans, bordered byorange-trees, aloes, cacti, and sea-pines; embalmed with the perfume of themyrtle, surrounded by rude mountains, saturated with pure and transparent air,but incessantly worked by underground fires; a perfect battlefield in whichNeptune and Pluto still dispute the empire of the world!

It is upon these banks, and on these waters, says Michelet, that man is renewedin one of the most powerful climates of the globe. But, beautiful as it was, Icould only take a rapid glance at the basin whose superficial area is twomillion of square yards. Even Captain Nemo’s knowledge was lost to me, for thispuzzling person did not appear once during our passage at full speed. Iestimated the course which the Nautilustook under the waves of the seaat about six hundred leagues, and it was accomplished in forty-eight hours.Starting on the morning of the 16th of February from the shores of Greece, wehad crossed the Straits of Gibraltar by sunrise on the 18th.

It was plain to me that this Mediterranean, enclosed in the midst of thosecountries which he wished to avoid, was distasteful to Captain Nemo. Thosewaves and those breezes brought back too many remembrances, if not too manyregrets. Here he had no longer that independence and that liberty of gait whichhe had when in the open seas, and his Nautilusfelt itself crampedbetween the close shores of Africa and Europe.

Our speed was now twenty-five miles an hour. It may be well understood that NedLand, to his great disgust, was obliged to renounce his intended flight. Hecould not launch the pinnace, going at the rate of twelve or thirteen yardsevery second. To quit the Nautilusunder such conditions would be as badas jumping from a train going at full speed—an imprudent thing, to say theleast of it. Besides, our vessel only mounted to the surface of the waves atnight to renew its stock of air; it was steered entirely by the compass and thelog.

I saw no more of the interior of this Mediterranean than a traveller by expresstrain perceives of the landscape which flies before his eyes; that is to say,the distant horizon, and not the nearer objects which pass like a flash oflightning.

We were then passing between Sicily and the coast of Tunis. In the narrow spacebetween Cape Bon and the Straits of Messina the bottom of the sea rose almostsuddenly. There was a perfect bank, on which there was not more than ninefathoms of water, whilst on either side the depth was ninety fathoms.

The Nautilushad to manœuvre very carefully so as not to strike againstthis submarine barrier.

I showed Conseil, on the map of the Mediterranean, the spot occupied by thisreef.

“But if you please, sir,” observed Conseil, “it is like a real isthmus joiningEurope to Africa.”

“Yes, my boy, it forms a perfect bar to the Straits of Lybia, and the soundingsof Smith have proved that in former times the continents between Cape Boco andCape Furina were joined.”

“I can well believe it,” said Conseil.

“I will add,” I continued, “that a similar barrier exists between Gibraltar andCeuta, which in geological times formed the entire Mediterranean.”

“What if some volcanic burst should one day raise these two barriers above thewaves?”

“It is not probable, Conseil.”

“Well, but allow me to finish, please, sir; if this phenomenon should takeplace, it will be troublesome for M. Lesseps, who has taken so much pains topierce the isthmus.”

“I agree with you; but I repeat, Conseil, this phenomenon will never happen.The violence of subterranean force is ever diminishing. Volcanoes, so plentifulin the first days of the world, are being extinguished by degrees; the internalheat is weakened, the temperature of the lower strata of the globe is loweredby a perceptible quantity every century to the detriment of our globe, for itsheat is its life.”

“But the sun?”

“The sun is not sufficient, Conseil. Can it give heat to a dead body?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, my friend, this earth will one day be that cold corpse; it will becomeuninhabitable and uninhabited like the moon, which has long since lost all itsvital heat.”

“In how many centuries?”

“In some hundreds of thousands of years, my boy.”

“Then,” said Conseil, “we shall have time to finish our journey—that is, if NedLand does not interfere with it.”

And Conseil, reassured, returned to the study of the bank, which theNautiluswas skirting at a moderate speed.

During the night of the 16th and 17th February we had entered the secondMediterranean basin, the greatest depth of which was 1,450 fathoms. TheNautilus, by the action of its screw, slid down the inclined planes andburied itself in the lowest depths of the sea.

On the 18th of February, about three o’clock in the morning, we were at theentrance of the Straits of Gibraltar. There once existed two currents: an upperone, long since recognised, which conveys the waters of the ocean into thebasin of the Mediterranean; and a lower counter-current, which reasoning hasnow shown to exist. Indeed, the volume of water in the Mediterranean,incessantly added to by the waves of the Atlantic and by rivers falling intoit, would each year raise the level of this sea, for its evaporation is notsufficient to restore the equilibrium. As it is not so, we must necessarilyadmit the existence of an under-current, which empties into the basin of theAtlantic through the Straits of Gibraltar the surplus waters of theMediterranean. A fact indeed; and it was this counter-current by which theNautilusprofited. It advanced rapidly by the narrow pass. For oneinstant I caught a glimpse of the beautiful ruins of the temple of Hercules,buried in the ground, according to Pliny, and with the low island whichsupports it; and a few minutes later we were floating on the Atlantic.

CHAPTER VIII
VIGO BAY

The Atlantic! a vast sheet of water whose superficial area covers twenty-fivemillions of square miles, the length of which is nine thousand miles, with amean breadth of two thousand seven hundred—an ocean whose parallel windingshores embrace an immense circumference, watered by the largest rivers of theworld, the St. Lawrence, the Mississippi, the Amazon, the Plata, the Orinoco,the Niger, the Senegal, the Elbe, the Loire, and the Rhine, which carry waterfrom the most civilised, as well as from the most savage, countries!Magnificent field of water, incessantly ploughed by vessels of every nation,sheltered by the flags of every nation, and which terminates in those twoterrible points so dreaded by mariners, Cape Horn and the Cape of Tempests.

The Nautiluswas piercing the water with its sharp spur, after havingaccomplished nearly ten thousand leagues in three months and a half, a distancegreater than the great circle of the earth. Where were we going now, and whatwas reserved for the future? The Nautilus, leaving the Straits ofGibraltar, had gone far out. It returned to the surface of the waves, and ourdaily walks on the platform were restored to us.

I mounted at once, accompanied by Ned Land and Conseil. At a distance of abouttwelve miles, Cape St. Vincent was dimly to be seen, forming the south-westernpoint of the Spanish peninsula. A strong southerly gale was blowing. The seawas swollen and billowy; it made the Nautilusrock violently. It wasalmost impossible to keep one’s foot on the platform, which the heavy rolls ofthe sea beat over every instant. So we descended after inhaling some mouthfulsof fresh air.

I returned to my room, Conseil to his cabin; but the Canadian, with apreoccupied air, followed me. Our rapid passage across the Mediterranean hadnot allowed him to put his project into execution, and he could not helpshowing his disappointment. When the door of my room was shut, he sat down andlooked at me silently.

“Friend Ned,” said I, “I understand you; but you cannot reproach yourself. Tohave attempted to leave the Nautilusunder the circumstances would havebeen folly.”

Ned Land did not answer; his compressed lips and frowning brow showed with himthe violent possession this fixed idea had taken of his mind.

“Let us see,” I continued; “we need not despair yet. We are going up the coastof Portugal again; France and England are not far off, where we can easily findrefuge. Now if the Nautilus, on leaving the Straits of Gibraltar, hadgone to the south, if it had carried us towards regions where there were nocontinents, I should share your uneasiness. But we know now that Captain Nemodoes not fly from civilised seas, and in some days I think you can act withsecurity.”

Ned Land still looked at me fixedly; at length his fixed lips parted, and hesaid, “It is for to-night.”

I drew myself up suddenly. I was, I admit, little prepared for thiscommunication. I wanted to answer the Canadian, but words would not come.

“We agreed to wait for an opportunity,” continued Ned Land, “and theopportunity has arrived. This night we shall be but a few miles from theSpanish coast. It is cloudy. The wind blows freely. I have your word, M.Aronnax, and I rely upon you.”

As I was silent, the Canadian approached me.

“To-night, at nine o’clock,” said he. “I have warned Conseil. At that momentCaptain Nemo will be shut up in his room, probably in bed. Neither theengineers nor the ship’s crew can see us. Conseil and I will gain the centralstaircase, and you, M. Aronnax, will remain in the library, two steps from us,waiting my signal. The oars, the mast, and the sail are in the canoe. I haveeven succeeded in getting some provisions. I have procured an English wrench,to unfasten the bolts which attach it to the shell of the Nautilus. Soall is ready, till to-night.”

“The sea is bad.”

“That I allow,” replied the Canadian; “but we must risk that. Liberty is worthpaying for; besides, the boat is strong, and a few miles with a fair wind tocarry us is no great thing. Who knows but by to-morrow we may be a hundredleagues away? Let circumstances only favour us, and by ten or eleven o’clock weshall have landed on some spot of terra firma, alive or dead. But adieu nowtill to-night.”

With these words the Canadian withdrew, leaving me almost dumb. I had imaginedthat, the chance gone, I should have time to reflect and discuss the matter. Myobstinate companion had given me no time; and, after all, what could I havesaid to him? Ned Land was perfectly right. There was almost the opportunity toprofit by. Could I retract my word, and take upon myself the responsibility ofcompromising the future of my companions? To-morrow Captain Nemo might take usfar from all land.

At that moment a rather loud hissing noise told me that the reservoirs werefilling, and that the Nautiluswas sinking under the waves of theAtlantic.

A sad day I passed, between the desire of regaining my liberty of action and ofabandoning the wonderful Nautilus, and leaving my submarine studiesincomplete.

What dreadful hours I passed thus! Sometimes seeing myself and companionssafely landed, sometimes wishing, in spite of my reason, that some unforeseencircumstance, would prevent the realisation of Ned Land’s project.

Twice I went to the saloon. I wished to consult the compass. I wished to see ifthe direction the Nautiluswas taking was bringing us nearer or takingus farther from the coast. But no; the Nautiluskept in Portuguesewaters.

I must therefore take my part and prepare for flight. My luggage was not heavy;my notes, nothing more.

As to Captain Nemo, I asked myself what he would think of our escape; whattrouble, what wrong it might cause him and what he might do in case of itsdiscovery or failure. Certainly I had no cause to complain of him; on thecontrary, never was hospitality freer than his. In leaving him I could not betaxed with ingratitude. No oath bound us to him. It was on the strength ofcircumstances he relied, and not upon our word, to fix us for ever.

I had not seen the Captain since our visit to the Island of Santorin. Wouldchance bring me to his presence before our departure? I wished it, and I fearedit at the same time. I listened if I could hear him walking the room contiguousto mine. No sound reached my ear. I felt an unbearable uneasiness. This day ofwaiting seemed eternal. Hours struck too slowly to keep pace with myimpatience.

My dinner was served in my room as usual. I ate but little; I was toopreoccupied. I left the table at seven o’clock. A hundred and twenty minutes (Icounted them) still separated me from the moment in which I was to join NedLand. My agitation redoubled. My pulse beat violently. I could not remainquiet. I went and came, hoping to calm my troubled spirit by constant movement.The idea of failure in our bold enterprise was the least painful of myanxieties; but the thought of seeing our project discovered before leaving theNautilus, of being brought before Captain Nemo, irritated, or (what wasworse) saddened, at my desertion, made my heart beat.

I wanted to see the saloon for the last time. I descended the stairs andarrived in the museum, where I had passed so many useful and agreeable hours. Ilooked at all its riches, all its treasures, like a man on the eve of aneternal exile, who was leaving never to return.

These wonders of Nature, these masterpieces of art, amongst which for so manydays my life had been concentrated, I was going to abandon them for ever! Ishould like to have taken a last look through the windows of the saloon intothe waters of the Atlantic: but the panels were hermetically closed, and acloak of steel separated me from that ocean which I had not yet explored.

In passing through the saloon, I came near the door let into the angle whichopened into the Captain’s room. To my great surprise, this door was ajar. Idrew back involuntarily. If Captain Nemo should be in his room, he could seeme. But, hearing no sound, I drew nearer. The room was deserted. I pushed openthe door and took some steps forward. Still the same monklike severity ofaspect.

Suddenly the clock struck eight. The first beat of the hammer on the bell awokeme from my dreams. I trembled as if an invisible eye had plunged into my mostsecret thoughts, and I hurried from the room.

There my eye fell upon the compass. Our course was still north. The logindicated moderate speed, the manometer a depth of about sixty feet.

I returned to my room, clothed myself warmly—sea boots, an otterskin cap, agreat coat of byssus, lined with sealskin; I was ready, I was waiting. Thevibration of the screw alone broke the deep silence which reigned on board. Ilistened attentively. Would no loud voice suddenly inform me that Ned Land hadbeen surprised in his projected flight. A mortal dread hung over me, and Ivainly tried to regain my accustomed coolness.

At a few minutes to nine, I put my ear to the Captain’s door. No noise. I leftmy room and returned to the saloon, which was half in obscurity, but deserted.

I opened the door communicating with the library. The same insufficient light,the same solitude. I placed myself near the door leading to the centralstaircase, and there waited for Ned Land’s signal.

At that moment the trembling of the screw sensibly diminished, then it stoppedentirely. The silence was now only disturbed by the beatings of my own heart.Suddenly a slight shock was felt; and I knew that the Nautilushadstopped at the bottom of the ocean. My uneasiness increased. The Canadian’ssignal did not come. I felt inclined to join Ned Land and beg of him to put offhis attempt. I felt that we were not sailing under our usual conditions.

At this moment the door of the large saloon opened, and Captain Nemo appeared.He saw me, and without further preamble began in an amiable tone of voice:

“Ah, sir! I have been looking for you. Do you know the history of Spain?”

Now, one might know the history of one’s own country by heart; but in thecondition I was at the time, with troubled mind and head quite lost, I couldnot have said a word of it.

“Well,” continued Captain Nemo, “you heard my question! Do you know the historyof Spain?”

“Very slightly,” I answered.

“Well, here are learned men having to learn,” said the Captain. “Come, sitdown, and I will tell you a curious episode in this history. Sir, listen well,”said he; “this history will interest you on one side, for it will answer aquestion which doubtless you have not been able to solve.”

“I listen, Captain,” said I, not knowing what my interlocutor was driving at,and asking myself if this incident was bearing on our projected flight.

“Sir, if you have no objection, we will go back to 1702. You cannot be ignorantthat your king, Louis XIV, thinking that the gesture of a potentate wassufficient to bring the Pyrenees under his yoke, had imposed the Duke of Anjou,his grandson, on the Spaniards. This prince reigned more or less badly underthe name of Philip V, and had a strong party against him abroad. Indeed, thepreceding year, the royal houses of Holland, Austria, and England had concludeda treaty of alliance at the Hague, with the intention of plucking the crown ofSpain from the head of Philip V, and placing it on that of an archduke to whomthey prematurely gave the title of Charles III.

“Spain must resist this coalition; but she was almost entirely unprovided witheither soldiers or sailors. However, money would not fail them, provided thattheir galleons, laden with gold and silver from America, once entered theirports. And about the end of 1702 they expected a rich convoy which France wasescorting with a fleet of twenty-three vessels, commanded by AdmiralChateau-Renaud, for the ships of the coalition were already beating theAtlantic. This convoy was to go to Cadiz, but the Admiral, hearing that anEnglish fleet was cruising in those waters, resolved to make for a French port.

“The Spanish commanders of the convoy objected to this decision. They wanted tobe taken to a Spanish port, and, if not to Cadiz, into Vigo Bay, situated onthe northwest coast of Spain, and which was not blocked.

“Admiral Chateau-Renaud had the rashness to obey this injunction, and thegalleons entered Vigo Bay.

“Unfortunately, it formed an open road which could not be defended in any way.They must therefore hasten to unload the galleons before the arrival of thecombined fleet; and time would not have failed them had not a miserablequestion of rivalry suddenly arisen.

“You are following the chain of events?” asked Captain Nemo.

“Perfectly,” said I, not knowing the end proposed by this historical lesson.

“I will continue. This is what passed. The merchants of Cadiz had a privilegeby which they had the right of receiving all merchandise coming from the WestIndies. Now, to disembark these ingots at the port of Vigo was depriving themof their rights. They complained at Madrid, and obtained the consent of theweak-minded Philip that the convoy, without discharging its cargo, shouldremain sequestered in the roads of Vigo until the enemy had disappeared.

“But whilst coming to this decision, on the 22nd of October, 1702, the Englishvessels arrived in Vigo Bay, when Admiral Chateau-Renaud, in spite of inferiorforces, fought bravely. But, seeing that the treasure must fall into theenemy’s hands, he burnt and scuttled every galleon, which went to the bottomwith their immense riches.”

Captain Nemo stopped. I admit I could not see yet why this history shouldinterest me.

“Well?” I asked.

“Well, M. Aronnax,” replied Captain Nemo, “we are in that Vigo Bay; and itrests with yourself whether you will penetrate its mysteries.”

The Captain rose, telling me to follow him. I had had time to recover. Iobeyed. The saloon was dark, but through the transparent glass the waves weresparkling. I looked.

For half a mile around the Nautilus, the waters seemed bathed inelectric light. The sandy bottom was clean and bright. Some of the ship’s crewin their diving-dresses were clearing away half-rotten barrels and empty casesfrom the midst of the blackened wrecks. From these cases and from these barrelsescaped ingots of gold and silver, cascades of piastres and jewels. The sandwas heaped up with them. Laden with their precious booty, the men returned tothe Nautilus, disposed of their burden, and went back to thisinexhaustible fishery of gold and silver.

I understood now. This was the scene of the battle of the 22nd of October,1702. Here on this very spot the galleons laden for the Spanish Government hadsunk. Here Captain Nemo came, according to his wants, to pack up those millionswith which he burdened the Nautilus. It was for him and him aloneAmerica had given up her precious metals. He was heir direct, without anyone toshare, in those treasures torn from the Incas and from the conquered ofFerdinand Cortez.

“Did you know, sir,” he asked, smiling, “that the sea contained such riches?”

“I knew,” I answered, “that they value money held in suspension in these watersat two millions.”

“Doubtless; but to extract this money the expense would be greater than theprofit. Here, on the contrary, I have but to pick up what man has lost—and notonly in Vigo Bay, but in a thousand other ports where shipwrecks have happened,and which are marked on my submarine map. Can you understand now the source ofthe millions I am worth?”

“I understand, Captain. But allow me to tell you that in exploring Vigo Bay youhave only been beforehand with a rival society.”

“And which?”

“A society which has received from the Spanish Government the privilege ofseeking those buried galleons. The shareholders are led on by the allurement ofan enormous bounty, for they value these rich shipwrecks at five hundredmillions.”

“Five hundred millions they were,” answered Captain Nemo, “but they are so nolonger.”

“Just so,” said I; “and a warning to those shareholders would be an act ofcharity. But who knows if it would be well received? What gamblers usuallyregret above all is less the loss of their money than of their foolish hopes.After all, I pity them less than the thousands of unfortunates to whom so muchriches well-distributed would have been profitable, whilst for them they willbe for ever barren.”

I had no sooner expressed this regret than I felt that it must have woundedCaptain Nemo.

“Barren!” he exclaimed, with animation. “Do you think then, sir, that theseriches are lost because I gather them? Is it for myself alone, according toyour idea, that I take the trouble to collect these treasures? Who told youthat I did not make a good use of it? Do you think I am ignorant that there aresuffering beings and oppressed races on this earth, miserable creatures toconsole, victims to avenge? Do you not understand?”

Captain Nemo stopped at these last words, regretting perhaps that he had spokenso much. But I had guessed that, whatever the motive which had forced him toseek independence under the sea, it had left him still a man, that his heartstill beat for the sufferings of humanity, and that his immense charity was foroppressed races as well as individuals. And I then understood for whom thosemillions were destined which were forwarded by Captain Nemo when theNautiluswas cruising in the waters of Crete.

CHAPTER IX
A VANISHED CONTINENT

The next morning, the 19th of February, I saw the Canadian enter my room. Iexpected this visit. He looked very disappointed.

“Well, sir?” said he.

“Well, Ned, fortune was against us yesterday.”

“Yes; that Captain must needs stop exactly at the hour we intended leaving hisvessel.”

“Yes, Ned, he had business at his bankers.”

“His bankers!”

“Or rather his banking-house; by that I mean the ocean, where his riches aresafer than in the chests of the State.”

I then related to the Canadian the incidents of the preceding night, hoping tobring him back to the idea of not abandoning the Captain; but my recital had noother result than an energetically expressed regret from Ned that he had notbeen able to take a walk on the battlefield of Vigo on his own account.

“However,” said he, “all is not ended. It is only a blow of the harpoon lost.Another time we must succeed; and to-night, if necessary——”

“In what direction is the Nautilusgoing?” I asked.

“I do not know,” replied Ned.

“Well, at noon we shall see the point.”

The Canadian returned to Conseil. As soon as I was dressed, I went into thesaloon. The compass was not reassuring. The course of the NautiluswasS.S.W. We were turning our backs on Europe.

I waited with some impatience till the ship’s place was pricked on the chart.At about half-past eleven the reservoirs were emptied, and our vessel rose tothe surface of the ocean. I rushed towards the platform. Ned Land had precededme. No more land in sight. Nothing but an immense sea. Some sails on thehorizon, doubtless those going to San Roque in search of favourable winds fordoubling the Cape of Good Hope. The weather was cloudy. A gale of wind waspreparing. Ned raved, and tried to pierce the cloudy horizon. He still hopedthat behind all that fog stretched the land he so longed for.

At noon the sun showed itself for an instant. The second profited by thisbrightness to take its height. Then, the sea becoming more billowy, wedescended, and the panel closed.

An hour after, upon consulting the chart, I saw the position of theNautiluswas marked at 16° 17′ long., and 33° 22′ lat., at150 leagues from the nearest coast. There was no means of flight, and I leaveyou to imagine the rage of the Canadian when I informed him of our situation.

For myself, I was not particularly sorry. I felt lightened of the load whichhad oppressed me, and was able to return with some degree of calmness to myaccustomed work.

That night, about eleven o’clock, I received a most unexpected visit fromCaptain Nemo. He asked me very graciously if I felt fatigued from my watch ofthe preceding night. I answered in the negative.

“Then, M. Aronnax, I propose a curious excursion.”

“Propose, Captain?”

“You have hitherto only visited the submarine depths by daylight, under thebrightness of the sun. Would it suit you to see them in the darkness of thenight?”

“Most willingly.”

“I warn you, the way will be tiring. We shall have far to walk, and must climba mountain. The roads are not well kept.”

“What you say, Captain, only heightens my curiosity; I am ready to follow you.”

“Come then, sir, we will put on our diving-dresses.”

Arrived at the robing-room, I saw that neither of my companions nor any of theship’s crew were to follow us on this excursion. Captain Nemo had not evenproposed my taking with me either Ned or Conseil.

In a few moments we had put on our diving-dresses; they placed on our backs thereservoirs, abundantly filled with air, but no electric lamps were prepared. Icalled the Captain’s attention to the fact.

“They will be useless,” he replied.

I thought I had not heard aright, but I could not repeat my observation, forthe Captain’s head had already disappeared in its metal case. I finishedharnessing myself. I felt them put an iron-pointed stick into my hand, and someminutes later, after going through the usual form, we set foot on the bottom ofthe Atlantic at a depth of 150 fathoms. Midnight was near. The waters wereprofoundly dark, but Captain Nemo pointed out in the distance a reddish spot, asort of large light shining brilliantly about two miles from theNautilus. What this fire might be, what could feed it, why and how itlit up the liquid mass, I could not say. In any case, it did light our way,vaguely, it is true, but I soon accustomed myself to the peculiar darkness, andI understood, under such circumstances, the uselessness of the Ruhmkorffapparatus.

As we advanced, I heard a kind of pattering above my head. The noiseredoubling, sometimes producing a continual shower, I soon understood thecause. It was rain falling violently, and crisping the surface of the waves.Instinctively the thought flashed across my mind that I should be wet through!By the water! in the midst of the water! I could not help laughing at the oddidea. But, indeed, in the thick diving-dress, the liquid element is no longerfelt, and one only seems to be in an atmosphere somewhat denser than theterrestrial atmosphere. Nothing more.

