🌊📚 Vingt Mille Lieues Sous Les Mers — Partie 1 | Jules Verne 🚢🐙

🌊📚 Vingt Mille Lieues Sous Les Mers — Partie 1 | Jules Verne 🚢🐙

Welcome to the fascinating world of Jules Verne with “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea — Part 1.” From the very first pages, we are drawn into an extraordinary adventure alongside Professor Aronnax, his faithful servant Conseil, and the harpooner Ned Land. Their quest for a mysterious sea monster leads them to meet Captain Nemo and his incredible submarine, the Nautilus. In this first part, prepare to discover the depths of the sea, the wonders of the ocean, and the unpredictable dangers that lurk beneath the surface of the sea. Chapter 1. A FLEEING REEF The year 1866 was marked by a bizarre event, an unexplained and inexplicable phenomenon that no one has probably forgotten. Not to mention the rumors that agitated the populations of the ports and excited the public spirit within the continents, seafarers were particularly moved. Merchants, shipowners, ship captains, skippers and masters of Europe and America, naval officers of all countries, and, after them, the governments of the various states of the two continents, were very concerned about this fact . Indeed, for some time, several ships had encountered at sea “an enormous thing” – a long, fusiform object, sometimes phosphorescent, infinitely larger and faster than a whale. The facts relating to this apparition, recorded in the various ship’s logs , agreed quite precisely on the structure of the object or being in question, the incredible speed of its movements, the surprising power of its locomotion, the particular life with which it seemed endowed. If it was a cetacean, it surpassed in volume all those that science had classified until then. Neither Cuvier, nor Lacépède, nor M. Dumeril, nor M. de Quatrefages would have admitted the existence of such a monster – unless they had seen it, which is called seeing it with their own learned eyes. Taking the average of observations made on various occasions – rejecting the timid estimates that assigned this object a length of two hundred feet and rejecting the exaggerated opinions that said it was a mile wide and three long – one could affirm, however, that this phenomenal being far exceeded all the dimensions admitted until this day by ichthyologists – if it existed. Now, it existed, the fact in itself was no longer deniable, and, with that penchant which pushes the human brain towards the marvelous, one can understand the emotion produced throughout the world by this supernatural apparition. As for dismissing it as a fable, that had to be abandoned. Indeed, on July 20, 1866, the steamer _Governor-Higginson_, of the Calcutta and Burnach Steam Navigation Company, had encountered this moving mass five miles east of the Australian coast. Captain Baker believed, at first, that he was in the presence of an unknown reef ; he was even preparing to determine its exact location, when two columns of water, projected by the inexplicable object, shot up, whistling, one hundred and fifty feet into the air. Therefore, unless this reef was subject to the intermittent expansions of a geyser, the _Governor-Higginson_ was indeed dealing with some aquatic mammal, previously unknown, which was ejecting columns of water, mixed with air and steam, from its blowholes. A similar fact was also observed on July 23 of the same year, in the Pacific seas, by the _Cristobal-Colon_, of the West India and Pacific Steam Navigation Company. Therefore, this extraordinary cetacean could transport itself from one place to another with surprising velocity, since three days apart, the _Governor-Higginson_ and the _Cristobal-Colon_ had observed it at two points on the chart separated by a distance of more than seven hundred nautical leagues. Fifteen days later, two thousand leagues away, the _Helvetia_, of the Compagnie Nationale, and the _Shannon_, of the Royal Mail, sailing opposite each other in this portion of the Atlantic between the United States and Europe, the monster was respectively reported at 42°15′ north latitude, and 60°35′ longitude west of the Greenwich meridian. In this simultaneous observation, it was believed that the minimum length of the mammal could be estimated at more than three hundred and fifty English feet, since the Shannon and the Helvetia were smaller than it, although they measured one hundred meters from stem to sternpost. Now, the largest whales, those which frequent the waters of the Aleutian Islands, the Kulammak and the Umgullick, have never exceeded the length of fifty-six meters, — if they even reach it. These reports, arriving one after the other, new observations made aboard the ocean liner the Pereire, a collision between the Etna, of the Inman line, and the monster, a report drawn up by the officers of the French frigate Normandie, a very serious bearing obtained by the staff of Commodore Fitz-James aboard the Lord Clyde, deeply moved public opinion. In light-hearted countries, the phenomenon was joked about, but serious and practical countries, England, America, Germany, were deeply concerned about it. Everywhere in the major centers, the monster became fashionable; it was sung about in cafes, mocked in newspapers, and played on stage. The ducks had a fine opportunity to lay eggs of all colors. We saw the reappearance in the newspapers – short of copy – of all the imaginary and gigantic beings, from the white whale, the terrible “Moby Dick” of the Hyperborean regions, to the immense Kraken, whose tentacles can encircle a ship of five hundred tons and drag it into the depths of the Ocean. We even reproduced the reports of ancient times, the opinions of Aristotle and Pliny, who admitted the existence of these monsters, then the Norwegian accounts of Bishop Pontoppidan, the relations of Paul Heggede, and finally the reports of Mr. Harrington, whose good faith cannot be suspected, when he claims to have seen, while on board the _Castilian_, in 1857, this enormous serpent which had never frequented until then except the seas of the old _Constitutionnel_. Then broke out the interminable polemic between the credulous and the unbelieving in learned societies and scientific journals. The “question of the monster” inflamed minds. Journalists, who profess science in conflict with those who profess wit, shed torrents of ink during this memorable campaign; some even two or three drops of blood, for from the sea serpent they came to the most offensive personalities. For six months, the war continued with varying success. To the in-depth articles of the Geographical Institute of Brazil, the Royal Academy of Sciences of Berlin, the British Association, the Smithsonian Institution of Washington, the discussions of _The Indian Archipelago_, of _Cosmos_ of Abbé Moigno, of _Mittheilungen_ of Petermann, to the scientific columns of the major newspapers of France and abroad, the small press responded with inexhaustible verve. Its witty writers, parodying a saying of Linnaeus, quoted by the monster’s adversaries, maintained in fact that “nature did not make fools,” and they adjured their contemporaries not to give the lie to nature, by admitting the existence of Krakens, sea serpents, “Moby Dicks,” and other lucubrations of delirious sailors. Finally, in an article in a much-feared satirical journal, the most beloved of its editors, scribbling on everything, pushed the monster, like Hippolytus, dealt it a final blow and finished it off amidst a burst of universal laughter. Wit had conquered science. During the first months of the year 1867, the question seemed to be buried, and it did not seem likely to be reborn, when new facts were brought to the public’s attention. It is no longer a question then of a scientific problem to be solved, but rather of a real and serious danger to be avoided. The question took on a completely different face. The monster became again an islet, a rock, a reef, but a fleeting reef, indeterminable, elusive. On March 5, 1867, the _Moravian_, of the Montreal Ocean Company, finding itself during the night at 27°30′ latitude and 72°15′ longitude, struck with its starboard quarter a rock that no chart marked in those parts. Under the combined force of the wind and its 400 horsepower, it was traveling at a speed of 13 knots. There is no doubt that without the superior quality of its hull, the _Moravian_, opened by the impact, would have been engulfed with the 237 passengers it was bringing back from Canada. The accident happened around 5 o’clock in the morning, when day was beginning to break. The officers of the watch rushed to the stern of the vessel. They examined the ocean with the most scrupulous attention. They saw nothing, except a strong eddy that broke three cables’ lengths away, as if the sheets of water had been violently beaten. The bearing of the place was taken exactly, and the Moravian continued its course without apparent damage. Had it struck an underwater rock, or some enormous wreck of a shipwreck? It was impossible to know; but, upon examination of its hull in the dry docks, it was recognized that part of the keel had been broken. This fact, extremely serious in itself, would perhaps have been forgotten like so many others, if, three weeks later, it had not occurred again under identical conditions. Only, thanks to the nationality of the ship that was the victim of this new collision, thanks to the reputation of the Company to which this ship belonged, the event had an immense impact. No one is unaware of the name of the famous English shipowner Cunard. This intelligent industrialist founded, in 1840, a postal service between Liverpool and Halifax, with three wooden paddle-wheel ships of 400 horsepower and 1162 tons . Eight years later, the Company’s equipment was increased by four ships of 650 horsepower and 1820 tons, and, two years later, by two other vessels of greater power and tonnage. In 1853, the Cunard Company, whose privilege for the transport of dispatches had just been renewed, successively added to its equipment the _Arabia_, the _Persia_, the _China_, the _Scotia_, the _Java_, the _Russia_, all first- class ships, and the largest that, after the _Great Eastern_, had ever sailed the seas. Thus, in 1867, the Company owned twelve ships, eight of which were paddle-wheeled and four propellers. I give these very brief details so that everyone is aware of the importance of this shipping company , known throughout the world for its intelligent management. No transoceanic shipping enterprise has been conducted with more skill; no business has been crowned with more success. For twenty-six years, Cunard ships have crossed the Atlantic two thousand times, and never has a voyage been missed, never has a delay occurred, never has a letter, a man, or a ship been lost. Thus, passengers still choose the Cunard line in preference to any other, despite the powerful competition from France, as appears from a survey of official documents from recent years. That said, no one will be surprised by the repercussions caused by the accident that happened to one of its finest steamers. On April 13, 1867, the sea being calm and the breeze manageable, the _Scotia_ was at 15°12′ longitude and 45°37′ latitude. She was moving at a speed of thirteen knots and forty-three hundredths under the thrust of her thousand horsepower. Her wheels beat the sea with perfect regularity. Her draft was then six meters seventy centimeters, and her displacement six thousand six hundred twenty-four cubic meters. At seventeen minutes past four in the evening, while the passengers were having lunch in the main saloon, a shock, barely perceptible, occurred on the hull of the _Scotia_, by its quarter and a little aft of the port wheel. The _Scotia_ had not struck, it had been struck, and more by a sharp or piercing instrument than a blunt one. The collision had seemed so slight that no one on board would have been worried, if it had not been for the cry of the ship’s crew who came back up on deck, exclaiming: “We’re sinking! We’re sinking!” At first, the passengers were very frightened; but Captain Anderson hastened to reassure them. Indeed, the danger could not be imminent. The _Scotia_, divided into seven compartments by watertight bulkheads , had to brave a leak with impunity. Captain Anderson went immediately to the hold. He recognized that the fifth compartment had been flooded by the sea, and the speed of the flooding proved that the leak was considerable. Fortunately, this compartment did not contain the boilers, because the fires would have suddenly gone out. Captain Anderson stopped immediately, and one of the sailors dived to examine the damage. A few moments later, a two-meter-wide hole was discovered in the bottom of the steamer. Such a leak could not be covered, and the _Scotia_, its wheels half submerged, had to continue its voyage. It was then three hundred miles from Cape Clear, and after three days of delay which greatly worried Liverpool, it entered the Company’s docks. The engineers then proceeded to inspect the _Scotia_, which was put into dry dock. They could not believe their eyes. Two and a half meters below the waterline, a regular tear opened, in the shape of an isosceles triangle. The break in the sheet metal was perfectly clean, and it could not have been struck more surely with a punch. It was therefore necessary that the perforating tool which had produced it was of an unusual temper – and after having been thrown with prodigious force, having thus pierced a sheet metal four centimeters thick, it must have withdrawn by itself by a retrograde and truly inexplicable movement. Such was this last fact, which had the result of exciting public opinion once again. Since that moment, in fact, maritime disasters which had no determined cause were attributed to the monster. This fantastic animal took responsibility for all these shipwrecks, the number of which is unfortunately considerable; for out of three thousand ships whose loss is recorded annually by the Bureau Veritas, the figure for steam or sailing ships, supposedly lost body and goods due to lack of news, does not amount to less than two hundred! Now, it was the “monster” who, rightly or wrongly, was accused of their disappearance, and, thanks to him, communications between the various continents becoming more and more dangerous, the public declared itself and categorically demanded that the seas finally be rid of this formidable cetacean at all costs. Chapter 2. THE PROS AND THE CONS At the time these events occurred, I was returning from a scientific exploration undertaken in the badlands of Nebraska, in the United States. In my capacity as substitute professor at the Museum of Natural History in Paris, the French government had joined me on this expedition. After six months spent in Nebraska, laden with precious collections, I arrived in New York towards the end of March. My departure for France was set for the first days of May. I was therefore busy, in the meantime, classifying my mineralogical, botanical and zoological riches, when the incident of the _Scotia_ occurred. I was perfectly aware of the question on the agenda, and how could I not have been? I had read and reread all the newspapers Americans and Europeans without being any further advanced. This mystery intrigued me. Unable to form an opinion, I floated from one extreme to the other. That there was something, there could be no doubt, and the unbelievers were invited to put their finger on the sore spot of the _Scotia_. On my arrival in New York, the question was burning. The hypothesis of the floating island, of the elusive reef, supported by a few incompetent minds, was absolutely abandoned. And, indeed, unless this reef had a machine in its belly, how could it move with such prodigious speed? Likewise, the existence of a floating hull, of an enormous wreck, was rejected, and always because of the speed of the movement. There remained two possible solutions to the question, which created two very distinct clans of supporters: on the one hand, those who held it to be a monster of colossal strength; on the other, those who believed it was a “submarine” boat of extreme driving power. Now, this last hypothesis, admissible after all, could not withstand the investigations that were pursued in both worlds. That a simple private individual had at his disposal such a mechanical device was unlikely . Where and when would he have had it built, and how would he have kept this construction secret? Only a government could possess such a destructive machine, and, in these disastrous times when man is striving to multiply the power of weapons of war, it was possible that a State would test this formidable device without the knowledge of others. After the chassepots, the torpedoes, after the torpedoes, the underwater rams, then the reaction. At least, I hope so. But the hypothesis of a war machine fell again before the declaration of governments. Since this was a matter of public interest, since transoceanic communications were suffering, the frankness of governments could not be questioned. Besides, how could it be admitted that the construction of this underwater boat had escaped the public eye? Keeping a secret in these circumstances is very difficult for an individual, and certainly impossible for a State whose every action is stubbornly monitored by rival powers. Therefore, after investigations carried out in England, France, Russia, Prussia, Spain, Italy, America, and even Turkey, the hypothesis of an underwater Monitor was definitively rejected. Upon my arrival in New York, several people had done me the honor of consulting me on the phenomenon in question. I had published in France a quarto work in two volumes entitled: _The Mysteries of the Great Seabed_. This book, particularly appreciated by the scholarly world, made me a specialist in this rather obscure part of natural history. My opinion was sought. As long as I could deny the fact, I locked myself in absolute denial. But soon, stuck to the wall, I had to explain myself categorically. And even, “the honorable Pierre Aronnax, professor at the Paris Museum,” was summoned by the New York Herald to formulate any opinion. I complied. I spoke for lack of being able to remain silent. I discussed the question from all angles, politically and scientifically, and I give here an extract from a very substantial article that I published in the April 30 issue. “So then,” I said, “after having examined one by one the various hypotheses, all other suppositions being rejected, we must necessarily admit the existence of a marine animal of excessive power . “The great depths of the Ocean are totally unknown to us. The probe has not been able to reach them. What is happening in these remote abysses? What beings inhabit and can inhabit twelve or fifteen miles below the surface of the waters? What is the organism of these animals ? One could hardly conjecture. “However, the solution of the problem submitted to me may affect the form of the dilemma. “Either we know all the varieties of beings that populate our planet, or we do not know them. “If we do not know them all, if nature still has secrets for us in ichthyology, nothing is more acceptable than to admit the existence of fish or cetaceans, of new species or even genera, of an essentially “mudhole” organization, which inhabit the layers inaccessible to sounding, and which some event, a whim, a caprice, if you will, brings back at long intervals to the upper level of the Ocean. “If, on the contrary, we know all the living species, we must necessarily look for the animal in question among the marine beings already cataloged, and in this case, I will be willing to admit the existence of a _giant Narwhal_. “The common narwhal or sea unicorn often reaches a length of sixty feet. Increase this dimension fivefold, or even tenfold, give this cetacean a strength proportional to its size, increase its offensive weapons , and you obtain the desired animal. It will have the proportions determined by the Officers of the Shannon, the instrument required for the perforation of the Scotia, and the power necessary to penetrate the hull of a steamer. “Indeed, the narwhal is armed with a sort of ivory sword, a halberd, according to the expression of certain naturalists. It is a main tooth that has the hardness of steel. Some of these teeth have been found implanted in the bodies of whales that the narwhal always attacks successfully. Others have been torn out, not without difficulty, from the hulls of ships that they had pierced from side to side, like a drill bit pierces a barrel. The museum of the Faculty of Medicine in Paris has one of these tusks, two meters twenty-five centimeters long and forty-eight centimeters wide at its base ! “Well! suppose the weapon ten times stronger, and the animal ten times more powerful, launch it with a speed of twenty miles per hour, multiply its mass by its speed, and you obtain a shock capable of producing the required catastrophe. “So, until further information, I would opt for a sea unicorn, of colossal dimensions, armed, no longer with a halberd, but with a real ram like the armored frigates or the “rams ” of war, of which it would have both the mass and the driving power. “This would explain this inexplicable phenomenon – unless there is nothing, despite what has been glimpsed, seen, felt and sensed – which is still possible!” These last words were cowardly on my part; But I wanted to a certain extent to cover my dignity as a professor, and not to give too much cause for laughter to the Americans, who laugh well, when they laugh. I reserved a loophole for myself. Basically, I admitted the existence of the ” monster.” My article was hotly debated, which earned it a great stir. It rallied a certain number of supporters. The solution it proposed, moreover, gave free rein to the imagination. The human mind delights in these grandiose conceptions of supernatural beings. Now the sea is precisely their best vehicle, the only environment where these giants, next to which land animals, elephants or rhinoceroses, are only dwarfs, can produce and develop. Liquid masses transport the largest known species of mammals, and perhaps they contain mollusks of incomparable size, crustaceans that are frightening to contemplate, such as lobsters of one hundred meters or crabs weighing two hundred tons! Why us? In the past, land animals, contemporary with geological eras, quadrupeds, quadrumana, reptiles, birds were built on gigantic templates. The Creator had cast them into a colossal mold that time gradually reduced. Why does the sea, in its unknown depths, would it not have kept these vast samples of the life of another age, she who never changes, while the earth’s core changes almost incessantly? Why would it not hide in its bosom the last varieties of these titanic species, whose years are centuries, and centuries millennia? But I allow myself to be carried away by reveries that it is no longer my place to entertain! Enough with these chimeras that time has changed for me into terrible realities. I repeat, opinion was then formed on the nature of the phenomenon, and the public admitted without dispute the existence of a prodigious being that had nothing in common with the fabulous sea serpents. But if some saw there only a purely scientific problem to be solved, others, more positive, especially in America and England, were of the opinion of purging the Ocean of this formidable monster, in order to reassure transoceanic communications. The industrial and commercial newspapers treated the question mainly from this point of view. The _Shipping and Mercantile Gazette_, the _Lloyd_, the _Paquebot_, the _Revue maritime et coloniale_, all the papers devoted to the insurance companies that threatened to raise the rate of their premiums, were unanimous on this point. Public opinion having been pronounced, the States of the Union declared themselves first. Preparations were made in New York for an expedition intended to pursue the narwhal. A large frigate, the _Abraham-Lincoln_, was ready to put to sea as soon as possible . The arsenals were opened to Commander Farragut, who actively pressed for the arming of his frigate. Precisely, and as always happens, from the moment it was decided to pursue the monster, the monster did not reappear. For two months, no one heard of it. No ship encountered it. It seemed that this Unicorn was aware of the plots being hatched against her. So much had been said about it, even by transatlantic cable! So the jokers claimed that this clever fly had stopped some telegram in passing, from which she was now making her own profit. So, the frigate, armed for a distant campaign and equipped with formidable fishing gear, no one knew where to direct her. And impatience was growing when, on July 2, it was learned that a steamer on the San Francisco line from California to Shanghai had seen the animal again, three weeks earlier, in the northern seas of the Pacific. The emotion caused by this news was extreme. Commander Farragut was not given twenty-four hours of respite. His provisions were loaded. His holds were overflowing with coal. Not a single man was missing from his crew. He only had to light his furnaces, heat, and start! He would not have been forgiven for half a day’s delay! Besides, Commander Farragut was just waiting to leave. Three hours before the Abraham Lincoln left the Brooklyn Pier, I received a letter worded as follows: Mr. Aronnax, Professor at the Paris Museum, Fifth Avenue Hotel , New York. “Sir, If you wish to join the expedition of the Abraham Lincoln, the Union government will be pleased to see that France is represented by you in this enterprise. Commander Farragut has a cabin at your disposal . Yours sincerely, J.B. HOBSON, Secretary of the Navy.” Chapter 3. AS SIR PLEASED Three seconds before the arrival of J.B. Hobson’s letter, I was no more thinking of pursuing the Unicorn than of attempting the Northwest Passage. Three seconds after reading the letter from the Honorable Secretary of the Navy, I finally understood that my true calling, my sole purpose in life, was to hunt this disturbing monster and purge the world of it. However, I was returning from a difficult journey, tired, eager for rest. I yearned only to see my country again, my friends, my little lodgings in the Jardin des Plantes, my dear and precious collections! But nothing could detain me. I forgot everything, fatigue, friends, collections, and accepted without further reflection the offer of the American government. “Besides,” I thought, “all roads lead back to Europe, and the Unicorn will be kind enough to carry me to the coasts of France! This worthy animal will let itself be caught in the seas of Europe—for my personal pleasure—and I do not want to bring back less than half a meter of its ivory halberd to the Museum of Natural History.” But, in the meantime, I had to look for this narwhal in the northern Pacific Ocean; which, to return to France, meant taking the road to the antipodes. “Conseil!” I cried impatiently. Conseil was my servant. A devoted boy who accompanied me on all my travels; a good Fleming whom I loved and who loved me back , a phlegmatic being by nature, regular by principle, zealous by habit , little surprised by life’s surprises, very skillful with his hands, fit for any service, and, despite his name, never giving advice – even when it wasn’t asked for. Rubbing shoulders with the scholars of our little world at the Jardin des Plantes, Conseil had come to know something. I had in him a specialist, very well-versed in classification in natural history, traversing with the agility of an acrobat the entire scale of branches of groups, classes, subclasses, orders, families, genera, subgenera, species and varieties. But his knowledge stopped there. Classifying was his life, and he knew no more. Well versed in the theory of classification, little in practice, he would not have distinguished, I believe, a sperm whale from a whale! And yet, what a brave and worthy fellow! Conseil, until now and for the past ten years, had followed me everywhere that science took me. Never a single thought from him about the length or fatigue of a journey. No objection to packing his suitcase for any country, China or Congo, however distant. He went there as here, without asking for more. Moreover, he was in excellent health that defied all illnesses; solid muscles, but no nerves, not the appearance of nerves in his morale, that is to say. This boy was thirty years old, and his age was to that of his master as fifteen is to twenty. Please excuse me for saying thus that I was forty. Only, Conseil had one fault. A rabid formalist, he never spoke to me except in the third person—to the point of being annoying. “Conseil!” ” I repeated, while feverishly beginning my preparations for departure. Certainly, I was sure of this devoted boy. Usually, I never asked him whether or not it was convenient for him to accompany me on my travels, but this time, it was an expedition that could be prolonged indefinitely, a hazardous undertaking, in pursuit of an animal capable of sinking a frigate like a nutshell! There was food for thought, even for the most impassive man in the world! What would Conseil say? “Conseil!” I shouted a third time. Conseil appeared. “Monsieur calls me?” he said, entering. “Yes, my boy. Prepare me, prepare yourself. We leave in two hours.
” “As monsieur pleases,” Conseil replied calmly. “Not a moment to lose.” Pack all my travel utensils into my trunk , clothes, shirts, socks, and everything you can, and hurry! “And the gentleman’s collections?” Conseil observed. “We’ll deal with them later. ” “What! The archiotherium, the hyracotherium, the oreodons, the cheropotamus, and other carcasses of the gentleman?” “We’ll keep them at the hotel. ” “And the gentleman’s live babiroussa? ” “We’ll feed it during our absence. Besides, I’ll give the order to send our menagerie to France. ” “So we’re not going back to Paris?” Conseil asked. “Yes… certainly…” I replied evasively, but with a detour. “Any detour that pleases the gentleman. ” “Oh! It won’t be much! A slightly less direct route, that’s all. We’re taking passage on the Abraham Lincoln… ” “As suits the gentleman,” Conseil replied peacefully. “You know, my friend, it’s the monster… the famous narwhal… We ‘re going to purge the seas of it!” The author of a two-volume quarto work on the Mysteries of the Deep Sea cannot avoid embarking with Commander Farragut. A glorious mission, but… also dangerous! We don’t know where we’re going!” These beasts can be very capricious! But we’ll go anyway! We have a commander who’s not afraid of anything!… “As sir does, I’ll do,” Conseil replied. “And think about it carefully! For I don’t want to hide anything from you. This is one of those trips from which one doesn’t always return! ” “As sir pleases.” A quarter of an hour later, our trunks were ready. Conseil had done it in a jiffy, and I was sure that nothing was missing, for this boy classified shirts and clothes as well as birds or mammals. The hotel elevator deposited us in the large vestibule of the mezzanine. I went down the few steps that led to the ground floor. I settled my bill at this vast counter always besieged by a considerable crowd . I gave the order to send my bales of stuffed animals and dried plants to Paris (France) . I had a sufficient credit opened at the babiroussa, and, Conseil following me, I jumped into a carriage. The vehicle, at twenty francs a fare, went down Broadway to Union Square, followed Fourth Avenue to its junction with Bowery Street, took Katrin Street and stopped at the thirty-fourth pier. There, the Katrinferryboat transported us, men, horses and carriage, to Brooklyn, the great annex of New York, situated on the left bank of the East River, and in a few minutes, we arrived at the quay near which the Abraham Lincoln was vomiting torrents of black smoke from its two funnels. Our baggage was immediately transferred to the deck of the frigate. I rushed aboard. I asked for Commander Farragut. One of the sailors led me to the poop, where I found myself in the presence of a good-looking officer who held out his hand to me. “Monsieur Pierre Aronnax?” he said to me. “Himself,” I replied. “Commander Farragut? ” “In person. Welcome, Professor. Your cabin awaits.” I saluted, and leaving the commander to prepare his ship, I had myself taken to the cabin intended for me. The Abraham Lincoln had been perfectly chosen and fitted out for its new destination. It was a long-range frigate, equipped with superheaters, which allowed its steam pressure to be raised to seven atmospheres. Under this pressure, the Abraham Lincoln reached an average speed of eighteen and three-tenths miles per hour, a considerable speed, but nevertheless insufficient to contend with the gigantic cetacean. The frigate’s interior fittings corresponded to its nautical qualities. I was very satisfied with my cabin, located at the stern, which opened onto the officers’ mess. “We will be comfortable here,” I said to Conseil. “As well, with all due respect to the gentleman,” Conseil replied, “as a hermit crab in the shell of a whelk.” I left Conseil to properly stow our trunks, and I went back up on deck to follow the preparations for departure. At that moment, Commander Farragut was having the last mooring lines that held the Abraham Lincoln to the Brooklyn pier. So , a quarter of an hour late, even less, and the frigate would have left without me, and I would have missed this extraordinary, supernatural, improbable expedition , the true story of which may well find some unbelievers. But Commander Farragut did not want to lose a day or an hour to reach the seas in which the animal had just been reported. He called his engineer. “Are we under pressure?” he asked him. “Yes, sir,” replied the engineer. “Go ahead,” shouted Commander Farragut. At this order, which was transmitted to the engine by means of compressed air devices , the mechanics started the starting wheel. The steam whistled as it rushed into the half-open drawers. The long horizontal pistons groaned and pushed the connecting rods of the shaft. The propeller’s branches beat the waves with increasing rapidity, and the Abraham Lincoln advanced majestically in the midst of a hundred ferry boats and tenders laden with spectators, who formed a procession. The quays of Brooklyn and the whole part of New York which borders the East River were covered with curious onlookers. Three cheers, from five hundred thousand chests, burst out successively. Thousands of handkerchiefs waved above the compact mass and saluted the Abraham Lincoln until its arrival in the waters of the Hudson, at the tip of that elongated peninsula which forms the city of New York. Then, the frigate, following the admirable right bank of the river, all laden with villas, on the New Jersey side , passed between the forts which saluted it with their largest cannons. The Abraham Lincoln replied by lowering and hoisting the American flag three times, the thirty-nine stars of which shone resplendently from her mizzen-top; then, altering her course to take the buoyed channel which curves into the inner bay formed by the point of Sandy Hook, she skimmed this sandy strip where several thousand spectators acclaimed her once more. The procession of boats and tenders still followed the frigate, and she did not leave it until she was level with the light-boat whose two lights mark the entrance to the New York channels. Three o’clock then struck. The pilot got into his boat and joined the small schooner which was waiting for her to leeward. The lights were set; the propeller beat the waves more rapidly; The frigate skirted the low, yellow coast of Long-Island, and at eight o’clock in the evening, having lost the lights of Fire-Island to the northwest, she ran full steam ahead over the dark waters of the Atlantic. Chapter 4. NED LAND. Commander Farragut was a good sailor, worthy of the frigate he commanded. He and his ship were one. He was its soul. On the question of the cetacean, no doubt arose in his mind, and he would not allow the existence of the animal to be discussed on board. He believed in it as some good women believe in the Leviathan by faith, not by reason. The monster existed, he would deliver the seas from it, he had sworn it. He was a sort of Knight of Rhodes, a Dieudonné de Gozon, marching to meet the serpent that was devastating his island. Either Commander Farragut would kill the narwhal, or the narwhal would kill Commander Farragut. No middle ground. The ship’s officers shared their chief’s opinion. You had to hear them talk, discuss, argue, calculate the various chances of an encounter, and observe the vast expanse of the ocean. More than one of them took a voluntary watch in the topgallant helms, who would have cursed such a chore under any other circumstances. As long as the sun described its diurnal arc, the masts were populated by sailors whose feet were burning on the deck planks, and who could not stay still! And yet. The Abraham Lincoln had not yet cut her bows through the suspect waters of the Pacific. As for the crew, they were only asking to meet the unicorn, to harpoon it, and to haul it on board, to skin it. They watched the sea with scrupulous attention. Besides, Commander Farragut spoke of a certain sum of two thousand dollars, reserved for anyone, cabin boy or sailor, master or officer, who would report the animal. I leave it to one to imagine whether eyes were trained aboard the Abraham Lincoln. For my part, I was not to be outdone by the others, and I left no one my share of daily observations. The frigate would have been a hundred times right to be called the Argus. Alone among all, Conseil protested by his indifference concerning the question which fascinated us, and clashed with the general enthusiasm on board. I have said that Commander Farragut had carefully equipped his ship with devices suitable for fishing for the gigantic cetacean. A whaler could not have been better armed. We possessed every known weapon, from the hand-thrown harpoon to the barbed arrows of the blunderbusses and the explosive bullets of the canards. On the forecastle lay a perfected breech-loading cannon , very thick-walled, very narrow-bore, and the model of which was to be exhibited at the 1867 World’s Fair. This precious instrument, of American origin, unhesitatingly sent a conical projectile weighing four kilograms to an average distance of sixteen kilometers. Therefore, the Abraham Lincoln lacked no means of destruction. But it had even better. It had Ned Land, the king of harpooners. Ned Land was a Canadian, of uncommon manual skill, and who knew no equal in his perilous profession. Address and composure, audacity and cunning, he possessed these qualities to a superior degree, and one would have to be a very cunning whale, or a singularly astute sperm whale to escape his harpoon thrust. Ned Land was about forty years old. He was a tall man —more than six English feet—vigorously built, with a serious air, uncommunicative , sometimes violent, and very angry when he was opposed. His person attracted attention, and especially the power of his gaze which singularly accentuated his physiognomy. I believe that Commander Farragut had done wisely to take this man on board. He was worth the entire crew, all by himself, for his eye and his arm. I could best compare him to a powerful telescope which was at the same time a cannon always ready to fire. Who says Canadian, says French, and, however uncommunicative Ned Land was, I must admit that he took a certain affection for me. My nationality undoubtedly attracted him. It was an opportunity for him to speak, and for me to hear that old language of Rabelais which is still in use in some Canadian provinces. The harpooner’s family was originally from Quebec, and already formed a tribe of hardy fishermen at the time when this city belonged to France. Little by little, Ned acquired a taste for talking, and I loved to hear the story of his adventures in the polar seas. He recounted his fishing trips and his battles with great natural poetry. His story took on an epic form, and I thought I was listening to some Canadian Homer, singing the Iliad of the Hyperborean regions. I now depict this hardy companion, as I know him today. It is because we have become old friends, united by that unalterable friendship which is born and cemented in the most frightening circumstances! Ah! brave Ned! I ask only to live another hundred years, to remember you longer! And now, what was Ned Land’s opinion on the question of the sea monster? I must admit that he hardly believed in the unicorn, and that, alone on board, he did not share the general conviction. He even avoided dealing with this subject, on which I thought I should undertake it one day. On a magnificent evening of July 30, that is to say three weeks After our departure, the frigate was off Cape Blanc, thirty miles leeward of the Patagonian coast. We had passed the Tropic of Capricorn, and the Strait of Magellan opened less than seven hundred miles to the south. Within eight days, the Abraham Lincoln would be ploughing the waves of the Pacific. Sitting on the poop deck, Ned Land and I chatted about this and that, gazing at this mysterious sea whose depths have so far remained inaccessible to human eyes. I naturally brought the conversation to the giant unicorn, and examined the various chances of success or failure of our expedition. Then, seeing that Ned let me speak without saying much, I pushed him more directly. “How, Ned,” I asked him, “how can you not be convinced of the existence of the cetacean we are pursuing?” Do you have any particular reasons for being so incredulous?” The harpooner looked at me for a few moments before replying, struck his broad forehead with his hand in a gesture that was customary for him, closed his eyes as if in contemplation, and finally said: “Perhaps so, Mr. Aronnax.” “However, Ned, you, a professional whaler, you who are familiar with large marine mammals, you whose imagination must readily accept the hypothesis of enormous cetaceans, you should be the last to doubt in such circumstances! ” “That is what deceives you, Professor,” replied Ned. “That the common people believe in extraordinary comets that cross space, or in the existence of antediluvian monsters that populate the interior of the globe, is all right, but neither the astronomer nor the geologist admits such chimeras. Likewise, the whaler. I have pursued many cetaceans, I have harpooned a great number, I have killed several, but however powerful and well-armed they may have been, neither their tails nor their tusks could have pierced the iron plates of a steamer. “However, Ned, there are reports of vessels that the narwhal’s tooth has pierced right through. ” “Wooden ships, it’s possible,” replied the Canadian, “and even then, I have never seen them. Therefore, until proven otherwise, I deny that whales, sperm whales, or unicorns can produce such an effect. ” “Listen to me, Ned… ” “No, Professor, no. Anything you like except that. A gigantic octopus, perhaps?… ” “Even less, Ned. The octopus is only a mollusk, and that very name indicates the lack of consistency of its flesh.” Even if it were five hundred feet long, the octopus, which does not belong to the vertebrate branch, is completely harmless to ships such as the _Scotia_ or the _Abraham Lincoln_. We must therefore dismiss the exploits of Krakens or other monsters of this species as fables. “So, Mr. Naturalist,” Ned Land continued in a rather mocking tone, “you persist in admitting the existence of an enormous cetacean…? ” “Yes, Ned, I repeat it with a conviction based on the logic of the facts. I believe in the existence of a mammal, powerfully organized, belonging to the vertebrate branch, like whales, sperm whales, or dolphins, and equipped with a horny tusk whose penetrating power is extreme. ” “Hmm!” said the harpooner, shaking his head with the air of a man who does not want to be convinced. “Note, my worthy Canadian,” I continued, “that if such an animal exists, if it inhabits the depths of the ocean, if it frequents the liquid layers located a few miles below the surface of the water, it necessarily possesses an organism whose solidity defies all comparison. ” “And why such a powerful organism?” asked Ned. “Because it requires incalculable strength to maintain itself in the deep layers and resist their pressure. ” “Really?” said Ned, looking at me with a wink. “Really, and a few figures will prove it to you without difficulty. ” “Oh! figures!” replied Ned. “One can do what one wants with figures! ” “In business, Ned, but not in mathematics. Listen to me. Let us admit that the pressure of one atmosphere is represented by the pressure of a column of water thirty-two feet high. In reality, the column of water would be of a lesser height, since it is sea water, whose density is greater than that of fresh water. Well, when you dive, Ned, as many times thirty-two feet of water above you, as many times your body supports a pressure equal to that of the atmosphere, that is to say, kilograms per each square centimeter of its surface. It follows from this that at 320 feet this pressure is ten atmospheres, one hundred atmospheres at 3,200 feet, and one thousand atmospheres at thirty-two thousand feet, or about two and a half leagues.” Which is equivalent to saying that if you could reach that depth in the ocean, every square centimeter of your body’s surface would be subjected to a pressure of one thousand kilograms. Now, my good Ned, do you know how many square centimeters you have on the surface? “I have no idea, Mr. Aronnax. ” “About seventeen thousand. ” “That many? ” “And since in reality the atmospheric pressure is a little greater than the weight of one kilogram per square centimeter, your seventeen thousand square centimeters are currently supporting a pressure of seventeen thousand five hundred and sixty-eight kilograms. ” “Without me noticing it? ” “Without you noticing it. And if you are not crushed by such pressure, it is because the air penetrates inside your body with equal pressure. Hence a perfect balance between the internal and external thrust, which neutralize each other, which allows you to withstand them without difficulty. But in the water, it’s another matter. “Yes, I understand,” replied Ned, having become more attentive, “because the water surrounds me and does not penetrate me. ” “Precisely, Ned. So, at thirty-two feet below the surface of the sea, you would be subjected to a pressure of seventeen thousand five hundred and sixty-eight kilograms; at three hundred and twenty feet, ten times this pressure, or one hundred and seventy-five thousand six hundred and eighty kilograms; at three thousand two hundred feet, one hundred times this pressure, or seventeen hundred and fifty-six thousand eight hundred kilograms; at thirty-two thousand feet, finally, one thousand times this pressure, or seventeen million five hundred and sixty-eight thousand kilograms; that is to say, you would be flattened as if you were being removed from the plates of a hydraulic machine! ” “Devil!” said Ned. “Well, my worthy harpooner, if vertebrates, several hundred meters long and proportionally large, maintain themselves at such depths, they whose surface area is represented by millions of square centimeters, it is in billions of kilograms that we must estimate the thrust they undergo. Calculate then what the resistance of their bone structure and the power of their organism must be to resist such pressures! ” “They must,” replied Ned Land, “be made of eight-inch sheet metal, like armored frigates. ” “As you say, Ned, and then think of the ravages that such a mass can produce, launched with the speed of an express against the hull of a ship. ” “Yes… indeed… perhaps,” replied the Canadian, shaken by these figures, but who did not want to surrender. “Well, have I convinced you?” — You have convinced me of one thing, Mr. Naturalist, that if such animals exist at the bottom of the sea, they must necessarily be as strong as you say. — But if they do not exist, stubborn harpooner, how do you explain the accident that happened to the _Scotia_? “It may be…” said Ned, hesitating. “Come on! ” “Because… it’s not true!” replied the Canadian, unknowingly reproducing a famous reply from Arago. But this reply proved the harpooner’s obstinacy and nothing else . That day, I didn’t push him further. The accident of the _Scotia_ was undeniable. The hole existed so well that it had to be plugged, and I don’t think the existence of the hole can be demonstrated more categorically. Now, this hole hadn’t made itself , and since it hadn’t been produced by underwater rocks or underwater vehicles, it was necessarily due to the perforating tool of an animal. Now, according to me, and all the reasons previously deduced, this animal belonged to the branch of vertebrates, to the class of mammals, to the group of pisciformes, and finally to the order of cetaceans. As for the family in which it took rank, whale, sperm whale or dolphin, as for the genus to which it belonged, as for the species in which it should be placed, that was a question to be elucidated later. To resolve it, it was necessary to dissect this unknown monster, to dissect it, to catch it, to catch it, to harpoon it – which was Ned Land’s business – to harpoon it, which was the business of the crew – and to see it encounter it – which was a matter of chance. Chapter 5. TO ADVENTURE! The voyage of the _Abraham Lincoln_, for some time, was without incident. However, a circumstance arose which brought out the marvelous skill of Ned Land, and showed what confidence one should have in him. Off the Falklands, on June 30, the frigate communicated with American whalers, and we learned that they had had no knowledge of the narwhal. But one of them, the captain of the Monroe, knowing that Ned Land was embarked on board the Abraham Lincoln, asked for his assistance in hunting a whale which was in sight. Commander Farragut, eager to see Ned Land at work, authorized him to go on board the Monroe. And chance served our Canadian so well, that instead of one whale, he harpooned two with a double blow, striking one straight in the heart, and seizing the other after a chase of a few minutes! Decidedly, if the monster ever has to deal with Ned Land’s harpoon, I would n’t bet on the monster. The frigate extended the southeast coast of America with prodigious speed. On July 3, we were at the opening of the Strait of Magellan, at the level of Cape Virgins. But Commander Farragut did not want to take this winding passage, and maneuvered in such a way as to round Cape Horn. The crew unanimously agreed with him. And indeed, was it likely that one could encounter the narwhal in this narrow strait? A good number of sailors affirmed that the monster could not pass there, ” that it was too big for that!” On July 6, around three o’clock in the evening, the Abraham Lincoln, fifteen miles to the south, rounded this solitary islet, this lost rock at the extremity of the American continent, to which Dutch sailors gave the name of their native villa, Cape Horn. The course was set towards the northwest, and the next day, the frigate’s propeller finally beat the waters of the Pacific. “Open your eyes! Open your eyes!” repeated the sailors of the Abraham Lincoln. And they opened them enormously. The eyes and glasses, a little dazzled, it is true, by the prospect of two thousand dollars, did not remain at rest for a moment. Day and night, the surface of the Ocean was observed , and the night-sighted, whose faculty of seeing in the dark increased the chances by fifty percent, had a good game to win the bounty. I, whom the lure of money hardly attracted, was nevertheless not the least attentive on board. Giving only a few minutes to the meal, A few hours asleep, indifferent to sun or rain, I no longer left the deck of the ship. Sometimes leaning over the bulwarks of the forecastle, sometimes leaning against the stern rail, I devoured with avid eyes the cottony wake that whitened the sea as far as the eye could see! And how many times I shared the emotion of the staff, of the crew, when some capricious whale raised its blackish back above the waves. The deck of the frigate was populated in an instant. The hoods vomited out a torrent of sailors and officers. Each one, chest heaving, eyes troubled, observed the progress of the cetacean. I watched, I watched until my retina was wearing out, until I was going blind, while Conseil, still phlegmatic, repeated to me in a calm tone: “If monsieur would be so kind as to open his eyes less wide, monsieur would see much more!” But, vain emotion! The Abraham Lincoln changed its course, ran towards the animal that had been reported, a simple whale or a common sperm whale, which soon disappeared amidst a chorus of imprecations! However, the weather remained favorable. The voyage was accomplished in the best conditions. It was then the bad southern season, because July in this zone corresponds to our January in Europe; but the sea remained calm, and could be easily observed over a wide perimeter. Ned Land still showed the most tenacious incredulity; he even affected not to examine the surface of the waves outside his watch time – at least when no whale was in sight. And yet his marvelous powers of vision would have been of great service. But, eight hours out of twelve, this stubborn Canadian read or slept in his cabin. A hundred times, I reproached him for his indifference. “Bah!” he replied, “there’s nothing, Mr. Aronnax, and even if there were some animal, what chance do we have of seeing it? Are n’t we running on an adventure? They say that this beast, which is unobtainable in the high seas of the Pacific, has been seen again, I’m willing to admit it, but two months have already passed since that encounter, and judging by the temperament of your narwhal, it doesn’t like to languish for long in the same waters! It is gifted with a prodigious facility for movement. Now, you know better than I, Professor , nature does nothing in reverse, and it would not give a naturally slow animal the ability to move quickly if it did not need to use it. Therefore, if the beast exists, it is already far away! ” To this, I did not know what to say. Obviously, we were walking blindly . But how could we proceed otherwise? Also, our chances were very limited. However, no one still doubted success, and not a single sailor on board would have bet against the narwhal and its imminent appearance. On July 20, the Tropic of Capricorn was cut by 105° of longitude, and on the 27th of the same month, we crossed the equator on the one hundred and tenth meridian. This bearing made, the frigate took a more determined direction towards the west, and entered the central seas of the Pacific. Commander Farragut thought, rightly, that it was better to frequent deep waters, and to move away from the continents or islands whose approach the animal had always seemed to avoid, “no doubt because there wasn’t enough water for it!” said the boatswain. The frigate therefore passed off the Pomotou, the Marquesas, the Sandwich Islands, crossed the Tropic of Cancer at 132° longitude, and headed towards the China Seas. We were finally on the scene of the monster’s last frolics! And, to tell the truth, no one was living on board. Hearts were beating terribly, and preparing for the future incurable aneurysms. The entire crew was undergoing a nervous overexcitement, the likes of which I cannot give an idea. No one was eating, no one was sleeping more. Twenty times a day, an error of judgment, an optical illusion of some sailor perched on the helm, caused intolerable pain, and these emotions, repeated twenty times, kept us in a state of erethism too violent not to bring about an immediate reaction. And indeed, the reaction was not long in coming. For three months, three months of which each day lasted a century! the _Abraham Lincoln_ crisscrossed all the northern seas of the Pacific, running after whales that were reported, making sudden changes of course, turning suddenly from one tack to the other, stopping suddenly, forcing or reversing steam, one after the other, at the risk of throwing off its level, and it did not leave a single point unexplored from the shores of Japan to the American coast. And nothing! Nothing but the immensity of the deserted waves ! Nothing that resembled a gigantic narwhal, nor an underwater island, nor a shipwreck, nor a receding reef, nor anything supernatural! So the reaction took place. Discouragement first took hold of minds, and opened a breach in disbelief. A new feeling arose on board, which consisted of three-tenths shame against seven- tenths fury. We were “quite stupid” to have let ourselves be taken in by a chimera, but even more furious! The mountains of arguments piled up for a year collapsed at once, and everyone thought only of making up for the mealtimes or sleep that they had so foolishly sacrificed. With the natural mobility of the human mind, from one excess we threw ourselves into another. The most ardent supporters of the enterprise inevitably became its most ardent detractors. The reaction rose from the ship’s bilges , from the stoker’s station to the mess hall, and certainly, without the very particular stubbornness of Commander Farragut, the frigate would have definitively set sail south. However, this useless search could not continue any longer. The Abraham Lincoln had nothing to reproach itself for, having done everything to succeed. Never had a crew of a ship in the American Navy shown more patience and more zeal; its failure could not be attributed to it; all that remained was to return. A representation to this effect was made to the commander. The commander stood firm. The sailors did not hide their discontent, and the service suffered as a result. I do not want to say that there was a revolt on board, but after a reasonable period of obstinacy, Commander Farragut, like Columbus in the past, asked for three days of patience. If the monster had not appeared within three days, the helmsman would give three turns of the wheel, and the Abraham Lincoln would set sail for European seas. This promise was made on November 2. Its first result was to revive the crew’s weaknesses. The ocean was observed with renewed attention. Everyone wanted to take that last look in which all memory is summed up. The glasses worked with feverish activity. It was a supreme challenge to the giant narwhal, and it could not reasonably avoid responding to