After half an hour’s walk the soil became stony. Medusae, microscopiccrustacea, and pennatules lit it slightly with their phosphorescent gleam. Icaught a glimpse of pieces of stone covered with millions of zoophytes andmasses of sea weed. My feet often slipped upon this sticky carpet of sea weed,and without my iron-tipped stick I should have fallen more than once. Inturning round, I could still see the whitish lantern of the Nautilusbeginning to pale in the distance.

But the rosy light which guided us increased and lit up the horizon. Thepresence of this fire under water puzzled me in the highest degree. Was I goingtowards a natural phenomenon as yet unknown to the savantsof the earth?Or even (for this thought crossed my brain) had the hand of man aught to dowith this conflagration? Had he fanned this flame? Was I to meet in thesedepths companions and friends of Captain Nemo whom he was going to visit, andwho, like him, led this strange existence? Should I find down there a wholecolony of exiles who, weary of the miseries of this earth, had sought and foundindependence in the deep ocean? All these foolish and unreasonable ideaspursued me. And in this condition of mind, over-excited by the succession ofwonders continually passing before my eyes, I should not have been surprised tomeet at the bottom of the sea one of those submarine towns of which CaptainNemo dreamed.

Our road grew lighter and lighter. The white glimmer came in rays from thesummit of a mountain about 800 feet high. But what I saw was simply areflection, developed by the clearness of the waters. The source of thisinexplicable light was a fire on the opposite side of the mountain.

In the midst of this stony maze furrowing the bottom of the Atlantic, CaptainNemo advanced without hesitation. He knew this dreary road. Doubtless he hadoften travelled over it, and could not lose himself. I followed him withunshaken confidence. He seemed to me like a genie of the sea; and, as he walkedbefore me, I could not help admiring his stature, which was outlined in blackon the luminous horizon.

It was one in the morning when we arrived at the first slopes of the mountain;but to gain access to them we must venture through the difficult paths of avast copse.

Yes; a copse of dead trees, without leaves, without sap, trees petrified by theaction of the water and here and there overtopped by gigantic pines. It waslike a coal-pit still standing, holding by the roots to the broken soil, andwhose branches, like fine black paper cuttings, showed distinctly on the wateryceiling. Picture to yourself a forest in the Hartz hanging on to the sides ofthe mountain, but a forest swallowed up. The paths were encumbered with seaweedand fucus, between which grovelled a whole world of crustacea. I went along,climbing the rocks, striding over extended trunks, breaking the sea bind-weedwhich hung from one tree to the other; and frightening the fishes, which flewfrom branch to branch. Pressing onward, I felt no fatigue. I followed my guide,who was never tired. What a spectacle! How can I express it? how paint theaspect of those woods and rocks in this medium—their under parts dark and wild,the upper coloured with red tints, by that light which the reflecting powers ofthe waters doubled? We climbed rocks which fell directly after with giganticbounds and the low growling of an avalanche. To right and left ran long, darkgalleries, where sight was lost. Here opened vast glades which the hand of manseemed to have worked; and I sometimes asked myself if some inhabitant of thesesubmarine regions would not suddenly appear to me.

But Captain Nemo was still mounting. I could not stay behind. I followedboldly. My stick gave me good help. A false step would have been dangerous onthe narrow passes sloping down to the sides of the gulfs; but I walked withfirm step, without feeling any giddiness. Now I jumped a crevice, the depth ofwhich would have made me hesitate had it been among the glaciers on the land;now I ventured on the unsteady trunk of a tree thrown across from one abyss tothe other, without looking under my feet, having only eyes to admire the wildsites of this region.

There, monumental rocks, leaning on their regularly-cut bases, seemed to defyall laws of equilibrium. From between their stony knees trees sprang, like ajet under heavy pressure, and upheld others which upheld them. Natural towers,large scarps, cut perpendicularly, like a “curtain,” inclined at an angle whichthe laws of gravitation could never have tolerated in terrestrial regions.

Two hours after quitting the Nautiluswe had crossed the line of trees,and a hundred feet above our heads rose the top of the mountain, which cast ashadow on the brilliant irradiation of the opposite slope. Some petrifiedshrubs ran fantastically here and there. Fishes got up under our feet likebirds in the long grass. The massive rocks were rent with impenetrablefractures, deep grottos, and unfathomable holes, at the bottom of whichformidable creatures might be heard moving. My blood curdled when I sawenormous antennae blocking my road, or some frightful claw closing with a noisein the shadow of some cavity. Millions of luminous spots shone brightly in themidst of the darkness. They were the eyes of giant crustacea crouched in theirholes; giant lobsters setting themselves up like halberdiers, and moving theirclaws with the clicking sound of pincers; titanic crabs, pointed like a gun onits carriage; and frightful-looking poulps, interweaving their tentacles like aliving nest of serpents.

We had now arrived on the first platform, where other surprises awaited me.Before us lay some picturesque ruins, which betrayed the hand of man and notthat of the Creator. There were vast heaps of stone, amongst which might betraced the vague and shadowy forms of castles and temples, clothed with a worldof blossoming zoophytes, and over which, instead of ivy, sea-weed and fucusthrew a thick vegetable mantle. But what was this portion of the globe whichhad been swallowed by cataclysms? Who had placed those rocks and stones likecromlechs of prehistoric times? Where was I? Whither had Captain Nemo’s fancyhurried me?

I would fain have asked him; not being able to, I stopped him—I seized his arm.But, shaking his head, and pointing to the highest point of the mountain, heseemed to say:

“Come, come along; come higher!”

I followed, and in a few minutes I had climbed to the top, which for a circleof ten yards commanded the whole mass of rock.

I looked down the side we had just climbed. The mountain did not rise more thanseven or eight hundred feet above the level of the plain; but on the oppositeside it commanded from twice that height the depths of this part of theAtlantic. My eyes ranged far over a large space lit by a violent fulguration.In fact, the mountain was a volcano.

At fifty feet above the peak, in the midst of a rain of stones and scoriae, alarge crater was vomiting forth torrents of lava which fell in a cascade offire into the bosom of the liquid mass. Thus situated, this volcano lit thelower plain like an immense torch, even to the extreme limits of the horizon. Isaid that the submarine crater threw up lava, but no flames. Flames require theoxygen of the air to feed upon and cannot be developed under water; but streamsof lava, having in themselves the principles of their incandescence, can attaina white heat, fight vigorously against the liquid element, and turn it tovapour by contact.

Rapid currents bearing all these gases in diffusion and torrents of lava slidto the bottom of the mountain like an eruption of Vesuvius on another Terra delGreco.

There indeed under my eyes, ruined, destroyed, lay a town—its roofs open to thesky, its temples fallen, its arches dislocated, its columns lying on theground, from which one would still recognise the massive character of Tuscanarchitecture. Further on, some remains of a gigantic aqueduct; here the highbase of an Acropolis, with the floating outline of a Parthenon; there traces ofa quay, as if an ancient port had formerly abutted on the borders of the ocean,and disappeared with its merchant vessels and its war-galleys. Farther onagain, long lines of sunken walls and broad, deserted streets—a perfect Pompeiiescaped beneath the waters. Such was the sight that Captain Nemo brought beforemy eyes!

Where was I? Where was I? I must know at any cost. I tried to speak, butCaptain Nemo stopped me by a gesture, and, picking up a piece of chalk-stone,advanced to a rock of black basalt, and traced the one word:

ATLANTIS

What a light shot through my mind! Atlantis! the Atlantis of Plato, thatcontinent denied by Origen and Humbolt, who placed its disappearance amongstthe legendary tales. I had it there now before my eyes, bearing upon it theunexceptionable testimony of its catastrophe. The region thus engulfed wasbeyond Europe, Asia, and Lybia, beyond the columns of Hercules, where thosepowerful people, the Atlantides, lived, against whom the first wars of ancientGreeks were waged.

Thus, led by the strangest destiny, I was treading under foot the mountains ofthis continent, touching with my hand those ruins a thousand generations oldand contemporary with the geological epochs. I was walking on the very spotwhere the contemporaries of the first man had walked.

Whilst I was trying to fix in my mind every detail of this grand landscape,Captain Nemo remained motionless, as if petrified in mute ecstasy, leaning on amossy stone. Was he dreaming of those generations long since disappeared? Washe asking them the secret of human destiny? Was it here this strange man cameto steep himself in historical recollections, and live again this ancientlife—he who wanted no modern one? What would I not have given to know histhoughts, to share them, to understand them! We remained for an hour at thisplace, contemplating the vast plains under the brightness of the lava, whichwas some times wonderfully intense. Rapid tremblings ran along the mountaincaused by internal bubblings, deep noise, distinctly transmitted through theliquid medium were echoed with majestic grandeur. At this moment the moonappeared through the mass of waters and threw her pale rays on the buriedcontinent. It was but a gleam, but what an indescribable effect! The Captainrose, cast one last look on the immense plain, and then bade me follow him.

We descended the mountain rapidly, and, the mineral forest once passed, I sawthe lantern of the Nautilusshining like a star. The Captain walkedstraight to it, and we got on board as the first rays of light whitened thesurface of the ocean.

CHAPTER X
THE SUBMARINE COAL-MINES

The next day, the 20th of February, I awoke very late: the fatigues of theprevious night had prolonged my sleep until eleven o’clock. I dressed quickly,and hastened to find the course the Nautiluswas taking. The instrumentsshowed it to be still toward the south, with a speed of twenty miles an hourand a depth of fifty fathoms.

The species of fishes here did not differ much from those already noticed.There were rays of giant size, five yards long, and endowed with great muscularstrength, which enabled them to shoot above the waves; sharks of many kinds;amongst others, one fifteen feet long, with triangular sharp teeth, and whosetransparency rendered it almost invisible in the water.

Amongst bony fish Conseil noticed some about three yards long, armed at theupper jaw with a piercing sword; other bright-coloured creatures, known in thetime of Aristotle by the name of the sea-dragon, which are dangerous to captureon account of the spikes on their back.

About four o’clock, the soil, generally composed of a thick mud mixed withpetrified wood, changed by degrees, and it became more stony, and seemed strewnwith conglomerate and pieces of basalt, with a sprinkling of lava. I thoughtthat a mountainous region was succeeding the long plains; and accordingly,after a few evolutions of the Nautilus, I saw the southerly horizonblocked by a high wall which seemed to close all exit. Its summit evidentlypassed the level of the ocean. It must be a continent, or at least anisland—one of the Canaries, or of the Cape Verde Islands. The bearings notbeing yet taken, perhaps designedly, I was ignorant of our exact position. Inany case, such a wall seemed to me to mark the limits of that Atlantis, ofwhich we had in reality passed over only the smallest part.

Much longer should I have remained at the window admiring the beauties of seaand sky, but the panels closed. At this moment the Nautilusarrived atthe side of this high, perpendicular wall. What it would do, I could not guess.I returned to my room; it no longer moved. I laid myself down with the fullintention of waking after a few hours’ sleep; but it was eight o’clock the nextday when I entered the saloon. I looked at the manometer. It told me that theNautiluswas floating on the surface of the ocean. Besides, I heardsteps on the platform. I went to the panel. It was open; but, instead of broaddaylight, as I expected, I was surrounded by profound darkness. Where were we?Was I mistaken? Was it still night? No; not a star was shining and night hasnot that utter darkness.

The Nautiluswas floating near a mountain

I knew not what to think, when a voice near me said:

“Is that you, Professor?”

“Ah! Captain,” I answered, “where are we?”

“Underground, sir.”

“Underground!” I exclaimed. “And the Nautilusfloating still?”

“It always floats.”

“But I do not understand.”

“Wait a few minutes, our lantern will be lit, and, if you like light places,you will be satisfied.”

I stood on the platform and waited. The darkness was so complete that I couldnot even see Captain Nemo; but, looking to the zenith, exactly above my head, Iseemed to catch an undecided gleam, a kind of twilight filling a circular hole.At this instant the lantern was lit, and its vividness dispelled the faintlight. I closed my dazzled eyes for an instant, and then looked again. TheNautiluswas stationary, floating near a mountain which formed a sort ofquay. The lake, then, supporting it was a lake imprisoned by a circle of walls,measuring two miles in diameter and six in circumference. Its level (themanometer showed) could only be the same as the outside level, for there mustnecessarily be a communication between the lake and the sea. The highpartitions, leaning forward on their base, grew into a vaulted roof bearing theshape of an immense funnel turned upside down, the height being about five orsix hundred yards. At the summit was a circular orifice, by which I had caughtthe slight gleam of light, evidently daylight.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“In the very heart of an extinct volcano, the interior of which has beeninvaded by the sea, after some great convulsion of the earth. Whilst you weresleeping, Professor, the Nautiluspenetrated to this lagoon by a naturalcanal, which opens about ten yards beneath the surface of the ocean. This isits harbour of refuge, a sure, commodious, and mysterious one, sheltered fromall gales. Show me, if you can, on the coasts of any of your continents orislands, a road which can give such perfect refuge from all storms.”

“Certainly,” I replied, “you are in safety here, Captain Nemo. Who could reachyou in the heart of a volcano? But did I not see an opening at its summit?”

“Yes; its crater, formerly filled with lava, vapour, and flames, and which nowgives entrance to the life-giving air we breathe.”

“But what is this volcanic mountain?”

“It belongs to one of the numerous islands with which this sea is strewn—tovessels a simple sandbank—to us an immense cavern. Chance led me to discoverit, and chance served me well.”

“But of what use is this refuge, Captain? The Nautiluswants no port.”

“No, sir; but it wants electricity to make it move, and the wherewithal to makethe electricity—sodium to feed the elements, coal from which to get the sodium,and a coal-mine to supply the coal. And exactly on this spot the sea coversentire forests embedded during the geological periods, now mineralised andtransformed into coal; for me they are an inexhaustible mine.”

“Your men follow the trade of miners here, then, Captain?”

“Exactly so. These mines extend under the waves like the mines of Newcastle.Here, in their diving-dresses, pick axe and shovel in hand, my men extract thecoal, which I do not even ask from the mines of the earth. When I burn thiscombustible for the manufacture of sodium, the smoke, escaping from the craterof the mountain, gives it the appearance of a still-active volcano.”

“And we shall see your companions at work?”

“No; not this time at least; for I am in a hurry to continue our submarine tourof the earth. So I shall content myself with drawing from the reserve of sodiumI already possess. The time for loading is one day only, and we continue ourvoyage. So, if you wish to go over the cavern and make the round of the lagoon,you must take advantage of to-day, M. Aronnax.”

I thanked the Captain and went to look for my companions, who had not yet lefttheir cabin. I invited them to follow me without saying where we were. Theymounted the platform. Conseil, who was astonished at nothing, seemed to lookupon it as quite natural that he should wake under a mountain, after havingfallen asleep under the waves. But Ned Land thought of nothing but findingwhether the cavern had any exit. After breakfast, about ten o’clock, we wentdown on to the mountain.

“Here we are, once more on land,” said Conseil.

“I do not call this land,” said the Canadian. “And besides, we are not on it,but beneath it.”

Between the walls of the mountains and the waters of the lake lay a sandy shorewhich, at its greatest breadth, measured five hundred feet. On this soil onemight easily make the tour of the lake. But the base of the high partitions wasstony ground, with volcanic blocks and enormous pumice-stones lying inpicturesque heaps. All these detached masses, covered with enamel, polished bythe action of the subterraneous fires, shone resplendent by the light of ourelectric lantern. The mica dust from the shore, rising under our feet, flewlike a cloud of sparks. The bottom now rose sensibly, and we soon arrived atlong circuitous slopes, or inclined planes, which took us higher by degrees;but we were obliged to walk carefully among these conglomerates, bound by nocement, the feet slipping on the glassy crystal, felspar, and quartz.

The volcanic nature of this enormous excavation was confirmed on all sides, andI pointed it out to my companions.

“Picture to yourselves,” said I, “what this crater must have been when filledwith boiling lava, and when the level of the incandescent liquid rose to theorifice of the mountain, as though melted on the top of a hot plate.”

“I can picture it perfectly,” said Conseil. “But, sir, will you tell me why theGreat Architect has suspended operations, and how it is that the furnace isreplaced by the quiet waters of the lake?”

“Most probably, Conseil, because some convulsion beneath the ocean producedthat very opening which has served as a passage for the Nautilus. Thenthe waters of the Atlantic rushed into the interior of the mountain. There musthave been a terrible struggle between the two elements, a struggle which endedin the victory of Neptune. But many ages have run out since then, and thesubmerged volcano is now a peaceable grotto.”

“Very well,” replied Ned Land; “I accept the explanation, sir; but, in our owninterests, I regret that the opening of which you speak was not made above thelevel of the sea.”

“But, friend Ned,” said Conseil, “if the passage had not been under the sea,the Nautiluscould not have gone through it.”

We continued ascending. The steps became more and more perpendicular andnarrow. Deep excavations, which we were obliged to cross, cut them here andthere; sloping masses had to be turned. We slid upon our knees and crawledalong. But Conseil’s dexterity and the Canadian’s strength surmounted allobstacles. At a height of about 31 feet the nature of the ground changedwithout becoming more practicable. To the conglomerate and trachyte succeededblack basalt, the first dispread in layers full of bubbles, the latter formingregular prisms, placed like a colonnade supporting the spring of the immensevault, an admirable specimen of natural architecture. Between the blocks ofbasalt wound long streams of lava, long since grown cold, encrusted withbituminous rays; and in some places there were spread large carpets of sulphur.A more powerful light shone through the upper crater, shedding a vague glimmerover these volcanic depressions for ever buried in the bosom of thisextinguished mountain. But our upward march was soon stopped at a height ofabout two hundred and fifty feet by impassable obstacles. There was a completevaulted arch overhanging us, and our ascent was changed to a circular walk. Atthe last change vegetable life began to struggle with the mineral. Some shrubs,and even some trees, grew from the fractures of the walls. I recognised someeuphorbias, with the caustic sugar coming from them; heliotropes, quiteincapable of justifying their name, sadly drooped their clusters of flowers,both their colour and perfume half gone. Here and there some chrysanthemumsgrew timidly at the foot of an aloe with long, sickly-looking leaves. Butbetween the streams of lava, I saw some little violets still slightly perfumed,and I admit that I smelt them with delight. Perfume is the soul of the flower,and sea-flowers have no soul.

We had arrived at the foot of some sturdy dragon-trees, which had pushed asidethe rocks with their strong roots, when Ned Land exclaimed:

“Ah! sir, a hive! a hive!”

“A hive!” I replied, with a gesture of incredulity.

“Yes, a hive,” repeated the Canadian, “and bees humming round it.”

I approached, and was bound to believe my own eyes. There at a hole bored inone of the dragon-trees were some thousands of these ingenious insects, socommon in all the Canaries, and whose produce is so much esteemed. Naturallyenough, the Canadian wished to gather the honey, and I could not well opposehis wish. A quantity of dry leaves, mixed with sulphur, he lit with a sparkfrom his flint, and he began to smoke out the bees. The humming ceased bydegrees, and the hive eventually yielded several pounds of the sweetest honey,with which Ned Land filled his haversack.

“When I have mixed this honey with the paste of the artocarpus,” said he, “Ishall be able to offer you a succulent cake.”

“’Pon my word,” said Conseil, “it will be gingerbread.”

“Never mind the gingerbread,” said I; “let us continue our interesting walk.”

At every turn of the path we were following, the lake appeared in all itslength and breadth. The lantern lit up the whole of its peaceable surface,which knew neither ripple nor wave. The Nautilusremained perfectlyimmovable. On the platform, and on the mountain, the ship’s crew were workinglike black shadows clearly carved against the luminous atmosphere. We were nowgoing round the highest crest of the first layers of rock which upheld theroof. I then saw that bees were not the only representatives of the animalkingdom in the interior of this volcano. Birds of prey hovered here and therein the shadows, or fled from their nests on the top of the rocks. There weresparrow hawks, with white breasts, and kestrels, and down the slopes scampered,with their long legs, several fine fat bustards. I leave anyone to imagine thecovetousness of the Canadian at the sight of this savoury game, and whether hedid not regret having no gun. But he did his best to replace the lead bystones, and, after several fruitless attempts, he succeeded in wounding amagnificent bird. To say that he risked his life twenty times before reachingit is but the truth; but he managed so well that the creature joined thehoney-cakes in his bag. We were now obliged to descend toward the shore, thecrest becoming impracticable. Above us the crater seemed to gape like the mouthof a well. From this place the sky could be clearly seen, and clouds,dissipated by the west wind, leaving behind them, even on the summit of themountain, their misty remnants—certain proof that they were only moderatelyhigh, for the volcano did not rise more than eight hundred feet above the levelof the ocean. Half an hour after the Canadian’s last exploit we had regainedthe inner shore. Here the flora was represented by large carpets of marinecrystal, a little umbelliferous plant very good to pickle, which also bears thename of pierce-stone and sea-fennel. Conseil gathered some bundles of it. As tothe fauna, it might be counted by thousands of crustacea of all sorts,lobsters, crabs, spider-crabs, chameleon shrimps, and a large number of shells,rockfish, and limpets. Three-quarters of an hour later we had finished ourcircuitous walk and were on board. The crew had just finished loading thesodium, and the Nautiluscould have left that instant. But Captain Nemogave no order. Did he wish to wait until night, and leave the submarine passagesecretly? Perhaps so. Whatever it might be, the next day, the Nautilus,having left its port, steered clear of all land at a few yards beneath thewaves of the Atlantic.

CHAPTER XI
THE SARGASSO SEA

That day the Nautiluscrossed a singular part of the Atlantic Ocean. Noone can be ignorant of the existence of a current of warm water known by thename of the Gulf Stream. After leaving the Gulf of Florida, we went in thedirection of Spitzbergen. But before entering the Gulf of Mexico, about 45° ofN. lat., this current divides into two arms, the principal one going towardsthe coast of Ireland and Norway, whilst the second bends to the south about theheight of the Azores; then, touching the African shore, and describing alengthened oval, returns to the Antilles. This second arm—it is rather a collarthan an arm—surrounds with its circles of warm water that portion of the cold,quiet, immovable ocean called the Sargasso Sea, a perfect lake in the openAtlantic: it takes no less than three years for the great current to pass roundit. Such was the region the Nautiluswas now visiting, a perfect meadow,a close carpet of seaweed, fucus, and tropical berries, so thick and so compactthat the stem of a vessel could hardly tear its way through it. And CaptainNemo, not wishing to entangle his screw in this herbaceous mass, kept someyards beneath the surface of the waves. The name Sargasso comes from theSpanish word “sargazzo” which signifies kelp. This kelp, or berry-plant, is theprincipal formation of this immense bank. And this is the reason why theseplants unite in the peaceful basin of the Atlantic. The only explanation whichcan be given, he says, seems to me to result from the experience known to allthe world. Place in a vase some fragments of cork or other floating body, andgive to the water in the vase a circular movement, the scattered fragments willunite in a group in the centre of the liquid surface, that is to say, in thepart least agitated. In the phenomenon we are considering, the Atlantic is thevase, the Gulf Stream the circular current, and the Sargasso Sea the centralpoint at which the floating bodies unite.

I share Maury’s opinion, and I was able to study the phenomenon in the verymidst, where vessels rarely penetrate. Above us floated products of all kinds,heaped up among these brownish plants; trunks of trees torn from the Andes orthe Rocky Mountains, and floated by the Amazon or the Mississippi; numerouswrecks, remains of keels, or ships’ bottoms, side-planks stove in, and soweighted with shells and barnacles that they could not again rise to thesurface. And time will one day justify Maury’s other opinion, that thesesubstances thus accumulated for ages will become petrified by the action of thewater and will then form inexhaustible coal-mines—a precious reserve preparedby far-seeing Nature for the moment when men shall have exhausted the mines ofcontinents.

In the midst of this inextricable mass of plants and sea weed, I noticed somecharming pink halcyons and actiniae, with their long tentacles trailing afterthem, and medusæ, green, red, and blue.

All the day of the 22nd of February we passed in the Sargasso Sea, where suchfish as are partial to marine plants find abundant nourishment. The next, theocean had returned to its accustomed aspect. From this time for nineteen days,from the 23rd of February to the 12th of March, the Nautiluskept in themiddle of the Atlantic, carrying us at a constant speed of a hundred leagues intwenty-four hours. Captain Nemo evidently intended accomplishing his submarineprogramme, and I imagined that he intended, after doubling Cape Horn, to returnto the Australian seas of the Pacific. Ned Land had cause for fear. In theselarge seas, void of islands, we could not attempt to leave the boat. Nor had weany means of opposing Captain Nemo’s will. Our only course was to submit; butwhat we could neither gain by force nor cunning, I liked to think might beobtained by persuasion. This voyage ended, would he not consent to restore ourliberty, under an oath never to reveal his existence?—an oath of honour whichwe should have religiously kept. But we must consider that delicate questionwith the Captain. But was I free to claim this liberty? Had he not himself saidfrom the beginning, in the firmest manner, that the secret of his life exactedfrom him our lasting imprisonment on board the Nautilus?And would notmy four months’ silence appear to him a tacit acceptance of our situation? Andwould not a return to the subject result in raising suspicions which might behurtful to our projects, if at some future time a favourable opportunityoffered to return to them?

During the nineteen days mentioned above, no incident of any kind happened tosignalise our voyage. I saw little of the Captain; he was at work. In thelibrary I often found his books left open, especially those on natural history.My work on submarine depths, conned over by him, was covered with marginalnotes, often contradicting my theories and systems; but the Captain contentedhimself with thus purging my work; it was very rare for him to discuss it withme. Sometimes I heard the melancholy tones of his organ; but only at night, inthe midst of the deepest obscurity, when the Nautilusslept upon thedeserted ocean. During this part of our voyage we sailed whole days on thesurface of the waves. The sea seemed abandoned. A few sailing-vessels, on theroad to India, were making for the Cape of Good Hope. One day we were followedby the boats of a whaler, who, no doubt, took us for some enormous whale ofgreat price; but Captain Nemo did not wish the worthy fellows to lose theirtime and trouble, so ended the chase by plunging under the water. Ournavigation continued until the 13th of March; that day the Nautiluswasemployed in taking soundings, which greatly interested me. We had then madeabout 13,000 leagues since our departure from the high seas of the Pacific. Thebearings gave us 45° 37′ S. lat., and 37° 53′ W. long. It was thesame water in which Captain Denham of the Herald sounded 7,000 fathoms withoutfinding the bottom. There, too, Lieutenant Parker, of the American frigateCongress, could not touch the bottom with 15,140 fathoms. Captain Nemo intendedseeking the bottom of the ocean by a diagonal sufficiently lengthened by meansof lateral planes placed at an angle of 45° with the water-line of theNautilus. Then the screw set to work at its maximum speed, its fourblades beating the waves with in describable force. Under this powerfulpressure, the hull of the Nautilusquivered like a sonorous chord andsank regularly under the water.

At 7,000 fathoms I saw some blackish tops rising from the midst of the waters;but these summits might belong to high mountains like the Himalayas or MontBlanc, even higher; and the depth of the abyss remained incalculable. TheNautilusdescended still lower, in spite of the great pressure. I feltthe steel plates tremble at the fastenings of the bolts; its bars bent, itspartitions groaned; the windows of the saloon seemed to curve under thepressure of the waters. And this firm structure would doubtless have yielded,if, as its Captain had said, it had not been capable of resistance like a solidblock. We had attained a depth of 16,000 yards (four leagues), and the sides ofthe Nautilusthen bore a pressure of 1,600 atmospheres, that is to say,3,200 lbs. to each square two-fifths of an inch of its surface.

“What a situation to be in!” I exclaimed. “To overrun these deep regions whereman has never trod! Look, Captain, look at these magnificent rocks, theseuninhabited grottoes, these lowest receptacles of the globe, where life is nolonger possible! What unknown sights are here! Why should we be unable topreserve a remembrance of them?”

“Would you like to carry away more than the remembrance?” said Captain Nemo.

“What do you mean by those words?”

“I mean to say that nothing is easier than to make a photographic view of thissubmarine region.”

I had not time to express my surprise at this new proposition, when, at CaptainNemo’s call, an objective was brought into the saloon. Through thewidely-opened panel, the liquid mass was bright with electricity, which wasdistributed with such uniformity that not a shadow, not a gradation, was to beseen in our manufactured light. The Nautilusremained motionless, theforce of its screw subdued by the inclination of its planes: the instrument waspropped on the bottom of the oceanic site, and in a few seconds we had obtaineda perfect negative.

But, the operation being over, Captain Nemo said, “Let us go up; we must notabuse our position, nor expose the Nautilustoo long to such greatpressure.”

“Go up again!” I exclaimed.

“Hold well on.”

I had not time to understand why the Captain cautioned me thus, when I wasthrown forward on to the carpet. At a signal from the Captain, its screw wasshipped, and its blades raised vertically; the Nautilusshot into theair like a balloon, rising with stunning rapidity, and cutting the mass ofwaters with a sonorous agitation. Nothing was visible; and in four minutes ithad shot through the four leagues which separated it from the ocean, and, afteremerging like a flying-fish, fell, making the waves rebound to an enormousheight.

CHAPTER XII
CACHALOTS AND WHALES

During the nights of the 13th and 14th of March, the Nautilusreturnedto its southerly course. I fancied that, when on a level with Cape Horn, hewould turn the helm westward, in order to beat the Pacific seas, and socomplete the tour of the world. He did nothing of the kind, but continued onhis way to the southern regions. Where was he going to? To the pole? It wasmadness! I began to think that the Captain’s temerity justified Ned Land’sfears. For some time past the Canadian had not spoken to me of his projects offlight; he was less communicative, almost silent. I could see that thislengthened imprisonment was weighing upon him, and I felt that rage was burningwithin him. When he met the Captain, his eyes lit up with suppressed anger; andI feared that his natural violence would lead him into some extreme. That day,the 14th of March, Conseil and he came to me in my room. I inquired the causeof their visit.

“A simple question to ask you, sir,” replied the Canadian.

“Speak, Ned.”

“How many men are there on board the Nautilus, do you think?”

“I cannot tell, my friend.”

“I should say that its working does not require a large crew.”

“Certainly, under existing conditions, ten men, at the most, ought to beenough.”

“Well, why should there be any more?”

“Why?” I replied, looking fixedly at Ned Land, whose meaning was easy to guess.“Because,” I added, “if my surmises are correct, and if I have well understoodthe Captain’s existence, the Nautilusis not only a vessel: it is also aplace of refuge for those who, like its commander, have broken every tie uponearth.”

“Perhaps so,” said Conseil; “but, in any case, the Nautiluscan onlycontain a certain number of men. Could not you, sir, estimate their maximum?”

“How, Conseil?”

“By calculation; given the size of the vessel, which you know, sir, andconsequently the quantity of air it contains, knowing also how much each manexpends at a breath, and comparing these results with the fact that theNautilusis obliged to go to the surface every twenty-four hours.”

Conseil had not finished the sentence before I saw what he was driving at.

“I understand,” said I; “but that calculation, though simple enough, can givebut a very uncertain result.”

“Never mind,” said Ned Land urgently.

“Here it is, then,” said I. “In one hour each man consumes the oxygen containedin twenty gallons of air; and in twenty-four, that contained in 480 gallons. Wemust, therefore find how many times 480 gallons of air the Nautiluscontains.”

“Just so,” said Conseil.

“Or,” I continued, “the size of the Nautilusbeing 1,500 tons; and oneton holding 200 gallons, it contains 300,000 gallons of air, which, divided by480, gives a quotient of 625. Which means to say, strictly speaking, that theair contained in the Nautiluswould suffice for 625 men for twenty-fourhours.”

“Six hundred and twenty-five!” repeated Ned.

“But remember that all of us, passengers, sailors, and officers included, wouldnot form a tenth part of that number.”

“Still too many for three men,” murmured Conseil.

The Canadian shook his head, passed his hand across his forehead, and left theroom without answering.

“Will you allow me to make one observation, sir?” said Conseil. “Poor Ned islonging for everything that he can not have. His past life is always present tohim; everything that we are forbidden he regrets. His head is full of oldrecollections. And we must understand him. What has he to do here? Nothing; heis not learned like you, sir; and has not the same taste for the beauties ofthe sea that we have. He would risk everything to be able to go once more intoa tavern in his own country.”

Certainly the monotony on board must seem intolerable to the Canadian,accustomed as he was to a life of liberty and activity. Events were rare whichcould rouse him to any show of spirit; but that day an event did happen whichrecalled the bright days of the harpooner. About eleven in the morning, beingon the surface of the ocean, the Nautilusfell in with a troop ofwhales—an encounter which did not astonish me, knowing that these creatures,hunted to death, had taken refuge in high latitudes.

We were seated on the platform, with a quiet sea. The month of October in thoselatitudes gave us some lovely autumnal days. It was the Canadian—he could notbe mistaken—who signalled a whale on the eastern horizon. Looking attentively,one might see its black back rise and fall with the waves five miles from theNautilus.

“Ah!” exclaimed Ned Land, “if I was on board a whaler, now such a meeting wouldgive me pleasure. It is one of large size. See with what strength itsblow-holes throw up columns of air an steam! Confound it, why am I bound tothese steel plates?”

“What, Ned,” said I, “you have not forgotten your old ideas of fishing?”

“Can a whale-fisher ever forget his old trade, sir? Can he ever tire of theemotions caused by such a chase?”

“You have never fished in these seas, Ned?”

“Never, sir; in the northern only, and as much in Behring as in Davis Straits.”

“Then the southern whale is still unknown to you. It is the Greenland whale youhave hunted up to this time, and that would not risk passing through the warmwaters of the equator. Whales are localised, according to their kinds, incertain seas which they never leave. And if one of these creatures went fromBehring to Davis Straits, it must be simply because there is a passage from onesea to the other, either on the American or the Asiatic side.”

“In that case, as I have never fished in these seas, I do not know the kind ofwhale frequenting them!”

“I have told you, Ned.”

“A greater reason for making their acquaintance,” said Conseil.

“Look! look!” exclaimed the Canadian, “they approach: they aggravate me; theyknow that I cannot get at them!”

Ned stamped his feet. His hand trembled, as he grasped an imaginary harpoon.

“Are these cetaceans as large as those of the northern seas?” asked he.

“Very nearly, Ned.”

“Because I have seen large whales, sir, whales measuring a hundred feet. I haveeven been told that those of Hullamoch and Umgallick, of the Aleutian Islands,are sometimes a hundred and fifty feet long.”

“That seems to me exaggeration. These creatures are only balaeaopterons,provided with dorsal fins; and, like the cachalots, are generally much smallerthan the Greenland whale.”

“Ah!” exclaimed the Canadian, whose eyes had never left the ocean, “they arecoming nearer; they are in the same water as the Nautilus.”

Then, returning to the conversation, he said:

“You spoke of the cachalot as a small creature. I have heard of gigantic ones.They are intelligent cetacea. It is said of some that they cover themselveswith seaweed and fucus, and then are taken for islands. People encamp uponthem, and settle there; lights a fire——”

“And build houses,” said Conseil.

“Yes, joker,” said Ned Land. “And one fine day the creature plunges, carryingwith it all the inhabitants to the bottom of the sea.”

“Something like the travels of Sinbad the Sailor,” I replied, laughing.

“Ah!” suddenly exclaimed Ned Land, “it is not one whale; there are ten—thereare twenty—it is a whole troop! And I not able to do anything! hands and feettied!”

“But, friend Ned,” said Conseil, “why do you not ask Captain Nemo’s permissionto chase them?”

Conseil had not finished his sentence when Ned Land had lowered himself throughthe panel to seek the Captain. A few minutes afterwards the two appearedtogether on the platform.

Captain Nemo watched the troop of cetacea playing on the waters about a milefrom the Nautilus.

“They are southern whales,” said he; “there goes the fortune of a whole fleetof whalers.”

“Well, sir,” asked the Canadian, “can I not chase them, if only to remind me ofmy old trade of harpooner?”

“And to what purpose?” replied Captain Nemo; “only to destroy! We have nothingto do with the whale-oil on board.”

“But, sir,” continued the Canadian, “in the Red Sea you allowed us to followthe dugong.”

“Then it was to procure fresh meat for my crew. Here it would be killing forkilling’s sake. I know that is a privilege reserved for man, but I do notapprove of such murderous pastime. In destroying the southern whale (like theGreenland whale, an inoffensive creature), your traders do a culpable action,Master Land. They have already depopulated the whole of Baffin’s Bay, and areannihilating a class of useful animals. Leave the unfortunate cetacea alone.They have plenty of natural enemies—cachalots, swordfish, and sawfish—withoutyou troubling them.”

The Captain was right. The barbarous and inconsiderate greed of these fishermenwill one day cause the disappearance of the last whale in the ocean. Ned Landwhistled “Yankee-doodle” between his teeth, thrust his hands into his pockets,and turned his back upon us. But Captain Nemo watched the troop of cetacea,and, addressing me, said:

“I was right in saying that whales had natural enemies enough, without countingman. These will have plenty to do before long. Do you see, M. Aronnax, abouteight miles to leeward, those blackish moving points?”

“Yes, Captain,” I replied.

“Those are cachalots—terrible animals, which I have met in troops of two orthree hundred. As to those, they are cruel, mischievous creatures; they wouldbe right in exterminating them.”

The Canadian turned quickly at the last words.

“Well, Captain,” said he, “it is still time, in the interest of the whales.”

“It is useless to expose one’s self, Professor. The Nautiluswilldisperse them. It is armed with a steel spur as good as Master Land’s harpoon,I imagine.”

The Canadian did not put himself out enough to shrug his shoulders. Attackcetacea with blows of a spur! Who had ever heard of such a thing?

“Wait, M. Aronnax,” said Captain Nemo. “We will show you something you havenever yet seen. We have no pity for these ferocious creatures. They are nothingbut mouth and teeth.”

Mouth and teeth! No one could better describe the macrocephalous cachalot,which is sometimes more than seventy-five feet long. Its enormous head occupiesone-third of its entire body. Better armed than the whale, whose upper jaw isfurnished only with whalebone, it is supplied with twenty-five large tusks,about eight inches long, cylindrical and conical at the top, each weighing twopounds. It is in the upper part of this enormous head, in great cavitiesdivided by cartilages, that is to be found from six to eight hundred pounds ofthat precious oil called spermaceti. The cachalot is a disagreeable creature,more tadpole than fish, according to Fredol’s description. It is badly formed,the whole of its left side being (if we may say it), a “failure,” and beingonly able to see with its right eye. But the formidable troop was nearing us.They had seen the whales and were preparing to attack them. One could judgebeforehand that the cachalots would be victorious, not only because they werebetter built for attack than their inoffensive adversaries, but also becausethey could remain longer under water without coming to the surface. There wasonly just time to go to the help of the whales. The Nautiluswent underwater. Conseil, Ned Land, and I took our places before the window in thesaloon, and Captain Nemo joined the pilot in his cage to work his apparatus asan engine of destruction. Soon I felt the beatings of the screw quicken, andour speed increased. The battle between the cachalots and the whales hadalready begun when the Nautilusarrived. They did not at first show anyfear at the sight of this new monster joining in the conflict. But they soonhad to guard against its blows. What a battle! The Nautiluswas nothingbut a formidable harpoon, brandished by the hand of its Captain. It hurleditself against the fleshy mass, passing through from one part to the other,leaving behind it two quivering halves of the animal. It could not feel theformidable blows from their tails upon its sides, nor the shock which itproduced itself, much more. One cachalot killed, it ran at the next, tacked onthe spot that it might not miss its prey, going forwards and backwards,answering to its helm, plunging when the cetacean dived into the deep waters,coming up with it when it returned to the surface, striking it front orsideways, cutting or tearing in all directions and at any pace, piercing itwith its terrible spur. What carnage! What a noise on the surface of the waves!What sharp hissing, and what snorting peculiar to these enraged animals! In themidst of these waters, generally so peaceful, their tails made perfect billows.For one hour this wholesale massacre continued, from which the cachalots couldnot escape. Several times ten or twelve united tried to crush theNautilusby their weight. From the window we could see their enormousmouths, studded with tusks, and their formidable eyes. Ned Land could notcontain himself; he threatened and swore at them. We could feel them clingingto our vessel like dogs worrying a wild boar in a copse. But theNautilus, working its screw, carried them here and there, or to theupper levels of the ocean, without caring for their enormous weight, nor thepowerful strain on the vessel. At length the mass of cachalots broke up, thewaves became quiet, and I felt that we were rising to the surface. The panelopened, and we hurried on to the platform. The sea was covered with mutilatedbodies. A formidable explosion could not have divided and torn this fleshy masswith more violence. We were floating amid gigantic bodies, bluish on the backand white underneath, covered with enormous protuberances. Some terrifiedcachalots were flying towards the horizon. The waves were dyed red for severalmiles, and the Nautilusfloated in a sea of blood: Captain Nemo joinedus.

“Well, Master Land?” said he.

“Well, sir,” replied the Canadian, whose enthusiasm had somewhat calmed; “it isa terrible spectacle, certainly. But I am not a butcher. I am a hunter, and Icall this a butchery.”

“It is a massacre of mischievous creatures,” replied the Captain; “and theNautilusis not a butcher’s knife.”

“I like my harpoon better,” said the Canadian.

“Every one to his own,” answered the Captain, looking fixedly at Ned Land.

I feared he would commit some act of violence, which would end in sadconsequences. But his anger was turned by the sight of a whale which theNautilushad just come up with. The creature had not quite escaped fromthe cachalot’s teeth. I recognised the southern whale by its flat head, whichis entirely black. Anatomically, it is distinguished from the white whale andthe North Cape whale by the seven cervical vertebrae, and it has two more ribsthan its congeners. The unfortunate cetacean was lying on its side, riddledwith holes from the bites, and quite dead. From its mutilated fin still hung ayoung whale which it could not save from the massacre. Its open mouth let thewater flow in and out, murmuring like the waves breaking on the shore. CaptainNemo steered close to the corpse of the creature. Two of his men mounted itsside, and I saw, not without surprise, that they were drawing from its breastsall the milk which they contained, that is to say, about two or three tons. TheCaptain offered me a cup of the milk, which was still warm. I could not helpshowing my repugnance to the drink; but he assured me that it was excellent,and not to be distinguished from cow’s milk. I tasted it, and was of hisopinion. It was a useful reserve to us, for in the shape of salt butter orcheese it would form an agreeable variety from our ordinary food. From that dayI noticed with uneasiness that Ned Land’s ill-will towards Captain Nemoincreased, and I resolved to watch the Canadian’s gestures closely.

CHAPTER XIII
THE ICEBERG

The Nautiluswas steadily pursuing its southerly course, following thefiftieth meridian with considerable speed. Did he wish to reach the pole? I didnot think so, for every attempt to reach that point had hitherto failed. Again,the season was far advanced, for in the Antarctic regions the 13th of Marchcorresponds with the 13th of September of northern regions, which begin at theequinoctial season. On the 14th of March I saw floating ice in latitude 55°,merely pale bits of debris from twenty to twenty-five feet long, forming banksover which the sea curled. The Nautilusremained on the surface of theocean. Ned Land, who had fished in the Arctic Seas, was familiar with itsicebergs; but Conseil and I admired them for the first time. In the atmospheretowards the southern horizon stretched a white dazzling band. English whalershave given it the name of “ice blink.” However thick the clouds may be, it isalways visible, and announces the presence of an ice pack or bank. Accordingly,larger blocks soon appeared, whose brilliancy changed with the caprices of thefog. Some of these masses showed green veins, as if long undulating lines hadbeen traced with sulphate of copper; others resembled enormous amethysts withthe light shining through them. Some reflected the light of day upon a thousandcrystal facets. Others shaded with vivid calcareous reflections resembled aperfect town of marble. The more we neared the south the more these floatingislands increased both in number and importance.

At 60° lat. every pass had disappeared. But, seeking carefully, Captain Nemosoon found a narrow opening, through which he boldly slipped, knowing, however,that it would close behind him. Thus, guided by this clever hand, theNautiluspassed through all the ice with a precision which quite charmedConseil; icebergs or mountains, ice-fields or smooth plains, seeming to have nolimits, drift-ice or floating ice-packs, plains broken up, called palchs whenthey are circular, and streams when they are made up of long strips. Thetemperature was very low; the thermometer exposed to the air marked 2 deg. or3° below zero, but we were warmly clad with fur, at the expense of the sea-bearand seal. The interior of the Nautilus, warmed regularly by its electricapparatus, defied the most intense cold. Besides, it would only have beennecessary to go some yards beneath the waves to find a more bearabletemperature. Two months earlier we should have had perpetual daylight in theselatitudes; but already we had had three or four hours of night, and by and bythere would be six months of darkness in these circumpolar regions. On the 15thof March we were in the latitude of New Shetland and South Orkney. The Captaintold me that formerly numerous tribes of seals inhabited them; but that Englishand American whalers, in their rage for destruction, massacred both old andyoung; thus, where there was once life and animation, they had left silence anddeath.

About eight o’clock on the morning of the 16th of March the Nautilus,following the fifty-fifth meridian, cut the Antarctic polar circle. Icesurrounded us on all sides, and closed the horizon. But Captain Nemo went fromone opening to another, still going higher. I cannot express my astonishment atthe beauties of these new regions. The ice took most surprising forms. Here thegrouping formed an oriental town, with innumerable mosques and minarets; therea fallen city thrown to the earth, as it were, by some convulsion of nature.The whole aspect was constantly changed by the oblique rays of the sun, or lostin the greyish fog amidst hurricanes of snow. Detonations and falls were heardon all sides, great overthrows of icebergs, which altered the whole landscapelike a diorama. Often seeing no exit, I thought we were definitely prisoners;but, instinct guiding him at the slightest indication, Captain Nemo woulddiscover a new pass. He was never mistaken when he saw the thin threads ofbluish water trickling along the ice-fields; and I had no doubt that he hadalready ventured into the midst of these Antarctic seas before. On the 16th ofMarch, however, the ice-fields absolutely blocked our road. It was not theiceberg itself, as yet, but vast fields cemented by the cold. But this obstaclecould not stop Captain Nemo: he hurled himself against it with frightfulviolence. The Nautilusentered the brittle mass like a wedge, and splitit with frightful crackings. It was the battering ram of the ancients hurled byinfinite strength. The ice, thrown high in the air, fell like hail around us.By its own power of impulsion our apparatus made a canal for itself; some timescarried away by its own impetus, it lodged on the ice-field, crushing it withits weight, and sometimes buried beneath it, dividing it by a simple pitchingmovement, producing large rents in it. Violent gales assailed us at this time,accompanied by thick fogs, through which, from one end of the platform to theother, we could see nothing. The wind blew sharply from all parts of thecompass, and the snow lay in such hard heaps that we had to break it with blowsof a pickaxe. The temperature was always at 5 deg. below zero; every outwardpart of the Nautiluswas covered with ice. A rigged vessel would havebeen entangled in the blocked up gorges. A vessel without sails, withelectricity for its motive power, and wanting no coal, could alone brave suchhigh latitudes. At length, on the 18th of March, after many useless assaults,the Nautiluswas positively blocked. It was no longer either streams,packs, or ice-fields, but an interminable and immovable barrier, formed bymountains soldered together.

“An iceberg!” said the Canadian to me.