this summons “to appear!” Two days passed. The Abraham Lincoln was under low steam. A thousand means were employed to arouse the attention or stimulate the apathy of the animal, in case it had been encountered in these waters. Huge quarters of blubber were put in tow, to the great satisfaction of the sharks, I must say. The boats radiated in all directions around the Abraham Lincoln while it was laying up, and did not leave a single point of sea unexplored. But the evening of November 4 arrived without this underwater mystery having been revealed . The next day, November 5, at noon, the strict deadline expired. After the point, Commander Farragut, faithful to his promise, was to give the route to the southeast, and definitively abandon the northern regions of the Pacific. The frigate was then at 31°15′ north latitude and 136°42′ east longitude. The lands of Japan remained less than two hundred miles to leeward. Night was approaching. We had just put in eight o’clock. Large clouds veiled the disc of the moon, then in its first quarter. The sea undulated peacefully under the bow of the frigate. At that moment, I was leaning forward, on the starboard rail. Conseil, posted near me, looked ahead. The crew, perched in the shrouds, examined the horizon which was narrowing and gradually darkening. The officers, armed with their night glasses , searched the growing darkness. Sometimes the dark ocean sparkled under a ray that the moon darted between the fringe of two clouds. Then, every trace of light vanished into the darkness. Observing Conseil, I noticed that this good fellow was somewhat subject to the general influence. At least, I thought so. Perhaps, and for the first time, his nerves were vibrating under the action of a feeling of curiosity. “Come now, Conseil,” I said to him, “here is one last opportunity to pocket two thousand dollars. ” “Let the gentleman allow me to tell him,” Conseil replied, “I never counted on this bonus, and the Union government could have promised one hundred thousand dollars, it would not have been the poorer. ” “You are right, Conseil. It is a foolish affair, after all, and one we have entered upon too lightly. What a waste of time, what useless emotions! Six months ago, we would have returned to France… ” “To the gentleman’s little apartment,” Conseil replied, “to the gentleman’s Museum! And I would have already classified the gentleman’s fossils!” And the gentleman’s babiroussa would be installed in his cage in the Jardin des Plantes, and he would attract all the curious people of the capital! “As you say, Conseil, and without counting, I imagine, that we will be laughed at! ” “Indeed,” Conseil replied calmly, “I think that the gentleman will be laughed at. And, must it be said…? ” “It must be said, Conseil. ” “Well, the gentleman will only get what he deserves! ” “Really! ” “When one has the honor of being a scholar like the gentleman, one does not expose oneself …” Conseil could not finish his compliment. In the midst of the general silence, a voice had just been heard. It was the voice of Ned Land, and Ned Land was crying out: “Ahoy! The thing in question, downwind, abeam of us!” Chapter 6. FULL STEAM. At this cry, the entire crew rushed towards the harpooner, commander, officers, masters, sailors, cabin boys, even the engineers who left their engines, even the stokers who abandoned their furnaces. The order to stop had been given, and the frigate was now running only on its own momentum. The darkness was then profound, and however good the Canadian’s eyes were , I wondered how he had seen and what he could have seen. My heart was beating to bursting. But Ned Land was not mistaken, and we all saw the object he was indicating with his hand. Two cables’ lengths from the Abraham Lincoln and its starboard quarter, the sea seemed to be illuminated from above. This was not a simple phenomenon of phosphorescence, and there was no mistaking it. The monster, submerged a few fathoms below the surface of the water, projected this very intense, but inexplicable, brilliance, which was mentioned in the reports of several captains. This magnificent irradiation must have been produced by an agent of great illuminating power. The luminous part described on the sea an immense, very elongated oval, in the center of which condensed a burning focus whose unbearable brilliance was extinguished by successive degradations. “It’s only an agglomeration of phosphorescent molecules,” cried one of the officers. “No, sir,” I replied with conviction. ” Never do pidgeons or salps produce such a powerful light. This brilliance is essentially electrical in nature… Besides, look, look! It’s moving! It’s moving forward, backward! It’s rushing towards us!” A general cry arose from the frigate. “Silence!” said Commander Farragut. “Hard to wind! Engine astern!” The sailors rushed to the helm, the engineers to their engines. Steam was immediately reversed, and the Abraham Lincoln, bearing to port, described a semicircle. “Hard to starboard! Engine ahead!” shouted Commander Farragut. These orders were executed, and the frigate quickly moved away from the luminous focus. I am mistaken. She wanted to move away, but the supernatural animal approached at twice the speed she had. We were panting. Amazement, much more than fear, kept us silent and motionless. The animal was winning us over, playing. It circled the frigate, which was then traveling at fourteen knots, and enveloped it in its electric sheets like luminous dust. Then it moved away two or three miles, leaving a phosphorescent trail comparable to the swirls of steam thrown behind the locomotive of an express train. All of a sudden, from the obscure limits of the horizon, where it was going to take its run, the monster suddenly rushed towards the Abraham Lincoln with a frightening speed, stopped abruptly twenty feet from its precincts, went out not by sinking under the water, since its brilliance suffered no degradation but suddenly and as if the source of this brilliant effluvium had suddenly dried up! Then, it reappeared on the other side of the ship, either by turning it, or by slipping under its hull. At any moment a collision could occur, which would have been fatal to us. However, I was astonished by the maneuvers of the frigate. It fled and did not attack. It was pursued, it which should have pursued, and I made this observation to Commander Farragut. His face, usually so impassive, was imbued with an indefinable astonishment. “Monsieur Aronnax,” he replied, “I don’t know what formidable being I’m dealing with, and I don’t want to imprudently risk my frigate in the midst of this darkness. Besides, how can we attack the unknown, how can we defend ourselves against it? Let’s wait for daylight and the roles will change. ” “You no longer have any doubt, Commander, about the nature of the animal? ” “No, sir, it is obviously a gigantic narwhal, but also an electric narwhal. ” “Perhaps,” I added, “one can no more approach it than a gymnotus or a torpedo! ” “Indeed,” replied the commander, “and if it possesses within it a lightning power, it is certainly the most terrible animal that has ever come from the hand of the Creator. That is why, sir, I will be on my guard.” The entire crew remained on their feet during the night. No one thought of sleeping. The Abraham Lincoln, unable to compete for speed, had moderated its speed and was keeping under light steam. For its part, the narwhal, imitating the frigate, let itself be rocked by the waves, and seemed determined not to abandon the scene of the struggle. Around midnight, however, it disappeared, or, to use a more accurate expression, it “extinguished” like a large glow-worm. Had it fled? It was to be feared, not hoped for. But at seven minutes to one in the morning, a deafening hiss was heard, like that produced by a column of water, driven with extreme violence. Commander Farragut, Ned Land and I were then on the poop deck, casting eager glances through the deep darkness. “Ned Land,” asked the commander, “have you often heard the roar of Whales? “Often, sir, but never such whales, the sight of which has brought me two thousand dollars. ” “Indeed, you are entitled to the bounty. But, tell me, isn’t that noise the one made by cetaceans ejecting water from their blowholes ? ” “The same noise, sir, but this one is incomparably louder . So, there can be no mistake. It is indeed a cetacean that is staying there in our waters. With your permission, sir,” added the harpooner, “we will have a word with him tomorrow at daybreak. ” “If he is in the mood to listen to you, Master Land,” I replied in an unconvincing tone. “Let me approach him to within four harpoon lengths,” retorted the Canadian, ” and he will have to listen to me! ” “But to approach him,” continued the commander, “I will have to put a whaleboat at your disposal? ” “No doubt, sir. ” “That will be risking the lives of my men?” “And mine!” replied the harpooner simply. Around two o’clock in the morning the luminous focus reappeared, no less intense, five miles to windward of the Abraham Lincoln. Despite the distance, despite the noise of the wind and the sea, the formidable beating of the animal’s tail and even its panting breathing could be distinctly heard. It seemed that at the moment when the enormous narwhal came to breathe on the surface of the ocean, the air rushed into its lungs, like steam in the vast cylinders of a two-thousand- horsepower engine. “Hmm!” I thought, “a whale with the strength of a cavalry regiment , that would be a fine whale!” They remained on the alert until daybreak, and prepared for combat. The fishing gear was placed along the rails. The second had these blunderbusses loaded, which launch a harpoon a mile away, and long duck nets with explosive bullets whose wound is fatal, even to the most powerful animals. Ned Land had contented himself with sharpening his harpoon, a terrible weapon in his hand. At six o’clock, dawn began to break, and with the first glimmers of dawn the electric glare of the narwhal disappeared. At seven o’clock, the day was sufficiently late, but a very thick morning mist narrowed the horizon, and the best spyglasses could not pierce it. From there, disappointment and anger. I hoisted myself up to the mizzen bars. Some officers had already perched at the tops of the masts. At eight o’clock, the mist rolled heavily over the waves, and its large curls gradually rose. The horizon was both widening and purifying. Suddenly, and as the day before, Ned Land’s voice was heard. “The thing in question, off the port side!” shouted the harpooner. All eyes were directed towards the indicated point. There, a mile and a half from the frigate, a long blackish body emerged a meter above the waves. Its tail, violently agitated, produced a considerable eddy. Never had a caudal apparatus beaten the sea with such power. An immense wake, of dazzling whiteness, marked the passage of the animal and described an elongated curve. The frigate approached the cetacean. I examined it with complete freedom of mind. The reports of the Shannon and the Helvetia had somewhat exaggerated its dimensions, and I estimated its length at only 250 feet. As for its size, I could only estimate it with difficulty; but, on the whole, the animal appeared to me to be admirably proportioned in its three dimensions. While I was observing this phenomenal being, two jets of steam and water shot out of its blowholes, and rose to a height of forty meters, which fixed my opinion on its mode of respiration. I definitively concluded that it belonged to the branch of vertebrates, class of mammals, subclass of monodelphians, group of pisciformes, order of cetaceans, family… Here, I could not yet to pronounce. The order of cetaceans comprises three families: whales, sperm whales and dolphins, and it is in the latter that narwhals are classified. Each of these families is divided into several genera, each genus into species, each species into varieties. Variety, species, genus and family were still missing, but I had no doubt that I would complete my classification with the help of heaven and Commander Farragut. The crew impatiently awaited orders from their leader. The latter, after carefully observing the animal, called the engineer. The engineer ran up. “Sir,” said the commander, “are you under pressure? ” “Yes, sir,” replied the engineer. “Good. Force your fires, and full steam ahead!” Three cheers greeted this order. The hour of battle had struck. A few moments later, the frigate’s two funnels belched torrents of black smoke, and the deck shuddered under the trembling of the boilers. The Abraham Lincoln, driven forward by its powerful propeller, headed straight for the animal. The latter indifferently let it approach to within half a cable length; then, disdaining to dive, it took a slight flight, and was content to maintain its distance. This pursuit continued for about three-quarters of an hour, without the frigate gaining two fathoms on the cetacean. It was therefore obvious that by walking like this, it would never be reached. Commander Farragut angrily twisted the thick tuft of hair that proliferated under his chin. “Ned Land?” he shouted. The Canadian came to the order. “Well, Master Land,” asked the commander, “do you still advise me to put my boats into the sea? ” “No, sir,” replied Ned Land, “because that beast will only let itself be caught if it wants to be. ” “What then? ” “Pull up steam if you can, sir. As for me, with your permission, of course, I’ll set up under the bowsprits , and if we come within harpoon length, I’ll harpoon. ” “Go, Ned,” replied Commander Farragut. “Engineer,” he shouted, ” raise the pressure.” Ned Land went to his post. The fires were more actively pushed ; the propeller gave forty-three revolutions per minute, and steam shot out of the valves. With the log thrown, it was found that the Abraham Lincoln was traveling at the rate of eighteen miles and five tenths per hour. But the cursed animal was also speeding at eighteen miles and five tenths. For another hour, the frigate maintained this pace, without gaining a fathom! It was humiliating for one of the fastest walkers in the American Navy. A dull anger ran through the crew. The sailors insulted the monster, which, moreover, disdained to answer them. Commander Farragut no longer contented himself with twisting his goatee, he bit it. The engineer was once again called. “Have you reached your maximum pressure?” the commander asked him. “Yes, sir,” replied the engineer. “And your valves are charged?… ” “To six and a half atmospheres. ” “Charge them to ten atmospheres.” That was an American order if ever there was one. They couldn’t have done better on the Mississippi to outrun a “competitor”! “Conseil,” I said to my brave servant who was standing near me, “do you know that we are probably going to jump? ” “As the gentleman pleases!” replied Conseil. Well! I will admit, I did not mind risking this chance. The valves were loaded. The coal rushed into the furnaces. The fans sent torrents of air onto the braziers. The speed of the Abraham Lincoln increased. Her masts trembled to their roots, and the swirls of smoke could hardly find passage through the narrow chimneys. The log was thrown a second time. “Well, helmsman?” asked Commander Farragut. “Nineteen and three-tenths miles, sir. ” “Force the fires.” The engineer obeyed. The pressure gauge showed ten atmospheres. But the cetacean was “heating up” too, no doubt, for, without holding back, it ran its nineteen and three-tenths miles. What a chase! No, I cannot describe the emotion that thrilled my whole being. Ned Land stood at his post, harpoon in hand. Several times, the animal allowed itself to be approached. “We’re winning it! We’re winning it!” cried the Canadian. Then, just as it was about to strike, the cetacean slipped away with a speed that I cannot estimate at less than thirty miles per hour. And even, during our maximum speed, did it not allow itself to taunt the frigate by circling it! A cry of fury escaped from all breasts! At noon, we were no further ahead than at eight o’clock in the morning. Commander Farragut then decided to employ more direct means. “Ah!” he said, “that animal goes faster than the Abraham Lincoln! Well , we will see if it will outrun its conical cannonballs. Master, men to the forward gun.” The forecastle gun was immediately loaded and aimed. The shot went off, but the cannonball passed a few feet above the cetacean, which was half a mile away. “To another more skillful one!” shouted the commander, “and five hundred dollars to whoever can pierce this infernal beast!” An old gunner with a gray beard—whom I can still see—with a calm eye and a cold face, approached his gun, brought it into position, and aimed for a long time. A loud detonation erupted, to which the cheers of the crew mingled . The cannonball reached its target, it struck the animal, but not normally, and sliding on its rounded surface, it went to be lost two miles at sea. “Oh, that!” said the old gunner, furious, “so this rascal is armored with six-inch plates! ” “Curse!” cried Commander Farragut. The chase began again, and Commander Farragut, leaning towards me, said: “I will pursue the animal until my frigate bursts! ” “Yes,” I replied, “and you will be right!” One might have hoped that the animal would become exhausted, and that it would not be indifferent to fatigue like a steam engine. But it was not so. The hours passed, without it showing any sign of exhaustion. However, it must be said in praise of the Abraham Lincoln that it fought with tireless tenacity. I estimate the distance it covered during that unfortunate day of November 6 at no less than five hundred kilometers! But night came and enveloped the stormy ocean in its shadows. At that moment, I thought our expedition was over, and that we would never see the fantastic animal again. I was wrong. At ten fifty in the evening, the electric light reappeared, three miles to windward of the frigate, as pure, as intense as during the previous night. The narwhal seemed motionless. Perhaps, tired from its day, it was sleeping, letting itself go to the undulation of the waves? Here was a chance that Commander Farragut resolved to take advantage of. He gave his orders. The Abraham Lincoln was kept under low steam and advanced cautiously so as not to awaken its adversary. It is not uncommon to encounter whales in the open ocean that are deeply asleep and then successfully attacked, and Ned Land had harpooned more than one while it slept. The Canadian went to resume his post in the bowsprits. The frigate approached silently, stopped two cables’ lengths from the animal, and ran on its way. There was no breathing on board. A profound silence reigned on the deck. We were not a hundred feet from the burning fire, whose brilliance grew and dazzled our eyes. At that moment, leaning over the rail of the forecastle, I saw Ned Land below me, clinging with one hand to the martingale, with the other brandishing his terrible harpoon. Barely twenty feet separated him from the motionless animal. All at once, his arm violently relaxed, and the harpoon was launched. I heard the sonorous shock of the weapon, which seemed to have struck a hard body. The electric light suddenly went out, and two enormous waterspouts crashed onto the deck of the frigate, running like a torrent from fore to aft, knocking men over, breaking the lashings of the dromes. A terrible shock occurred, and, thrown over the rail, without having time to restrain myself, I was thrown into the sea. Chapter 7. A WHALE OF AN UNKNOWN SPECIES Although I had been surprised by this unexpected fall, I nevertheless retained a very clear impression of my sensations. I was first carried to a depth of about twenty feet. I am a good swimmer, without claiming to equal Byron and Edgar Poe, who are masters, and this plunge did not make me lose my head. Two vigorous kicks of the heels brought me back to the surface of the sea. My first care was to look for the frigate. Had the crew noticed my disappearance? Had the Abraham Lincoln veered ? Was Commander Farragut putting a boat into the sea? Should I hope to be saved? The darkness was profound. I glimpsed a black mass disappearing towards the east, and whose position lights were extinguished in the distance. It was the frigate. I felt lost. “Mine! Mine!” I cried, swimming towards the Abraham Lincoln with a desperate arm. My clothes were embarrassing me. The water clung to my body, they paralyzed my movements. I was sinking! I was suffocating!… “Mine!” This was the last cry I uttered. My mouth filled with water. I struggled, dragged into the abyss… Suddenly, my clothes were seized by a strong hand, I felt myself violently brought back to the surface of the sea, and I heard, yes, I heard these words spoken in my ear: “If the gentleman will be so kind as to lean on my shoulder, the gentleman will swim much more comfortably.” ” I seized my faithful Conseil’s arm with one hand. “You!” I said, “you! ” “Myself,” replied Conseil, “and at the orders of monsieur. ” “And this shock threw you into the sea at the same time as me? ” “Not at all. But being in monsieur’s service, I followed monsieur!” The worthy fellow found this quite natural! “And the frigate?” I asked. “The frigate!” replied Conseil, turning over on his back, “I think monsieur would do well not to count on her too much! ” “You say? ” “I say that at the moment I threw myself into the sea, I heard the helmsmen cry out: “The propeller and the rudder are broken…” “Broken? ” “Yes! Broken by the monster’s tooth. This is the only damage, I think, that the Abraham Lincoln suffered. But, unfortunate circumstance for us, she no longer steers. ” “Then we are lost!” “Perhaps,” Conseil replied calmly. “However, we still have a few hours ahead of us, and in a few hours, a lot can be done !” Conseil’s imperturbable composure lifted me. I swam more vigorously; but, hampered by my clothes, which were tight like a leaden cape, I had extreme difficulty supporting myself. Conseil noticed this. “May the gentleman allow me to make an incision,” he said. And sliding an open knife under my clothes, he slit them from top to bottom with a quick stroke. Then he nimbly took them off me, while I swam for both of us. In turn, I rendered Conseil the same service, and we continued to “sail” close together. However, the situation was no less terrible. Perhaps our disappearance had not been noticed, and even if it had been, the frigate could not return to leeward of us, having lost its rudder. We had to rely only on its boats. Conseil reasoned coldly on this hypothesis and made his plan accordingly. Amazing nature! This phlegmatic boy was there as if he were at home! It was therefore decided that our only chance of salvation was to be picked up by the boats of the Abraham Lincoln, we had to organize ourselves in such a way as to wait for them as long as possible. I
then resolved to divide our forces so as not to exhaust them simultaneously, and here is what was agreed: while one of us, lying on his back, would remain motionless, arms crossed, legs stretched out, the other would swim and push him forward. This tug role was not to last more than ten minutes, and by taking turns like this, we could stay afloat for a few hours, and perhaps until daybreak. A slim chance! But hope is so deeply rooted in the heart of man! And then, there were two of us. Well, I say this, even though it seems improbable – if I sought to destroy all illusions in myself, if I wanted to “despair,” I could not! The collision of the frigate and the cetacean had occurred around eleven o’clock in the evening. I was therefore counting on eight hours of swimming until sunrise. An operation that was strictly practicable, taking turns. The sea was quite calm and tired us little. Sometimes, I tried to pierce with my eyes the thick darkness that was broken only by the phosphorescence caused by our movements. I watched the luminous waves breaking on my hand and whose shimmering sheet was stained with livid patches. It was as if we were immersed in a bath of mercury. Around one o’clock in the morning, I was seized with extreme fatigue. My limbs stiffened under the grip of violent cramps. Conseil had to support me, and the care of our preservation rested on him alone. I soon heard the poor boy gasping; his breathing became short and hurried. I understood that he could not resist for long. “Leave me! Leave me!” I said to him. “Abandon, sir! Never!” he replied. “I fully intend to drown before him!” At that moment, the moon appeared through the fringes of a large cloud that the wind was driving to the east. The surface of the sea sparkled under its rays. This beneficial light revived our strength. My head raised. My gaze focused on all points of the horizon. I saw the frigate. It was five thousand meters from us, and formed nothing but a dark mass, barely discernible! But no boats ! I wanted to shout. What good would it do, at such a distance! My swollen lips let no sound through. Conseil was able to articulate a few words, and I heard him repeat several times: “To us! To us!” Our movements suspended for a moment, we listened. And, even if it was one of those buzzings that fills the ear with oppressed blood, it seemed to me that a cry answered Conseil’s cry. “Did you hear?” I murmured. “Yes! Yes!” And Conseil threw out into space a new desperate call. This time, there was no mistake! A human voice answered ours ! Was it the voice of some unfortunate man, abandoned in the middle of the ocean, some other victim of the shock experienced by the ship? Or rather, was a boat from the frigate not hailing us from the darkness? Conseil made a supreme effort, and, leaning on my shoulder, while I resisted with a final convulsion, he half rose out of the water and fell back exhausted. “What did you see? ” “I saw…” he murmured, “I saw… but let’s not talk… let’s keep all our strength!” What had he seen? Then, I don’t know why, the thought of the monster came to my mind for the first time!… But that voice, however ?… The times are no longer when Jonahs take refuge in the bellies of whales!
Yet Conseil was still towing me. He sometimes raised his head, looked in front of him, and uttered a cry of recognition to which a voice answered, getting closer and closer. I could barely hear him. My strength was exhausted; my fingers were spreading; my hand no longer provided me with a point of support; my mouth, convulsively open, was filling with salt water; the cold was invading me. I raised my head one last time, then I collapsed… At that moment, a hard body struck me. I clung to it. Then I felt myself being pulled out, brought back to the surface of the water, my chest deflating, and I fainted… It is certain that I quickly came to, thanks to the vigorous friction that furrowed my body. I half-opened my eyes… “Conseil!” I murmured. “Did Monsieur ring me?” Conseil replied. At that moment, in the last light of the moon as it sank towards the horizon, I saw a figure that was not Conseil’s, and which I recognized at once. “Ned!” I cried. “In person, sir, and chasing his bounty!” replied the Canadian. “You were thrown into the sea by the impact of the frigate? ” “Yes, Professor, but more fortunate than you, I was able to land almost immediately on a floating islet. ” “An islet? ” “Or, to put it better, on our gigantic narwhal.” “Explain yourself, Ned. ” “Only, I soon understood why my harpoon had been unable to penetrate it and had become blunt on its skin. ” “Why, Ned, why? ” “It’s because that beast, Professor, is made of sheet steel!” I must regain my senses, revive my memories, and control my own assertions. The Canadian’s last words had produced a sudden reversal in my brain. I quickly hoisted myself to the top of the half-submerged being or object that served as our refuge. I tested it with my foot. It was obviously a hard, impenetrable body, and not the soft substance that forms the bulk of large marine mammals. But this hard body could be a bony shell, similar to that of antediluvian animals, and I would be free to classify the monster among the amphibious reptiles, such as turtles or alligators. Well then! No! The blackish back that supported me was smooth, polished, not interlocked. It gave off a metallic sound when struck, and, incredible as it was, it seemed, I say, that it was made of bolted plates. Doubt was not possible! The animal, the monster, the natural phenomenon that had intrigued the entire learned world, upset and misled the imagination of sailors in both hemispheres, it had to be recognized, was an even more astonishing phenomenon, a phenomenon of human hand. The discovery of the existence of the most fabulous, the most mythological being, would not have surprised my reason to the same degree. That what is prodigious comes from the Creator is quite simple. But to find suddenly, before one’s eyes, the impossible mysteriously and humanly realized, was enough to confound the mind! There was no need to hesitate, however. We were lying on the back of a sort of underwater boat, which, as far as I could judge, was shaped like an immense steel fish. Ned Land’s opinion was made up on this point. Conseil and I could only agree .