I knew that to Ned Land, as well as to all other navigators who had precededus, this was an inevitable obstacle. The sun appearing for an instant at noon,Captain Nemo took an observation as near as possible, which gave our situationat 51° 30′ long. and 67° 39′ of S. lat. We had advanced onedegree more in this Antarctic region. Of the liquid surface of the sea therewas no longer a glimpse. Under the spur of the Nautiluslay stretched avast plain, entangled with confused blocks. Here and there sharp points andslender needles rising to a height of 200 feet; further on a steep shore, hewnas it were with an axe and clothed with greyish tints; huge mirrors, reflectinga few rays of sunshine, half drowned in the fog. And over this desolate face ofnature a stern silence reigned, scarcely broken by the flapping of the wings ofpetrels and puffins. Everything was frozen—even the noise. The Nautiluswas then obliged to stop in its adventurous course amid these fields of ice. Inspite of our efforts, in spite of the powerful means employed to break up theice, the Nautilusremained immovable. Generally, when we can proceed nofurther, we have return still open to us; but here return was as impossible asadvance, for every pass had closed behind us; and for the few moments when wewere stationary, we were likely to be entirely blocked, which did indeed happenabout two o’clock in the afternoon, the fresh ice forming around its sides withastonishing rapidity. I was obliged to admit that Captain Nemo was more thanimprudent. I was on the platform at that moment. The Captain had been observingour situation for some time past, when he said to me:

“Well, sir, what do you think of this?”

“I think that we are caught, Captain.”

The Nautiluswas blocked up

“So, M. Aronnax, you really think that the Nautiluscannot disengageitself?”

“With difficulty, Captain; for the season is already too far advanced for youto reckon on the breaking of the ice.”

“Ah! sir,” said Captain Nemo, in an ironical tone, “you will always be thesame. You see nothing but difficulties and obstacles. I affirm that not onlycan the Nautilusdisengage itself, but also that it can go furtherstill.”

“Further to the South?” I asked, looking at the Captain.

“Yes, sir; it shall go to the pole.”

“To the pole!” I exclaimed, unable to repress a gesture of incredulity.

“Yes,” replied the Captain, coldly, “to the Antarctic pole—to that unknownpoint from whence springs every meridian of the globe. You know whether I cando as I please with the Nautilus!”

Yes, I knew that. I knew that this man was bold, even to rashness. But toconquer those obstacles which bristled round the South Pole, rendering it moreinaccessible than the North, which had not yet been reached by the boldestnavigators—was it not a mad enterprise, one which only a maniac would haveconceived? It then came into my head to ask Captain Nemo if he had everdiscovered that pole which had never yet been trodden by a human creature?

“No, sir,” he replied; “but we will discover it together. Where others havefailed, I will not fail. I have never yet led my Nautilusso far intosouthern seas; but, I repeat, it shall go further yet.”

“I can well believe you, Captain,” said I, in a slightly ironical tone. “Ibelieve you! Let us go ahead! There are no obstacles for us! Let us smash thisiceberg! Let us blow it up; and, if it resists, let us give the Nautiluswings to fly over it!”

“Over it, sir!” said Captain Nemo, quietly; “no, not over it, but under it!”

“Under it!” I exclaimed, a sudden idea of the Captain’s projects flashing uponmy mind. I understood; the wonderful qualities of the Nautilusweregoing to serve us in this superhuman enterprise.

“I see we are beginning to understand one another, sir,” said the Captain, halfsmiling. “You begin to see the possibility—I should say the success—of thisattempt. That which is impossible for an ordinary vessel is easy to theNautilus. If a continent lies before the pole, it must stop before thecontinent; but if, on the contrary, the pole is washed by open sea, it will goeven to the pole.”

“Certainly,” said I, carried away by the Captain’s reasoning; “if the surfaceof the sea is solidified by the ice, the lower depths are free by theProvidential law which has placed the maximum of density of the waters of theocean one degree higher than freezing-point; and, if I am not mistaken, theportion of this iceberg which is above the water is as one to four to thatwhich is below.”

“Very nearly, sir; for one foot of iceberg above the sea there are three belowit. If these ice mountains are not more than 300 feet above the surface, theyare not more than 900 beneath. And what are 900 feet to the Nautilus?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“It could even seek at greater depths that uniform temperature of sea-water,and there brave with impunity the thirty or forty degrees of surface cold.”

“Just so, sir—just so,” I replied, getting animated.

“The only difficulty,” continued Captain Nemo, “is that of remaining severaldays without renewing our provision of air.”

“Is that all? The Nautilushas vast reservoirs; we can fill them, andthey will supply us with all the oxygen we want.”

“Well thought of, M. Aronnax,” replied the Captain, smiling. “But, not wishingyou to accuse me of rashness, I will first give you all my objections.”

“Have you any more to make?”

“Only one. It is possible, if the sea exists at the South Pole, that it may becovered; and, consequently, we shall be unable to come to the surface.”

“Good, sir! but do you forget that the Nautilusis armed with a powerfulspur, and could we not send it diagonally against these fields of ice, whichwould open at the shocks.”

“Ah! sir, you are full of ideas to-day.”

“Besides, Captain,” I added, enthusiastically, “why should we not find the seaopen at the South Pole as well as at the North? The frozen poles of the earthdo not coincide, either in the southern or in the northern regions; and, untilit is proved to the contrary, we may suppose either a continent or an oceanfree from ice at these two points of the globe.”

“I think so too, M. Aronnax,” replied Captain Nemo. “I only wish you to observethat, after having made so many objections to my project, you are now crushingme with arguments in its favour!”

The preparations for this audacious attempt now began. The powerful pumps ofthe Nautiluswere working air into the reservoirs and storing it at highpressure. About four o’clock, Captain Nemo announced the closing of the panelson the platform. I threw one last look at the massive iceberg which we weregoing to cross. The weather was clear, the atmosphere pure enough, the coldvery great, being 12° below zero; but, the wind having gone down, thistemperature was not so unbearable. About ten men mounted the sides of theNautilus, armed with pickaxes to break the ice around the vessel, whichwas soon free. The operation was quickly performed, for the fresh ice was stillvery thin. We all went below. The usual reservoirs were filled with thenewly-liberated water, and the Nautilussoon descended. I had taken myplace with Conseil in the saloon; through the open window we could see thelower beds of the Southern Ocean. The thermometer went up, the needle of thecompass deviated on the dial. At about 900 feet, as Captain Nemo had foreseen,we were floating beneath the undulating bottom of the iceberg. But theNautiluswent lower still—it went to the depth of four hundred fathoms.The temperature of the water at the surface showed twelve degrees, it was nowonly ten; we had gained two. I need not say the temperature of theNautiluswas raised by its heating apparatus to a much higher degree;every manœuvre was accomplished with wonderful precision.

“We shall pass it, if you please, sir,” said Conseil.

“I believe we shall,” I said, in a tone of firm conviction.

In this open sea, the Nautilushad taken its course direct to the pole,without leaving the fifty-second meridian. From 67° 30′ to 90 deg.,twenty-two degrees and a half of latitude remained to travel; that is, aboutfive hundred leagues. The Nautiluskept up a mean speed of twenty-sixmiles an hour—the speed of an express train. If that was kept up, in fortyhours we should reach the pole.

For a part of the night the novelty of the situation kept us at the window. Thesea was lit with the electric lantern; but it was deserted; fishes did notsojourn in these imprisoned waters; they only found there a passage to takethem from the Antarctic Ocean to the open polar sea. Our pace was rapid; wecould feel it by the quivering of the long steel body. About two in the morningI took some hours’ repose, and Conseil did the same. In crossing the waist Idid not meet Captain Nemo: I supposed him to be in the pilot’s cage. The nextmorning, the 19th of March, I took my post once more in the saloon. Theelectric log told me that the speed of the Nautilushad been slackened.It was then going towards the surface; but prudently emptying its reservoirsvery slowly. My heart beat fast. Were we going to emerge and regain the openpolar atmosphere? No! A shock told me that the Nautilushad struck thebottom of the iceberg, still very thick, judging from the deadened sound. Wehad in deed “struck,” to use a sea expression, but in an inverse sense, and ata thousand feet deep. This would give three thousand feet of ice above us; onethousand being above the water-mark. The iceberg was then higher than at itsborders—not a very reassuring fact. Several times that day the Nautilustried again, and every time it struck the wall which lay like a ceiling aboveit. Sometimes it met with but 900 yards, only 200 of which rose above thesurface. It was twice the height it was when the Nautilushad gone underthe waves. I carefully noted the different depths, and thus obtained asubmarine profile of the chain as it was developed under the water. That nightno change had taken place in our situation. Still ice between four and fivehundred yards in depth! It was evidently diminishing, but, still, what athickness between us and the surface of the ocean! It was then eight. Accordingto the daily custom on board the Nautilus, its air should have beenrenewed four hours ago; but I did not suffer much, although Captain Nemo hadnot yet made any demand upon his reserve of oxygen. My sleep was painful thatnight; hope and fear besieged me by turns: I rose several times. The groping ofthe Nautiluscontinued. About three in the morning, I noticed that thelower surface of the iceberg was only about fifty feet deep. One hundred andfifty feet now separated us from the surface of the waters. The iceberg was bydegrees becoming an ice-field, the mountain a plain. My eyes never left themanometer. We were still rising diagonally to the surface, which sparkled underthe electric rays. The iceberg was stretching both above and beneath intolengthening slopes; mile after mile it was getting thinner. At length, at sixin the morning of that memorable day, the 19th of March, the door of the saloonopened, and Captain Nemo appeared.

“The sea is open!” was all he said.

CHAPTER XIV
THE SOUTH POLE

I rushed on to the platform. Yes! the open sea, with but a few scattered piecesof ice and moving icebergs—a long stretch of sea; a world of birds in the air,and myriads of fishes under those waters, which varied from intense blue toolive green, according to the bottom. The thermometer marked 3° C. above zero.It was comparatively spring, shut up as we were behind this iceberg, whoselengthened mass was dimly seen on our northern horizon.

“Are we at the pole?” I asked the Captain, with a beating heart.

“I do not know,” he replied. “At noon I will take our bearings.”

“But will the sun show himself through this fog?” said I, looking at the leadensky.

“However little it shows, it will be enough,” replied the Captain.

About ten miles south a solitary island rose to a height of one hundred andfour yards. We made for it, but carefully, for the sea might be strewn withbanks. One hour afterwards we had reached it, two hours later we had made theround of it. It measured four or five miles in circumference. A narrow canalseparated it from a considerable stretch of land, perhaps a continent, for wecould not see its limits. The existence of this land seemed to give some colourto Maury’s theory. The ingenious American has remarked that, between the SouthPole and the sixtieth parallel, the sea is covered with floating ice ofenormous size, which is never met with in the North Atlantic. From this fact hehas drawn the conclusion that the Antarctic Circle encloses considerablecontinents, as icebergs cannot form in open sea, but only on the coasts.According to these calculations, the mass of ice surrounding the southern poleforms a vast cap, the circumference of which must be, at least, 2,500 miles.But the Nautilus, for fear of running aground, had stopped about threecable-lengths from a strand over which reared a superb heap of rocks. The boatwas launched; the Captain, two of his men, bearing instruments, Conseil, andmyself were in it. It was ten in the morning. I had not seen Ned Land.Doubtless the Canadian did not wish to admit the presence of the South Pole. Afew strokes of the oar brought us to the sand, where we ran ashore. Conseil wasgoing to jump on to the land, when I held him back.

“Sir,” said I to Captain Nemo, “to you belongs the honour of first setting footon this land.”

“Yes, sir,” said the Captain, “and if I do not hesitate to tread this SouthPole, it is because, up to this time, no human being has left a trace there.”

Saying this, he jumped lightly on to the sand. His heart beat with emotion. Heclimbed a rock, sloping to a little promontory, and there, with his armscrossed, mute and motionless, and with an eager look, he seemed to takepossession of these southern regions. After five minutes passed in thisecstasy, he turned to us.

“When you like, sir.”

I landed, followed by Conseil, leaving the two men in the boat. For a long waythe soil was composed of a reddish sandy stone, something like crushed brick,scoriae, streams of lava, and pumice-stones. One could not mistake its volcanicorigin. In some parts, slight curls of smoke emitted a sulphurous smell,proving that the internal fires had lost nothing of their expansive powers,though, having climbed a high acclivity, I could see no volcano for a radius ofseveral miles. We know that in those Antarctic countries, James Ross found twocraters, the Erebus and Terror, in full activity, on the 167th meridian,latitude 77° 32′. The vegetation of this desolate continent seemed to memuch restricted. Some lichens lay upon the black rocks; some microscopicplants, rudimentary diatomas, a kind of cells placed between two quartz shells;long purple and scarlet weed, supported on little swimming bladders, which thebreaking of the waves brought to the shore. These constituted the meagre floraof this region. The shore was strewn with molluscs, little mussels, andlimpets. I also saw myriads of northern clios, one-and-a-quarter inches long,of which a whale would swallow a whole world at a mouthful; and some perfectsea-butterflies, animating the waters on the skirts of the shore.

There appeared on the high bottoms some coral shrubs, of the kind which,according to James Ross, live in the Antarctic seas to the depth of more than1,000 yards. Then there were little kingfishers and starfish studding the soil.But where life abounded most was in the air. There thousands of birds flutteredand flew of all kinds, deafening us with their cries; others crowded the rock,looking at us as we passed by without fear, and pressing familiarly close byour feet. There were penguins, so agile in the water, heavy and awkward as theyare on the ground; they were uttering harsh cries, a large assembly, sober ingesture, but extravagant in clamour. Albatrosses passed in the air, the expanseof their wings being at least four yards and a half, and justly called thevultures of the ocean; some gigantic petrels, and some damiers, a kind of smallduck, the underpart of whose body is black and white; then there were a wholeseries of petrels, some whitish, with brown-bordered wings, others blue,peculiar to the Antarctic seas, and so oily, as I told Conseil, that theinhabitants of the Ferroe Islands had nothing to do before lighting them but toput a wick in.

“A little more,” said Conseil, “and they would be perfect lamps! After that, wecannot expect Nature to have previously furnished them with wicks!”

About half a mile farther on the soil was riddled with ruffs’ nests, a sort oflaying-ground, out of which many birds were issuing. Captain Nemo had somehundreds hunted. They uttered a cry like the braying of an ass, were about thesize of a goose, slate-colour on the body, white beneath, with a yellow lineround their throats; they allowed themselves to be killed with a stone, nevertrying to escape. But the fog did not lift, and at eleven the sun had not yetshown itself. Its absence made me uneasy. Without it no observations werepossible. How, then, could we decide whether we had reached the pole? When Irejoined Captain Nemo, I found him leaning on a piece of rock, silentlywatching the sky. He seemed impatient and vexed. But what was to be done? Thisrash and powerful man could not command the sun as he did the sea. Noon arrivedwithout the orb of day showing itself for an instant. We could not even tellits position behind the curtain of fog; and soon the fog turned to snow.

“Till to-morrow,” said the Captain, quietly, and we returned to theNautilusamid these atmospheric disturbances.

The tempest of snow continued till the next day. It was impossible to remain onthe platform. From the saloon, where I was taking notes of incidents happeningduring this excursion to the polar continent, I could hear the cries of petrelsand albatrosses sporting in the midst of this violent storm. TheNautilusdid not remain motionless, but skirted the coast, advancing tenmiles more to the south in the half-light left by the sun as it skirted theedge of the horizon. The next day, the 20th of March, the snow had ceased. Thecold was a little greater, the thermometer showing 2° below zero. The fog wasrising, and I hoped that that day our observations might be taken. Captain Nemonot having yet appeared, the boat took Conseil and myself to land. The soil wasstill of the same volcanic nature; everywhere were traces of lava, scoriae, andbasalt; but the crater which had vomited them I could not see. Here, as lowerdown, this continent was alive with myriads of birds. But their rule was nowdivided with large troops of sea-mammals, looking at us with their soft eyes.There were several kinds of seals, some stretched on the earth, some on flakesof ice, many going in and out of the sea. They did not flee at our approach,never having had anything to do with man; and I reckoned that there wereprovisions there for hundreds of vessels.

“Sir,” said Conseil, “will you tell me the names of these creatures?”

“They are seals and morses.”

It was now eight in the morning. Four hours remained to us before the sun couldbe observed with advantage. I directed our steps towards a vast bay cut in thesteep granite shore. There, I can aver that earth and ice were lost to sight bythe numbers of sea-mammals covering them, and I involuntarily sought for oldProteus, the mythological shepherd who watched these immense flocks of Neptune.There were more seals than anything else, forming distinct groups, male andfemale, the father watching over his family, the mother suckling her littleones, some already strong enough to go a few steps. When they wished to changetheir place, they took little jumps, made by the contraction of their bodies,and helped awkwardly enough by their imperfect fin, which, as with thelamantin, their cousins, forms a perfect forearm. I should say that, in thewater, which is their element—the spine of these creatures is flexible; withsmooth and close skin and webbed feet—they swim admirably. In resting on theearth they take the most graceful attitudes. Thus the ancients, observing theirsoft and expressive looks, which cannot be surpassed by the most beautiful looka woman can give, their clear voluptuous eyes, their charming positions, andthe poetry of their manners, metamorphosed them, the male into a triton and thefemale into a mermaid. I made Conseil notice the considerable development ofthe lobes of the brain in these interesting cetaceans. No mammal, except man,has such a quantity of brain matter; they are also capable of receiving acertain amount of education, are easily domesticated, and I think, with othernaturalists, that if properly taught they would be of great service asfishing-dogs. The greater part of them slept on the rocks or on the sand.Amongst these seals, properly so called, which have no external ears (in whichthey differ from the otter, whose ears are prominent), I noticed severalvarieties of seals about three yards long, with a white coat, bulldog heads,armed with teeth in both jaws, four incisors at the top and four at the bottom,and two large canine teeth in the shape of a fleur-de-lis. Amongst them glidedsea-elephants, a kind of seal, with short, flexible trunks. The giants of thisspecies measured twenty feet round and ten yards and a half in length; but theydid not move as we approached.

“These creatures are not dangerous?” asked Conseil.

“No; not unless you attack them. When they have to defend their young theirrage is terrible, and it is not uncommon for them to break the fishing-boats topieces.”

“They are quite right,” said Conseil.

“I do not say they are not.”

Two miles farther on we were stopped by the promontory which shelters the bayfrom the southerly winds. Beyond it we heard loud bellowings such as a troop ofruminants would produce.

“Good!” said Conseil; “a concert of bulls!”

“No; a concert of morses.”

“They are fighting!”

“They are either fighting or playing.”

We now began to climb the blackish rocks, amid unforeseen stumbles, and overstones which the ice made slippery. More than once I rolled over at the expenseof my loins. Conseil, more prudent or more steady, did not stumble, and helpedme up, saying:

“If, sir, you would have the kindness to take wider steps, you would preserveyour equilibrium better.”

Arrived at the upper ridge of the promontory, I saw a vast white plain coveredwith morses. They were playing amongst themselves, and what we heard werebellowings of pleasure, not of anger.

As I passed these curious animals I could examine them leisurely, for they didnot move. Their skins were thick and rugged, of a yellowish tint, approachingto red; their hair was short and scant. Some of them were four yards and aquarter long. Quieter and less timid than their cousins of the north, they didnot, like them, place sentinels round the outskirts of their encampment. Afterexamining this city of morses, I began to think of returning. It was eleveno’clock, and, if Captain Nemo found the conditions favourable for observations,I wished to be present at the operation. We followed a narrow pathway runningalong the summit of the steep shore. At half-past eleven we had reached theplace where we landed. The boat had run aground, bringing the Captain. I sawhim standing on a block of basalt, his instruments near him, his eyes fixed onthe northern horizon, near which the sun was then describing a lengthenedcurve. I took my place beside him, and waited without speaking. Noon arrived,and, as before, the sun did not appear. It was a fatality. Observations werestill wanting. If not accomplished to-morrow, we must give up all idea oftaking any. We were indeed exactly at the 20th of March. To-morrow, the 21st,would be the equinox; the sun would disappear behind the horizon for sixmonths, and with its disappearance the long polar night would begin. Since theSeptember equinox it had emerged from the northern horizon, rising bylengthened spirals up to the 21st of December. At this period, the summersolstice of the northern regions, it had begun to descend; and to-morrow was toshed its last rays upon them. I communicated my fears and observations toCaptain Nemo.

“You are right, M. Aronnax,” said he; “if to-morrow I cannot take the altitudeof the sun, I shall not be able to do it for six months. But precisely becausechance has led me into these seas on the 21st of March, my bearings will beeasy to take, if at twelve we can see the sun.”

“Why, Captain?”

“Because then the orb of day described such lengthened curves that it isdifficult to measure exactly its height above the horizon, and grave errors maybe made with instruments.”

“What will you do then?”

“I shall only use my chronometer,” replied Captain Nemo. “If to-morrow, the21st of March, the disc of the sun, allowing for refraction, is exactly cut bythe northern horizon, it will show that I am at the South Pole.”

“Just so,” said I. “But this statement is not mathematically correct, becausethe equinox does not necessarily begin at noon.”

“Very likely, sir; but the error will not be a hundred yards and we do not wantmore. Till to-morrow, then!”

Captain Nemo returned on board. Conseil and I remained to survey the shore,observing and studying until five o’clock. Then I went to bed, not, however,without invoking, like the Indian, the favour of the radiant orb. The next day,the 21st of March, at five in the morning, I mounted the platform. I foundCaptain Nemo there.

“The weather is lightening a little,” said he. “I have some hope. Afterbreakfast we will go on shore and choose a post for observation.”

That point settled, I sought Ned Land. I wanted to take him with me. But theobstinate Canadian refused, and I saw that his taciturnity and his bad humourgrew day by day. After all, I was not sorry for his obstinacy under thecircumstances. Indeed, there were too many seals on shore, and we ought not tolay such temptation in this unreflecting fisherman’s way. Breakfast over, wewent on shore. The Nautilushad gone some miles further up in the night.It was a whole league from the coast, above which reared a sharp peak aboutfive hundred yards high. The boat took with me Captain Nemo, two men of thecrew, and the instruments, which consisted of a chronometer, a telescope, and abarometer. While crossing, I saw numerous whales belonging to the three kindspeculiar to the southern seas; the whale, or the English “right whale,” whichhas no dorsal fin; the “humpback,” with reeved chest and large, whitish fins,which, in spite of its name, do not form wings; and the fin-back, of ayellowish brown, the liveliest of all the cetacea. This powerful creature isheard a long way off when he throws to a great height columns of air andvapour, which look like whirlwinds of smoke. These different mammals weredisporting themselves in troops in the quiet waters; and I could see that thisbasin of the Antarctic Pole serves as a place of refuge to the cetacea tooclosely tracked by the hunters. I also noticed large medusæ floating betweenthe reeds.

At nine we landed; the sky was brightening, the clouds were flying to thesouth, and the fog seemed to be leaving the cold surface of the waters. CaptainNemo went towards the peak, which he doubtless meant to be his observatory. Itwas a painful ascent over the sharp lava and the pumice-stones, in anatmosphere often impregnated with a sulphurous smell from the smoking cracks.For a man unaccustomed to walk on land, the Captain climbed the steep slopeswith an agility I never saw equalled and which a hunter would have envied. Wewere two hours getting to the summit of this peak, which was half porphyry andhalf basalt. From thence we looked upon a vast sea which, towards the north,distinctly traced its boundary line upon the sky. At our feet lay fields ofdazzling whiteness. Over our heads a pale azure, free from fog. To the norththe disc of the sun seemed like a ball of fire, already horned by the cuttingof the horizon. From the bosom of the water rose sheaves of liquid jets byhundreds. In the distance lay the Nautiluslike a cetacean asleep on thewater. Behind us, to the south and east, an immense country and a chaotic heapof rocks and ice, the limits of which were not visible. On arriving at thesummit Captain Nemo carefully took the mean height of the barometer, for hewould have to consider that in taking his observations. At a quarter to twelvethe sun, then seen only by refraction, looked like a golden disc shedding itslast rays upon this deserted continent and seas which never man had yetploughed. Captain Nemo, furnished with a lenticular glass which, by means of amirror, corrected the refraction, watched the orb sinking below the horizon bydegrees, following a lengthened diagonal. I held the chronometer. My heart beatfast. If the disappearance of the half-disc of the sun coincided with twelveo’clock on the chronometer, we were at the pole itself.

“Twelve!” I exclaimed.

“The South Pole!” replied Captain Nemo, in a grave voice, handing me the glass,which showed the orb cut in exactly equal parts by the horizon.

I looked at the last rays crowning the peak, and the shadows mounting bydegrees up its slopes. At that moment Captain Nemo, resting with his hand on myshoulder, said:

“I, Captain Nemo, on this 21st day of March, 1868, have reached the South Poleon the ninetieth degree; and I take possession of this part of the globe, equalto one-sixth of the known continents.”

“In whose name, Captain?”

“In my own, sir!”

Saying which, Captain Nemo unfurled a black banner, bearing an “N” in goldquartered on its bunting. Then, turning towards the orb of day, whose last rayslapped the horizon of the sea, he exclaimed:

“Adieu, sun! Disappear, thou radiant orb! rest beneath this open sea, and let anight of six months spread its shadows over my new domains!”

CHAPTER XV
ACCIDENT OR INCIDENT?

The next day, the 22nd of March, at six in the morning, preparations fordeparture were begun. The last gleams of twilight were melting into night. Thecold was great, the constellations shone with wonderful intensity. In thezenith glittered that wondrous Southern Cross—the polar bear of Antarcticregions. The thermometer showed 12 below zero, and when the wind freshened itwas most biting. Flakes of ice increased on the open water. The sea seemedeverywhere alike. Numerous blackish patches spread on the surface, showing theformation of fresh ice. Evidently the southern basin, frozen during the sixwinter months, was absolutely inaccessible. What became of the whales in thattime? Doubtless they went beneath the icebergs, seeking more practicable seas.As to the seals and morses, accustomed to live in a hard climate, they remainedon these icy shores. These creatures have the instinct to break holes in theice-field and to keep them open. To these holes they come for breath; when thebirds, driven away by the cold, have emigrated to the north, these sea mammalsremain sole masters of the polar continent. But the reservoirs were fillingwith water, and the Nautiluswas slowly descending. At 1,000 feet deepit stopped; its screw beat the waves, and it advanced straight towards thenorth at a speed of fifteen miles an hour. Towards night it was alreadyfloating under the immense body of the iceberg. At three in the morning I wasawakened by a violent shock. I sat up in my bed and listened in the darkness,when I was thrown into the middle of the room. The Nautilus, afterhaving struck, had rebounded violently. I groped along the partition, and bythe staircase to the saloon, which was lit by the luminous ceiling. Thefurniture was upset. Fortunately the windows were firmly set, and had heldfast. The pictures on the starboard side, from being no longer vertical, wereclinging to the paper, whilst those of the port side were hanging at least afoot from the wall. The Nautiluswas lying on its starboard sideperfectly motionless. I heard footsteps, and a confusion of voices; but CaptainNemo did not appear. As I was leaving the saloon, Ned Land and Conseil entered.

“What is the matter?” said I, at once.

“I came to ask you, sir,” replied Conseil.

“Confound it!” exclaimed the Canadian, “I know well enough! The Nautilushas struck; and, judging by the way she lies, I do not think she will rightherself as she did the first time in Torres Straits.”

“But,” I asked, “has she at least come to the surface of the sea?”

“We do not know,” said Conseil.

“It is easy to decide,” I answered. I consulted the manometer. To my greatsurprise, it showed a depth of more than 180 fathoms. “What does that mean?” Iexclaimed.

“We must ask Captain Nemo,” said Conseil.

“But where shall we find him?” said Ned Land.

“Follow me,” said I, to my companions.

We left the saloon. There was no one in the library. At the centre staircase,by the berths of the ship’s crew, there was no one. I thought that Captain Nemomust be in the pilot’s cage. It was best to wait. We all returned to thesaloon. For twenty minutes we remained thus, trying to hear the slightest noisewhich might be made on board the Nautilus, when Captain Nemo entered. Heseemed not to see us; his face, generally so impassive, showed signs ofuneasiness. He watched the compass silently, then the manometer; and, going tothe planisphere, placed his finger on a spot representing the southern seas. Iwould not interrupt him; but, some minutes later, when he turned towards me, Isaid, using one of his own expressions in the Torres Straits:

“An incident, Captain?”

“No, sir; an accident this time.”

“Serious?”

“Perhaps.”

“Is the danger immediate?”

“No.”

“The Nautilushas stranded?”

“Yes.”

“And this has happened—how?”

“From a caprice of nature, not from the ignorance of man. Not a mistake hasbeen made in the working. But we cannot prevent equilibrium from producing itseffects. We may brave human laws, but we cannot resist natural ones.”

Captain Nemo had chosen a strange moment for uttering this philosophicalreflection. On the whole, his answer helped me little.

“May I ask, sir, the cause of this accident?”

“An enormous block of ice, a whole mountain, has turned over,” he replied.“When icebergs are undermined at their base by warmer water or reiteratedshocks their centre of gravity rises, and the whole thing turns over. This iswhat has happened; one of these blocks, as it fell, struck the Nautilus,then, gliding under its hull, raised it with irresistible force, bringing itinto beds which are not so thick, where it is lying on its side.”

“But can we not get the Nautilusoff by emptying its reservoirs, that itmight regain its equilibrium?”

“That, sir, is being done at this moment. You can hear the pump working. Lookat the needle of the manometer; it shows that the Nautilusis rising,but the block of ice is floating with it; and, until some obstacle stops itsascending motion, our position cannot be altered.”

Indeed, the Nautilusstill held the same position to starboard;doubtless it would right itself when the block stopped. But at this moment whoknows if we may not be frightfully crushed between the two glassy surfaces? Ireflected on all the consequences of our position. Captain Nemo never took hiseyes off the manometer. Since the fall of the iceberg, the Nautilushadrisen about a hundred and fifty feet, but it still made the same angle with theperpendicular. Suddenly a slight movement was felt in the hold. Evidently itwas righting a little. Things hanging in the saloon were sensibly returning totheir normal position. The partitions were nearing the upright. No one spoke.With beating hearts we watched and felt the straightening. The boards becamehorizontal under our feet. Ten minutes passed.

“At last we have righted!” I exclaimed.

“Yes,” said Captain Nemo, going to the door of the saloon.

“But are we floating?” I asked.

“Certainly,” he replied; “since the reservoirs are not empty; and, when empty,the Nautilusmust rise to the surface of the sea.”

We were in open sea; but at a distance of about ten yards, on either side ofthe Nautilus, rose a dazzling wall of ice. Above and beneath the samewall. Above, because the lower surface of the iceberg stretched over us like animmense ceiling. Beneath, because the overturned block, having slid by degrees,had found a resting-place on the lateral walls, which kept it in that position.The Nautiluswas really imprisoned in a perfect tunnel of ice more thantwenty yards in breadth, filled with quiet water. It was easy to get out of itby going either forward or backward, and then make a free passage under theiceberg, some hundreds of yards deeper. The luminous ceiling had beenextinguished, but the saloon was still resplendent with intense light. It wasthe powerful reflection from the glass partition sent violently back to thesheets of the lantern. I cannot describe the effect of the voltaic rays uponthe great blocks so capriciously cut; upon every angle, every ridge, everyfacet was thrown a different light, according to the nature of the veinsrunning through the ice; a dazzling mine of gems, particularly of sapphires,their blue rays crossing with the green of the emerald. Here and there wereopal shades of wonderful softness, running through bright spots like diamondsof fire, the brilliancy of which the eye could not bear. The power of thelantern seemed increased a hundredfold, like a lamp through the lenticularplates of a first-class lighthouse.

“How beautiful! how beautiful!” cried Conseil.

“Yes,” I said, “it is a wonderful sight. Is it not, Ned?”

“Yes, confound it! Yes,” answered Ned Land, “it is superb! I am mad at beingobliged to admit it. No one has ever seen anything like it; but the sight maycost us dear. And, if I must say all, I think we are seeing here things whichGod never intended man to see.”

Ned was right, it was too beautiful. Suddenly a cry from Conseil made me turn.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Shut your eyes, sir! Do not look, sir!” Saying which, Conseil clapped hishands over his eyes.

“But what is the matter, my boy?”

“I am dazzled, blinded.”

My eyes turned involuntarily towards the glass, but I could not stand the firewhich seemed to devour them. I understood what had happened. TheNautilushad put on full speed. All the quiet lustre of the ice-wallswas at once changed into flashes of lightning. The fire from these myriads ofdiamonds was blinding. It required some time to calm our troubled looks. Atlast the hands were taken down.

“Faith, I should never have believed it,” said Conseil.

It was then five in the morning; and at that moment a shock was felt at thebows of the Nautilus. I knew that its spur had struck a block of ice. Itmust have been a false manœuvre, for this submarine tunnel, obstructed byblocks, was not very easy navigation. I thought that Captain Nemo, by changinghis course, would either turn these obstacles or else follow the windings ofthe tunnel. In any case, the road before us could not be entirely blocked. But,contrary to my expectations, the Nautilustook a decided retrogrademotion.

“We are going backwards?” said Conseil.

“Yes,” I replied. “This end of the tunnel can have no egress.”

“And then?”

“Then,” said I, “the working is easy. We must go back again, and go out at thesouthern opening. That is all.”

In speaking thus, I wished to appear more confident than I really was. But theretrograde motion of the Nautiluswas increasing; and, reversing thescrew, it carried us at great speed.

“It will be a hindrance,” said Ned.

“What does it matter, some hours more or less, provided we get out at last?”

“Yes,” repeated Ned Land, “provided we do get out at last!”

For a short time I walked from the saloon to the library. My companions weresilent. I soon threw myself on an ottoman, and took a book, which my eyesoverran mechanically. A quarter of an hour after, Conseil, approaching me,said, “Is what you are reading very interesting, sir?”

“Very interesting!” I replied.

“I should think so, sir. It is your own book you are reading.”

“My book?”

And indeed I was holding in my hand the work on the Great Submarine Depths. Idid not even dream of it. I closed the book and returned to my walk. Ned andConseil rose to go.

“Stay here, my friends,” said I, detaining them. “Let us remain together untilwe are out of this block.”

“As you please, sir,” Conseil replied.

Some hours passed. I often looked at the instruments hanging from thepartition. The manometer showed that the Nautiluskept at a constantdepth of more than three hundred yards; the compass still pointed to south; thelog indicated a speed of twenty miles an hour, which, in such a cramped space,was very great. But Captain Nemo knew that he could not hasten too much, andthat minutes were worth ages to us. At twenty-five minutes past eight a secondshock took place, this time from behind. I turned pale. My companions wereclose by my side. I seized Conseil’s hand. Our looks expressed our feelingsbetter than words. At this moment the Captain entered the saloon. I went up tohim.

“Our course is barred southward?” I asked.

“Yes, sir. The iceberg has shifted and closed every outlet.”

“We are blocked up then?”

“Yes.”

CHAPTER XVI
WANT OF AIR

Thus around the Nautilus, above and below, was an impenetrable wall ofice. We were prisoners to the iceberg. I watched the Captain. His countenancehad resumed its habitual imperturbability.

“Gentlemen,” he said calmly, “there are two ways of dying in the circumstancesin which we are placed.” (This puzzling person had the air of a mathematicalprofessor lecturing to his pupils.) “The first is to be crushed; the second isto die of suffocation. I do not speak of the possibility of dying of hunger,for the supply of provisions in the Nautiluswill certainly last longerthan we shall. Let us, then, calculate our chances.”

“As to suffocation, Captain,” I replied, “that is not to be feared, because ourreservoirs are full.”

“Just so; but they will only yield two days’ supply of air. Now, for thirty-sixhours we have been hidden under the water, and already the heavy atmosphere ofthe Nautilusrequires renewal. In forty-eight hours our reserve will beexhausted.”

“Well, Captain, can we be delivered before forty-eight hours?”

“We will attempt it, at least, by piercing the wall that surrounds us.”

“On which side?”

“Sound will tell us. I am going to run the Nautilusaground on the lowerbank, and my men will attack the iceberg on the side that is least thick.”

Captain Nemo went out. Soon I discovered by a hissing noise that the water wasentering the reservoirs. The Nautilussank slowly, and rested on the iceat a depth of 350 yards, the depth at which the lower bank was immersed.

“My friends,” I said, “our situation is serious, but I rely on your courage andenergy.”

“Sir,” replied the Canadian, “I am ready to do anything for the generalsafety.”

“Good! Ned,” and I held out my hand to the Canadian.

“I will add,” he continued, “that, being as handy with the pickaxe as with theharpoon, if I can be useful to the Captain, he can command my services.”

“He will not refuse your help. Come, Ned!”

I led him to the room where the crew of the Nautiluswere putting ontheir cork-jackets. I told the Captain of Ned’s proposal, which he accepted.The Canadian put on his sea-costume, and was ready as soon as his companions.When Ned was dressed, I re-entered the drawing-room, where the panes of glasswere open, and, posted near Conseil, I examined the ambient beds that supportedthe Nautilus. Some instants after, we saw a dozen of the crew set footon the bank of ice, and among them Ned Land, easily known by his stature.Captain Nemo was with them. Before proceeding to dig the walls, he took thesoundings, to be sure of working in the right direction. Long sounding lineswere sunk in the side walls, but after fifteen yards they were again stopped bythe thick wall. It was useless to attack it on the ceiling-like surface, sincethe iceberg itself measured more than 400 yards in height. Captain Nemo thensounded the lower surface. There ten yards of wall separated us from the water,so great was the thickness of the ice-field. It was necessary, therefore, tocut from it a piece equal in extent to the waterline of the Nautilus.There were about 6,000 cubic yards to detach, so as to dig a hole by which wecould descend to the ice-field. The work had begun immediately and carried onwith indefatigable energy. Instead of digging round the Nautiluswhichwould have involved greater difficulty, Captain Nemo had an immense trench madeat eight yards from the port-quarter. Then the men set to work simultaneouslywith their screws on several points of its circumference. Presently the pickaxeattacked this compact matter vigorously, and large blocks were detached fromthe mass. By a curious effect of specific gravity, these blocks, lighter thanwater, fled, so to speak, to the vault of the tunnel, that increased inthickness at the top in proportion as it diminished at the base. But thatmattered little, so long as the lower part grew thinner. After two hours’ hardwork, Ned Land came in exhausted. He and his comrades were replaced by newworkers, whom Conseil and I joined. The second lieutenant of theNautilussuperintended us. The water seemed singularly cold, but I soongot warm handling the pickaxe. My movements were free enough, although theywere made under a pressure of thirty atmospheres. When I re-entered, afterworking two hours, to take some food and rest, I found a perceptible differencebetween the pure fluid with which the Rouquayrol engine supplied me and theatmosphere of the Nautilus, already charged with carbonic acid. The airhad not been renewed for forty-eight hours, and its vivifying qualities wereconsiderably enfeebled. However, after a lapse of twelve hours, we had onlyraised a block of ice one yard thick, on the marked surface, which was about600 cubic yards! Reckoning that it took twelve hours to accomplish this much itwould take five nights and four days to bring this enterprise to a satisfactoryconclusion. Five nights and four days! And we have only air enough for two daysin the reservoirs! “Without taking into account,” said Ned, “that, even if weget out of this infernal prison, we shall also be imprisoned under the iceberg,shut out from all possible communication with the atmosphere.” True enough! Whocould then foresee the minimum of time necessary for our deliverance? We mightbe suffocated before the Nautiluscould regain the surface of the waves?Was it destined to perish in this ice-tomb, with all those it enclosed? Thesituation was terrible. But everyone had looked the danger in the face, andeach was determined to do his duty to the last.

As I expected, during the night a new block a yard square was carried away, andstill further sank the immense hollow. But in the morning when, dressed in mycork-jacket, I traversed the slushy mass at a temperature of six or sevendegrees below zero, I remarked that the side walls were gradually closing in.The beds of water farthest from the trench, that were not warmed by the men’swork, showed a tendency to solidification. In presence of this new and imminentdanger, what would become of our chances of safety, and how hinder thesolidification of this liquid medium, that would burst the partitions of theNautiluslike glass?

I did not tell my companions of this new danger. What was the good of dampingthe energy they displayed in the painful work of escape? But when I went onboard again, I told Captain Nemo of this grave complication.

“I know it,” he said, in that calm tone which could counteract the mostterrible apprehensions. “It is one danger more; but I see no way of escapingit; the only chance of safety is to go quicker than solidification. We must bebeforehand with it, that is all.”

On this day for several hours I used my pickaxe vigorously. The work kept meup. Besides, to work was to quit the Nautilus, and breathe directly thepure air drawn from the reservoirs, and supplied by our apparatus, and to quitthe impoverished and vitiated atmosphere. Towards evening the trench was dugone yard deeper. When I returned on board, I was nearly suffocated by thecarbonic acid with which the air was filled—ah! if we had only the chemicalmeans to drive away this deleterious gas. We had plenty of oxygen; all thiswater contained a considerable quantity, and by dissolving it with our powerfulpiles, it would restore the vivifying fluid. I had thought well over it; but ofwhat good was that, since the carbonic acid produced by our respiration hadinvaded every part of the vessel? To absorb it, it was necessary to fill somejars with caustic potash, and to shake them incessantly. Now this substance waswanting on board, and nothing could replace it. On that evening, Captain Nemoought to open the taps of his reservoirs, and let some pure air into theinterior of the Nautilus;without this precaution we could not get ridof the sense of suffocation. The next day, March 26th, I resumed my miner’swork in beginning the fifth yard. The side walls and the lower surface of theiceberg thickened visibly. It was evident that they would meet before theNautiluswas able to disengage itself. Despair seized me for an instant;my pickaxe nearly fell from my hands. What was the good of digging if I must besuffocated, crushed by the water that was turning into stone?—a punishment thatthe ferocity of the savages even would not have invented! Just then CaptainNemo passed near me. I touched his hand and showed him the walls of our prison.The wall to port had advanced to at least four yards from the hull of theNautilus. The Captain understood me, and signed me to follow him. Wewent on board. I took off my cork-jacket and accompanied him into thedrawing-room.

“M. Aronnax, we must attempt some desperate means, or we shall be sealed up inthis solidified water as in cement.”

“Yes; but what is to be done?”

“Ah! if my Nautiluswere strong enough to bear this pressure withoutbeing crushed!”

“Well?” I asked, not catching the Captain’s idea.

“Do you not understand,” he replied, “that this congelation of water will helpus? Do you not see that by its solidification, it would burst through thisfield of ice that imprisons us, as, when it freezes, it bursts the hardeststones? Do you not perceive that it would be an agent of safety instead ofdestruction?”

“Yes, Captain, perhaps. But, whatever resistance to crushing theNautiluspossesses, it could not support this terrible pressure, andwould be flattened like an iron plate.”

“I know it, sir. Therefore we must not reckon on the aid of nature, but on ourown exertions. We must stop this solidification. Not only will the side wallsbe pressed together; but there is not ten feet of water before or behind theNautilus. The congelation gains on us on all sides.”

“How long will the air in the reservoirs last for us to breathe on board?”

The Captain looked in my face. “After to-morrow they will be empty!”

A cold sweat came over me. However, ought I to have been astonished at theanswer? On March 22, the Nautiluswas in the open polar seas. We were at26°. For five days we had lived on the reserve on board. And what was left ofthe respirable air must be kept for the workers. Even now, as I write, myrecollection is still so vivid that an involuntary terror seizes me and mylungs seem to be without air. Meanwhile, Captain Nemo reflected silently, andevidently an idea had struck him; but he seemed to reject it. At last, thesewords escaped his lips:

“Boiling water!” he muttered.

“Boiling water?” I cried.

“Yes, sir. We are enclosed in a space that is relatively confined. Would notjets of boiling water, constantly injected by the pumps, raise the temperaturein this part and stay the congelation?”

“Let us try it,” I said resolutely.

“Let us try it, Professor.”

The thermometer then stood at 7° outside. Captain Nemo took me to the galleys,where the vast distillatory machines stood that furnished the drinkable waterby evaporation. They filled these with water, and all the electric heat fromthe piles was thrown through the worms bathed in the liquid. In a few minutesthis water reached 100°. It was directed towards the pumps, while fresh waterreplaced it in proportion. The heat developed by the troughs was such that coldwater, drawn up from the sea after only having gone through the machines, cameboiling into the body of the pump. The injection was begun, and three hoursafter the thermometer marked 6° below zero outside. One degree was gained. Twohours later the thermometer only marked 4°.

“We shall succeed,” I said to the Captain, after having anxiously watched theresult of the operation.

“I think,” he answered, “that we shall not be crushed. We have no moresuffocation to fear.”

During the night the temperature of the water rose to 1° below zero. Theinjections could not carry it to a higher point. But, as the congelation of thesea-water produces at least 2°, I was at least reassured against the dangers ofsolidification.

The next day, March 27th, six yards of ice had been cleared, twelve feet onlyremaining to be cleared away. There was yet forty-eight hours’ work. The aircould not be renewed in the interior of the Nautilus. And this day wouldmake it worse. An intolerable weight oppressed me. Towards three o’clock in theevening this feeling rose to a violent degree. Yawns dislocated my jaws. Mylungs panted as they inhaled this burning fluid, which became rarefied more andmore. A moral torpor took hold of me. I was powerless, almost unconscious. Mybrave Conseil, though exhibiting the same symptoms and suffering in the samemanner, never left me. He took my hand and encouraged me, and I heard himmurmur, “Oh! if I could only not breathe, so as to leave more air for mymaster!”

Tears came into my eyes on hearing him speak thus. If our situation to all wasintolerable in the interior, with what haste and gladness would we put on ourcork-jackets to work in our turn! Pickaxes sounded on the frozen ice-beds. Ourarms ached, the skin was torn off our hands. But what were these fatigues, whatdid the wounds matter? Vital air came to the lungs! We breathed! we breathed!

All this time no one prolonged his voluntary task beyond the prescribed time.His task accomplished, each one handed in turn to his panting companions theapparatus that supplied him with life. Captain Nemo set the example, andsubmitted first to this severe discipline. When the time came, he gave up hisapparatus to another and returned to the vitiated air on board, calm,unflinching, unmurmuring.

On that day the ordinary work was accomplished with unusual vigour. Only twoyards remained to be raised from the surface. Two yards only separated us fromthe open sea. But the reservoirs were nearly emptied of air. The little thatremained ought to be kept for the workers; not a particle for theNautilus. When I went back on board, I was half suffocated. What anight! I know not how to describe it. The next day my breathing was oppressed.Dizziness accompanied the pain in my head and made me like a drunken man. Mycompanions showed the same symptoms. Some of the crew had rattling in thethroat.

On that day, the sixth of our imprisonment, Captain Nemo, finding the pickaxeswork too slowly, resolved to crush the ice-bed that still separated us from theliquid sheet. This man’s coolness and energy never forsook him. He subdued hisphysical pains by moral force.

By his orders the vessel was lightened, that is to say, raised from the ice-bedby a change of specific gravity. When it floated they towed it so as to bringit above the immense trench made on the level of the water-line. Then, fillinghis reservoirs of water, he descended and shut himself up in the hole.

Just then all the crew came on board, and the double door of communication wasshut. The Nautilusthen rested on the bed of ice, which was not one yardthick, and which the sounding leads had perforated in a thousand places. Thetaps of the reservoirs were then opened, and a hundred cubic yards of water waslet in, increasing the weight of the Nautilusto 1,800 tons. We waited,we listened, forgetting our sufferings in hope. Our safety depended on thislast chance. Notwithstanding the buzzing in my head, I soon heard the hummingsound under the hull of the Nautilus. The ice cracked with a singularnoise, like tearing paper, and the Nautilussank.

“We are off!” murmured Conseil in my ear.

I could not answer him. I seized his hand, and pressed it convulsively. All atonce, carried away by its frightful overcharge, the Nautilussank like abullet under the waters, that is to say, it fell as if it was in a vacuum. Thenall the electric force was put on the pumps, that soon began to let the waterout of the reservoirs. After some minutes, our fall was stopped. Soon, too, themanometer indicated an ascending movement. The screw, going at full speed, madethe iron hull tremble to its very bolts and drew us towards the north. But ifthis floating under the iceberg is to last another day before we reach the opensea, I shall be dead first.