“But then,” I said, “this device contains within it a mechanism of locomotion and a crew to maneuver it? ” “Obviously,” replied the harpooner, “and nevertheless, for three hours that I have lived on this floating island, it has not given any sign of life. — This boat has not moved? — No, Mr. Aronnax. It lets itself be rocked by the waves, but it does not move. — We know, without a doubt, however, that it is endowed with great speed. Now, as it requires a machine to produce this speed and a mechanic to drive this machine, I conclude… that we are saved. — Hum! ” said Ned Land in a reserved tone. At that moment, and as if to prove my argument right, a bubbling arose at the rear of this strange apparatus, whose propulsion was obviously a propeller, and it began to move. We only had time to hang on to its upper part, which emerged about eighty centimeters. Very fortunately its speed was not excessive. “As long as it sails horizontally,” murmured Ned Land, “I have nothing to say.” But if he takes the fancy to dive, I wouldn’t give two dollars for my skin!” Even less, the Canadian could have said. It was therefore becoming urgent to communicate with the beings contained in the sides of this machine. I looked on its surface for an opening, a panel, “a manhole,” to use the technical expression; but the lines of bolts, firmly folded over the joint of the sheets, were clean and uniform. Moreover, the moon then disappeared, and left us in profound darkness. We had to wait for daylight to find ways of penetrating the interior of this underwater boat. Thus, our salvation depended solely on the whim of the mysterious helmsmen who steered this device, and if they dived, we were lost! Except for this case, I had no doubt about the possibility of entering into relations with them. And, indeed, if they did not make their own air, it was necessary for them to return from time to time to the surface of the Ocean to renew their supply of breathable molecules. Thus, an opening was necessary that put the interior of the boat in communication with the atmosphere. As for the hope of being saved by Commander Farragut, it had to be completely abandoned. We were being carried westward, and I estimated that our speed, relatively moderate, reached twelve miles per hour. The propeller beat the waves with mathematical regularity, emerging sometimes and making the phosphorescent water spurt to a great height. Around four o’clock in the morning, the speed of the craft increased. We could hardly resist this dizzying drive, when the waves hit us head on. Fortunately, Ned found under his hand a large organ attached to the upper part of the sheet metal back, and we managed to hang on to it securely. Finally, that long night passed. My incomplete memory does not allow me to retrace all the impressions. A single detail comes to mind. During certain lulls in the sea and the wind, I thought I heard several times vague sounds, a sort of fleeting harmony produced by distant chords. What was the mystery of this underwater navigation for which the whole world was vainly seeking an explanation? What beings lived in this strange boat? What mechanical agent allowed it to move with such prodigious speed? Day broke. The morning mists enveloped us, but they soon broke away. I was about to proceed with a careful examination of the hull, which formed a sort of horizontal platform at its upper part , when I felt it sink little by little. “Hey! a thousand devils!” cried Ned Land, stamping his foot on the resonant sheet metal, “open up, you inhospitable sailors!” ” But it was difficult to make oneself heard over the deafening beat of the propeller. Fortunately, the submersion movement stopped. Suddenly, a noise of violently pushing ironwork occurred inside the boat. A plate lifted, a man appeared, gave a strange cry and disappeared immediately. A few moments later, eight sturdy fellows, their faces veiled, appeared silently, and dragged us into their formidable machine. Chapter 8. _MOBILIS IN MOBILE_. This abduction, so brutally executed, had been accomplished with the speed of lightning. My companions and I had not had time to recognize each other. I do not know what they felt when they felt themselves introduced into this floating prison; but, for my part, a quick shudder froze my skin. Who were we dealing with? Without doubt some pirates of a new species who exploited the sea in their own way. Hardly had the narrow hatch closed behind me than a profound darkness enveloped me. My eyes, soaked in the outside light, could perceive nothing. I felt my bare feet clinging to the rungs of an iron ladder. Ned Land and Conseil, vigorously seized, followed me. At the bottom of the ladder, a door opened and immediately closed behind us with a resounding clang. We were alone. Where? I couldn’t say, barely imagine. Everything was black, but such absolute blackness that after a few minutes, my eyes had still not been able to catch one of those indeterminate gleams that float in the deepest nights. However, Ned Land, furious at this way of proceeding, gave free rein to his indignation. “A thousand devils!” he cried, “here are people who would go back to the Caledonians for hospitality! All they need now is to be cannibals! I wouldn’t be surprised, but I declare that I will not be eaten without my protest!” “Calm down, friend Ned, calm down,” Conseil replied calmly. ” Don’t get carried away before the time. We’re not in the roasting pan yet! ” “In the roasting pan, no,” the Canadian retorted, “but in the oven, for sure! It’s quite dark in there. Fortunately, my bowie knife hasn’t left me, and I can still see well enough to use it. The first of these bandits who lays his hands on me… ” “Don’t get angry, Ned,” I said to the harpooner, “and don’t compromise us with useless violence. Who knows if we’re being listened to! Let’s try to find out where we are!” I walked gropingly. After five steps, I came across an iron wall, made of bolted sheets. Then, turning around, I bumped into a wooden table, near which several stepladders were arranged. The floor of this prison was hidden under a thick mat of phormium which muffled the sound of footsteps. The bare walls revealed no trace of a door or window. Conseil, making a turn in the opposite direction, joined me, and we returned to the middle of this cabin, which must have been twenty feet long by ten feet wide. As for its height, Ned Land, despite his great size, could not measure it. Half an hour had already passed without the situation having changed, when, from extreme darkness, our eyes suddenly passed into the most violent light. Our prison suddenly lit up, that is to say, it was filled with a luminous substance so vivid that at first I could not bear its glare. By its whiteness, by its intensity, I recognized this electric lighting, which produced around the underwater boat a magnificent phenomenon of phosphorescence. After involuntarily closing my eyes, I opened them again, and saw that the luminous agent was escaping from a frosted half-globe which rounded off the upper part of the cabin. “At last! We can see clearly!” cried Ned Land, who, knife in hand, was standing on the defensive. “Yes,” I replied, risking the antithesis, “but the situation is not no less obscure. “Let sir be patient,” said the impassive Council. The sudden illumination of the cabin had allowed me to examine its smallest details. It contained only the table and the five stools. The invisible door must have been hermetically sealed. No sound reached our ears. Everything seemed dead inside this boat. Was it moving, was it maintaining itself on the surface of the Ocean, was it sinking into its depths? I could not guess. However, the luminous globe had not lit up without reason. I hoped, therefore, that the men of the crew would soon appear . When one wants to forget people, one does not light up the dungeons. I was not mistaken. A bolt click was heard, the door opened, two men appeared. One was small, vigorously muscled, broad-shouldered, robust in limbs, with a strong head, abundant black hair, a thick mustache, a lively and penetrating gaze, and his whole person imbued with that southern vivacity which characterizes the Provençal populations in France. Diderot quite rightly claimed that the man’s gesture is metaphorical, and this little man was certainly living proof of this. One felt that in his usual language, he must be lavishing prosopopeia, metonymy, and hypallage. Which, moreover, I was never able to verify, because he always used a singular and absolutely incomprehensible idiom in my presence. The second unknown man deserves a more detailed description. A disciple of Gratiolet or Engel would have read his physiognomy like an open book. I recognized without hesitation his dominant qualities – self-confidence, for his head stood out nobly on the arch formed by the line of his shoulders, and his black eyes looked with a cold assurance: – calm, for his skin, pale rather than colored, announced the tranquility of the blood; – energy, demonstrated by the rapid contraction of his eyebrow muscles; finally, courage, for his vast breathing denoted a great vital expansion. I will add that this man was proud, that his firm and calm gaze seemed to reflect lofty thoughts, and that from all this, from the homogeneity of the expressions in the gestures of the body and the face, according to the observation of physiognomists, resulted an indisputable frankness. I felt “involuntarily” reassured in his presence, and I augured well for our interview. Whether this person was thirty-five or fifty years old, I could not have specified. His height was tall, his forehead broad, his nose straight, his mouth clearly defined, his teeth magnificent, his hands fine, elongated, eminently “psychic” to use a word from palmistry, that is to say worthy of serving a lofty and passionate soul. This man certainly formed the most admirable type I had ever met. A particular detail, his eyes, a little apart from each other, could simultaneously embrace nearly a quarter of the horizon. This faculty, I verified later, was doubled by a power of vision even superior to that of Ned Land. When this stranger fixed an object, the line of his eyebrows furrowed, his large eyelids came together so as to circumscribe the pupil of the eyes and thus to narrow the extent of the visual field, and he looked ! What a look! How he magnified objects shrunk by distance! How he penetrated you to the soul! how he pierced these liquid sheets, so opaque to our eyes, and how he read the depths of the seas!… The two strangers, wearing berets made of sea otter fur , and wearing sea boots made of sealskin, wore clothes of a particular material, which left the waist free and allowed great freedom of movement. The taller of the two – evidently the leader of the ship – examined us with extreme attention, without uttering a word. Then, turning towards his companion, he conversed with him in a language I could not recognize. It was a sonorous, harmonious, flexible idiom, whose vowels seemed subject to a very varied accentuation. The other replied with a nod of the head, and added two or three perfectly incomprehensible words. Then with a look he seemed to question me directly. I replied, in good French, that I did not understand his language; but he did not seem to understand me, and the situation became rather embarrassing. “Let the gentleman continue to tell our story,” Conseil said to me. “Perhaps these gentlemen will understand a few words!” I began the story of our adventures again, clearly articulating all my syllables, and without omitting a single detail. I stated our names and qualifications; then, I formally introduced Professor Aronnax, his servant Conseil, and Master Ned Land, the harpooner. The man with the gentle, calm eyes listened to me quietly, even politely, and with remarkable attention. But nothing in his face indicated that he had understood my story. When I had finished, he did not utter a single word. There still remained the resource of speaking English. Perhaps one could make oneself understood in this language, which is almost universal. I knew it, as well as German, sufficiently to read it fluently, but not to speak it correctly. Now, here, it was above all necessary to make oneself understood. “Come now, your turn,” I said to the harpooner. “It’s your turn, Master Land, to pull out of your bag the best English that an Anglo-Saxon has ever spoken, and try to be happier than I am.” Ned did not need to be asked twice and began my story again, which I understood more or less . The substance was the same, but the form differed. The Canadian, carried away by his character, put a lot of animation into it. He complained violently of being imprisoned in defiance of international law, asked under what law he was being held, invoked habeas corpus, threatened to prosecute those who were unduly sequestering him, struggled, gesticulated, shouted, and finally, he made it clear by an expressive gesture that we were dying of hunger. Which was perfectly true, but we had almost forgotten it. To his great astonishment, the harpooner did not appear to have been more intelligible than I. Our visitors did not bat an eyelid. It was obvious that they understood neither the language of Arago nor that of Faraday. Greatly embarrassed, after having exhausted our philological resources in vain, I no longer knew what course to take, when Conseil said to me:
“If monsieur authorizes me, I will relate the matter in German. ” “What! You know German?” I cried. “Like a Fleming, with all due respect to monsieur.” “On the contrary, I like it. Go on, my boy.” And Conseil, in his calm voice, recounted for the third time the various twists and turns of our story. But, despite the narrator’s elegant turns of phrase and beautiful accentuation, the German language had no success. Finally, pushed to the limit, I gathered together all that remained of my early studies, and undertook to narrate our adventures in Latin. Cicero would have stopped his ears and sent me back to the kitchen, but nevertheless, I managed to get by. Same negative result. This last attempt definitively aborted, the two strangers exchanged a few words in their incomprehensible language, and withdrew, without even having addressed to us one of those reassuring gestures which are current in all countries of the world. The door closed. “It’s an infamy!” cried Ned Land, who burst out for the twentieth time. “What! “We speak French, English, German, Latin to these rascals, and not one of them has the civility to answer! Calm down, Ned,” I said to the fiery harpooner, “anger would lead to nothing. ” “But you know, Professor,” our irascible man continued, companion, that we would die of starvation in this iron cage? “Bah!” said Conseil, “with philosophy, we can still hold out for a long time! ” “My friends,” I said, “we must not despair. We have found ourselves in worse situations. Do me the favor of waiting to form an opinion on the commander and crew of this ship. ” “My opinion is already made up,” replied Ned Land. “They are scoundrels… ” “Good! And from what country? ” “From the country of scoundrels! ” “My good Ned, that country is not yet sufficiently indicated on the world map, and I admit that the nationality of these two unknown people is difficult to determine! Neither English, nor French, nor German, that is all that can be affirmed. However, I would be tempted to admit that this commander and his second were born in low latitudes. There is something southern in them.” But whether they are Spanish, Turkish, Arab, or Indian, their physical type does not allow me to decide. As for their language, it is absolutely incomprehensible. That is the inconvenience of not knowing all languages, replied Conseil, or the disadvantage of not having a single language! “Which would be of no use!” replied Ned Land. “Don’t you see that these people have a language of their own, a language invented to drive to despair the good people who ask for dinner! But, in all the countries of the earth, opening the mouth, moving the jaws, snapping teeth and lips, isn’t that understood anyway? Doesn’t it mean in Quebec as in Pomotou, in Paris as in the antipodes: I’m hungry! Give me something to eat!… ” “Oh!” said Conseil, “there are such unintelligent natures!” As he said these words, the door opened. A steward entered. He brought us clothes, jackets and sea pants, made of a material whose nature I did not recognize. I hastened to put them on, and my companions imitated me. Meanwhile, the mute, perhaps deaf, steward had arranged the table and placed three place settings. “This is something serious,” said Conseil, “and it looks good. ” “Bah!” replied the spiteful harpooner, “what the devil do you want us to eat here? Turtle liver, shark fillet, dogfish steak! ” “We’ll see!” said Conseil. The dishes, covered with their silver covers, were symmetrically placed on the tablecloth, and we took our places at the table. We were definitely dealing with civilized people, and without the electric light that flooded us, I would have thought I was in the dining room of the Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool, or the Grand Hotel in Paris. I must say, however, that bread and wine were completely lacking. The water was fresh and clear, but it was water—which was not to Ned Land’s taste. Among the dishes served to us, I recognized various delicately prepared fish; but, on some dishes, excellent in fact, I could not pronounce, and I would not even have been able to say to which kingdom, vegetable or animal, their contents belonged. As for the table service, it was elegant and in perfect taste. Each utensil, spoon, fork, knife, plate, bore a letter surrounded by a motto in the exergue, and here is the exact facsimile: Mobile in the mobile element! This motto applied precisely to this underwater apparatus, on the condition that the preposition in was translated by in and not by on. The letter N doubtless formed the initial of the name of the enigmatic character who commanded at the bottom of the sea! Ned and Conseil did not make such reflections. They devoured, and I wasted no time in imitating them. I was, moreover, reassured about our fate, and it seemed obvious to me that our hosts did not want to let us die of starvation. However, everything ends here below, everything passes, even the hunger of people who have not eaten for fifteen hours. Our appetite satisfied, the The need for sleep was urgently felt. A very natural reaction, after the interminable night during which we had fought against death. “Well, I could sleep well,” said Conseil. “And I sleep!” replied Ned Land. My two companions stretched out on the cabin carpet, and were soon plunged into a deep sleep. For my part, I gave in less easily to this violent need to sleep. Too many thoughts were accumulating in my mind, too many insoluble questions were crowding it, too many images kept my eyelids half-open! Where were we? What strange power was carrying us away? I felt—or rather, I thought I felt—the craft sinking towards the most distant layers of the sea. Violent nightmares obsessed me. I glimpsed in these mysterious asylums a whole world of unknown animals, of which this underwater boat seemed to be a congener, living, moving, formidable like them!… Then, my brain calmed down, my imagination melted into a vague drowsiness, and I soon fell into a gloomy sleep. Chapter 9. THE Wrath of Ned Land How long this sleep lasted, I do not know; but it must have been long, for it completely rested us from our fatigues. I woke up first. My companions had not yet moved, and remained stretched out in their corner like inert masses. Hardly had I risen from this fairly hard bed than I felt my brain clear, my mind clear. I then began a careful examination of our cell. Nothing had changed in its interior arrangements. The prison remained a prison, and the prisoners, prisoners. However, the steward, taking advantage of our sleep, had cleared the table. Nothing indicated any imminent change in this situation, and I seriously wondered if we were destined to live indefinitely in this cage. This prospect seemed all the more painful to me because, although my brain was free of its obsessions of the day before, my chest felt singularly oppressed. My breathing was difficult. The heavy air was no longer sufficient for my lungs to function. Although the cell was vast, it was obvious that we had largely consumed the oxygen it contained. In fact, each man expends in an hour the oxygen contained in one hundred liters of air, and this air, then charged with an almost equal quantity of carbonic acid, becomes unbreathable. It was therefore urgent to renew the atmosphere of our prison, and, no doubt also, the atmosphere of the underwater boat. Here a question arose in my mind. How did the commander of this floating dwelling proceed? Did he obtain air by chemical means, by releasing the oxygen contained in potassium chlorate through heat , and by absorbing the carbonic acid with caustic potash? In this case, he must have maintained some relations with the continents, in order to obtain the materials necessary for this operation. Did he limit himself to storing the air under high pressure in reservoirs, then to distributing it according to the needs of his crew? Perhaps. Or, a more convenient, more economical, and consequently more probable process, did he simply return to breathe at the surface of the water, like a cetacean, and renew his supply of atmosphere for twenty-four hours? In any case, and whatever the method, it seemed to me prudent to employ it without delay. Indeed, I was already reduced to multiplying my inspirations to extract from this cell the little oxygen it contained, when, suddenly, I was refreshed by a current of pure air, perfumed with saline emanations. It was indeed the sea breeze, invigorating and charged with iodine! I opened my mouth wide, and my lungs were saturated with fresh molecules. At the same time, I felt a rocking, a rolling of mediocre amplitude, but perfectly determinable. The boat, the sheet metal monster, had obviously just risen to the surface of the ocean to breathe like whales. The ship’s ventilation system was therefore perfectly known. When I had absorbed this pure air with full breath, I looked for the duct, the “aeriferous,” if you will, which allowed this beneficial effluvium to reach us, and I was not long in finding it. Above the door, a ventilation hole opened, letting in a fresh column of air, which thus renewed the impoverished atmosphere of the cell. I had reached this point in my observations when Ned and Conseil awoke almost at the same time, under the influence of this invigorating ventilation. They rubbed their eyes, stretched their arms and were on their feet in an instant. “Did Monsieur sleep well?” Conseil asked me with his everyday politeness . “Very well, my good boy,” I replied. “And you, Master Ned Land? ” “Deeply, Professor. But, I don’t know if I’m mistaken, it seems to me that I breathe like a sea breeze?” A sailor could not be mistaken, and I told the Canadian what had happened during his sleep. “Good!” he said, “that perfectly explains those roars we heard when the supposed narwhal was in sight of the Abraham Lincoln. ” “Exactly, Master Land, it was his breathing! ” “Only, Mr. Aronnax, I have no idea what time it is, unless it is dinner time? ” “Dinner time, my worthy harpooner? Say, at least, lunch time, for it is certainly the day after yesterday. ” “Which shows,” Conseil replied, “that we have had twenty-four hours of sleep. ” “That is my opinion,” I replied. “I don’t contradict you,” replied Ned Land. “But dinner or lunch, the steward will be welcome, whether he brings one or the other. ” “Both,” said Conseil. “Just,” replied the Canadian, “we are entitled to two meals, and for my part, I will honor both. ” “Well! Ned, let’s wait,” I replied. “It is obvious that these strangers have no intention of letting us starve, for, in that case, last night’s dinner would have no meaning. ” “Unless we are fattened!” retorted Ned. “I protest,” I replied. “We have not fallen into the hands of cannibals! ” “Once is not always,” replied the Canadian seriously. Who knows if these people haven’t been deprived of fresh meat for a long time, and in that case, three healthy and well-built individuals like the professor, his servant, and myself… “Get rid of those ideas, Master Land,” I replied to the harpooner, “and above all, don’t start getting angry with our hosts, which could only make the situation worse. ” “In any case,” said the harpooner, “I’m ravenous, and dinner or lunch, the meal is hardly coming! ” “Master Land,” I replied, “we must comply with the ship’s regulations, and I suppose our stomachs are advancing on the master cook’s bell. ” “Well! We’ll set it on time,” Conseil replied calmly. “I recognize you there, friend Conseil,” retorted the impatient Canadian. ” You don’t use up your bile or your nerves much! Always calm! You would be capable of saying your grace before your benediction, and dying of hunger rather than complaining! ” “What would be the point?” asked Conseil. — But that would be enough to complain about! That’s already something. And if these pirates – I say pirates out of respect, and so as not to upset the professor who forbids calling them cannibals – if these pirates think they’re going to keep me in this cage where I’m suffocating, without learning what curses I season my outbursts with, they They are deceiving! Come now, Mr. Aronnax, speak frankly. Do you think they will keep us in this iron box for long? — To tell the truth, I don’t know any more than you, friend Land. — But what do you suppose? — I suppose that chance has made us masters of an important secret. Now, the crew of this underwater boat has an interest in keeping it, and if this interest is more serious than the lives of three men, I believe our existence is very compromised. Otherwise, at the first opportunity, the monster that swallowed us will return us to the world inhabited by our fellow men. “Unless he enlists us among his crew,” said Conseil, “and keeps us like that… ” “Until the moment,” replied Ned Land, “when some frigate, faster or more skillful than the Abraham Lincoln, seizes this nest of pirates, and sends its crew and us to breathe one last breath at the end of its main-yard. ” “Well reasoned, Master Land,” I replied. “But no proposal has yet been made to us, as far as I know, in this regard. It is therefore useless to discuss the course we should take, if necessary. I repeat, let us wait, take advice from the circumstances, and do nothing, since there is nothing to be done. ” “On the contrary! Professor,” replied the harpooner, who would not budge, “we must do something. ” “Well! What then, Master Land? ” “Save us.” — Escaping from a “land” prison is often difficult, but from an underwater prison, it seems absolutely impracticable to me. — Come now, friend Ned, asked Conseil, what do you say to the gentleman’s objection ? I cannot believe that an American would ever be at the end of his resources! The harpooner, visibly embarrassed, remained silent. Escape, in the conditions in which chance had thrown us, was absolutely impossible. But a Canadian is half-French, and Master Ned Land made this clear by his reply. “So, Mr. Aronnax,” he continued after a few moments of reflection, “you cannot guess what people must do who cannot escape from their prison? ” “No, my friend. ” “It’s quite simple, they must arrange things so as to remain there. ” “Parbleu!” said Conseil, “it’s even better to be inside than above or below! ” “But after throwing out the jailers, key-holders, and guards,” added Ned Land. “What, Ned? Are you seriously thinking of seizing this vessel? ” “Very seriously,” replied the Canadian. “It’s impossible. ” “Why not, sir? Some favorable opportunity may present itself , and I don’t see what could prevent us from taking advantage of it. If there are only twenty men on board this machine, they won’t force back two Frenchmen and a Canadian, I suppose!” It was better to accept the harpooner’s proposal than to discuss it. So, I simply replied: “Let circumstances take their course, Master Land, and we’ll see. But until then, I beg you, contain your impatience. One can only act by cunning, and it is not by getting carried away that you will create favorable opportunities. Promise me, then, that you will accept the situation without too much anger. ” “I promise you, Professor,” replied Ned Land in a less than reassuring tone. Not a violent word will come from my mouth, not a brutal gesture will betray me, even if the table service is not done with all the desirable regularity. “I have your word, Ned,” I replied to the Canadian. Then the conversation was suspended, and each of us began to reflect to himself. I will admit that, for my part, and despite the harpooner’s assurance, I retained no illusions. I did not admit these favorable chances of which Ned Land had spoken. To be maneuvered so surely, the underwater boat required a numerous crew, and consequently, in the event of a fight, we would be facing too strong an odds. Besides, it was necessary, above all, to be free, and we were not. I did not even see any way of escaping this hermetically sealed tin cell. And if the strange commander of this boat had a secret to keep – which seemed at least likely – he would not let us act freely on board. Now, would he get rid of us by violence, or would he one day throw us onto some corner of land? That was the unknown. All these hypotheses seemed extremely plausible to me, and one had to be a harpooner to hope to regain one’s freedom. I understood, moreover, that Ned Land’s ideas were becoming sour with the reflections that were taking hold of his brain. I heard little by little the judgments