Half stretched upon a divan in the library, I was suffocating. My face waspurple, my lips blue, my faculties suspended. I neither saw nor heard. Allnotion of time had gone from my mind. My muscles could not contract. I do notknow how many hours passed thus, but I was conscious of the agony that wascoming over me. I felt as if I was going to die. Suddenly I came to. Somebreaths of air penetrated my lungs. Had we risen to the surface of the waves?Were we free of the iceberg? No! Ned and Conseil, my two brave friends, weresacrificing themselves to save me. Some particles of air still remained at thebottom of one apparatus. Instead of using it, they had kept it for me, and,while they were being suffocated, they gave me life, drop by drop. I wanted topush back the thing; they held my hands, and for some moments I breathedfreely. I looked at the clock; it was eleven in the morning. It ought to be the28th of March. The Nautiluswent at a frightful pace, forty miles anhour. It literally tore through the water. Where was Captain Nemo? Had hesuccumbed? Were his companions dead with him? At the moment the manometerindicated that we were not more than twenty feet from the surface. A mere plateof ice separated us from the atmosphere. Could we not break it? Perhaps. In anycase the Nautiluswas going to attempt it. I felt that it was in anoblique position, lowering the stern, and raising the bows. The introduction ofwater had been the means of disturbing its equilibrium. Then, impelled by itspowerful screw, it attacked the ice-field from beneath like a formidablebattering-ram. It broke it by backing and then rushing forward against thefield, which gradually gave way; and at last, dashing suddenly against it, shotforwards on the ice-field, that crushed beneath its weight. The panel wasopened—one might say torn off—and the pure air came in in abundance to allparts of the Nautilus.

CHAPTER XVII
FROM CAPE HORN TO THE AMAZON

How I got on to the platform, I have no idea; perhaps the Canadian had carriedme there. But I breathed, I inhaled the vivifying sea-air. My two companionswere getting drunk with the fresh particles. The other unhappy men had been solong without food, that they could not with impunity indulge in the simplestaliments that were given them. We, on the contrary, had no end to restrainourselves; we could draw this air freely into our lungs, and it was the breeze,the breeze alone, that filled us with this keen enjoyment.

“Ah!” said Conseil, “how delightful this oxygen is! Master need not fear tobreathe it. There is enough for everybody.”

Ned Land did not speak, but he opened his jaws wide enough to frighten a shark.Our strength soon returned, and, when I looked round me, I saw we were alone onthe platform. The foreign seamen in the Nautiluswere contented with theair that circulated in the interior; none of them had come to drink in the openair.

The first words I spoke were words of gratitude and thankfulness to my twocompanions. Ned and Conseil had prolonged my life during the last hours of thislong agony. All my gratitude could not repay such devotion.

“My friends,” said I, “we are bound one to the other for ever, and I am underinfinite obligations to you.”

“Which I shall take advantage of,” exclaimed the Canadian.

“What do you mean?” said Conseil.

“I mean that I shall take you with me when I leave this infernalNautilus.”

“Well,” said Conseil, “after all this, are we going right?”

“Yes,” I replied, “for we are going the way of the sun, and here the sun is inthe north.”

“No doubt,” said Ned Land; “but it remains to be seen whether he will bring theship into the Pacific or the Atlantic Ocean, that is, into frequented ordeserted seas.”

I could not answer that question, and I feared that Captain Nemo would rathertake us to the vast ocean that touches the coasts of Asia and America at thesame time. He would thus complete the tour round the submarine world, andreturn to those waters in which the Nautiluscould sail freely. Weought, before long, to settle this important point. The Nautiluswent ata rapid pace. The polar circle was soon passed, and the course shaped for CapeHorn. We were off the American point, March 31st, at seven o’clock in theevening. Then all our past sufferings were forgotten. The remembrance of thatimprisonment in the ice was effaced from our minds. We only thought of thefuture. Captain Nemo did not appear again either in the drawing-room or on theplatform. The point shown each day on the planisphere, and, marked by thelieutenant, showed me the exact direction of the Nautilus. Now, on thatevening, it was evident, to my great satisfaction, that we were going back tothe North by the Atlantic. The next day, April 1st, when the Nautilusascended to the surface some minutes before noon, we sighted land to the west.It was Terra del Fuego, which the first navigators named thus from seeing thequantity of smoke that rose from the natives’ huts. The coast seemed low to me,but in the distance rose high mountains. I even thought I had a glimpse ofMount Sarmiento, that rises 2,070 yards above the level of the sea, with a verypointed summit, which, according as it is misty or clear, is a sign of fine orof wet weather. At this moment the peak was clearly defined against the sky.The Nautilus, diving again under the water, approached the coast, whichwas only some few miles off. From the glass windows in the drawing-room, I sawlong seaweeds and gigantic fuci and varech, of which the open polar seacontains so many specimens, with their sharp polished filaments; they measuredabout 300 yards in length—real cables, thicker than one’s thumb; and, havinggreat tenacity, they are often used as ropes for vessels. Another weed known asvelp, with leaves four feet long, buried in the coral concretions, hung at thebottom. It served as nest and food for myriads of crustacea and molluscs,crabs, and cuttlefish. There seals and otters had splendid repasts, eating theflesh of fish with sea-vegetables, according to the English fashion. Over thisfertile and luxuriant ground the Nautiluspassed with great rapidity.Towards evening it approached the Falkland group, the rough summits of which Irecognised the following day. The depth of the sea was moderate. On the shoresour nets brought in beautiful specimens of sea weed, and particularly a certainfucus, the roots of which were filled with the best mussels in the world. Geeseand ducks fell by dozens on the platform, and soon took their places in thepantry on board.

When the last heights of the Falklands had disappeared from the horizon, theNautilussank to between twenty and twenty-five yards, and followed theAmerican coast. Captain Nemo did not show himself. Until the 3rd of April wedid not quit the shores of Patagonia, sometimes under the ocean, sometimes atthe surface. The Nautiluspassed beyond the large estuary formed by thePlata, and was, on the 4th of April, fifty-six miles offUraguay. Its direction was northwards, and followed the long windings of thecoast of South America. We had then made 1,600 miles since our embarkation inthe seas of Japan. About eleven o’clock in the morning the Tropic of Capricornwas crossed on the thirty-seventh meridian, and we passed Cape Frio standingout to sea. Captain Nemo, to Ned Land’s great displeasure, did not like theneighbourhood of the inhabited coasts of Brazil, for we went at a giddy speed.Not a fish, not a bird of the swiftest kind could follow us, and the naturalcuriosities of these seas escaped all observation.

This speed was kept up for several days, and in the evening of the 9th of Aprilwe sighted the most easterly point of South America that forms Cape San Roque.But then the Nautilusswerved again, and sought the lowest depth of asubmarine valley which is between this Cape and Sierra Leone on the Africancoast. This valley bifurcates to the parallel of the Antilles, and terminatesat the north by the enormous depression of 9,000 yards. In this place, thegeological basin of the ocean forms, as far as the Lesser Antilles, a cliff ofthree and a half miles perpendicular in height, and, at the parallel of theCape Verde Islands, another wall not less considerable, that encloses thus allthe sunk continent of the Atlantic. The bottom of this immense valley is dottedwith some mountains, that give to these submarine places a picturesque aspect.I speak, moreover, from the manuscript charts that were in the library of theNautilus—charts evidently due to Captain Nemo’s hand, and made after hispersonal observations. For two days the desert and deep waters were visited bymeans of the inclined planes. The Nautiluswas furnished with longdiagonal broadsides which carried it to all elevations. But on the 11th ofApril it rose suddenly, and land appeared at the mouth of the Amazon River, avast estuary, the embouchure of which is so considerable that it freshens thesea-water for the distance of several leagues.

The equator was crossed. Twenty miles to the west were the Guianas, a Frenchterritory, on which we could have found an easy refuge; but a stiff breeze wasblowing, and the furious waves would not have allowed a single boat to facethem. Ned Land understood that, no doubt, for he spoke not a word about it. Formy part, I made no allusion to his schemes of flight, for I would not urge himto make an attempt that must inevitably fail. I made the time pass pleasantlyby interesting studies. During the days of April 11th and 12th, theNautilusdid not leave the surface of the sea, and the net brought in amarvellous haul of zoophytes, fish and reptiles. Some zoophytes had been fishedup by the chain of the nets; they were for the most part beautifulphyctallines, belonging to the actinidian family, and among other species thephyctalis protexta, peculiar to that part of the ocean, with a littlecylindrical trunk, ornamented with vertical lines, speckled with red dots,crowning a marvellous blossoming of tentacles. As to the molluscs, theyconsisted of some I had already observed—turritellas, olive porphyras, withregular lines intercrossed, with red spots standing out plainly against theflesh; odd pteroceras, like petrified scorpions; translucid hyaleas, argonauts,cuttle-fish (excellent eating), and certain species of calmars that naturalistsof antiquity have classed amongst the flying-fish, and that serve principallyfor bait for cod-fishing. I had now an opportunity of studying several speciesof fish on these shores. Amongst the cartilaginous ones, petromyzons-pricka, asort of eel, fifteen inches long, with a greenish head, violet fins, grey-blueback, brown belly, silvered and sown with bright spots, the pupil of the eyeencircled with gold—a curious animal, that the current of the Amazon had drawnto the sea, for they inhabit fresh waters—tuberculated streaks, with pointedsnouts, and a long loose tail, armed with a long jagged sting; little sharks, ayard long, grey and whitish skin, and several rows of teeth, bent back, thatare generally known by the name of pantouffles; vespertilios, a kind of redisosceles triangle, half a yard long, to which pectorals are attached by fleshyprolongations that make them look like bats, but that their horny appendage,situated near the nostrils, has given them the name of sea-unicorns; lastly,some species of balistae, the curassavian, whose spots were of a brilliant goldcolour, and the capriscus of clear violet, and with varying shades like apigeon’s throat.

I end here this catalogue, which is somewhat dry perhaps, but very exact, witha series of bony fish that I observed in passing belonging to the apteronotes,and whose snout is white as snow, the body of a beautiful black, marked with avery long loose fleshy strip; odontognathes, armed with spikes; sardines nineinches long, glittering with a bright silver light; a species of mackerelprovided with two anal fins; centronotes of a blackish tint, that are fishedfor with torches, long fish, two yards in length, with fat flesh, white andfirm, which, when they arc fresh, taste like eel, and when dry, like smokedsalmon; labres, half red, covered with scales only at the bottom of the dorsaland anal fins; chrysoptera, on which gold and silver blend their brightnesswith that of the ruby and topaz; golden-tailed spares, the flesh of which isextremely delicate, and whose phosphorescent properties betray them in themidst of the waters; orange-coloured spares with long tongues; maigres, withgold caudal fins, dark thorn-tails, anableps of Surinam, etc.

Notwithstanding this “et cetera,” I must not omit to mention fish that Conseilwill long remember, and with good reason. One of our nets had hauled up a sortof very flat ray fish, which, with the tail cut off, formed a perfect disc, andweighed twenty ounces. It was white underneath, red above, with large roundspots of dark blue encircled with black, very glossy skin, terminating in abilobed fin. Laid out on the platform, it struggled, tried to turn itself byconvulsive movements, and made so many efforts, that one last turn had nearlysent it into the sea. But Conseil, not wishing to let the fish go, rushed toit, and, before I could prevent him, had seized it with both hands. In a momenthe was overthrown, his legs in the air, and half his body paralysed, crying—

“Oh! master, master! help me!”

It was the first time the poor boy had spoken to me so familiarly. The Canadianand I took him up, and rubbed his contracted arms till he became sensible. Theunfortunate Conseil had attacked a cramp-fish of the most dangerous kind, thecumana. This odd animal, in a medium conductor like water, strikes fish atseveral yards’ distance, so great is the power of its electric organ, the twoprincipal surfaces of which do not measure less than twenty-seven square feet.The next day, April 12th, the Nautilusapproached the Dutch coast, nearthe mouth of the Maroni. There several groups of sea-cows herded together; theywere manatees, that, like the dugong and the stellera, belong to the sirenianorder. These beautiful animals, peaceable and inoffensive, from eighteen totwenty-one feet in length, weigh at least sixteen hundredweight. I told NedLand and Conseil that provident nature had assigned an important role to thesemammalia. Indeed, they, like the seals, are designed to graze on the submarineprairies, and thus destroy the accumulation of weed that obstructs the tropicalrivers.

“And do you know,” I added, “what has been the result since men have almostentirely annihilated this useful race? That the putrefied weeds have poisonedthe air, and the poisoned air causes the yellow fever, that desolates thesebeautiful countries. Enormous vegetations are multiplied under the torrid seas,and the evil is irresistibly developed from the mouth of the Rio de la Plata toFlorida. If we are to believe Toussenel, this plague is nothing to what itwould be if the seas were cleaned of whales and seals. Then, infested withpoulps, medusæ, and cuttle-fish, they would become immense centres ofinfection, since their waves would not possess ‘these vast stomachs that Godhad charged to infest the surface of the seas.’”

CHAPTER XVIII
THE POULPS

For several days the Nautiluskept off from the American coast.Evidently it did not wish to risk the tides of the Gulf of Mexico or of the seaof the Antilles. April 16th, we sighted Martinique and Guadaloupe from adistance of about thirty miles. I saw their tall peaks for an instant. TheCanadian, who counted on carrying out his projects in the Gulf, by eitherlanding or hailing one of the numerous boats that coast from one island toanother, was quite disheartened. Flight would have been quite practicable, ifNed Land had been able to take possession of the boat without the Captain’sknowledge. But in the open sea it could not be thought of. The Canadian,Conseil, and I had a long conversation on this subject. For six months we hadbeen prisoners on board the Nautilus. We had travelled 17,000 leagues;and, as Ned Land said, there was no reason why it should come to an end. Wecould hope nothing from the Captain of the Nautilus, but only fromourselves. Besides, for some time past he had become graver, more retired, lesssociable. He seemed to shun me. I met him rarely. Formerly he was pleased toexplain the submarine marvels to me; now he left me to my studies, and came nomore to the saloon. What change had come over him? For what cause? For my part,I did not wish to bury with me my curious and novel studies. I had now thepower to write the true book of the sea; and this book, sooner or later, Iwished to see daylight. The land nearest us was the archipelago of the Bahamas.There rose high submarine cliffs covered with large weeds. It was about eleveno’clock when Ned Land drew my attention to a formidable pricking, like thesting of an ant, which was produced by means of large seaweeds.

“Well,” I said, “these are proper caverns for poulps, and I should not beastonished to see some of these monsters.”

“What!” said Conseil; “cuttlefish, real cuttlefish of the cephalopod class?”

“No,” I said, “poulps of huge dimensions.”

“I will never believe that such animals exist,” said Ned.

“Well,” said Conseil, with the most serious air in the world, “I rememberperfectly to have seen a large vessel drawn under the waves by an octopus’sarm.”

“You saw that?” said the Canadian.

“Yes, Ned.”

“With your own eyes?”

“With my own eyes.”

“Where, pray, might that be?”

“At St. Malo,” answered Conseil.

“In the port?” said Ned, ironically.

“No; in a church,” replied Conseil.

“In a church!” cried the Canadian.

“Yes; friend Ned. In a picture representing the poulp in question.”

“Good!” said Ned Land, bursting out laughing.

“He is quite right,” I said. “I have heard of this picture; but the subjectrepresented is taken from a legend, and you know what to think of legends inthe matter of natural history. Besides, when it is a question of monsters, theimagination is apt to run wild. Not only is it supposed that these poulps candraw down vessels, but a certain Olaus Magnus speaks of an octopus a mile longthat is more like an island than an animal. It is also said that the Bishop ofNidros was building an altar on an immense rock. Mass finished, the rock beganto walk, and returned to the sea. The rock was a poulp. Another Bishop,Pontoppidan, speaks also of a poulp on which a regiment of cavalry couldmanœuvre. Lastly, the ancient naturalists speak of monsters whose mouths werelike gulfs, and which were too large to pass through the Straits of Gibraltar.”

“But how much is true of these stories?” asked Conseil.

“Nothing, my friends; at least of that which passes the limit of truth to getto fable or legend. Nevertheless, there must be some ground for the imaginationof the story-tellers. One cannot deny that poulps and cuttlefish exist of alarge species, inferior, however, to the cetaceans. Aristotle has stated thedimensions of a cuttlefish as five cubits, or nine feet two inches. Ourfishermen frequently see some that are more than four feet long. Some skeletonsof poulps are preserved in the museums of Trieste and Montpelier, that measuretwo yards in length. Besides, according to the calculations of somenaturalists, one of these animals only six feet long would have tentaclestwenty-seven feet long. That would suffice to make a formidable monster.”

“Do they fish for them in these days?” asked Ned.

“If they do not fish for them, sailors see them at least. One of my friends,Captain Paul Bos of Havre, has often affirmed that he met one of these monstersof colossal dimensions in the Indian seas. But the most astonishing fact, andwhich does not permit of the denial of the existence of these gigantic animals,happened some years ago, in 1861.”

“What is the fact?” asked Ned Land.

“This is it. In 1861, to the north-east of Teneriffe, very nearly in the samelatitude we are in now, the crew of the despatch-boat Alector perceived amonstrous cuttlefish swimming in the waters. Captain Bouguer went near to theanimal, and attacked it with harpoon and guns, without much success, for ballsand harpoons glided over the soft flesh. After several fruitless attempts thecrew tried to pass a slip-knot round the body of the mollusc. The noose slippedas far as the tail fins and there stopped. They tried then to haul it on board,but its weight was so considerable that the tightness of the cord separated thetail from the body, and, deprived of this ornament, he disappeared under thewater.”

“Indeed! is that a fact?”

“An indisputable fact, my good Ned. They proposed to name this poulp ‘Bouguer’scuttlefish.’”

“What length was it?” asked the Canadian.

“Did it not measure about six yards?” said Conseil, who, posted at the window,was examining again the irregular windings of the cliff.

“Precisely,” I replied.

“Its head,” rejoined Conseil, “was it not crowned with eight tentacles, thatbeat the water like a nest of serpents?”

“Precisely.”

“Had not its eyes, placed at the back of its head, considerable development?”

“Yes, Conseil.”

“And was not its mouth like a parrot’s beak?”

“Exactly, Conseil.”

“Very well! no offence to master,” he replied, quietly; “if this is notBouguer’s cuttlefish, it is, at least, one of its brothers.”

I looked at Conseil. Ned Land hurried to the window.

“What a horrible beast!” he cried.

I looked in my turn, and could not repress a gesture of disgust. Before my eyeswas a horrible monster worthy to figure in the legends of the marvellous. Itwas an immense cuttlefish, being eight yards long. It swam crossways in thedirection of the Nautiluswith great speed, watching us with itsenormous staring green eyes. Its eight arms, or rather feet, fixed to its head,that have given the name of cephalopod to these animals, were twice as long asits body, and were twisted like the furies’ hair. One could see the 250 airholes on the inner side of the tentacles. The monster’s mouth, a horned beaklike a parrot’s, opened and shut vertically. Its tongue, a horned substance,furnished with several rows of pointed teeth, came out quivering from thisveritable pair of shears. What a freak of nature, a bird’s beak on a mollusc!Its spindle-like body formed a fleshy mass that might weigh 4,000 to 5,000lbs.; the, varying colour changing with great rapidity, according to theirritation of the animal, passed successively from livid grey to reddish brown.What irritated this mollusc? No doubt the presence of the Nautilus, moreformidable than itself, and on which its suckers or its jaws had no hold. Yet,what monsters these poulps are! what vitality the Creator has given them! whatvigour in their movements! and they possess three hearts! Chance had brought usin presence of this cuttlefish, and I did not wish to lose the opportunity ofcarefully studying this specimen of cephalopods. I overcame the horror thatinspired me, and, taking a pencil, began to draw it.

“Perhaps this is the same which the Alector saw,” said Conseil.

“No,” replied the Canadian; “for this is whole, and the other had lost itstail.”

“That is no reason,” I replied. “The arms and tails of these animals arere-formed by renewal; and in seven years the tail of Bouguer’s cuttlefish hasno doubt had time to grow.”

By this time other poulps appeared at the port light. I counted seven. Theyformed a procession after the Nautilus, and I heard their beaks gnashingagainst the iron hull. I continued my work. These monsters kept in the waterwith such precision that they seemed immovable. Suddenly the Nautilusstopped. A shock made it tremble in every plate.

“Have we struck anything?” I asked.

“In any case,” replied the Canadian, “we shall be free, for we are floating.”

The Nautiluswas floating, no doubt, but it did not move. A minutepassed. Captain Nemo, followed by his lieutenant, entered the drawing-room. Ihad not seen him for some time. He seemed dull. Without noticing or speaking tous, he went to the panel, looked at the poulps, and said something to hislieutenant. The latter went out. Soon the panels were shut. The ceiling waslighted. I went towards the Captain.

“A curious collection of poulps?” I said.

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Naturalist,” he replied; “and we are going to fight them, manto beast.”

I looked at him. I thought I had not heard aright.

“Man to beast?” I repeated.

“Yes, sir. The screw is stopped. I think that the horny jaws of one of thecuttlefish is entangled in the blades. That is what prevents our moving.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Rise to the surface, and slaughter this vermin.”

“A difficult enterprise.”

“Yes, indeed. The electric bullets are powerless against the soft flesh, wherethey do not find resistance enough to go off. But we shall attack them with thehatchet.”

“And the harpoon, sir,” said the Canadian, “if you do not refuse my help.”

“I will accept it, Master Land.”

“We will follow you,” I said, and, following Captain Nemo, we went towards thecentral staircase.

There, about ten men with boarding-hatchets were ready for the attack. Conseiland I took two hatchets; Ned Land seized a harpoon. The Nautilushadthen risen to the surface. One of the sailors, posted on the top ladderstep,unscrewed the bolts of the panels. But hardly were the screws loosed, when thepanel rose with great violence, evidently drawn by the suckers of a poulp’sarm. Immediately one of these arms slid like a serpent down the opening andtwenty others were above. With one blow of the axe, Captain Nemo cut thisformidable tentacle, that slid wriggling down the ladder. Just as we werepressing one on the other to reach the platform, two other arms, lashing theair, came down on the seaman placed before Captain Nemo, and lifted him up withirresistible power. Captain Nemo uttered a cry, and rushed out. We hurriedafter him.

One of these long arms glided through the opening

What a scene! The unhappy man, seized by the tentacle and fixed to the suckers,was balanced in the air at the caprice of this enormous trunk. He rattled inhis throat, he was stifled, he cried, “Help! help!” These words, spoken inFrench, startled me! I had a fellow-countryman on board, perhaps several! Thatheart-rending cry! I shall hear it all my life. The unfortunate man was lost.Who could rescue him from that powerful pressure? However, Captain Nemo hadrushed to the poulp, and with one blow of the axe had cut through one arm. Hislieutenant struggled furiously against other monsters that crept on the flanksof the Nautilus. The crew fought with their axes. The Canadian, Conseil,and I buried our weapons in the fleshy masses; a strong smell of muskpenetrated the atmosphere. It was horrible!

For one instant, I thought the unhappy man, entangled with the poulp, would betorn from its powerful suction. Seven of the eight arms had been cut off. Oneonly wriggled in the air, brandishing the victim like a feather. But just asCaptain Nemo and his lieutenant threw themselves on it, the animal ejected astream of black liquid. We were blinded with it. When the cloud dispersed, thecuttlefish had disappeared, and my unfortunate countryman with it. Ten ortwelve poulps now invaded the platform and sides of the Nautilus. Werolled pell-mell into the midst of this nest of serpents, that wriggled on theplatform in the waves of blood and ink. It seemed as though these slimytentacles sprang up like the hydra’s heads. Ned Land’s harpoon, at each stroke,was plunged into the staring eyes of the cuttle fish. But my bold companion wassuddenly overturned by the tentacles of a monster he had not been able toavoid.