rumbling in the depths of his throat, and I saw his gestures becoming threatening again. He stood up, turned like a caged wild beast, pounded the walls with his feet and fists. Besides, time was passing, hunger was making itself cruelly felt, and this time, the steward did not appear. And that was forgetting for too long our position as castaways, if anyone really had good intentions towards us. Ned Land, tormented by the pangs of his robust stomach, was getting more and more angry, and, despite his word, I truly feared an explosion when he found himself in the presence of one of the men on board. For two more hours, Ned Land’s anger grew fiercer. The Canadian called out, he shouted, but in vain. The iron walls were deaf. I couldn’t even hear any noise inside this boat, which seemed dead. It didn’t move, because I would obviously have felt the shuddering of the hull under the thrust of the propeller. Plunged, no doubt, into the abyss of the waters, he no longer belonged to the earth. All this gloomy silence was frightening. As for our abandonment, our isolation in the depths of this cell, I did not dare estimate how long it might last. The hopes I had conceived after our interview with the ship’s captain were gradually fading. The gentleness of this man’s gaze, the generous expression of his physiognomy, the nobility of his bearing, all disappeared from my memory. I saw again this enigmatic character as he must have been, necessarily pitiless, cruel. I felt him outside of humanity, inaccessible to any feeling of pity, implacable enemy of his fellow men to whom he must have devoted an imperishable hatred! But, this man, was he then going to let us perish of starvation, locked in this narrow prison, given over to these horrible temptations to which fierce hunger drives us? This dreadful thought took on a terrible intensity in my mind, and with the help of my imagination, I felt myself overcome by a senseless terror. Conseil remained calm, Ned Land roared. At that moment, a noise was heard from outside. Footsteps echoed on the metal slab. The locks were searched, the door opened, the steward appeared. Before I could make a move to prevent him, the Canadian had rushed upon this unfortunate man; he had knocked him down; he held him by the throat. The steward was suffocating under his powerful hand. Conseil was already trying to remove his half-suffocated victim from the harpooner’s hands , and I was about to join my efforts with his, when, suddenly, I was nailed to my place by these words spoken in French: “Calm down, Master Land, and you, Professor, please listen to me!” Chapter 10. THE MAN OF THE WATERS It was the captain of the ship who spoke thus. At these words, Ned Land suddenly got up. The steward, almost strangled, staggered out at a sign from his master; but such was the commander’s authority on board, that not a gesture betrayed the resentment with which this man must have felt against the Canadian. Conseil, interested in spite of himself, and I, stunned, we waited in silence for the outcome of this scene. The commander, leaning against the corner of the table, arms crossed, watched us with profound attention. Was he hesitant to speak? Was he regretting the words he had just uttered in French? One could believe it. After a few moments of silence that none of us thought to break: “Gentlemen,” he said in a calm and penetrating voice, “I speak French, English, German, and Latin equally. I could have answered you at our first meeting, but I wanted to get to know you first, and then think about it. Your fourfold narrative, which was fundamentally identical, confirmed to me the identity of your persons.” I now know that chance has brought into my presence Mr. Pierre Aronnax, professor of natural history at the Paris Museum, charged with a scientific mission abroad, Conseil his servant, and Ned Land, of Canadian origin, harpooner aboard the frigate _Abraham-Lincoln_, of the Navy of the United States of America. ” I bowed with an air of assent. It was not a question that the commander was asking me. Therefore, no answer to give. This man expressed himself with perfect ease, without any accent. His sentence was clear, his words just right, his facility of elocution remarkable. And yet, I did not “feel” a compatriot in him. He resumed the conversation in these terms: “You have doubtless found, sir, that I have long delayed paying you this second visit. It is because, your identity recognized, I wanted to carefully weigh the course to take towards you. I hesitated a great deal. The most unfortunate circumstances have brought you into the presence of a man who has broken with humanity. You have come to disturb my existence… “Involuntarily,” I said. “Involuntarily?” replied the stranger, forcing his voice a little. ” Is it involuntarily that the Abraham Lincoln chases me across all the seas? Is it involuntarily that you took passage on board this frigate? Is it involuntarily that your cannonballs bounced off the hull of my ship? Is it involuntarily that Master Ned Land struck me with his harpoon?” I detected in these words a suppressed irritation. But, to these recriminations I had a perfectly natural answer to make, and I made it. “Sir,” I said, “you are doubtless unaware of the discussions which have taken place on your subject in America and in Europe. You do not know that various accidents, caused by the impact of your underwater craft, have stirred public opinion on both continents. I will spare you the countless hypotheses by which people sought to explain the inexplicable phenomenon of which only you knew the secret. But know that in pursuing you to the high seas of the Pacific, the Abraham Lincoln believed it was hunting some powerful sea monster from which the Ocean had to be delivered at all costs. A half-smile relaxed the commander’s lips, then, in a calmer tone : “Mr. Aronnax,” he replied, “would you dare affirm that your frigate would not have pursued and cannonaded a submarine boat as well as a monster?” This question embarrassed me, because certainly Commander Farragut would not have hesitated. He would have believed it his duty to destroy a craft of this kind just as he would a gigantic narwhal. “You understand then, sir,” the stranger continued, “that I have the right to treat you as enemies.” I said nothing in reply, and for good reason. What was the point of discussing such a proposition, when force can destroy the best arguments. “I hesitated for a long time,” the commander continued. “Nothing obliged me to give you hospitality. If I had to part from you, I had no interest in seeing you again. I was putting you back on the platform of this ship that had served as your refuge. I was sinking beneath the sea, and I forgot that you had ever existed. Wasn’t that my right? “Perhaps it was the right of a savage,” I replied, “it was not that of a civilized man. ” “Professor,” the commander replied sharply, “I am not what you call a civilized man! I have broken with society as a whole for reasons that I alone have the right to appreciate. I therefore do not obey its rules, and I urge you never to invoke them before me!” This was said clearly. A flash of anger and disdain lit the eyes of the stranger, and in the life of this man, I glimpsed a formidable past. Not only had he placed himself outside human laws, but he had made himself independent, free in the strictest sense of the word, beyond all reach! Who would dare pursue him to the bottom of the sea, since, on their surface, he thwarted the efforts made against him? What ship would resist the shock of his underwater monitor? What armor, however thick, would bear the blows of his ram? No one among men could ask him to account for his works. God, if he believed in him, his conscience, if he had one, were the only judges on whom he could depend. These reflections quickly crossed my mind, while the strange personage remained silent, absorbed and as if withdrawn into himself. I regarded him with a terror mixed with interest, and no doubt, as Oedipus regarded the Sphinx. After a rather long silence, the commander resumed speaking. “So I hesitated,” he said, “but I thought that my interest could be reconciled with that natural pity to which every human being has a right. You will remain on board me, since fate has thrown you here.” You will be free there, and in exchange for this freedom, which is quite relative , I will impose only one condition on you. Your word to submit to it will be enough for me. “Speak, sir,” I replied. “I think this condition is one that an honest man can accept? ” “Yes, sir, and here it is. It is possible that certain unforeseen events will oblige me to confine you to your cabins for a few hours or a few days, depending on the case. Wishing never to use violence, I expect from you, in this case, even more than in all others, passive obedience. By acting thus, I cover your responsibility, I exonerate you entirely, because it is up to me to make it impossible for you to see what should not be seen. Do you accept this condition?” So things were happening on board that were at least singular, and which people who had not placed themselves outside the social laws were not expected to see! Among the surprises that the future had in store for me, this one was not to be the least. “We accept,” I replied. “Only, I will ask you, sir, permission to ask you one question, just one. ” “Speak, sir. ” “You said we would be free on board? ” “Entirely. ” “I will ask you, then, what you mean by this freedom. ” “But the freedom to come and go, to see, even to observe everything that happens here—except in a few serious circumstances—the freedom, in short, that we ourselves enjoy, my companions and I.” It was obvious that we did not understand each other. “Pardon, sir,” I continued, “but this freedom is only that which every prisoner has to roam his prison! It cannot be enough for us. ” “It will, however, have to be enough for you! ” “What! We must renounce forever the idea of ​​seeing our country, our friends, our relatives again! ” “Yes, sir.” But to renounce taking up again this unbearable yoke of the earth, which men believe to be liberty, is perhaps not as painful as you think! — For example, cried Ned Land, I will never give my word not to not try to save me! “I am not asking you for your word,” Master Land replied coldly the commander. “Sir,” I replied, carried away in spite of myself, “you are abusing your position towards us! This is cruelty! ” “No, sir, this is clemency! You are my prisoners after a fight! I am keeping you, when I could plunge you back into the depths of the Ocean with a word! You attacked me! You came to surprise a secret that no man in the world must penetrate, the secret of my entire existence! And you think that I am going to send you back to this earth which must know me no more! Never! By holding you, it is not you that I am keeping, it is myself!” These words indicated on the part of the commander a bias against which no argument would prevail. “So, sir,” I continued, “you are simply giving us the choice between life and death? ” “Quite simply. ” “My friends,” I said, “to a question thus posed, there is nothing to reply. But no word binds us to the master of this ship. ” “None, sir,” replied the stranger. Then, in a softer voice, he continued: “Now, allow me to finish what I have to say to you. I know you, Monsieur Aronnax. You, if not your companions, will perhaps not have so much to complain about the chance that binds you to my fate. You will find among the books that serve my favorite studies this work that you published on the deep sea. I have often read it. You have pushed your work as far as terrestrial science allowed you. But you do not know everything, you have not seen everything. Let me tell you, Professor, that you will not regret the time spent on board me. You are going to travel in the land of wonders. Astonishment, stupefaction will probably be the habitual state of your mind.” You will not easily become jaded by the spectacle incessantly offered to your eyes. I am going to revisit in a new tour of the underwater world – who knows? Perhaps the last – everything I have been able to study at the bottom of these seas so often traveled, and you will be my study companion. From this day on, you will enter a new element, you will see what no man has yet seen because I and my people no longer count – and our planet, thanks to me, will reveal its last secrets to you. ” I cannot deny it; these words of the commander had a great effect on me. I was taken there by my weakness, and I forgot, for a moment, that the contemplation of these sublime things could not be worth the lost freedom. Besides, I was counting on the future to decide this serious question. Thus, I contented myself with replying: “Gentlemen, if you have broken with humanity, I want to believe that you have not denied all human feeling. We are castaways charitably taken on board by you, we will not forget it. As for me, I am not unaware that, if the interest of science could absorb even the need for freedom, what our meeting promises me would offer me great compensation. I thought the commander was going to extend his hand to seal our treaty. He did not. I regretted it for him. “One last question,” I said, at the moment when this inexplicable being seemed to want to withdraw. “Speak, Professor. ” “By what name should I call you? ” “Sir,” replied the commander, “to you I am only Captain Nemo, and to me your companions and you are only the passengers of the Nautilus.” Captain Nemo called. A steward appeared. The captain gave him his orders in that foreign language that I could not recognize. Then, turning to the Canadian and Conseil: “A meal awaits you in your cabin,” he told them. “Please follow this man.” “That’s not a refusal!” replied the harpooner. Conseil and he finally left the cell where they had been confined for more than thirty hours. “And now, Mr. Aronnax, our lunch is ready. Allow me to precede you. ” “At your orders, Captain.” I followed Captain Nemo, and as soon as I had passed through the door, I took a sort of electrically lit corridor, similar to the gangways of a ship. After walking for about ten meters, a second door opened before me. I then entered an ornate dining room furnished with severe taste. Tall oak dressers, inlaid with ebony ornaments, stood at both ends of this room, and on their wavy shelves glittered earthenware, porcelain, and glassware of inestimable value. The flatware gleamed beneath the rays pouring down from a luminous ceiling, whose fine paintings filtered and softened the glare. In the center of the room was a richly served table. Captain Nemo showed me the place I was to occupy. “Sit down,” he said, “and eat like a man who must be dying of hunger.” The lunch consisted of a number of dishes whose contents were provided only by the sea, and a few dishes whose nature and origin I was unaware of. I will admit that it was good, but with a particular taste to which I easily became accustomed. These various foods seemed rich in phosphorus, and I thought they must have a marine origin. Captain Nemo looked at me. I didn’t ask him anything, but he guessed my thoughts, and he answered of his own accord the questions I was burning to ask him. “Most of these dishes are unknown to you,” he said. “However, you can use them without fear. They are healthy and nourishing. I have long since renounced foods from the land, and I am no worse for it.” My crew, which is vigorous, does not feed itself differently from me. “So,” I said, “all this food is seafood? ” “Yes, Professor, the sea provides all my needs. Sometimes I set my nets to drag, and I draw them in, ready to break. Sometimes I go hunting in the midst of this element which seems inaccessible to man, and I force the game which lies in my underwater forests. My herds, like those of the old shepherd of Neptune, graze without fear the immense prairies of the Ocean. I have there a vast property which I exploit myself and which is always sown by the hand of the Creator of all things. ”
I looked at Captain Nemo with a certain astonishment, and I replied to him: “I understand perfectly, sir, that your nets provide excellent fish for your table; I understand less that you pursue aquatic game in your underwater forests; but I no longer understand at all how a piece of meat, however small , appears on your menu. “So, sir,” Captain Nemo replied, “I never use the flesh of land animals. ” “This, however,” I continued, pointing to a dish where a few slices of fillet still remained. “What you think is meat, Professor, is nothing other than sea turtle fillet. Here are also some dolphin livers that you would take for pork stew. My cook is a skilled preparer, who excels in preserving these varied products of the Ocean. Taste all these dishes. Here is a preserve of sea cucumbers that a Malay would declare unrivaled in the world, here is a cream whose milk was provided by the breasts of cetaceans, and the sugar by the great fucus of the North Sea, and finally, allow me to offer you anemone preserves that are worth those of the most delicious fruits.” ” And I tasted, more as a curious person than as a gourmet, while Captain Nemo enchanted me with his improbable stories. “But this sea, Monsieur Aronnax,” he said to me, “this prodigious, inexhaustible nurse, it not only nourishes me; it also clothes me. These fabrics that cover you are woven with the byssus of certain shells; they are dyed with the purple of the ancients and shaded with violet colors that I extract from the aplysis of the Mediterranean. The perfumes that you will find on the toilet of your cabin are the product of the distillation of marine plants. Your bed is made of the sweetest eelgrass of the Ocean. Your pen will be a whalebone, your ink the liquor secreted by the cuttlefish or the squid. Everything comes to me now from the sea as everything will return to it one day! “You love the sea, Captain. ” “Yes! I love it! The sea is everything! It covers seven-tenths of the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is the immense desert where man is never alone, for he feels life trembling at his side. The sea is only the vehicle of a supernatural and prodigious existence; it is only movement and love; it is the living infinite, as one of your poets said. And indeed, Professor, nature manifests itself there through its three kingdoms: mineral, vegetable, and animal. The latter is largely represented by the four groups of zoophytes, by three classes of articulates, by five classes of mollusks, by three classes of vertebrates, mammals, reptiles, and those innumerable legions of fish, an infinite order of animals that numbers more than thirteen thousand species, of which only a tenth belongs to fresh water. The sea is the vast reservoir of nature. It is with the sea that the globe began, so to speak, and who knows if it will not end with it! Therein lies supreme tranquility. The sea does not belong to despots. On its surface, they can still exercise iniquitous rights, fight there, devour each other there, transport there all terrestrial horrors. But thirty feet below its level, their power ceases, their influence is extinguished, their power disappears! Ah! Sir, live, live in the bosom of the seas! Only there is independence! There I recognize no masters! There I am free! Captain Nemo suddenly fell silent in the midst of this enthusiasm that was overflowing from him. Had he allowed himself to be carried beyond his usual reserve? Had he talked too much? For a few moments, he paced, very agitated. Then, his nerves calmed, his face resumed its accustomed coldness, and, turning to me: “Now, Professor,” he said, “if you wish to visit the Nautilus, I am at your command.” Chapter 11. THE NAUTILUS Captain Nemo stood up. I followed him. A double door at the back of the room opened, and I entered a room of equal size to the one I had just left. It was a library. Tall black rosewood cabinets, inlaid with brass, supported on their wide shelves a large number of uniformly bound books. They followed the contour of the room and ended at their lower part in vast couches, upholstered in brown leather, which offered the most comfortable curves. Light mobile desks, moving apart or closer at will, allowed one to place the book on them while reading. In the center stood a vast table, covered with brochures, between which appeared some already old newspapers. Electric light flooded all this harmonious ensemble, and fell from four frosted globes half-engaged in the volutes of the ceiling. I looked with real admiration at this ingeniously arranged room, and I could not believe my eyes. “Captain Nemo,” I said to my host, who had just stretched out on a sofa, “this is a library that would do honor to more than one palace on the continents, and I am truly amazed when I think that it can follow you to the depths of the seas.” “Where could one find more solitude, more silence, Professor ?” replied Captain Nemo. ” Does your study at the Museum offer you such complete rest? ” “No, sir, and I must add that it is very poor compared to yours. You possess six or seven thousand volumes… ” “Twelve thousand, Mr. Aronnax. They are the only ties that bind me to the earth. But the world ended for me the day my Nautilus plunged beneath the waters for the first time. That day, I bought my last volumes, my last brochures, my last newspapers, and since then, I want to believe that humanity has neither thought nor written. These books, Professor, are at your disposal, and you may use them freely.” I thanked Captain Nemo, and I approached the shelves of the library. Books on science, morality, and literature, written in every language, abounded there; but I did not see a single work on political economy; they seemed to be strictly prohibited from the ship. A curious detail was that all these books were indiscriminately classified, in whatever language they were written, and this mixture proved that the captain of the Nautilus must have read fluently the volumes that his hand picked up at random. Among these works, I noticed the masterpieces of the ancient and modern masters, that is to say, all that humanity has produced that is most beautiful in history, poetry, the novel and science, from Homer to Victor Hugo, from Xenophon to Michelet, from Rabelais to Madame Sand. But science, more particularly, was the main focus of this library; books on mechanics, ballistics, hydrography, meteorology, geography, geology, etc., held a place no less important than works on natural history, and I understood that they formed the captain’s principal study. There I saw all of Humboldt, all of Arago, the works of Foucault, Henry Sainte-Claire Deville, Chasles, Milne-Edwards, Quatrefages, Tyndall, Faraday, Berthelot, Abbé Secchi, Petermann, Commander Maury, Agassis, etc. The memoirs of the Academy of Sciences, the bulletins of the various geographical societies, etc., and, in good order, the two volumes which had perhaps earned me this relatively charitable welcome from Captain Nemo. Among the works of Joseph Bertrand, his book entitled _The Founders of Astronomy_ even gave me a definite date; and as I knew that it had appeared sometime in 1865, I was able to conclude that the installation of the _Nautilus_ did not date back to a later period. Thus, three years ago at most, Captain Nemo had begun his underwater existence. I hoped, moreover, that even more recent works would allow me to pinpoint this period exactly; but I had time to do this research, and I did not want to delay our stroll through the wonders of the Nautilus any longer. “Sir,” I said to the captain, “I thank you for having placed this library at my disposal. There are treasures of science there, and I will take advantage of them. ” “This room is not only a library,” said Captain Nemo, “it is also a smoking room. ” “A smoking room?” I cried. “So, do we smoke on board? ” “No doubt. ” “Then, sir, I am forced to believe that you have maintained relations with Havana. ” “None,” replied the captain. “Accept this cigar, Mr. Aronnax, and, although it does not come from Havana, you will be pleased with it, if you are a connoisseur.” I took the cigar that was offered to me, the shape of which recalled that of the Londrès; but it seemed to be made with gold leaf. I
lit it on a small brazier supported by an elegant bronze foot, and I inhaled its first puffs with the voluptuousness of an amateur who has n’t smoked for two days. “It’s excellent ,” I said, “but it’s not tobacco .” ” No,” replied the captain, “this tobacco doesn’t come from Havana or the Orient. It’s a kind of seaweed, rich in nicotine, which the sea provides me with, not without some parsimony. Do you miss the londrès, sir? ” “Captain, I despise them from this day forward. ” “Smoke as you please, and without discussing the origin of these cigars. No government has checked them, but they are no less good, I imagine. ” “On the contrary.” At that moment Captain Nemo opened a door opposite the one through which I had entered the library, and I passed into an immense and splendidly lit salon. It was a vast quadrilateral, with canted sides, ten meters long, six wide, and five high. A luminous ceiling, decorated with light arabesques, distributed a clear and soft light over all the marvels piled up in this museum. For, it was truly a museum in which an intelligent and prodigal hand had gathered all the treasures of nature and art, with that artistic jumble that distinguishes a painter’s studio. About thirty paintings by masters, with uniform frames, separated by sparkling panoplies, adorned the walls hung with tapestries of severe design. I saw there canvases of the highest value, most of which I had admired in the private collections of Europe and at painting exhibitions. The various schools of the old masters were represented by a Madonna by Raphael, a Virgin by Leonardo da Vinci, a Nymph by Correggio, a Woman by Titian, an Adoration by Veronese, an Assumption by Murillo, a portrait by Holbein, a Monk by Velázquez, a Martyr by Ribeira, a Fair by Rubens, two Flemish landscapes by Teniers, three small genre paintings by Gerard Dow, Metsu, and Paul Potter, two canvases by Gericault and Prudhon, and some seascapes by Backuysen and Vernet. Among the works of modern painting, there appeared paintings by Delacroix, Ingres, Decamps, Troyon, Meissonnier, Daubigny, etc., and some admirable reductions of marble or bronze statues, after the most beautiful models of antiquity, stood on their pedestals in the corners of this magnificent museum. The state of stupefaction that the commander of the Nautilus had predicted was already beginning to take hold of my mind. “Professor, ” said this strange man, “you will excuse the lack of embarrassment with which I receive you, and the disorder that reigns in this room. ” “Sir,” I replied, without trying to find out who you are, “may I be permitted to recognize in you an artist? ” “An amateur, at most, sir. I used to love collecting these beautiful works created by the hand of man. I was an avid researcher, a tireless snooper, and I was able to bring together a few objects of great value. These are my last memories of this land that is dead to me. In my eyes, your modern artists are already nothing more than ancients; they are two or three thousand years old, and I confuse them in my mind. Masters have no age. ” “And these musicians?” I said, pointing to scores by Weber, Rossini, Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn, Meyerbeer, Herold, Wagner, Auber, Gounod, and many others, scattered across a large piano organ that occupied one of the panels in the living room. “These musicians,” Captain Nemo replied, “are contemporaries of Orpheus, for chronological differences are erased in the memory of the dead – and I am dead, Professor, as dead as those of your friends who rest six feet underground !” Captain Nemo fell silent and seemed lost in a deep reverie. I regarded him with deep emotion, silently analyzing the strangeness of his physiognomy. Leaning on the corner of a precious table of mosaic, he no longer saw me, he forgot my presence. I respected this meditation, and I continued to review the curiosities which enriched this room. Alongside the works of art, natural rarities held a very important place. They consisted mainly of plants, shells and other productions of the Ocean, which must have been the personal finds of Captain Nemo. In the middle of the room, a jet of water, electrically lit, fell back into a basin made of a single tridacne. This shell, provided by the largest of the headless mollusks, measured on its delicately scalloped edges, a circumference of about six meters; it therefore exceeded in size those beautiful tridacnes which were given to François 1er by the Republic of Venice, and from which the church of Saint-Sulpice, in Paris, made two gigantic holy water fonts. Around this basin, under elegant glass cases fixed by copper frames, were classified and labeled the most precious products of the sea that had ever been delivered to the gaze of a naturalist. You can imagine my joy as a professor. The zoophyta branch offered very curious specimens of its two groups of polyps and echinoderms. In the first group, tubipores, gorgonians arranged in a fan, soft sponges from Syria, isis from the Mollucas, pennatulas, an admirable comma from the Norwegian seas, various umbellularias, alcyonarians, a whole series of these madrepores that my master Milne-Edwards so sagaciously classified into sections, and among which I noticed adorable flabellines, oculines from Bourbon Island, the ” Neptune’s chariot” from the Antilles, superb varieties of corals, finally all the species of these curious polyparies whose assemblage forms entire islands which will one day become continents. Among the echinoderms, remarkable for their spiny envelope, the asteroids, the starfish, the pantacrines, the comatulas, the asterophons, the sea urchins, the sea cucumbers, etc., represented the complete collection of individuals of this group. A slightly nervous conchologist would certainly have swooned over the other, more numerous display cases where specimens of the mollusc phylum were classified. I saw there a collection of inestimable value, and which I would not have time to describe in its entirety. Among these products, I will mention, for the record only, – the elegant royal hammerhead from the Indian Ocean whose regular white spots stood out vividly against a red and brown background, – an imperial spondyle , with bright colors, bristling with thorns, a rare specimen in European museums, and whose value I estimated at twenty thousand francs, a common hammerhead from the seas of New Holland, which is difficult to obtain, – exotic buckeyes from Senegal, fragile white shells with double valves, which a breath would have dissipated like a soap bubble, – several varieties of Java watering cans, a sort of calcareous tubes bordered with foliaceous folds, and much disputed by amateurs, – a whole series of trochus, some greenish-yellow, fished in the seas of America, others a reddish-brown, friendly to the waters of New Holland, these, coming from the Gulf of Mexico, and remarkable for their imbricated shell, those, stellaria found in the southern seas, and finally, the rarest of all, the magnificent spur of New Zealand; – then, admirable sulphur tellinas, precious species of cytherea and Venus, the lattice dial of the coasts of Tranquebar, the marbled slipper with resplendent mother-of-pearl, the green parrots of the China seas, the almost unknown cone of the genus Coenodulli, all the varieties of porcelain which serve as currency in India and Africa, the “Glory of the Sea “, the most precious shell of the East Indies; – finally littorinas, dolphinulas, turritellas of janthinas, ovules, volutes, olives, mitres, helmets, purples, whelks, harps, rocks, tritons, cerites, spindles, conches, pterocera, limpets, hyales, cleodores, delicate and fragile shells, which science has baptized with its most charming names. Separately, and in special compartments, were unrolled strings of pearls of the greatest beauty, which the electric light pricked with points of fire, pink pearls, torn from the sea pines of the Red Sea, green pearls of the abalone iris, yellow, blue, black pearls, curious products of the various mollusks of all the oceans and of certain mussels of the northern waterways, finally several samples of inestimable value which had been distilled by the rarest pintadines. Some of these pearls surpassed in size a pigeon’s egg; They were worth, and more than, the one that the traveler Tavernier sold for three million to the Shah of Persia, and outweighed that other pearl of the Imam of Muscat, which I believed to be without rival in the world. Thus, to calculate the value of this collection was, so to speak, impossible. Captain Nemo must have spent millions to acquire these diverse samples, and I was wondering from what source he drew to satisfy his collector’s fancies, when I was interrupted by these words: “You are examining my shells, Professor. Indeed, they may interest a naturalist; but, for me, they have an added charm, for I have collected them all by hand, and there is not a sea on the globe that has escaped my research.” — I understand, Captain, I understand this joy of walking among such riches. You are one of those who have made their own treasure. No museum in Europe possesses such a collection of the products of the Ocean. But if I exhaust my admiration for her, what will remain for the ship that carries them! I do not want to penetrate the secrets that are yours! However, I confess that this Nautilus, the driving force it contains within itself, the devices that allow it to be maneuvered, the powerful agent that animates it, all this excites my curiosity to the highest degree. I see hanging on the walls of this room instruments whose purpose is unknown to me. May I know?