Ah! how my heart beat with emotion and horror! The formidable beak of acuttlefish was open over Ned Land. The unhappy man would be cut in two. Irushed to his succour. But Captain Nemo was before me; his axe disappearedbetween the two enormous jaws, and, miraculously saved, the Canadian, rising,plunged his harpoon deep into the triple heart of the poulp.

“I owed myself this revenge!” said the Captain to the Canadian.

Ned bowed without replying. The combat had lasted a quarter of an hour. Themonsters, vanquished and mutilated, left us at last, and disappeared under thewaves. Captain Nemo, covered with blood, nearly exhausted, gazed upon the seathat had swallowed up one of his companions, and great tears gathered in hiseyes.

CHAPTER XIX
THE GULF STREAM

This terrible scene of the 20th of April none of us can ever forget. I havewritten it under the influence of violent emotion. Since then I have revisedthe recital; I have read it to Conseil and to the Canadian. They found it exactas to facts, but insufficient as to effect. To paint such pictures, one musthave the pen of the most illustrious of our poets, the author of The Toilers ofthe Deep.

I have said that Captain Nemo wept while watching the waves; his grief wasgreat. It was the second companion he had lost since our arrival on board, andwhat a death! That friend, crushed, stifled, bruised by the dreadful arms of apoulp, pounded by his iron jaws, would not rest with his comrades in thepeaceful coral cemetery! In the midst of the struggle, it was the despairingcry uttered by the unfortunate man that had torn my heart. The poor Frenchman,forgetting his conventional language, had taken to his own mother tongue, toutter a last appeal! Amongst the crew of the Nautilus, associated withthe body and soul of the Captain, recoiling like him from all contact with men,I had a fellow-countryman. Did he alone represent France in this mysteriousassociation, evidently composed of individuals of divers nationalities? It wasone of these insoluble problems that rose up unceasingly before my mind!

Captain Nemo entered his room, and I saw him no more for some time. But that hewas sad and irresolute I could see by the vessel, of which he was the soul, andwhich received all his impressions. The Nautilusdid not keep on in itssettled course; it floated about like a corpse at the will of the waves. Itwent at random. He could not tear himself away from the scene of the laststruggle, from this sea that had devoured one of his men. Ten days passed thus.It was not till the 1st of May that the Nautilusresumed its northerlycourse, after having sighted the Bahamas at the mouth of the Bahama Canal. Wewere then following the current from the largest river to the sea, that has itsbanks, its fish, and its proper temperatures. I mean the Gulf Stream. It isreally a river, that flows freely to the middle of the Atlantic, and whosewaters do not mix with the ocean waters. It is a salt river, salter than thesurrounding sea. Its mean depth is 1,500 fathoms, its mean breadth ten miles.In certain places the current flows with the speed of two miles and a half anhour. The body of its waters is more considerable than that of all the riversin the globe. It was on this ocean river that the Nautilusthen sailed.

I must add that, during the night, the phosphorescent waters of the Gulf Streamrivalled the electric power of our watch-light, especially in the stormyweather that threatened us so frequently. May 8th, we were still crossing CapeHatteras, at the height of North Carolina. The width of the Gulf Streamthere is seventy-five miles, and its depth 210 yards. The Nautilusstillwent at random; all supervision seemed abandoned. I thought that, under thesecircumstances, escape would be possible. Indeed, the inhabited shores offeredanywhere an easy refuge. The sea was incessantly ploughed by the steamers thatply between New York or Boston and the Gulf of Mexico, and overrun day andnight by the little schooners coasting about the several parts of the Americancoast. We could hope to be picked up. It was a favourable opportunity,notwithstanding the thirty miles that separated the Nautilusfrom thecoasts of the Union. One unfortunate circumstance thwarted the Canadian’splans. The weather was very bad. We were nearing those shores where tempestsare so frequent, that country of waterspouts and cyclones actually engenderedby the current of the Gulf Stream. To tempt the sea in a frail boat was certaindestruction. Ned Land owned this himself. He fretted, seized with nostalgiathat flight only could cure.

“Master,” he said that day to me, “this must come to an end. I must make aclean breast of it. This Nemo is leaving land and going up to the north. But Ideclare to you that I have had enough of the South Pole, and I will not followhim to the North.”

“What is to be done, Ned, since flight is impracticable just now?”

“We must speak to the Captain,” said he; “you said nothing when we were in yournative seas. I will speak, now we are in mine. When I think that before longthe Nautiluswill be by Nova Scotia, and that there near New foundlandis a large bay, and into that bay the St. Lawrence empties itself, and that theSt. Lawrence is my river, the river by Quebec, my native town—when I think ofthis, I feel furious, it makes my hair stand on end. Sir, I would rather throwmyself into the sea! I will not stay here! I am stifled!”

The Canadian was evidently losing all patience. His vigorous nature could notstand this prolonged imprisonment. His face altered daily; his temper becamemore surly. I knew what he must suffer, for I was seized with home-sicknessmyself. Nearly seven months had passed without our having had any news fromland; Captain Nemo’s isolation, his altered spirits, especially since the fightwith the poulps, his taciturnity, all made me view things in a different light.

“Well, sir?” said Ned, seeing I did not reply.

“Well, Ned, do you wish me to ask Captain Nemo his intentions concerning us?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Although he has already made them known?”

“Yes; I wish it settled finally. Speak for me, in my name only, if you like.”

“But I so seldom meet him. He avoids me.”

“That is all the more reason for you to go to see him.”

I went to my room. From thence I meant to go to Captain Nemo’s. It would not doto let this opportunity of meeting him slip. I knocked at the door. No answer.I knocked again, then turned the handle. The door opened, I went in. TheCaptain was there. Bending over his work-table, he had not heard me. Resolvednot to go without having spoken, I approached him. He raised his head quickly,frowned, and said roughly, “You here! What do you want?”

“To speak to you, Captain.”

“But I am busy, sir; I am working. I leave you at liberty to shut yourself up;cannot I be allowed the same?”

This reception was not encouraging; but I was determined to hear and answereverything.

“Sir,” I said coldly, “I have to speak to you on a matter that admits of nodelay.”

“What is that, sir?” he replied, ironically. “Have you discovered somethingthat has escaped me, or has the sea delivered up any new secrets?”

We were at cross-purposes. But, before I could reply, he showed me an openmanuscript on his table, and said, in a more serious tone, “Here, M. Aronnax,is a manuscript written in several languages. It contains the sum of my studiesof the sea; and, if it please God, it shall not perish with me. Thismanuscript, signed with my name, complete with the history of my life, will beshut up in a little floating case. The last survivor of all of us on board theNautiluswill throw this case into the sea, and it will go whither it isborne by the waves.”

This man’s name! his history written by himself! His mystery would then berevealed some day.

“Captain,” I said, “I can but approve of the idea that makes you act thus. Theresult of your studies must not be lost. But the means you employ seem to me tobe primitive. Who knows where the winds will carry this case, and in whosehands it will fall? Could you not use some other means? Could not you, or oneof yours——”

“Never, sir!” he said, hastily interrupting me.

“But I and my companions are ready to keep this manuscript in store; and, ifyou will put us at liberty——”

“At liberty?” said the Captain, rising.

“Yes, sir; that is the subject on which I wish to question you. For sevenmonths we have been here on board, and I ask you to-day, in the name of mycompanions and in my own, if your intention is to keep us here always?”

“M. Aronnax, I will answer you to-day as I did seven months ago: Whoever entersthe Nautilus, must never quit it.”

“You impose actual slavery upon us!”

“Give it what name you please.”

“But everywhere the slave has the right to regain his liberty.”

“Who denies you this right? Have I ever tried to chain you with an oath?”

He looked at me with his arms crossed.

“Sir,” I said, “to return a second time to this subject will be neither to yournor to my taste; but, as we have entered upon it, let us go through with it. Irepeat, it is not only myself whom it concerns. Study is to me a relief, adiversion, a passion that could make me forget everything. Like you, I amwilling to live obscure, in the frail hope of bequeathing one day, to futuretime, the result of my labours. But it is otherwise with Ned Land. Every man,worthy of the name, deserves some consideration. Have you thought that love ofliberty, hatred of slavery, can give rise to schemes of revenge in a naturelike the Canadian’s; that he could think, attempt, and try——”

I was silenced; Captain Nemo rose.

“Whatever Ned Land thinks of, attempts, or tries, what does it matter to me? Idid not seek him! It is not for my pleasure that I keep him on board! As foryou, M. Aronnax, you are one of those who can understand everything, evensilence. I have nothing more to say to you. Let this first time you have cometo treat of this subject be the last, for a second time I will not listen toyou.”

I retired. Our situation was critical. I related my conversation to my twocompanions.

“We know now,” said Ned, “that we can expect nothing from this man. TheNautilusis nearing Long Island. We will escape, whatever the weathermay be.”

But the sky became more and more threatening. Symptoms of a hurricane becamemanifest. The atmosphere was becoming white and misty. On the horizon finestreaks of cirrhous clouds were succeeded by masses of cumuli. Other low cloudspassed swiftly by. The swollen sea rose in huge billows. The birds disappearedwith the exception of the petrels, those friends of the storm. The barometerfell sensibly, and indicated an extreme tension of the vapours. The mixtureof the storm glass was decomposed under the influence of the electricity thatpervaded the atmosphere. The tempest burst on the 18th of May, just as theNautiluswas floating off Long Island, some miles from the port of NewYork. I can describe this strife of the elements! for, instead of fleeing tothe depths of the sea, Captain Nemo, by an unaccountable caprice, would braveit at the surface. The wind blew from the south-west at first. Captain Nemo,during the squalls, had taken his place on the platform. He had made himselffast, to prevent being washed overboard by the monstrous waves. I had hoistedmyself up, and made myself fast also, dividing my admiration between thetempest and this extraordinary man who was coping with it. The raging sea wasswept by huge cloud-drifts, which were actually saturated with the waves. TheNautilus, sometimes lying on its side, sometimes standing up like amast, rolled and pitched terribly. About five o’clock a torrent of rain fell,that lulled neither sea nor wind. The hurricane blew nearly forty leagues anhour. It is under these conditions that it overturns houses, breaks iron gates,displaces twenty-four pounders. However, the Nautilus, in the midst ofthe tempest, confirmed the words of a clever engineer, “There is nowell-constructed hull that cannot defy the sea.” This was not a resisting rock;it was a steel spindle, obedient and movable, without rigging or masts, thatbraved its fury with impunity. However, I watched these raging wavesattentively. They measured fifteen feet in height, and 150 to 175 yards long,and their speed of propagation was thirty feet per second. Their bulk and powerincreased with the depth of the water. Such waves as these, at the Hebrides,have displaced a mass weighing 8,400 lbs. They are they which, in the tempestof December 23rd, 1864, after destroying the town of Yeddo, in Japan, broke thesame day on the shores of America. The intensity of the tempest increased withthe night. The barometer, as in 1860 at Reunion during a cyclone, fellseven-tenths at the close of day. I saw a large vessel pass the horizonstruggling painfully. She was trying to lie to under half steam, to keep upabove the waves. It was probably one of the steamers of the line from New Yorkto Liverpool, or Havre. It soon disappeared in the gloom. At ten o’clock in theevening the sky was on fire. The atmosphere was streaked with vivid lightning.I could not bear the brightness of it; while the captain, looking at it, seemedto envy the spirit of the tempest. A terrible noise filled the air, a complexnoise, made up of the howls of the crushed waves, the roaring of the wind, andthe claps of thunder. The wind veered suddenly to all points of the horizon;and the cyclone, rising in the east, returned after passing by the north, west,and south, in the inverse course pursued by the circular storm of the southernhemisphere. Ah, that Gulf Stream! It deserves its name of the King of Tempests.It is that which causes those formidable cyclones, by the difference oftemperature between its air and its currents. A shower of fire had succeededthe rain. The drops of water were changed to sharp spikes. One would havethought that Captain Nemo was courting a death worthy of himself, a death bylightning. As the Nautilus, pitching dreadfully, raised its steel spurin the air, it seemed to act as a conductor, and I saw long sparks burst fromit. Crushed and without strength I crawled to the panel, opened it, anddescended to the saloon. The storm was then at its height. It was impossible tostand upright in the interior of the Nautilus. Captain Nemo came downabout twelve. I heard the reservoirs filling by degrees, and theNautilussank slowly beneath the waves. Through the open windows in thesaloon I saw large fish terrified, passing like phantoms in the water. Somewere struck before my eyes. The Nautiluswas still descending. I thoughtthat at about eight fathoms deep we should find a calm. But no! the upper bedswere too violently agitated for that. We had to seek repose at more thantwenty-five fathoms in the bowels of the deep. But there, what quiet, whatsilence, what peace! Who could have told that such a hurricane had been letloose on the surface of that ocean?

CHAPTER XX
FROM LATITUDE 47° 24′ TO LONGITUDE 17° 28′

In consequence of the storm, we had been thrown eastward once more. All hope ofescape on the shores of New York or St. Lawrence had faded away; and poor Ned,in despair, had isolated himself like Captain Nemo. Conseil and I, however,never left each other. I said that the Nautilushad gone aside to theeast. I should have said (to be more exact) the north-east. For some days, itwandered first on the surface, and then beneath it, amid those fogs so dreadedby sailors. What accidents are due to these thick fogs! What shocks upon thesereefs when the wind drowns the breaking of the waves! What collisions betweenvessels, in spite of their warning lights, whistles, and alarm bells! And thebottoms of these seas look like a field of battle, where still lie all theconquered of the ocean; some old and already encrusted, others fresh andreflecting from their iron bands and copper plates the brilliancy of ourlantern.

On the 15th of May we were at the extreme south of the Bank of Newfoundland.This bank consists of alluvia, or large heaps of organic matter, brought eitherfrom the Equator by the Gulf Stream, or from the North Pole by thecounter-current of cold water which skirts the American coast. There also areheaped up those erratic blocks which are carried along by the broken ice; andclose by, a vast charnel-house of molluscs, which perish here by millions. Thedepth of the sea is not great at Newfoundland—not more than some hundreds offathoms; but towards the south is a depression of 1,500 fathoms. There the GulfStream widens. It loses some of its speed and some of its temperature, but itbecomes a sea.

It was on the 17th of May, about 500 miles from Heart’s Content, at a depth ofmore than 1,400 fathoms, that I saw the electric cable lying on the bottom.Conseil, to whom I had not mentioned it, thought at first that it was agigantic sea-serpent. But I undeceived the worthy fellow, and by way ofconsolation related several particulars in the laying of this cable. The firstone was laid in the years 1857 and 1858; but, after transmitting about 400telegrams, would not act any longer. In 1863 the engineers constructed an otherone, measuring 2,000 miles in length, and weighing 4,500 tons, which wasembarked on the Great Eastern. This attempt also failed.

On the 25th of May the Nautilus, being at a depth of more than 1,918fathoms, was on the precise spot where the rupture occurred which ruined theenterprise. It was within 638 miles of the coast of Ireland; and at half-pasttwo in the afternoon they discovered that communication with Europe had ceased.The electricians on board resolved to cut the cable before fishing it up, andat eleven o’clock at night they had recovered the damaged part. They madeanother point and spliced it, and it was once more submerged. But some daysafter it broke again, and in the depths of the ocean could not be recaptured.The Americans, however, were not discouraged. Cyrus Field, the bold promoter ofthe enterprise, as he had sunk all his own fortune, set a new subscription onfoot, which was at once answered, and another cable was constructed on betterprinciples. The bundles of conducting wires were each enveloped ingutta-percha, and protected by a wadding of hemp, contained in a metalliccovering. The Great Eastern sailed on the 13th of July, 1866. The operationworked well. But one incident occurred. Several times in unrolling the cablethey observed that nails had recently been forced into it, evidently with themotive of destroying it. Captain Anderson, the officers, and engineersconsulted together, and had it posted up that, if the offender was surprised onboard, he would be thrown without further trial into the sea. From that timethe criminal attempt was never repeated.

On the 23rd of July the Great Eastern was not more than 500 miles fromNewfoundland, when they telegraphed from Ireland the news of the armisticeconcluded between Prussia and Austria after Sadowa. On the 27th, in the midstof heavy fogs, they reached the port of Heart’s Content. The enterprise wassuccessfully terminated; and for its first despatch, young America addressedold Europe in these words of wisdom, so rarely understood: “Glory to God in thehighest, and on earth peace, goodwill towards men.”

I did not expect to find the electric cable in its primitive state, such as itwas on leaving the manufactory. The long serpent, covered with the remains ofshells, bristling with foraminiferae, was encrusted with a strong coating whichserved as a protection against all boring molluscs. It lay quietly shelteredfrom the motions of the sea, and under a favourable pressure for thetransmission of the electric spark which passes from Europe to America in .32of a second. Doubtless this cable will last for a great length of time, forthey find that the gutta-percha covering is improved by the sea-water. Besides,on this level, so well chosen, the cable is never so deeply submerged as tocause it to break. The Nautilusfollowed it to the lowest depth, whichwas more than 2,212 fathoms, and there it lay without any anchorage; and thenwe reached the spot where the accident had taken place in 1863. The bottom ofthe ocean then formed a valley about 100 miles broad, in which Mont Blanc mighthave been placed without its summit appearing above the waves. This valley isclosed at the east by a perpendicular wall more than 2,000 yards high. Wearrived there on the 28th of May, and the Nautiluswas then not morethan 120 miles from Ireland.

Was Captain Nemo going to land on the British Isles? No. To my great surprisehe made for the south, once more coming back towards European seas. In roundingthe Emerald Isle, for one instant I caught sight of Cape Clear, and the lightwhich guides the thousands of vessels leaving Glasgow or Liverpool. Animportant question then arose in my mind. Did the Nautilusdare entangleitself in the Manche? Ned Land, who had re-appeared since we had been nearingland, did not cease to question me. How could I answer? Captain Nemo remainedinvisible. After having shown the Canadian a glimpse of American shores, was hegoing to show me the coast of France?

But the Nautiluswas still going southward. On the 30th of May, itpassed in sight of Land’s End, between the extreme point of England and theScilly Isles, which were left to starboard. If we wished to enter the Manche,he must go straight to the east. He did not do so.

During the whole of the 31st of May, the Nautilusdescribed a series ofcircles on the water, which greatly interested me. It seemed to be seeking aspot it had some trouble in finding. At noon, Captain Nemo himself came to workthe ship’s log. He spoke no word to me, but seemed gloomier than ever. Whatcould sadden him thus? Was it his proximity to European shores? Had he somerecollections of his abandoned country? If not, what did he feel? Remorse orregret? For a long while this thought haunted my mind, and I had a kind ofpresentiment that before long chance would betray the captain’s secrets.

The next day, the 1st of June, the Nautiluscontinued the same process.It was evidently seeking some particular spot in the ocean. Captain Nemo tookthe sun’s altitude as he had done the day before. The sea was beautiful, thesky clear. About eight miles to the east, a large steam vessel could bediscerned on the horizon. No flag fluttered from its mast, and I could notdiscover its nationality. Some minutes before the sun passed the meridian,Captain Nemo took his sextant, and watched with great attention. The perfectrest of the water greatly helped the operation. The Nautiluswasmotionless; it neither rolled nor pitched.

I was on the platform when the altitude was taken, and the Captain pronouncedthese words: “It is here.”

He turned and went below. Had he seen the vessel which was changing its courseand seemed to be nearing us? I could not tell. I returned to the saloon. Thepanels closed, I heard the hissing of the water in the reservoirs. TheNautilusbegan to sink, following a vertical line, for its screwcommunicated no motion to it. Some minutes later it stopped at a depth of morethan 420 fathoms, resting on the ground. The luminous ceiling was darkened,then the panels were opened, and through the glass I saw the sea brilliantlyilluminated by the rays of our lantern for at least half a mile round us.

I looked to the port side, and saw nothing but an immensity of quiet waters.But to starboard, on the bottom appeared a large protuberance, which at onceattracted my attention. One would have thought it a ruin buried under a coatingof white shells, much resembling a covering of snow. Upon examining the massattentively, I could recognise the ever-thickening form of a vessel bare of itsmasts, which must have sunk. It certainly belonged to past times. This wreck,to be thus encrusted with the lime of the water, must already be able to countmany years passed at the bottom of the ocean.

What was this vessel? Why did the Nautilusvisit its tomb? Could it havebeen aught but a shipwreck which had drawn it under the water? I knew not whatto think, when near me in a slow voice I heard Captain Nemo say:

“At one time this ship was called the Marseillais. It carried seventy-fourguns, and was launched in 1762. In 1778, the 13th of August, commanded by LaPoype-Vertrieux, it fought boldly against the Preston. In 1779, on the 4th ofJuly, it was at the taking of Grenada, with the squadron of Admiral Estaing. In1781, on the 5th of September, it took part in the battle of Comte de Grasse,in Chesapeake Bay. In 1794, the French Republic changed its name. On the 16thof April, in the same year, it joined the squadron of Villaret Joyeuse, atBrest, being entrusted with the escort of a cargo of corn coming from America,under the command of Admiral Van Stebel. On the 11th and 12th Prairal of thesecond year, this squadron fell in with an English vessel. Sir, to-day is the13th Prairal, the first of June, 1868. It is now seventy-four years ago, dayfor day on this very spot, in latitude 47° 24′, longitude 17°28′, that this vessel, after fighting heroically, losing its threemasts, with the water in its hold, and the third of its crew disabled,preferred sinking with its 356 sailors to surrendering; and, nailing itscolours to the poop, disappeared under the waves to the cry of ‘Long live theRepublic!’”

“The Avenger!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, sir, the Avenger! A good name!” muttered Captain Nemo, crossing his arms.

CHAPTER XXI
A HECATOMB

The way of describing this unlooked-for scene, the history of the patriot ship,told at first so coldly, and the emotion with which this strange man pronouncedthe last words, the name of the Avenger, the significance of which could notescape me, all impressed itself deeply on my mind. My eyes did not leave theCaptain, who, with his hand stretched out to sea, was watching with a glowingeye the glorious wreck. Perhaps I was never to know who he was, from whence hecame, or where he was going to, but I saw the man move, and apart from thesavant. It was no common misanthropy which had shut Captain Nemo and hiscompanions within the Nautilus, but a hatred, either monstrous orsublime, which time could never weaken. Did this hatred still seek forvengeance? The future would soon teach me that. But the Nautiluswasrising slowly to the surface of the sea, and the form of the Avengerdisappeared by degrees from my sight. Soon a slight rolling told me that wewere in the open air. At that moment a dull boom was heard. I looked at theCaptain. He did not move.

“Captain?” said I.

He did not answer. I left him and mounted the platform. Conseil and theCanadian were already there.

“Where did that sound come from?” I asked.

“It was a gunshot,” replied Ned Land.

I looked in the direction of the vessel I had already seen. It was nearing theNautilus, and we could see that it was putting on steam. It was withinsix miles of us.

“What is that ship, Ned?”

“By its rigging, and the height of its lower masts,” said the Canadian, “I betshe is a ship-of-war. May it reach us; and, if necessary, sink this cursedNautilus.”

“Friend Ned,” replied Conseil, “what harm can it do to the Nautilus?Canit attack it beneath the waves? Can its cannonade us at the bottom of the sea?”

“Tell me, Ned,” said I, “can you recognise what country she belongs to?”

The Canadian knitted his eyebrows, dropped his eyelids, and screwed up thecorners of his eyes, and for a few moments fixed a piercing look upon thevessel.

“No, sir,” he replied; “I cannot tell what nation she belongs to, for she showsno colours. But I can declare she is a man-of-war, for a long pennant fluttersfrom her main mast.”

For a quarter of an hour we watched the ship which was steaming towards us. Icould not, however, believe that she could see the Nautilusfrom thatdistance; and still less that she could know what this submarine engine was.Soon the Canadian informed me that she was a large, armoured, two-decker ram. Athick black smoke was pouring from her two funnels. Her closely-furled sailswere stopped to her yards. She hoisted no flag at her mizzen-peak. The distanceprevented us from distinguishing the colours of her pennant, which floated likea thin ribbon. She advanced rapidly. If Captain Nemo allowed her to approach,there was a chance of salvation for us.