… “Monsieur Aronnax,” Captain Nemo replied, “I told you that you would be free on board me, and consequently, no part of the Nautilus is forbidden to you. You can therefore visit it in detail and I will be happy to be your guide. ” “I don’t know how to thank you, sir, but I will not abuse your kindness.” I will only ask you what use these physics instruments are intended for… “Professor, these same instruments are in my room, and it is there that I will have the pleasure of explaining their use to you. But first, come and visit the cabin reserved for you. You must know how you will be installed on board the Nautilus.” I followed Captain Nemo, who, through one of the doors pierced in each cutaway of the salon, led me into the ship’s passageways. He led me forward, and there I found, not a cabin, but an elegant room, with a bed, a toilet, and various other pieces of furniture. I could only thank my host. “Your room is adjacent to mine,” he told me, opening a door, “and mine opens onto the salon we have just left.” I entered the captain’s room. It had a severe, almost cenobitic appearance. An iron bunk, a work table, some bathroom furniture. All lit by half-light. Nothing comfortable. Only the bare necessities. Captain Nemo showed me a seat. “Please sit down,” he said. I sat down, and he spoke: Chapter 12. EVERYTHING BY ELECTRICITY “Sir,” said Captain Nemo, showing me the instruments Hanging from the walls of his room, here are the devices required for the navigation of the Nautilus. Here as in the living room, I always have them before my eyes, and they indicate my situation and my exact direction in the middle of the ocean. Some are known to you, such as the thermometer which gives the internal temperature of the Nautilus; the barometer, which weighs the weight of the air and predicts changes in the weather; the hygrometer, which marks the degree of dryness of the atmosphere; the storm-glass, whose mixture, as it decomposes, announces the arrival of storms; the compass, which directs my route; the sextant, which by the height of the sun tells me my latitude; the chronometers, which allow me to calculate my longitude; and finally, day and night glasses , which I use to scan all points of the horizon, when the Nautilus has risen to the surface of the waves. “These are the navigator’s usual instruments,” I replied, “and I know their use. But here are others that undoubtedly meet the particular requirements of the Nautilus. This dial that I see, with a moving needle running across it, is it not a pressure gauge? ” “It is a pressure gauge, indeed. Connected to the water, whose external pressure it indicates, it gives me the depth at which my apparatus is maintained. ” “And these new types of probes? ” “They are thermometric probes that report the temperature of the various layers of water. ” “And these other instruments whose use I cannot guess?” “Here, Professor, I must give you some explanations,” said Captain Nemo. “Please listen to me.” He remained silent for a few moments, then said: “He is a powerful, obedient, quick, easy agent, who adapts to all uses and who reigns supreme on board my ship. Everything is done by him.” It lights me, it warms me, it is the soul of my mechanical devices. This agent is electricity. “Electricity!” I cried, quite surprised. “Yes, sir. ” “However, Captain, you possess an extreme rapidity of movement that is ill-matched with the power of electricity. Until now, its dynamic power has remained very limited and has only been able to produce small forces! ” “Professor,” replied Captain Nemo, “my electricity is not that of everyone else, and that is all you will allow me to tell you about it. ” “I will not insist, sir, and I will be content to be very astonished at such a result. One question, however, which you will not answer if it is indiscreet. The elements you use to produce this marvelous agent must wear out quickly. Zinc, for example, how do you replace it, since you no longer have any communication with the earth?” “Your question will have its answer,” replied Captain Nemo. “I will tell you, first, that there are mines of zinc, iron, silver, and gold at the bottom of the sea, the exploitation of which would most certainly be practicable. But I borrowed nothing from these metals on earth, and I wanted to ask only the sea itself for the means to produce my electricity. ” “From the sea? ” “Yes, Professor, and I did not lack the means. I could, in fact, have obtained electricity by establishing a circuit between wires immersed at different depths, through the diversity of temperatures they experienced; but I preferred to use a more practical system. ” “And which one? ” “You know the composition of seawater. In a thousand grams, there are ninety-six and a half hundredths of water, and about two hundred and two-thirds of sodium chloride; then, in small quantities, magnesium and potassium chlorides, magnesium bromide, magnesium sulfate, sulfate and carbonate of lime. You see so that sodium chloride is found there in a notable proportion. Now, it is this sodium that I extract from seawater and from which I compose my elements. — Sodium? — Yes, sir. Mixed with mercury, it forms an amalgam which takes the place of zinc in Bunzen elements. Mercury never wears out. Sodium alone is consumed, and the sea provides it for me. I will tell you, moreover, that sodium batteries must be considered the most energetic, and that their electromotive force is double that of zinc batteries. — I understand well, Captain, the excellence of sodium in the conditions in which you find yourself. The sea contains it. Good. But it still needs to be manufactured, extracted in a word. And how do you do it? Your batteries could obviously be used for this extraction; but, if I am not mistaken, the expenditure of sodium required by electrical appliances would exceed the quantity extracted. It would therefore happen that you would consume more to produce it than you would produce! “So, Professor, I don’t extract it by the pile, and I simply use the heat of the coal. ” “From the earth?” I said, insisting. “Let’s say sea coal, if you like,” replied Captain Nemo. “And you can exploit underwater coal mines? ” “Mr. Aronnax, you will see me at work. I only ask you for a little patience, since you have the time to be patient. Just remember this: I owe everything to the Ocean; it produces electricity, and electricity gives the Nautilus heat, light, movement, life, in a word. ” “But not the air you breathe? ” “Oh! I could manufacture the air necessary for my consumption, but it’s useless since I come back up to the surface of the sea whenever I please.” However, if electricity does not provide me with breathable air, it at least operates powerful pumps that store it in special reservoirs, which allows me to extend, if necessary, and for as long as I wish, my stay in the deep layers. “Captain,” I replied, “I am content to admire. You have evidently discovered what men will doubtless discover one day, the true dynamic power of electricity. ” “I do not know if they will find it,” Captain Nemo replied coldly. “Be that as it may, you already know the first application I made of this precious agent. It is this which illuminates us with an equality, a continuity that sunlight does not possess. Now, look at this clock; it is electric, and runs with a regularity which defies that of the best chronometers.” I divided it into twenty-four hours, like the Italian clocks, because for me, there is neither night, nor day, nor sun, nor moon, but only this artificial light that I drag to the bottom of the sea! See, at this moment, it is ten o’clock in the morning. — Perfectly. — Another application of electricity. This dial, suspended before our eyes, serves to indicate the speed of the Nautilus. An electric wire connects it to the propeller of the log, and its needle indicates to me the real speed of the apparatus. And, look, at this moment, we are traveling at a moderate speed of fifteen miles per hour. — It is marvelous, I replied, and I see clearly, Captain, that you were right to use this agent, which is intended to replace wind, water, and steam. — We have not finished, Mr. Aronnax, said Captain Nemo, getting up , and if you wish to follow me, we will visit the stern of the Nautilus. ” In fact, I already knew the entire front part of this underwater boat, the exact division of which is as follows, going from the center to the spur: the five-meter dining room, separated from the library by a watertight bulkhead, that is to say, one that cannot be penetrated by the water, the five-meter library, the ten-meter large salon, separated from the captain’s cabin by a second watertight bulkhead, the said captain’s cabin of five meters, mine of two and a half meters, and finally an air tank of seven and a half meters, which extended to the bow. Total, thirty-five meters in length. The watertight bulkheads were pierced with doors that closed hermetically by means of rubber plugs, and they ensured complete safety on board the Nautilus, in the event of a leak. I followed Captain Nemo, through the gangways located on the side, and I arrived at the center of the ship. There, there was a sort of well that opened between two watertight bulkheads. An iron ladder, clinging to the wall, led to its upper end. I asked the captain what purpose this ladder served. “It leads to the lifeboat,” he replied. “What!” You have a boat? I replied, rather astonished. “No doubt. An excellent craft, light and unsinkable, which serves for cruising and fishing. ” “But then, when you want to embark, you are forced to return to the surface of the sea? ” “Not at all. This boat adheres to the upper part of the hull of the Nautilus, and occupies a cavity arranged to receive it. It is entirely decked, absolutely watertight, and held in place by solid bolts. This ladder leads to a manhole pierced in the hull of the Nautilus, which corresponds to a similar hole pierced in the side of the boat. It is through this double opening that I enter the boat. One is closed, that of the Nautilus; I close the other, that of the boat, by means of pressure screws; I release the bolts, and the boat rises with prodigious speed to the surface of the sea. I then open the deck hatch, carefully closed until then, I lower the mast, I hoist my sail or I take my oars, and I walk around. — But how do you get back on board? — I’m not coming back, Mr. Aronnax, it’s the Nautilus that’s coming back. — At your orders! — At my orders. An electric wire connects me to it. I send a telegram, and that’s enough. — Indeed, I said, intoxicated by these marvels, nothing could be simpler! After passing the stairwell that led to the platform, I saw a cabin two meters long, in which Conseil and Ned Land, delighted with their meal, were busy devouring it with gusto. Then, a door opened onto the three- meter-long galley, located between the vast galleys on board. There, electricity, more energetic and more obedient than gas itself, did all the cooking. The wires, arriving under the furnaces, communicated to platinum sponges a heat that was distributed and maintained regularly. It also heated distilling apparatus which, by vaporization, provided excellent drinking water. Next to this kitchen opened a bathroom , comfortably arranged, and whose taps provided cold or hot water, at will. The kitchen followed the crew’s quarters, five meters long. But the door was closed, and I could not see its layout, which would perhaps have given me an idea of ​​the number of men required for maneuvering the Nautilus. At the far end rose a fourth watertight bulkhead which separated this quarters from the engine room. A door opened, and I found myself in the compartment where Captain Nemo—a first-rate engineer, to be sure—had arranged his locomotion apparatus. This engine room, clearly lit, measured no less than twenty meters in length. It was naturally divided into two parts; the first contained the elements that produced the electricity, and the second, the mechanism that transmitted the movement to the propeller. I was surprised, at first, by the peculiar smell that filled this compartment. Captain Nemo noticed my impression. “These are,” he told me, “some gases released, produced by the use of sodium; but this is only a slight inconvenience. Every morning, moreover, we purify the ship by ventilating it in the open air.” Meanwhile, I examined the Nautilus’s machine with an easily comprehensible interest . “You see,” Captain Nemo told me, “I use Bunzen elements , not Ruhmkorff elements. These would have been powerless. The Bunzen elements are few in number, but strong and large, which is better, after experience. The electricity produced goes to the stern, where it acts through large electromagnets on a special system of levers and gears that transmit the movement to the propeller shaft. This one, with a diameter of six meters and a pitch of seven and a half meters, can turn up to one hundred and twenty times per second. “And then you get? ” “A speed of fifty miles per hour.” There was a mystery there, but I didn’t press the issue. How could electricity act with such power? Where did this almost unlimited force originate? Was it in its excessive tension obtained by coils of a new kind? Was it in its transmission, which a system of unknown levers could increase to infinity? That was what I couldn’t understand. “Captain Nemo,” I said, “I observe the results and I don’t try to explain them. I saw the Nautilus maneuver in front of the Abraham Lincoln, and I know what to think about its speed. But walking isn’t enough. You have to see where you’re going! You have to be able to steer right, left, up, down!” How do you reach the great depths, where you encounter increasing resistance measured by hundreds of atmospheres? How do you return to the surface of the ocean? Finally, how do you maintain your position in the environment that suits you? Am I being indiscreet in asking you? “Not at all, Professor,” the captain replied after a slight hesitation, “since you must never leave this underwater boat. Come into the living room. This is our real study , and there you will learn everything you need to know about the Nautilus!” Chapter 13. A FEW FIGURES. A moment later, we were sitting on a sofa in the living room, cigars in our mouths. The captain placed before my eyes a drawing showing the plan, section, and elevation of the Nautilus. Then he began his description in these terms: “Here, Mr. Aronnax, are the various dimensions of the boat that carries you . It is a very elongated cylinder, with conical ends. It is substantially cigar-shaped, a form already adopted in London in several constructions of the same kind. The length of this cylinder, from head to head, is exactly seventy meters, and its beam, at its greatest width, is eight meters. It is therefore not built exactly to the tenth like your long-distance steamers, but its lines are sufficiently long and its casting sufficiently extended, so that the displaced water escapes easily and poses no obstacle to its progress. “These two dimensions allow you to obtain by a simple calculation the surface area and volume of the Nautilus. Its surface area comprises one thousand eleven and forty-five hundredths square meters; its volume, fifteen hundred and two-tenths cubic meters – which amounts to saying that entirely submerged, it displaces or weighs fifteen hundred cubic meters or barrels. “When I made the plans for this ship intended for underwater navigation , I wanted it to be balanced in the water and to sink nine-tenths and emerge only one-tenth. Consequently, in these conditions it should only move nine-tenths . tenths of its volume, or thirteen hundred and fifty-six cubic meters and forty-eight hundredths, that is to say, weigh only this same number of tons. I therefore had to not exceed this weight by building it according to the above-mentioned dimensions. “The Nautilus is composed of two hulls, one inner, the other outer, joined together by T-shaped irons which give it extreme rigidity. Indeed, thanks to this cellular arrangement, it resists like a block, as if it were solid. Its planking cannot give way ; it adheres by itself and not by the tightening of rivets, and the homogeneity of its construction, due to the perfect assembly of materials, allows it to defy the most violent seas. “These two hulls are made of steel sheet whose density relative to water is seven, eight tenths. The first is no less than five centimeters thick, and weighs 394 tons and 96 hundredths. The second envelope, the keel, 50 centimeters high and 25 wide, weighing, by itself, 62 tons, the engine, the ballast, the various accessories and fittings, the bulkheads and the interior struts, have a weight of 961 tons and 62 hundredths, which, added to the 394 tons and 96 hundredths, form the required total of 1356 tons and 48 hundredths. Is that understood? “Understood,” I replied. “So,” the captain continued, “when the Nautilus is afloat in these conditions, it emerges by one tenth. Now, if I have arranged tanks with a capacity equal to this tenth, that is, a capacity of one hundred and fifty and seventy-two hundredths of a ton, and if I fill them with water, the boat, displacing fifteen hundred and seven tons, or weighing them, will be completely submerged. This is what happens, Professor . These tanks exist in the lower parts of the Nautilus. I open the taps, they fill, and the boat, sinking, comes to the surface of the water. — Good, Captain, but then we come to the real difficulty. That you can touch the surface of the Ocean, I understand. But lower down, by diving below this surface, will not your underwater apparatus encounter a pressure and consequently undergo an upward thrust which must be evaluated at one atmosphere per thirty feet of water, or about one kilogram per square centimeter ? — Perfectly, sir. –So, unless you fill the entire Nautilus, I don’t see how you can drag it into the liquid masses. –Professor,’ replied Captain Nemo, ‘we must not confuse statics with dynamics, otherwise we expose ourselves to serious errors. There is very little work to be expended to reach the lower regions of the Ocean, because bodies have a tendency to become “sinkholes.” Follow my reasoning. –I’m listening, Captain. ‘ –When I wanted to determine the increase in weight that must be given to the Nautilus to submerge it, I only had to concern myself with the reduction in volume that seawater experiences as its layers become deeper and deeper. –That’s obvious,’ I replied. –Now, if water is not absolutely incompressible, it is, at least, very little compressible. Indeed, according to the most recent calculations, this reduction is only four hundred and thirty-six ten millionths per atmosphere, or per thirty feet of depth. If we are going to a thousand meters, I then take into account the reduction in volume under a pressure equivalent to that of a column of water of a thousand meters, that is to say under a pressure of one hundred atmospheres. This reduction will then be four hundred and thirty-six hundred thousandths. I I will therefore have to increase the weight so as to weigh fifteen hundred and thirteen tons and seventy-seven hundredths, instead of fifteen hundred and seven tons and two tenths. The increase will consequently be only six tons and fifty-seven hundredths. — Only? — Only, Mr. Aronnax, and the calculation is easy to verify. Now, I have additional tanks capable of carrying one hundred tons. I can therefore descend to considerable depths. When I want to return to the surface and touch it, I only have to expel this water, and empty all the tanks completely, if I want the Nautilus to emerge from a tenth of its total capacity. ” To these reasonings supported by figures, I had nothing to object to. “I accept your calculations, Captain,” I replied, “and I would be ungracious in contesting them, since experience proves them right every day. But I currently sense a real difficulty. ” — What is it, sir? — When you are at a depth of 1,000 meters, the walls of the Nautilus can withstand a pressure of 100 atmospheres. So, if at that moment you want to empty the additional tanks to lighten your boat and return to the surface, the pumps must overcome this pressure of 100 atmospheres, which is 100 kilograms per square centimeter. Hence a power… — Which only electricity could give me, Captain Nemo hastened to say . I repeat, sir, that the dynamic power of my machines is almost infinite. The Nautilus’s pumps have prodigious force, and you must have seen it when their columns of water rushed like a torrent onto the Abraham Lincoln. Besides, I only use the additional tanks to reach average depths of 1,500 to 2,000 meters, and this is to conserve my equipment. Also, when the fancy takes me to visit the depths of the ocean two or three leagues below its surface, I employ longer , but no less infallible maneuvers. “Which ones, Captain?” I asked. “This naturally leads me to tell you how the Nautilus is maneuvered . ” “I am impatient to learn it. ” “To steer this boat to starboard, to port, to move, in a word, along a horizontal plane, I use an ordinary rudder with a large rudder, fixed to the rear of the sternpost, and which is operated by a wheel and tackles. But I can also move the Nautilus up and down, in a vertical plane, by means of two inclined planes, attached to its sides at its center of flotation, mobile planes, capable of assuming any position, and which are maneuvered from the inside by means of powerful levers. If these planes are kept parallel to the boat, the latter moves horizontally. If they are inclined, the Nautilus, according to the arrangement of this inclination and under the thrust of its propeller, either sinks along a diagonal as long as suits me, or rises along this diagonal. And even, if I want to return more quickly to the surface, I engage the propeller, and the pressure of the water makes the Nautilus rise vertically like a balloon which, inflated with hydrogen, rises rapidly into the air. “Bravo! Captain,” I cried. ” But how can the helmsman follow the route you give him in the middle of the water? ” “The helmsman is placed in a glass cage, which projects from the upper part of the hull of the Nautilus, and which is lined with lenticular glasses. ” “Glasses capable of resisting such pressures? ” “Perfectly. The crystal, fragile to shock, nevertheless offers considerable resistance.” In experiments on fishing with electric light carried out in 1864, in the middle of the North Seas, plates of this material, only seven millimetres thick , were seen to resist a pressure of sixteen atmospheres, while allowing powerful heat rays to pass through, which distributed the heat unevenly. Now, the glasses I use are no less than twenty-one centimeters at their center, that is to say thirty times this thickness. — Admitted, Captain Nemo; but still, to see, light must chase away the darkness, and I wonder how, in the midst of the darkness of the waters… — Behind the helmsman’s cage is placed a powerful electric reflector, whose rays illuminate the sea half a mile away . — Ah! Bravo, three times bravo! Captain. Now I can explain this phosphorescence of the so-called narwhal, which has so intrigued scientists! In this connection, I would ask you if the collision of the Nautilus and the Scotia, which had such a great impact, was the result of a chance encounter? — Purely fortuitous, sir. I was sailing two meters below the surface of the water when the collision occurred. I saw, moreover, that it had no adverse results. “None, sir. But as for your encounter with the Abraham Lincoln?