“Sir,” said Ned Land, “if that vessel passes within a mile of us I shall throwmyself into the sea, and I should advise you to do the same.”

I did not reply to the Canadian’s suggestion, but continued watching the ship.Whether English, French, American, or Russian, she would be sure to take us inif we could only reach her. Presently a white smoke burst from the fore part ofthe vessel; some seconds after, the water, agitated by the fall of a heavybody, splashed the stern of the Nautilus, and shortly afterwards a loudexplosion struck my ear.

“What! they are firing at us!” I exclaimed.

“So please you, sir,” said Ned, “they have recognised the unicorn, and they arefiring at us.”

“But,” I exclaimed, “surely they can see that there are men in the case?”

“It is, perhaps, because of that,” replied Ned Land, looking at me.

A whole flood of light burst upon my mind. Doubtless they knew now how tobelieve the stories of the pretended monster. No doubt, on board the AbrahamLincoln, when the Canadian struck it with the harpoon, Commander Farraguthad recognised in the supposed narwhal a submarine vessel, more dangerous thana supernatural cetacean. Yes, it must have been so; and on every sea they werenow seeking this engine of destruction. Terrible indeed! if, as we supposed,Captain Nemo employed the Nautilusin works of vengeance. On the nightwhen we were imprisoned in that cell, in the midst of the Indian Ocean, had henot attacked some vessel? The man buried in the coral cemetery, had he not beena victim to the shock caused by the Nautilus?Yes, I repeat it, it mustbe so. One part of the mysterious existence of Captain Nemo had been unveiled;and, if his identity had not been recognised, at least, the nations unitedagainst him were no longer hunting a chimerical creature, but a man who hadvowed a deadly hatred against them. All the formidable past rose before me.Instead of meeting friends on board the approaching ship, we could only expectpitiless enemies. But the shot rattled about us. Some of them struck the seaand ricochetted, losing themselves in the distance. But none touched theNautilus. The vessel was not more than three miles from us. In spite ofthe serious cannonade, Captain Nemo did not appear on the platform; but, if oneof the conical projectiles had struck the shell of the Nautilus, itwould have been fatal. The Canadian then said, “Sir, we must do all we can toget out of this dilemma. Let us signal them. They will then, perhaps,understand that we are honest folks.”

Ned Land took his handkerchief to wave in the air; but he had scarcelydisplayed it, when he was struck down by an iron hand, and fell, in spite ofhis great strength, upon the deck.

“Fool!” exclaimed the Captain, “do you wish to be pierced by the spur of theNautilusbefore it is hurled at this vessel?”

Captain Nemo was terrible to hear; he was still more terrible to see. His facewas deadly pale, with a spasm at his heart. For an instant it must have ceasedto beat. His pupils were fearfully contracted. He did not speak, he roared, as,with his body thrown forward, he wrung the Canadian’s shoulders. Then, leavinghim, and turning to the ship of war, whose shot was still raining around him,he exclaimed, with a powerful voice, “Ah, ship of an accursed nation, you knowwho I am! I do not want your colours to know you by! Look! and I will show youmine!”

And on the fore part of the platform Captain Nemo unfurled a black flag,similar to the one he had placed at the South Pole. At that moment a shotstruck the shell of the Nautilusobliquely, without piercing it; and,rebounding near the Captain, was lost in the sea. He shrugged his shoulders;and, addressing me, said shortly, “Go down, you and your companions, go down!”

“Sir,” I cried, “are you going to attack this vessel?”

“Sir, I am going to sink it.”

“You will not do that?”

“I shall do it,” he replied coldly. “And I advise you not to judge me, sir.Fate has shown you what you ought not to have seen. The attack has begun; godown.”

“What is this vessel?”

“You do not know? Very well! so much the better! Its nationality to you, atleast, will be a secret. Go down!”

We could but obey. About fifteen of the sailors surrounded the Captain, lookingwith implacable hatred at the vessel nearing them. One could feel that the samedesire of vengeance animated every soul. I went down at the moment anotherprojectile struck the Nautilus, and I heard the Captain exclaim:

“Strike, mad vessel! Shower your useless shot! And then, you will not escapethe spur of the Nautilus. But it is not here that you shall perish! Iwould not have your ruins mingle with those of the Avenger!”

I reached my room. The Captain and his second had remained on the platform. Thescrew was set in motion, and the Nautilus, moving with speed, was soonbeyond the reach of the ship’s guns. But the pursuit continued, and CaptainNemo contented himself with keeping his distance.

About four in the afternoon, being no longer able to contain my impatience, Iwent to the central staircase. The panel was open, and I ventured on to theplatform. The Captain was still walking up and down with an agitated step. Hewas looking at the ship, which was five or six miles to leeward.

He was going round it like a wild beast, and, drawing it eastward, he allowedthem to pursue. But he did not attack. Perhaps he still hesitated? I wished tomediate once more. But I had scarcely spoken, when Captain Nemo imposedsilence, saying:

“I am the law, and I am the judge! I am the oppressed, and there is theoppressor! Through him I have lost all that I loved, cherished, andvenerated—country, wife, children, father, and mother. I saw all perish! Allthat I hate is there! Say no more!”

I cast a last look at the man-of-war, which was putting on steam, and rejoinedNed and Conseil.

“We will fly!” I exclaimed.

“Good!” said Ned. “What is this vessel?”

“I do not know; but, whatever it is, it will be sunk before night. In any case,it is better to perish with it, than be made accomplices in a retaliation thejustice of which we cannot judge.”

“That is my opinion too,” said Ned Land, coolly. “Let us wait for night.”

Night arrived. Deep silence reigned on board. The compass showed that theNautilushad not altered its course. It was on the surface, rollingslightly. My companions and I resolved to fly when the vessel should be nearenough either to hear us or to see us; for the moon, which would be full in twoor three days, shone brightly. Once on board the ship, if we could not preventthe blow which threatened it, we could, at least we would, do all thatcircumstances would allow. Several times I thought the Nautiluswaspreparing for attack; but Captain Nemo contented himself with allowing hisadversary to approach, and then fled once more before it.

Part of the night passed without any incident. We watched the opportunity foraction. We spoke little, for we were too much moved. Ned Land would have thrownhimself into the sea, but I forced him to wait. According to my idea, theNautiluswould attack the ship at her waterline, and then it would notonly be possible, but easy to fly.

At three in the morning, full of uneasiness, I mounted the platform. CaptainNemo had not left it. He was standing at the fore part near his flag, which aslight breeze displayed above his head. He did not take his eyes from thevessel. The intensity of his look seemed to attract, and fascinate, and draw itonward more surely than if he had been towing it. The moon was then passing themeridian. Jupiter was rising in the east. Amid this peaceful scene of nature,sky and ocean rivalled each other in tranquillity, the sea offering to the orbsof night the finest mirror they could ever have in which to reflect theirimage. As I thought of the deep calm of these elements, compared with all thosepassions brooding imperceptibly within the Nautilus, I shuddered.

The vessel was within two miles of us. It was ever nearing that phosphorescentlight which showed the presence of the Nautilus. I could see its greenand red lights, and its white lantern hanging from the large foremast. Anindistinct vibration quivered through its rigging, showing that the furnaceswere heated to the uttermost. Sheaves of sparks and red ashes flew from thefunnels, shining in the atmosphere like stars.

I remained thus until six in the morning, without Captain Nemo noticing me. Theship stood about a mile and a half from us, and with the first dawn of day thefiring began afresh. The moment could not be far off when, the Nautilusattacking its adversary, my companions and myself should for ever leave thisman. I was preparing to go down to remind them, when the second mounted theplatform, accompanied by several sailors. Captain Nemo either did not or wouldnot see them. Some steps were taken which might be called the signal foraction. They were very simple. The iron balustrade around the platform waslowered, and the lantern and pilot cages were pushed within the shell untilthey were flush with the deck. The long surface of the steel cigar no longeroffered a single point to check its manœuvres. I returned to the saloon. TheNautilusstill floated; some streaks of light were filtering through theliquid beds. With the undulations of the waves the windows were brightened bythe red streaks of the rising sun, and this dreadful day of the 2nd of June haddawned.

At five o’clock, the log showed that the speed of the Nautiluswasslackening, and I knew that it was allowing them to draw nearer. Besides, thereports were heard more distinctly, and the projectiles, labouring through theambient water, were extinguished with a strange hissing noise.

“My friends,” said I, “the moment is come. One grasp of the hand, and may Godprotect us!”

Ned Land was resolute, Conseil calm, myself so nervous that I knew not how tocontain myself. We all passed into the library; but the moment I pushed thedoor opening on to the central staircase, I heard the upper panel closesharply. The Canadian rushed on to the stairs, but I stopped him. A well-knownhissing noise told me that the water was running into the reservoirs, and in afew minutes the Nautiluswas some yards beneath the surface of thewaves. I understood the manœuvre. It was too late to act. The Nautilusdid not wish to strike at the impenetrable cuirass, but below the water-line,where the metallic covering no longer protected it.

We were again imprisoned, unwilling witnesses of the dreadful drama that waspreparing. We had scarcely time to reflect; taking refuge in my room, we lookedat each other without speaking. A deep stupor had taken hold of my mind:thought seemed to stand still. I was in that painful state of expectationpreceding a dreadful report. I waited, I listened, every sense was merged inthat of hearing! The speed of the Nautiluswas accelerated. It waspreparing to rush. The whole ship trembled. Suddenly I screamed. I felt theshock, but comparatively light. I felt the penetrating power of the steel spur.I heard rattlings and scrapings. But the Nautilus, carried along by itspropelling power, passed through the mass of the vessel like a needle throughsailcloth!

I could stand it no longer. Mad, out of my mind, I rushed from my room into thesaloon. Captain Nemo was there, mute, gloomy, implacable; he was lookingthrough the port panel. A large mass cast a shadow on the water; and, that itmight lose nothing of her agony, the Nautiluswas going down into theabyss with her. Ten yards from me I saw the open shell, through which the waterwas rushing with the noise of thunder, then the double line of guns and thenetting. The bridge was covered with black, agitated shadows.

The water was rising. The poor creatures were crowding the ratlines, clingingto the masts, struggling under the water. It was a human ant-heap overtaken bythe sea. Paralysed, stiffened with anguish, my hair standing on end, with eyeswide open, panting, without breath, and without voice, I too was watching! Anirresistible attraction glued me to the glass! Suddenly an explosion tookplace. The compressed air blew up her decks, as if the magazines had caughtfire. Then the unfortunate vessel sank more rapidly. Her topmast, laden withvictims, now appeared; then her spars, bending under the weight of men; and,last of all, the top of her mainmast. Then the dark mass disappeared, and withit the dead crew, drawn down by the strong eddy.

The unfortunate vessel sank more rapidly

I turned to Captain Nemo. That terrible avenger, a perfect archangel of hatred,was still looking. When all was over, he turned to his room, opened the door,and entered. I followed him with my eyes. On the end wall beneath his heroes, Isaw the portrait of a woman, still young, and two little children. Captain Nemolooked at them for some moments, stretched his arms towards them, and, kneelingdown, burst into deep sobs.

CHAPTER XXII
THE LAST WORDS OF CAPTAIN NEMO

The panels had closed on this dreadful vision, but light had not returned tothe saloon: all was silence and darkness within the Nautilus. Atwonderful speed, a hundred feet beneath the water, it was leaving this desolatespot. Whither was it going? To the north or south? Where was the man flying toafter such dreadful retaliation? I had returned to my room, where Ned andConseil had remained silent enough. I felt an insurmountable horror for CaptainNemo. Whatever he had suffered at the hands of these men, he had no right topunish thus. He had made me, if not an accomplice, at least a witness of hisvengeance. At eleven the electric light reappeared. I passed into the saloon.It was deserted. I consulted the different instruments. The Nautiluswasflying northward at the rate of twenty-five miles an hour, now on the surface,and now thirty feet below it. On taking the bearings by the chart, I saw thatwe were passing the mouth of the Manche, and that our course was hurrying ustowards the northern seas at a frightful speed. That night we had crossed twohundred leagues of the Atlantic. The shadows fell, and the sea was covered withdarkness until the rising of the moon. I went to my room, but could not sleep.I was troubled with dreadful nightmare. The horrible scene of destruction wascontinually before my eyes. From that day, who could tell into what part of theNorth Atlantic basin the Nautiluswould take us? Still withunaccountable speed. Still in the midst of these northern fogs. Would it touchat Spitzbergen, or on the shores of Nova Zembla? Should we explore thoseunknown seas, the White Sea, the Sea of Kara, the Gulf of Obi, the Archipelagoof Liarrov, and the unknown coast of Asia? I could not say. I could no longerjudge of the time that was passing. The clocks had been stopped on board. Itseemed, as in polar countries, that night and day no longer followed theirregular course. I felt myself being drawn into that strange region where thefoundered imagination of Edgar Poe roamed at will. Like the fabulous GordonPym, at every moment I expected to see “that veiled human figure, of largerproportions than those of any inhabitant of the earth, thrown across thecataract which defends the approach to the pole.” I estimated (though, perhaps,I may be mistaken)—I estimated this adventurous course of the Nautilusto have lasted fifteen or twenty days. And I know not how much longer it mighthave lasted, had it not been for the catastrophe which ended this voyage. OfCaptain Nemo I saw nothing whatever now, nor of his second. Not a man of thecrew was visible for an instant. The Nautiluswas almost incessantlyunder water. When we came to the surface to renew the air, the panels openedand shut mechanically. There were no more marks on the planisphere. I knew notwhere we were. And the Canadian, too, his strength and patience at an end,appeared no more. Conseil could not draw a word from him; and, fearing that, ina dreadful fit of madness, he might kill himself, watched him with constantdevotion. One morning (what date it was I could not say) I had fallen into aheavy sleep towards the early hours, a sleep both painful and unhealthy, when Isuddenly awoke. Ned Land was leaning over me, saying, in a low voice, “We aregoing to fly.” I sat up.

“When shall we go?” I asked.

“To-night. All inspection on board the Nautilusseems to have ceased.All appear to be stupefied. You will be ready, sir?”

“Yes; where are we?”

“In sight of land. I took the reckoning this morning in the fog—twenty miles tothe east.”

“What country is it?”

“I do not know; but, whatever it is, we will take refuge there.”

“Yes, Ned, yes. We will fly to-night, even if the sea should swallow us up.”

“The sea is bad, the wind violent, but twenty miles in that light boat of theNautilusdoes not frighten me. Unknown to the crew, I have been able toprocure food and some bottles of water.”

“I will follow you.”

“But,” continued the Canadian, “if I am surprised, I will defend myself; I willforce them to kill me.”

“We will die together, friend Ned.”

I had made up my mind to all. The Canadian left me. I reached the platform, onwhich I could with difficulty support myself against the shock of the waves.The sky was threatening; but, as land was in those thick brown shadows, we mustfly. I returned to the saloon, fearing and yet hoping to see Captain Nemo,wishing and yet not wishing to see him. What could I have said to him? Could Ihide the involuntary horror with which he inspired me? No. It was better that Ishould not meet him face to face; better to forget him. And yet—— How longseemed that day, the last that I should pass in the Nautilus. I remainedalone. Ned Land and Conseil avoided speaking, for fear of betraying themselves.At six I dined, but I was not hungry; I forced myself to eat in spite of mydisgust, that I might not weaken myself. At half-past six Ned Land came to myroom, saying, “We shall not see each other again before our departure. At tenthe moon will not be risen. We will profit by the darkness. Come to the boat;Conseil and I will wait for you.”

The Canadian went out without giving me time to answer. Wishing to verify thecourse of the Nautilus, I went to the saloon. We were running N.N.E. atfrightful speed, and more than fifty yards deep. I cast a last look on thesewonders of nature, on the riches of art heaped up in this museum, upon theunrivalled collection destined to perish at the bottom of the sea, with him whohad formed it. I wished to fix an indelible impression of it in my mind. Iremained an hour thus, bathed in the light of that luminous ceiling, andpassing in review those treasures shining under their glasses. Then I returnedto my room.

I dressed myself in strong sea clothing. I collected my notes, placing themcarefully about me. My heart beat loudly. I could not check its pulsations.Certainly my trouble and agitation would have betrayed me to Captain Nemo’seyes. What was he doing at this moment? I listened at the door of his room. Iheard steps. Captain Nemo was there. He had not gone to rest. At every moment Iexpected to see him appear, and ask me why I wished to fly. I was constantly onthe alert. My imagination magnified everything. The impression became at lastso poignant that I asked myself if it would not be better to go to theCaptain’s room, see him face to face, and brave him with look and gesture.

It was the inspiration of a madman; fortunately I resisted the desire, andstretched myself on my bed to quiet my bodily agitation. My nerves weresomewhat calmer, but in my excited brain I saw over again all my existence onboard the Nautilus;every incident, either happy or unfortunate, whichhad happened since my disappearance from the Abraham Lincoln—thesubmarine hunt, the Torres Straits, the savages of Papua, the running ashore,the coral cemetery, the passage of Suez, the Island of Santorin, the Cretandiver, Vigo Bay, Atlantis, the iceberg, the South Pole, the imprisonment in theice, the fight among the poulps, the storm in the Gulf Stream, the Avenger, andthe horrible scene of the vessel sunk with all her crew. All these eventspassed before my eyes like scenes in a drama. Then Captain Nemo seemed to growenormously, his features to assume superhuman proportions. He was no longer myequal, but a man of the waters, the genie of the sea.

It was then half-past nine. I held my head between my hands to keep it frombursting. I closed my eyes; I would not think any longer. There was anotherhalf-hour to wait, another half-hour of a nightmare, which might drive me mad.

At that moment I heard the distant strains of the organ, a sad harmony to anundefinable chant, the wail of a soul longing to break these earthly bonds. Ilistened with every sense, scarcely breathing; plunged, like Captain Nemo, inthat musical ecstasy, which was drawing him in spirit to the end of life.

Then a sudden thought terrified me. Captain Nemo had left his room. He was inthe saloon, which I must cross to fly. There I should meet him for the lasttime. He would see me, perhaps speak to me. A gesture of his might destroy me,a single word chain me on board.

But ten was about to strike. The moment had come for me to leave my room, andjoin my companions.

I must not hesitate, even if Captain Nemo himself should rise before me. Iopened my door carefully; and even then, as it turned on its hinges, it seemedto me to make a dreadful noise. Perhaps it only existed in my own imagination.

I crept along the dark stairs of the Nautilus, stopping at each step tocheck the beating of my heart. I reached the door of the saloon, and opened itgently. It was plunged in profound darkness. The strains of the organ soundedfaintly. Captain Nemo was there. He did not see me. In the full light I do notthink he would have noticed me, so entirely was he absorbed in the ecstasy.

I crept along the carpet, avoiding the slightest sound which might betray mypresence. I was at least five minutes reaching the door, at the opposite side,opening into the library.

I was going to open it, when a sigh from Captain Nemo nailed me to the spot. Iknew that he was rising. I could even see him, for the light from the librarycame through to the saloon. He came towards me silently, with his arms crossed,gliding like a spectre rather than walking. His breast was swelling with sobs;and I heard him murmur these words (the last which ever struck my ear):

“Almighty God! enough! enough!”

Was it a confession of remorse which thus escaped from this man’s conscience?

In desperation, I rushed through the library, mounted the central staircase,and, following the upper flight, reached the boat. I crept through the opening,which had already admitted my two companions.

“Let us go! let us go!” I exclaimed.

“Directly!” replied the Canadian.

The orifice in the plates of the Nautiluswas first closed, and fasteneddown by means of a false key, with which Ned Land had provided himself; theopening in the boat was also closed. The Canadian began to loosen the boltswhich still held us to the submarine boat.

Suddenly a noise was heard. Voices were answering each other loudly. What wasthe matter? Had they discovered our flight? I felt Ned Land slipping a daggerinto my hand.

“Yes,” I murmured, “we know how to die!”

The Canadian had stopped in his work. But one word many times repeated, adreadful word, revealed the cause of the agitation spreading on board theNautilus. It was not we the crew were looking after!

“The maelstrom! the maelstrom!” Could a more dreadful word in a more dreadfulsituation have sounded in our ears! We were then upon the dangerous coast ofNorway. Was the Nautilusbeing drawn into this gulf at the moment ourboat was going to leave its sides? We knew that at the tide the pent-up watersbetween the islands of Ferroe and Loffoden rush with irresistible violence,forming a whirlpool from which no vessel ever escapes. From every point of thehorizon enormous waves were meeting, forming a gulf justly called the “Navel ofthe Ocean,” whose power of attraction extends to a distance of twelve miles.There, not only vessels, but whales are sacrificed, as well as white bears fromthe northern regions.

It is thither that the Nautilus, voluntarily or involuntarily, had beenrun by the Captain.

It was describing a spiral, the circumference of which was lessening bydegrees, and the boat, which was still fastened to its side, was carried alongwith giddy speed. I felt that sickly giddiness which arises from long-continuedwhirling round.

We were in dread. Our horror was at its height, circulation had stopped, allnervous influence was annihilated, and we were covered with cold sweat, like asweat of agony! And what noise around our frail bark! What roarings repeated bythe echo miles away! What an uproar was that of the waters broken on the sharprocks at the bottom, where the hardest bodies are crushed, and trees worn away,“with all the fur rubbed off,” according to the Norwegian phrase!

What a situation to be in! We rocked frightfully. The Nautilusdefendeditself like a human being. Its steel muscles cracked. Sometimes it seemed tostand upright, and we with it!

“We must hold on,” said Ned, “and look after the bolts. We may still be savedif we stick to the Nautilus.”

He had not finished the words, when we heard a crashing noise, the bolts gaveway, and the boat, torn from its groove, was hurled like a stone from a slinginto the midst of the whirlpool.

My head struck on a piece of iron, and with the violent shock I lost allconsciousness.

CHAPTER XXIII
CONCLUSION

Thus ends the voyage under the seas. What passed during that night—how the boatescaped from the eddies of the maelstrom—how Ned Land, Conseil, and myself evercame out of the gulf, I cannot tell.

But when I returned to consciousness, I was lying in a fisherman’s hut, on theLoffoden Isles. My two companions, safe and sound, were near me holding myhands. We embraced each other heartily.

At that moment we could not think of returning to France. The means ofcommunication between the north of Norway and the south are rare. And I amtherefore obliged to wait for the steamboat running monthly from Cape North.

And, among the worthy people who have so kindly received us, I revise my recordof these adventures once more. Not a fact has been omitted, not a detailexaggerated. It is a faithful narrative of this incredible expedition in anelement inaccessible to man, but to which Progress will one day open a road.

Shall I be believed? I do not know. And it matters little, after all. What Inow affirm is, that I have a right to speak of these seas, under which, in lessthan ten months, I have crossed 20,000 leagues in that submarine tour of theworld, which has revealed so many wonders.

But what has become of the Nautilus?Did it resist the pressure of themaelstrom? Does Captain Nemo still live? And does he still follow under theocean those frightful retaliations? Or, did he stop after the last hecatomb?

Will the waves one day carry to him this manuscript containing the history ofhis life? Shall I ever know the name of this man? Will the missing vessel tellus by its nationality that of Captain Nemo?

I hope so. And I also hope that his powerful vessel has conquered the sea atits most terrible gulf, and that the Nautilushas survived where so manyother vessels have been lost! If it be so—if Captain Nemo still inhabits theocean, his adopted country, may hatred be appeased in that savage heart! Maythe contemplation of so many wonders extinguish for ever the spirit ofvengeance! May the judge disappear, and the philosopher continue the peacefulexploration of the sea! If his destiny be strange, it is also sublime. Have Inot understood it myself? Have I not lived ten months of this unnatural life?And to the question asked by Ecclesiastes three thousand years ago, “That whichis far off and exceeding deep, who can find it out?” two men alone of all nowliving have the right to give an answer——

CAPTAIN NEMO AND MYSELF.

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