… ” “Professor, I am sorry for one of the finest ships of this brave American navy, but I was attacked and I had to defend myself! I was content, however, to put the frigate out of harm’s way – she will not be embarrassed to repair her damage at the nearest port. ” “Ah! Commander,” I cried with conviction, ” your Nautilus is truly a marvelous boat! ” “Yes, Professor,” Captain Nemo replied with genuine emotion, “and I love her like my own flesh and blood!” If everything is dangerous on one of your ships subject to the hazards of the Ocean, if on this sea, the first impression is the feeling of the abyss, as the Dutchman Jansen so aptly put it, below and on board the Nautilus, the heart of man has nothing more to fear. No deformation to fear, because the double hull of this boat has the rigidity of iron; no rigging to be tired by rolling or pitching; no sails to be carried away by the wind; no boilers to be torn apart by steam; no fire to fear, since this apparatus is made of sheet metal and not wood; no coal to be exhausted, since electricity is its mechanical agent; no encounter to fear, since it is alone in navigating in deep waters; no storm to brave, since it finds absolute tranquility a few meters below the water! There, sir. There is the ship par excellence! And if it is true that the engineer has more confidence in the ship than the builder, and the builder more than the captain himself, then understand with what abandon I trust my Nautilus, since I am at once its captain, its builder, and its engineer! Captain Nemo spoke with captivating eloquence. The fire in his eyes, the passion in his gestures, transfigured him. Yes! He loved his ship as a father loves his child! But a question, perhaps indiscreet, naturally arose, and I could not refrain from asking him. “So you are an engineer, Captain Nemo? ” “Yes, Professor,” he replied. “I studied in London, Paris, and New York, when I was an inhabitant of the continents of the earth. ” “But how were you able to build, in secret, this admirable Nautilus?” — Each of its pieces, Mr. Aronnax, came to me from a different point on the globe, and under a disguised destination. Its keel was forged at Le Creusot, its propeller shaft at Pen et C°, of London, the sheet metal plates of its hull at Leard, of Liverpool, its propeller at Scott, of Glasgow. Its tanks were manufactured by Cail et Co, of Paris, its engine by Krupp, in Prussia, its ram in the workshops of Motala, in Sweden, its precision instruments at Hart frères, of New York, etc., and each of these suppliers received my plans under various names. — But, I continued, these pieces thus manufactured, they had to be assembled, adjusted? — Professor, I had established my workshops on a deserted islet, in the middle of the ocean. There, my workers, that is to say, my brave companions whom I instructed and trained, and I, we completed our Nautilus. Then, the operation completed, the fire destroyed all trace of our passage on this islet which I would have blown up, if I could have. — So I am allowed to believe that the cost price of this building is excessive? — Mr. Aronnax, an iron ship costs eleven hundred and twenty-five francs per ton. Now, the Nautilus has a tonnage of fifteen hundred. It therefore comes to sixteen hundred and eighty-seven thousand francs, or two million including its fittings, or four or five million with the works of art and the collections it contains. — One last question, Captain Nemo. — Do it, Professor. — So you are rich? — Infinitely rich, sir, and I could, without hesitation, pay off France’s ten billion debts! I stared at the strange character who was speaking to me thus. Was he abusing my credulity? The future would teach me. Chapter 14. THE BLACK RIVER The portion of the terrestrial globe occupied by water is estimated at three million eight hundred and thirty-two thousand five hundred and fifty-eight square myriameters, or more than thirty-eight million hectares. This liquid mass comprises two billion two hundred and fifty million cubic miles, and would form a sphere with a diameter of sixty leagues whose weight would be three quintillion barrels. And, to understand this number, we must remember that the quintillion is to the billion what the billion is to the unit, that is to say, there are as many billions in a quintillion as there are units in a billion. Now, this liquid mass is roughly the quantity of water that all the rivers of the earth would pour out over forty thousand years. During the geological epochs, the period of fire was succeeded by the period of water. The Ocean was at first universal. Then, little by little, in the Silurian times, mountain peaks appeared, islands emerged, disappeared under partial floods, showed themselves again, united, formed continents and finally the lands were geographically fixed as we see them. The solid had conquered from the liquid thirty-seven million six hundred and fifty-seven square miles, or twelve thousand nine hundred and sixteen million hectares. The configuration of the continents allows the waters to be divided into five large parts: the Arctic Ocean, the Antarctic Ocean, the Indian Ocean, the Atlantic Ocean, and the Pacific Ocean. The Pacific Ocean stretches from north to south between the two polar circles , and from west to east between Asia and America over an area of ​​one hundred and forty-five degrees in longitude. It is the most tranquil of the seas; its currents are broad and slow, its tides moderate, its rains abundant. Such was the Ocean that my destiny first called me to explore in the strangest conditions. “Professor,” Captain Nemo told me, “we are going, if you please, to take our exact position and fix the starting point of this voyage. It is a quarter to twelve. I am going to return to the surface of the water.” The captain pressed an electric bell three times. The pumps began to expel water from the tanks; The needle of the pressure gauge marked the upward movement of the Nautilus by the different pressures, then it stopped. “We have arrived,” said the captain. I went to the central staircase which led to the platform. I climbed the metal steps, and, through the open panels, I arrived on the upper part of the Nautilus. The platform emerged only eighty centimeters. The front and rear of the Nautilus had this fusiform arrangement which rightly made it compare to a long cigar. I noticed that its slightly overlapping sheets of metal resembled the scales which cover the bodies of large terrestrial reptiles. I therefore quite naturally explained to myself that, despite the best glasses, this boat had always been taken for a marine animal. Towards the middle of the platform, the boat, half-engaged in the hull of the ship, formed a slight extumescence. Fore and aft rose two cages of moderate height, with sloping walls, and partly closed by thick lenticular glass: one intended for the helmsman who steered the Nautilus, the other where shone the powerful electric lantern which illuminated its path. The sea was magnificent, the sky pure. The long vehicle barely felt the broad ripples of the ocean. A light breeze from the east rippled the surface of the water. The horizon, clear of mist, lent itself to the best observations. We had nothing in sight. Not a reef, not an islet. No more Abraham Lincoln. The deserted immensity. Captain Nemo, equipped with his sextant, took the altitude of the sun, which would give him his latitude. He waited for a few minutes for the star to come close to the edge of the horizon. While he watched, not one of his muscles twitched, and the instrument could not have been more still in a marble hand. “Noon,” he said. “Professor, whenever you like?” I took one last look at this slightly yellowish sea of ​​Japanese landings, and went back down to the main lounge. There, the captain took his bearings and chronometrically calculated his longitude, which he had checked against previous observations of hour angles. Then he said to me: “Monsieur Aronnax, we are 137 degrees and 15 minutes west of longitude… ” “Of which meridian?” I asked quickly, hoping that the captain’s answer might perhaps indicate his nationality. “Sir,” he replied, “I have various chronometers set to the meridians of Paris, Greenwich, and Washington. But, in your honor, I will use the one from Paris.” This answer told me nothing. I bowed, and the commander continued: “Thirty-seven degrees and 15 minutes west of the Paris meridian, and 30 degrees and 7 minutes north latitude , that is to say, about 300 miles from the coast of Japan. Today, November 8, at noon, our voyage of exploration under the waters begins.” “God save us!” I replied. “And now, Professor,” added the captain, “I leave you to your studies. I have given the route to the east-northeast in a depth of fifty meters. Here are some large-dotted charts, where you can follow it. The lounge is at your disposal, and I ask your permission to withdraw.” Captain Nemo bowed to me. I remained alone, absorbed in my thoughts. All of them were about this commander of the Nautilus. Would I ever know to which nation this strange man belonged, who boasted of belonging to none? This hatred he had vowed to humanity, this hatred which perhaps sought terrible revenge, which had provoked it? Was he one of those unknown scientists, one of those geniuses “who have been grieved,” according to Conseil’s expression, a modern Galileo, or one of those men of science like the American Maury, whose career was cut short by political revolutions ? I couldn’t say it yet. Me, whom chance had just thrown on board, me whose life he held in his hands, he welcomed me coldly, but hospitably. Only, he had never taken the hand I extended to him. He had never extended his his. For an entire hour I remained immersed in these reflections, seeking to unravel this mystery so interesting to me. Then my gaze fell upon the vast planisphere spread out on the table, and I placed my finger on the very point where the observed longitude and latitude intersected. The sea has its rivers like the continents. These are special currents , recognizable by their temperature and color, the most remarkable of which is known as the Gulf Stream. Science has determined the direction of five principal currents on the globe: one in the North Atlantic, a second in the South Atlantic, a third in the North Pacific, a fourth in the South Pacific, and a fifth in the South Indian Ocean. It is even probable that a sixth current formerly existed in the North Indian Ocean, when the Caspian and Aral Seas, joined to the great lakes of Asia, formed a single expanse of water. Now, at the point indicated on the planisphere, one of these currents was flowing, the Kuro-Scivo of the Japanese, the Black River, which, emerging from the Bay of Bengal where it is heated by the perpendicular rays of the tropical sun, crosses the Strait of Malacca, extends the coast of Asia, curves in the North Pacific as far as the Aleutian Islands, carrying trunks of camphor trees and other native products, and contrasting with the waves of the ocean by the pure indigo of its warm waters. It was this current that the Nautilus was about to travel. I followed it with my eyes, I saw it disappear into the immensity of the Pacific, and I felt myself being carried along with it, when Ned Land and Conseil appeared at the door of the lounge. My two brave companions remained petrified at the sight of the marvels piled up before their eyes. “Where are we? Where are we?” cried the Canadian. At the Quebec Museum ? “If it pleases the gentleman,” Conseil replied, “it would be rather at the Hôtel du Sommerard! ” “My friends,” I replied, gesturing for them to enter, “you are neither in Canada nor in France, but on board the Nautilus, and fifty meters below sea level. ” “You must believe it, sir, since the gentleman says so,” Conseil replied; “but frankly, this room is designed to astonish even a Fleming like me. ” “Astonish yourself, my friend, and look, because, for a classifier of your strength, there is plenty to work with here.” I had no need to encourage Conseil. The good fellow, leaning over the display cases, was already murmuring words from the language of naturalists: class of Gastropoda, family of Buccinoidae, genus of Porcelaina, species of Cyproea Madagascariensis, etc. Meanwhile, Ned Land, not much of a conchologist, was questioning me about my interview with Captain Nemo. Had I discovered who he was, where he came from, where he was going, to what depths he was dragging us? In short, a thousand questions to which I didn’t have time to answer. I told him everything I knew, or rather, everything I didn’t know, and I asked him what he had heard or seen on his side. “Seen nothing, heard nothing!” replied the Canadian. “I haven’t even seen the crew of this boat. Could it, by any chance, be electric too? ” “Electric! ” “By my faith! one would be tempted to believe it. But you, Mr. Aronnax,” asked Ned Land, who still had his ideas, “can’t you tell me how many men there are on board? Ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred? ” “I can’t tell you, Mr. Land. Besides, believe me, abandon, for the moment, this idea of ​​seizing the Nautilus or of fleeing from it.” This boat is one of the masterpieces of modern industry, and I would regret not having seen it! Many people would accept the situation we are in, if only to walk among these marvels. So, keep calm, and let us try to see what is happening around us. “See!” cried the harpooner, “but we can’t see anything, we won’t see anything from this tin prison! We are walking, we are sailing blindly…” Ned Land was saying these last words when darkness suddenly fell, but absolute darkness. The luminous ceiling went out, and so quickly, that my eyes experienced a painful impression, analogous to that produced by the reverse passage from profound darkness to the most brilliant light. We had remained silent, not moving, not knowing what surprise, pleasant or unpleasant, awaited us. But a sliding was heard. It was as if panels were being maneuvered on the sides of the Nautilus. “It’s the end of the end!” said Ned Land. “Order of the Hydromedusae!” murmured Conseil. Suddenly, daylight broke on each side of the lounge, through two oblong openings. The liquid masses appeared brightly lit by the electrical effluences. Two sheets of crystal separated us from the sea. I shuddered at first at the thought that this fragile wall could break; but strong copper reinforcements held it together and gave it almost infinite strength. The sea was clearly visible within a radius of a mile around the Nautilus. What a spectacle! What pen could describe it! Who could paint the effects of light through these transparent sheets, and the gentleness of its successive degradations down to the lower and upper layers of the ocean! We know the diaphaneity of the sea. We know that its limpidity surpasses that of rock water. The mineral and organic substances it holds in suspension even increase its transparency. In certain parts of the ocean, in the Antilles, 145 meters of water allow the sand bed to be seen with surprising clarity, and the penetrating force of the sun’s rays seems to stop only at a depth of 300 meters. But, in this fluid medium through which the Nautilus was traveling, the electric flash occurred within the very waves. It was no longer luminous water, but liquid light. If we accept Erhemberg’s hypothesis, which believes in a phosphorescent illumination of the underwater depths, nature has certainly reserved for the inhabitants of the sea one of its most prodigious spectacles, and I could judge it here by the thousand plays of this light. On each side, I had a window open onto these unexplored abysses. The darkness of the lounge emphasized the exterior brightness, and we watched as if this pure crystal were the window of an immense aquarium. The Nautilus did not seem to move. This was because the points of reference were lacking. Sometimes, however, the lines of water, divided by its spur, sped past our gaze with excessive speed. We were leaning in amazement on the windows, and none of us had yet broken the stunned silence when Conseil said: “You wanted to see, friend Ned, well, you see!” “Curious! Curious!” said the Canadian, who, forgetting his anger and his plans for escape, was feeling an irresistible attraction. “And people would come from farther away to admire this spectacle! ” “Ah!” I cried, “I understand this man’s life! He has made a world apart that reserves for him its most astonishing marvels! ” “But the fish?” observed the Canadian. “I don’t see any fish! ” “What does it matter to you, friend Ned,” replied Conseil, “since you don’t know them. ” “Me! A fisherman!” cried Ned Land. And on this subject, a discussion arose between the two friends, for they knew fish, but each in a very different way. Everyone knows that fish form the fourth and final class of the vertebrate phylum. They have been very aptly defined: “cold-blooded, double-circulated vertebrates, breathing through gills and intended to live in water.” They make up two distinct series: the series of bony fish, that is, those whose backbone is made of bony vertebrae, and cartilaginous fish, that is, those whose backbone is made of cartilaginous vertebrae. The Canadian may have known this distinction, but Conseil knew much more, and now, having become friends with Ned, he could not admit that he was less knowledgeable than him. So he said to him: “Friend Ned, you are a fish killer, a very skilled fisherman. You have caught a large number of these interesting animals. But I would wager that you do not know how to classify them. ” “Yes,” replied the harpooner seriously. ” They are classified into fish that are eaten and fish that are not! ” “That is a gourmet’s distinction,” replied Conseil. ” But tell me if you know the difference between bony fish and cartilaginous fish?” “Perhaps so, Conseil. ” “And the subdivision of these two great classes? ” “I have no idea,” replied the Canadian. “Well, friend Ned, listen and remember! Bony fish are subdivided into six orders: First. The acanthopterygii, whose upper jaw is complete and mobile, and whose gills are comb-shaped. This order includes fifteen families, that is to say, three-quarters of the known fish. Type: the common perch. ” “Quite good to eat,” replied Ned Land. “Second,” Conseil continued, “the abdominals, which have ventral fins suspended under the abdomen and behind the pectorals, without being attached to the shoulder bones—an order which is divided into five families, and which includes the majority of freshwater fish . Type: the carp, the pike. ” “Phew!” said the Canadian with a certain contempt, “freshwater fish !” — Third, said Conseil, the subrachians, whose ventral fins are attached under the pectorals and immediately suspended from the shoulder bones. This order contains four families. Type: plaice, dabs, turbot, brill, sole, etc. — Excellent! Excellent! cried the harpooner, who only wanted to consider fish from the edible point of view. — Fourth, continued Conseil, without flinching, the legless, with elongated bodies, lacking ventral fins, and covered in a thick and often sticky skin, an order which only includes one family. Type: the eel, the gymnotus. — Mediocre! Mediocre! replied Ned Land. — Fifth, said Conseil, the lophobranchs, which have complete and free jaws , but whose gills are formed of small tufts, arranged in pairs along the gill arches. This order only includes one family. Type: seahorses, dragon pegasi. “Bad! Bad!” replied the harpooner. “Sixth, finally,” said Conseil, “the plectognaths, whose maxillary bone is fixedly attached to the side of the intermaxilla which forms the jaw, and whose palatine arch meshes by suture with the skull, which makes it immobile. An order which lacks true ventrals, and which is composed of two families. Types: the pufferfish, the sunfish. ” “Good enough to dishonor a cauldron!” cried the Canadian. “Have you understood, friend Ned?” asked the learned Conseil. “Not in the least, friend Conseil,” replied the harpooner. “But go on, for you are very interesting. ” “As for cartilaginous fish,” Conseil continued imperturbably, ” they only comprise three orders. ” “So much the better,” said Ned. — First, the cyclostomes, whose jaws are fused into a mobile ring, and whose gills open through numerous holes – an order comprising only one family. Type: the lamprey. — You have to love it, replied Ned Land. — Second, the selachians, with gills similar to those of the cyclostomes, but whose lower jaw is mobile. This order, which is the most important of the class, includes two families. Types: the skate and the sharks. — What! cried Ned, skates and sharks in the same order! Well , friend Conseil, in the interest of the skates, I do not advise you to put them together in the same bowl! — Third, replied Conseil, the sturionians, whose gills are open, as usual, by a single slit furnished with an operculum, an order which includes four genera. Type: the sturgeon. — Ah! friend Conseil, you have saved the best for last, in my opinion, at least. And that is all? — Yes, my good Ned, replied Conseil, and note that when one knows that, one still knows nothing, for the families are subdivided into genera, subgenera, species, varieties… — Well, friend Conseil, said the harpooner, leaning over the glass of the panel, here are some varieties passing by! — Yes! fish, cried Conseil. It’s like being in front of an aquarium! “No,” I replied, “because the aquarium is only a cage, and these fish are as free as birds in the air. ” “Well, my friend Conseil, name them, name them!” said Ned Land. “I,” replied Conseil, “can’t do it! That’s my master’s business!” And indeed, the worthy fellow, a rabid classifier, was not a naturalist, and I don’t know if he would have distinguished a tuna from a bonito. In a word, the opposite of the Canadian, who named all these fish without hesitation. “A triggerfish,” I had said. “And a Chinese triggerfish!” replied Ned Land. “Genus Triggerfish, family Scleroderma, order Plectognatha,” murmured Conseil. Decidedly, between them, Ned and Conseil would have made a distinguished naturalist. The Canadian was not mistaken. A troop of triggerfish, with compressed bodies and grainy skin, armed with a stinger on their dorsal fin, were playing around the Nautilus, and agitating the four rows of spines that bristled on each side of their tail. Nothing was more admirable than their covering, gray above, white below, whose golden spots glittered in the dark swirl of the waves. Between them undulated rays, like a sheet abandoned to the winds. and among them, I saw, to my great joy, this Chinese ray, yellowish on its upper part, soft pink under the belly and equipped with three stingers behind its eye: a rare species, and even dubious in the time of Lacépède, who had only ever seen it in a collection of Japanese drawings. For two hours an entire aquatic army escorted the Nautilus. In the midst of their games, their leaps, while they competed in beauty, brilliance and speed, I distinguished the green wrasse, the barberin mulle, marked with a double black stripe. The eleotrium goby , with a rounded tail, white in color and spotted with purple on the back, the Japanese scumber, an admirable mackerel of these seas, with a blue body and a silver head, brilliant azurors whose name alone carries away any description of the striped spares, with fins varied in blue and yellow, the banded spares, highlighted by a black band on their caudal, the zonephorous spares elegantly corseted in their six belts, the aulostones, true flute mouths or sea woodcocks, some specimens of which reached a length of one meter, the Japanese salamanders, the echidna morays, long serpents of six feet, with lively and small eyes, and a vast mouth bristling with teeth, etc. Our admiration always remained at the highest point. Our interjections did not dry up. Ned named the fish, Conseil classified them, I marveled at the liveliness of their gait and the beauty of their forms. I had never before seen these animals alive and free in their natural environment. I will not mention all the varieties that passed before our dazzled eyes, this entire collection from the seas of Japan and China. These fish were flocking, more numerous than the birds in the air, undoubtedly attracted by the brilliant electric light. Suddenly, daylight broke in the living room. The sheet metal panels closed. The enchanting vision disappeared. But for a long time, I still dreamed, until my gaze fell on the instruments hanging on the walls. The compass still pointed north -northeast, the pressure gauge indicated a pressure of five atmospheres corresponding to a depth of fifty meters, and the electric log gave a speed of fifteen miles per hour. I waited for Captain Nemo. But he did not appear. The clock showed five o’clock. Ned Land and Conseil returned to their cabin. I returned to my room. My dinner was prepared there. It consisted of a turtle soup made from the most delicate hawksbill, a white-fleshed, slightly flaky mullet , whose liver, prepared separately, made a delicious meal, and fillets of the emperor holocantus meat, the flavor of which seemed to me superior to that of salmon. I spent the evening reading, writing, and thinking. Then, sleep overcoming me, I lay down on my bed of eelgrass and fell into a deep sleep, while the Nautilus glided through the swift current of the Black River. Chapter 15. AN INVITATION BY LETTER The next day, November 9, I woke up only after a long sleep of twelve hours. Conseil came, as was his custom, to inquire “how the gentleman had spent the night,” and to offer him his services. He had left his friend the Canadian sleeping like a man who had done nothing else all his life. I let the good fellow babble on as he pleased, without much reply. I was concerned about Captain Nemo’s absence during our session the day before, and I hoped to see him again today. Soon I had put on my byssus clothes. Their nature provoked Conseil’s reflections more than once. I told him that they were made with the lustrous, silky filaments that attach the “hammonneaux” to the rocks, a type of shell very abundant on the shores of the Mediterranean. In the past, beautiful fabrics, stockings, and gloves were made from them, because they were both very soft and very warm. The crew of the Nautilus could therefore clothe themselves cheaply , without asking anything from the cotton growers, the sheep, or the silkworms of the land. When I was dressed, I went to the main living room. It was deserted. I immersed myself in the study of these treasures of conchology, piled up under the glass cases. I also searched vast seagrass beds, filled with the rarest marine plants, which, although dried out, retained their admirable colors. Among these precious hydrophytes, I noticed whorled cladostèphes, peacock clams, vine-leaved caulerpa, graniferous callithamnia, delicate scarlet-hued ceramies, agaras arranged in fan-like shapes, acetabulums, similar to very depressed mushroom caps, which were long classified among zoophytes, and finally a whole series of kelp. The entire day passed without me being honored with a visit from Captain Nemo. The hatches in the lounge did not open. Perhaps they did not want to bore us with these beautiful things. The Nautilus’s direction remained east-northeast, its speed at twelve miles, its depth between fifty and sixty meters. The next day, November 10, the same abandonment, the same solitude. I saw no one from the crew. Ned and Conseil spent most of the day with me. They were surprised by the captain’s inexplicable absence . Was this singular man ill? Did he want to change his plans for us? After all, according to Conseil’s remark, we enjoyed complete freedom, we were delicately and abundantly fed. Our host was keeping to the terms of his treaty. We could not complain, and besides, the very singularity of our destiny reserved such beautiful compensations for us that we did not yet have the right to accuse him. That day, I began the journal of these adventures, which allowed me to recount them with the most scrupulous accuracy, and, curiously , I wrote it on paper made from eelgrass. On November 11, early in the morning, the fresh air spread inside the Nautilus told me that we had returned to the surface of the Ocean, in order to renew the oxygen supplies. I headed towards the central staircase, and I went up onto the platform. It was six o’clock. I found the weather overcast, the sea gray, but calm. Barely a swell. Would Captain Nemo, whom I hoped to meet there, come? I only saw the helmsman, imprisoned in his glass cage. Sitting on the projection produced by the hull of the boat, I breathed in the salty fumes with delight. Little by little, the mist dissipated under the action of the sun’s rays. The radiant star overflowed the eastern horizon. The sea ignited under its gaze like a trail of powder. The clouds, scattered in the heights, were colored with vivid, admirably nuanced tones, and numerous “cat’s tongues” announced wind for the whole day.
But what was the wind doing to this Nautilus that storms could not frighten! So I admired this joyful sunrise, so gay, so invigorating, when I heard someone come up to the platform. I was preparing to greet Captain Nemo, but it was his first mate— whom I had already seen during the captain’s first visit—who appeared. He advanced onto the platform and did not seem to notice my presence. With his powerful telescope in his eyes, he scanned every point of the horizon with extreme attention. Then, this examination completed, he approached the panel and uttered a sentence whose exact terms are as follows. I have retained it, because, every morning, it was repeated under identical conditions. It was worded as follows: “Nautron respoc lorni virch.” What it meant, I could not say. These words spoken, the second went back down. I thought that the Nautilus was going to resume its underwater navigation. So I returned to the panel and by the passageways I returned to my room. Five days passed in this way, without the situation changing. Every morning, I went up onto the platform. The same sentence was uttered by the same individual. Captain Nemo did not appear. I had made up my mind not to see him again, when, on November 16, having returned to my room with Ned and Conseil, I found a note on the table addressed to me. I opened it impatiently. It was written in a clear, clean handwriting, but a little Gothic and reminiscent of German types . This note read as follows: _Professor Aronnax, aboard the_ Nautilus. _November 16, 1867._ _Captain Nemo invites Professor Aronnax to a hunting party which will take place tomorrow morning in his forests on Crespo Island. He hopes that nothing will prevent the professor from attending, and he will be pleased to see his companions join him._ _The commander of the_ Nautilus, _Captain NEMO._ “A hunt!” cried Ned. “And in his forests on Crespo Island!” added Conseil. “But is this individual going ashore?” continued Ned Land. “That seems clearly indicated to me,” I said, rereading the letter. “Well! We must accept,” replied the Canadian. “Once we are on dry land, we will see what to do. Besides, I will not be sorry to eat a few pieces of fresh venison.” Without trying to reconcile the contradiction between Captain Nemo’s manifest horror of continents and islands, and his invitation to hunt in the forest, I simply replied: “Let’s first see what Crespo Island is.” I consulted the planisphere, and, at 32°40′ north latitude and 167°50′ west longitude, I found an islet that was recognized in 1801 by Captain Crespo, and which the old Spanish charts named Rocca de la Plata, that is to say, “Silver Rock.” We were therefore about eighteen hundred miles from our starting point, and the slightly altered direction of the Nautilus brought it back toward the southeast. I showed my companions this little rock lost in the middle of the North Pacific.
“If Captain Nemo sometimes goes ashore,” I told them, “he at least chooses absolutely deserted islands!” Ned Land nodded without answering, then Conseil and he left me. After a supper served to me by the mute and impassive steward, I fell asleep, not without some preoccupation. The next day, November 17, when I awoke, I felt that the Nautilus was absolutely motionless. I dressed quickly and entered the main lounge. Captain Nemo was there. He was waiting for me, stood up, bowed, and asked me if it was convenient for me to accompany him. As he made no reference to his absence during these eight days, I refrained from speaking to him about it, and simply replied that my companions and I were ready to follow him. “Only, sir,” I added, “I will allow myself to ask you a question. ” “Ask it, Mr. Aronnax, and if I can answer it, I will answer it. ” “Well, Captain, how is it that you, who have broken off all contact with the land, own forests on Crespo Island?” “Professor,” the captain replied, “the forests I own require neither light nor heat from the sun. Neither lions, nor tigers, nor panthers, nor any quadruped frequent them. They are known only to me. They grow only for me. They are not terrestrial forests, but underwater forests. ” “Underwater forests!” I cried. “Yes, Professor. ” “And you offer to take me there? ” “Precisely. ” “On foot? ” “And even on dry land.” ” While hunting? ” “While hunting. ” “Rifle in hand? ” “Rifle in hand.” I looked at the commander of the Nautilus with an expression that was not at all flattering to him. “He’s definitely got a brain disorder,” I thought. “He had an attack that lasted eight days, and is still going on. It’s a shame! I’d rather have him strange than mad!” ” This thought was clearly visible on my face, but Captain Nemo simply invited me to follow him, and I did so like a man resigned to everything. We arrived in the dining room, where lunch was being served. “Monsieur Aronnax,” the captain told me, “I would ask you to share my lunch without ceremony. We will chat while we eat. But, although I promised you a walk in the forest, I did not promise to take you to a restaurant there. Lunch, then, like a man who will probably not dine until very late.” I did justice to the meal. It consisted of various fish and slices of sea cucumbers, excellent zoophytes, enhanced with very appetizing algae , such as Porphyria laciniata and Laurentia primafetida. The drink consisted of clear water to which, following the captain’s example, I added a few drops of a fermented liquor extracted, according to the Kamchatka fashion, from the algae known as “Rhodomenia palmata.” Captain Nemo ate at first without saying a single word. Then he said to me: “Professor, when I suggested you come and hunt in my Crespo forests, you thought I was contradicting myself. When I told you that they were underwater forests, you thought I was crazy. Professor, you must not never judge men lightly. — But, Captain, believe that… — Please listen to me, and you will see if you should accuse me of madness or contradiction. — I am listening to you. — Professor, you know as well as I do that man can live underwater on the condition that he takes with him his supply of breathable air. In underwater work, the worker, dressed in a waterproof garment and his head imprisoned in a metal capsule, receives air from outside by means of pressure pumps and flow regulators. — That is the apparatus of the diving suits, I said. — Indeed, but in these conditions, the man is not free. He is attached to the pump that sends him the air by a rubber hose, a veritable chain that rivets him to the earth, and if we were to be thus held in the Nautilus, we could not go far. — And the means of being free? I asked. — It is to use the Rouquayrol-Denayrouze apparatus, invented by two of your compatriots, but which I have perfected for my own use, and which will allow you to venture into these new physiological conditions, without your organs suffering in any way. It consists of a thick sheet metal reservoir, in which I store the air under a pressure of fifty atmospheres. This reservoir is fixed to the back by means of straps, like a soldier’s bag. Its upper part forms a box from which the air, maintained by a bellows mechanism, can only escape at its normal tension. In the Rouquayrol apparatus, as it is used, two rubber tubes, starting from this box, end in a sort of pavilion which traps the nose and mouth of the operator; one serves for the introduction of inspired air , the other for the exit of expired air, and the tongue closes the one or the other, according to the needs of respiration. But, as I face considerable pressures at the bottom of the sea, I had to enclose my head, like those of the diving suits, in a copper sphere, and it is to this sphere that the two inhaling and exhaling tubes end. “Perfectly, Captain Nemo, but the air you carry must wear out quickly, and as soon as it contains only fifteen percent oxygen, it becomes unbreathable. No doubt, but I told you, Mr. Aronnax, the pumps of the Nautilus allow me to store it under considerable pressure , and, under these conditions, the apparatus’s reservoir can provide breathable air for nine or ten hours. ” “I have no further objections to make,” I replied. “I will only ask you, Captain, how you can light your way at the bottom of the ocean? ” “With the Ruhmkorff apparatus, Mr. Aronnax.” If the first is worn on the back, the second is attached to the belt. It consists of a Bunzen battery that I activate, not with potassium dichromate, but with sodium. An induction coil collects the electricity produced, and directs it to a lantern of a particular arrangement. In this lantern is a glass coil that contains only a residue of carbon dioxide. When the device is working, this gas becomes luminous, giving off a whitish and continuous light. Thus equipped, I breathe and I see. “Captain Nemo, to all my objections you give such crushing answers that I no longer dare to doubt. However, if I am forced to admit the Rouquayrol and Ruhmkorff devices, I ask to make reserves for the rifle with which you want to arm me. ” “But it is not a powder rifle,” replied the captain. “So it is a wind rifle? ” “No doubt.” How do you expect me to make powder on board, having neither saltpeter, nor sulfur, nor coal? — Besides, I said, to shoot underwater, in an environment of eight hundred fifty-five times denser than air, it would be necessary to overcome considerable resistance. — That would not be a reason. There are certain cannons, perfected after Fulton by the English Philippe Coles and Burley, by the Frenchman Furcy, by the Italian Landi, which are equipped with a special closing system, and which can fire in these conditions. But I repeat, not having any powder, I replaced it with high-pressure air, which the pumps of the Nautilus provide me with abundantly. — But this air must quickly wear out. — Well, don’t I have my Rouquayrol reservoir, which can, if necessary, supply me with some. All that is needed for that is an ad hoc tap. Besides, Mr. Aronnax, you will see for yourself that, during these underwater hunts, we do not spend much air or bullets. — However, it seems to me that in this semi-darkness, and in the midst of this liquid, which is very dense compared to the atmosphere, shots cannot carry far and are hardly fatal? — Sir, with this rifle all shots are fatal, on the contrary, and as soon as an animal is hit, however lightly, it falls thunderstruck. — Why? — Because these are not ordinary bullets that this rifle fires, but small glass capsules – invented by the Austrian chemist Leniebroek – and of which I have a considerable supply. These glass capsules, covered with a steel frame, and weighed down by a lead base, are real little Leyden jars, in which electricity is forced to a very high voltage. At the slightest shock, they discharge, and the animal, however powerful it may be, falls dead. I will add that these capsules are no larger than number four, and that the charge of an ordinary rifle could contain ten of them. “I’m not arguing anymore,” I replied, getting up from the table, “and I just have to take my rifle. Besides, wherever you go, I’ll go. ”
Captain Nemo led me to the stern of the Nautilus, and, passing in front of Ned and Conseil’s cabin, I called my two companions who immediately followed us. Then we arrived at a cell located on the side near the engine room, and in which we were to put on our walking clothes. Chapter 16. A WALK ON THE PLAIN. This cell was, strictly speaking, the arsenal and changing room of the Nautilus. A dozen diving suits, suspended from the wall, awaited the walkers. Ned Land, upon seeing them, showed an obvious reluctance to put them on. “But, my good Ned,” I said to him, “the forests of Crespo Island are only underwater forests! ” “Good!” said the disappointed harpooner, who saw his dreams of fresh meat vanish. And you, Mr. Aronnax, are you going to get into those clothes? “You have to, Master Ned. ” “You’re free, sir,” replied the harpooner, shrugging his shoulders, “but as for me, unless I’m forced, I’ll never go in there. ” “You won’t be forced, Master Ned,” said Captain Nemo. “And Conseil is going to risk it?” asked Ned. “I am a gentleman wherever a gentleman goes,” replied Conseil. At a call from the captain, two men from the crew came to help us put on these heavy waterproof clothes, made of seamless rubber , and prepared to withstand considerable pressure. It was like armor that was both flexible and resistant. These clothes formed trousers and a jacket. The trousers ended in thick shoes, fitted with heavy lead soles. The fabric of the jacket was held together by copper strips which armored the chest, defended it against the pressure of the waters, and allowed the lungs to function freely; its sleeves ended in the shape of softened gloves, which in no way hindered the movements of the hand. There was a long way, as we can see, from these perfected diving suits to shapeless garments, such as cork breastplates, undergarments, sea suits, chests, etc., which were invented and advocated in the 18th century. Captain Nemo, one of his companions – a sort of Hercules, who must have been of prodigious strength – Conseil and I, we soon had put on these diving suits. It was only a matter of fitting our head into its metallic sphere. But, before proceeding with this operation, I asked the captain for permission to examine the rifles which were intended for us. One of the men of the Nautilus presented me with a simple rifle whose butt, made of sheet steel and hollow inside, was of a fairly large size. It served as a reservoir for compressed air, which a valve, operated by a trigger, released into the metal tube. A projectile box, hollowed out in the thickness of the stock, contained about twenty electric balls, which, by means of a spring, were automatically placed in the barrel of the rifle. As soon as one shot was fired, the other was ready to go. “Captain Nemo,” I said, “this weapon is perfect and easy to handle . I’m just waiting to try it. But how are we going to reach the bottom of the sea? ” “Right now, Professor, the Nautilus is grounded in ten meters of water, and we have nothing left to do but leave. ” “But how are we going to get out? ” “You’ll see.” Captain Nemo inserted his head into the spherical cap. Conseil and I did the same, not without hearing the Canadian call us an ironic “good hunting.” The top of our garment was finished with a threaded copper collar, onto which this metal helmet was screwed. Three holes, protected by thick glass, allowed us to see in all directions, simply by turning our heads inside this sphere. As soon as it was in place, the Rouquayrol devices, placed on our backs, began to function, and, for my part, I breathed easily. The Ruhmkorff lamp hanging from my belt, the rifle in my hand, I was ready to leave. But, to be frank, imprisoned in these heavy clothes and nailed to the deck by my lead soles, it would have been impossible for me to take a step. But this case was foreseen, for I felt myself being pushed into a small room adjoining the changing room. My companions, also towed, followed me. I heard a door, equipped with shutters, close behind us, and a deep darkness enveloped us. After a few minutes, a sharp hissing sound reached my ear. I felt a certain sensation of cold rising from my feet to my chest. Evidently, from inside the boat, a tap had been used to let in the outside water that was invading us, and with which this room was soon filled. A second door, pierced in the side of the Nautilus, then opened. Half a day shone upon us. A moment later, our feet were treading the bottom of the sea. And now, how could I retrace the impressions left on me by this underwater walk? Words are powerless to recount such marvels! When even the brush is incapable of rendering the effects peculiar to the liquid element, how could the pen be able to reproduce them? Captain Nemo walked in front, and his companion followed us a few steps behind. Conseil and I remained close to each other, as if an exchange of words had been possible through our metallic shells. I no longer felt the heaviness of my clothes, my shoes, my air tank, nor the weight of this thick sphere, in the middle of which my head was swinging like an almond in its shell. All these objects, immersed in the water, lost a part of their weight equal to that of the displaced liquid, and I felt very well in accordance with this physical law recognized by Archimedes. I was no longer an inert mass, and I had a relatively great freedom of movement. The light, which illuminated the ground up to thirty feet below the surface of the Ocean, astonished me by its power. The solar rays easily crossed this aqueous mass and dissipated its coloring. I could clearly distinguish objects at a distance of one hundred meters. Beyond that, the bottoms were shaded with the fine degradations of ultramarine, then they turned blue in the distance, and faded away in the middle of a vague obscurity. Truly, this water which surrounded me was only a kind of air, denser than the Earth’s atmosphere, but almost as diaphanous. Above me, I could see the calm surface of the sea. We were walking on fine, smooth sand, unrippled like that on beaches that retains the imprint of the swell. This dazzling carpet, a true reflector, repelled the sun’s rays with surprising intensity. Hence, this immense reverberation that penetrated all the liquid molecules. Would I be believed if I said that, at this depth of thirty feet, I could see as if it were daylight? For a quarter of an hour, I walked on this burning sand, strewn with an impalpable dust of shells. The hull of the Nautilus, shaped like a long reef, was gradually disappearing, but its lantern, when night fell in the middle of the waters, would facilitate our return on board, by projecting its rays with perfect clarity. An effect difficult to understand for someone who has only seen these vividly marked whitish sheets on land. There, the dust with which the air is saturated gives them the appearance of a luminous fog; but at sea, as under the sea, these electric traits are transmitted with incomparable purity. However, we continued on, and the vast plain of sand seemed to be limitless. I pushed aside with my hand the liquid curtains that closed behind me, and the trace of my steps was suddenly erased under the pressure of the water. Soon, some shapes of objects, barely blurred in the distance, appeared before my eyes. I recognized magnificent foregrounds of rocks, carpeted with zoophytes of the finest specimen, and I was first struck by a special effect of this environment. It was then ten o’clock in the morning. The rays of the sun struck the surface of the waves at a rather oblique angle, and in contact with their light, decomposed by refraction as through a prism, flowers, rocks, seedlings, shells, polyps, were shaded on their edges with the seven colors of the solar spectrum. It was a marvel, a feast for the eyes, this tangle of colored tones, a veritable kaleidoscopic array of green, yellow, orange, violet, indigo, blue, in a word, the entire palette of a rabid colorist! If only I could communicate to Conseil the vivid sensations that rose in my brain, and rival him in admiring interjections! If only I knew, like Captain Nemo and his companion, how to exchange my thoughts by means of agreed signs! So, for want of anything better, I spoke to myself, I shouted into the copper box that crowned my head, perhaps wasting more air than was necessary in vain words. Before this splendid spectacle, Conseil had stopped like me. Obviously, the worthy fellow, in the presence of these samples of zoophytes and mollusks, was still classifying, classifying. Polyps and echinoderms abounded on the ground. The varied isis, the cornulars which live in isolation, tufts of virgin oculines, formerly designated under the name of “white coral”, the bristling fungi in the shape of mushrooms, the anemones adhering by their muscular disc, represented a flowerbed, enamelled with porpites adorned with their collar of azure tentacles, starfish that dotted the sand, and warty asterophytons, fine lace embroidered by the hands of naiads, whose festoons swayed with the faint undulations caused by our walk. It was a real sorrow for me to crush under my feet the brilliant specimens of mollusks that littered the ground by the thousands, the concentric combs, the hammerheads, the donaces, veritable leaping shells, the trochus, the red helmets, the angel-wing conchs, the aphysia, and so many other products of this inexhaustible Ocean. But we had to walk, and we went ahead, while above our heads sailed troops of physalia, letting their overseas tentacles float behind them , jellyfish whose opaline or soft pink umbrella, festooned with azure stripes, sheltered us from the sun’s rays, and panopyre sea pelagies, which, in the darkness, would have sown our path with phosphorescent gleams! All these marvels, I glimpsed them in the space of a quarter of a mile, barely stopping, and following Captain Nemo, who called me back with a gesture. Soon, the nature of the ground changed. The sandy plain was succeeded by a layer of viscous mud that the Americans call “oaze”, composed solely of siliceous or calcareous shells. Then we crossed a meadow of seaweed, pelagian plants that the waters had not yet torn away, and whose vegetation was fiery. These tightly woven lawns, soft underfoot, would have rivaled the softest carpets woven by the hands of men. But, at the same time as the greenery spread out beneath our feet, it did not abandon our heads. A light cradle of marine plants, classified in this exuberant family of algae, of which more than two thousand species are known , crossed on the surface of the water. I saw floating long ribbons of fucus, some globular, others tubular, laurencies, cladostephes, with their delicate foliage, palmate rhodymenes, similar to cactus fans. I observed that the green plants remained closer to the surface of the sea, while the red ones occupied a middle depth, leaving the black or brown hydrophytes to form the gardens and flowerbeds of the distant layers of the Ocean. These algae are truly a prodigy of creation, one of the marvels of universal flora. This family produces both the smallest and the largest plants on the globe. For just as forty thousand of these imperceptible seedlings have been counted in a space of five square millimeters, so too have fucus plants been collected whose length exceeded five hundred meters. We had left the Nautilus for about an hour and a half. It was nearly noon. I noticed this from the perpendicularity of the sun’s rays, which were no longer refracted. The magic of the colors gradually disappeared, and the shades of emerald and sapphire faded from our firmament. We walked with a steady step that resonated on the ground with astonishing intensity. The slightest sounds were transmitted with a speed to which the ear is not accustomed on land. Indeed, water is a better vehicle for sound than air, and it propagates there with four times the speed. At that moment, the ground lowered by a pronounced slope. The light took on a uniform tint. We reached a depth of one hundred meters, then undergoing a pressure of ten atmospheres. But my diving suit was set in such conditions that I suffered in no way from this pressure. I only felt a certain discomfort in the joints of my fingers, and even this discomfort was not long in disappearing. As for the fatigue that this two-hour walk under a harness to which I was so little accustomed must have brought, it was nil. My movements, aided by the water, occurred with a surprising ease. Having reached this depth of three hundred feet, I could still see the sun’s rays, but faintly. Their intense brilliance had been succeeded by a reddish twilight, a medium between day and night. However, we could see well enough to guide us, and it was not yet necessary to activate the Ruhmkorff apparatus. At this moment, Captain Nemo stopped. He waited until I had joined him, and with his finger, he pointed to some dark masses that stood out in the shadows a short distance away. “This is the forest of Crespo Island,” I thought, and I was not mistaken. Chapter 17. AN UNDERWATER FOREST We had finally arrived at the edge of this forest, undoubtedly one of the most beautiful in Captain Nemo’s immense domain. He considered it his own, and claimed the same rights over it as the first humans had in the early days of the world. Besides, who would have disputed his possession of this underwater property? What other bolder pioneer would have come, axe in hand, to clear the dark thickets? This forest was composed of large tree-like plants, and, as soon as we had penetrated beneath its vast arches, my eyes were first struck by a singular arrangement of their branches – an arrangement that I had not yet observed until then. None of the grasses that carpeted the ground, none of the branches that bristled the shrubs, crept, nor bent, nor extended in a horizontal plane. All rose towards the surface of the ocean. No filaments, no ribbons, however thin they were, did not stand straight like iron rods. The fucus and the lianas developed along a rigid and perpendicular line, governed by the density of the element that had produced them. Motionless, moreover, when I moved them away with my hand, these plants immediately resumed their original position. Here, it was the reign of verticality. Soon, I became accustomed to this strange arrangement, as well as to the relative darkness that enveloped us. The forest floor was strewn with sharp blocks, difficult to avoid. The underwater flora seemed to me to be quite complete, richer even than it would have been in the arctic or tropical zones, where its products are less numerous. But, for a few minutes, I involuntarily confused the kingdoms, taking zoophytes for hydrophytes, animals for plants. And who would not have been mistaken? The fauna and flora touch so closely in this underwater world! I observed that all these productions of the plant kingdom were held to the ground only by a superficial impasto. Devoid of roots, indifferent to the solid body, sand, shell, test or pebble, which supports them, they only ask for a point of support, not vitality. These plants proceed only from themselves, and the principle of their existence is in this water which supports them, which nourishes them. Most of them, instead of leaves, grew lamellae of capricious shapes, circumscribed in a restricted range of colors, which included only pink, carmine, green, olive, fawn and brown. I saw again there, but no longer dried up like the specimens from the Nautilus, peacock-padinas, spread out in fans that seemed to solicit the breeze, scarlet ceramies, kelp extending their young edible shoots, threadlike and fluxuous nereocystea , which blossomed to a height of fifteen meters, acetabular bouquets, whose stems grow upwards from the top, and many other pelagian plants, all devoid of flowers. A curious anomaly, a bizarre element, said a witty naturalist, where the animal kingdom flowers, and where the vegetable kingdom does not! ” Between these various shrubs, as large as the trees of temperate zones, and under their humid shade, were massed veritable bushes with living flowers, hedges of zoophytes, on which bloomed meanders striped with tortuous furrows, yellowish cariophylla with diaphanous tentacles, tufts of grassy zoantharia, and to complete the illusion – hummingfish flew from branch to branch, like a swarm of hummingbirds, while yellow lepisacanthus, with bristling jaws, sharp scales, dactyloptera and monocentra, rose under our feet, like a troop of snipe. Around one o’clock, Captain Nemo gave the signal to halt. I was quite satisfied for my part, and we stretched out under a bower of alariea, whose long, thin straps stood up like arrows.
This moment of rest seemed delicious to me. All we lacked was the charm of conversation. But it was impossible to speak, impossible to reply. I simply brought my big copper head close to Conseil’s head . I saw the eyes of this brave fellow shine with contentment, and as a sign of satisfaction, he moved about in his shell with the most comical air in the world. After four hours of this walk, I was very surprised not to feel a violent need to eat. What this disposition of the stomach was due to, I could not say. But, on the other hand, I felt an insurmountable desire to sleep, as happens to all divers. So my eyes soon closed behind their thick glass, and I fell into an invincible drowsiness, which only the movement of walking had been able to combat until then. Captain Nemo and his robust companion, stretched out in this limpid crystal, gave us the example of sleep. How long I remained thus plunged in this drowsiness, I could not estimate; But when I awoke, it seemed to me that the sun was sinking towards the horizon. Captain Nemo had already gotten up, and I was beginning to stretch my limbs, when an unexpected apparition suddenly brought me back to my feet. A few steps away, a monstrous sea spider, a meter high, was looking at me with its shifty eyes, ready to spring upon me. Although my diving suit was thick enough to protect me against the bites of this animal, I could not restrain a movement of horror. Conseil and the sailor of the Nautilus awoke at that moment. Captain Nemo showed his companion the hideous crustacean, which was immediately brought down by a blow from the butt of his rifle, and I saw the horrible legs of the monster twisting in terrible convulsions. This encounter made me think that other, more formidable animals must haunt these dark depths, and that my diving suit would not protect me against their attacks. I had not thought of this until then, and I resolved to be on my guard. I supposed, moreover, that this stop marked the end of our excursion; but I was mistaken, and, instead of returning to the Nautilus, Captain Nemo continued his audacious excursion. The ground continued to sink, and its slope, becoming more pronounced, led us to greater depths. It must have been about three o’clock when we reached a narrow valley, dug between high, sheer walls, and located at a depth of one hundred and fifty meters. Thanks to the perfection of our equipment, we thus exceeded by ninety meters the limit that nature seemed to have imposed until then on human underwater excursions. I said one hundred and fifty meters, although no instrument allowed me to estimate this distance. But I knew that, even in the clearest seas, the sun’s rays could not penetrate further. Now, precisely, the darkness became profound. No object was visible at ten paces. So I walked gropingly, when I suddenly saw a fairly bright white light shine. Captain Nemo had just switched on his electrical apparatus. His companion imitated him. Conseil and I followed their example. I established, by turning a screw, the communication between the coil and the glass serpentine, and the sea, lit by our four lanterns, lit up within a radius of twenty-five meters. Captain Nemo continued to go deeper into the dark depths of the forest whose shrubs were becoming increasingly rare. I observed that plant life was disappearing faster than animal life. The pelagian plants were already abandoning the now arid soil, and that a prodigious number of animals, zoophytes, articulates, mollusks and fish still swarmed there. While walking, I thought that the light from our Ruhmkorff devices must necessarily attract some inhabitants of these dark layers. But if they approached us, they at least kept at a distance that was regrettable for hunters. Several times, I saw Captain Nemo stop and aim his rifle; then, after a few moments of observation, he would get up and resume his walk. Finally, around four o’clock, this marvelous excursion came to an end. A wall of superb rocks of imposing mass rose up before us, a pile of gigantic blocks, an enormous granite cliff, hollowed out with dark caves, but which presented no practical ramp. These were the shores of Crespo Island. This was the land. Captain Nemo stopped suddenly. A gesture from him made us halt, and as eager as I was to cross this wall, I had to stop. Here ended Captain Nemo’s domains. He did not want to go beyond them. Beyond that, it was that portion of the globe that he must no longer set foot on. The return journey began. Captain Nemo had taken the lead of his little troop again, still heading without hesitation. I thought I saw that we were not following the same path to return to the Nautilus. This new route, very steep, and consequently very difficult, brought us quickly closer to the surface of the sea. However, this return to the upper layers was not so sudden that the decompression occurred too quickly, which could have caused serious disorders in our organism, and caused those internal lesions so fatal to divers. Very quickly, the light reappeared and grew, and, the sun being already low on the horizon, the refraction once again bordered the various objects with a spectral ring. At a depth of ten meters, we were walking in the middle of a swarm of small fish of all kinds, more numerous than the birds in the air, more agile too, but no aquatic game, worthy of a gunshot , had yet offered itself to our gaze. At that moment, I saw the captain’s weapon, sharply shouldered, follow a moving object between the bushes. The shot went off, I heard a faint whistle, and an animal fell back, struck down a few steps away. It was a magnificent sea otter, an enhydra, the only quadruped that is exclusively marine. This otter, one meter fifty centimeters long, must have been very valuable. Its skin, chestnut brown above and silvery below, made one of those admirable furs so sought after on the Russian and Chinese markets; the fineness and luster of its hair assured it a minimum value of two thousand francs. I greatly admired this curious mammal with its rounded head adorned with short ears, round eyes, white whiskers similar to those of a cat, webbed and unguiculated feet, and bushy tail. This precious carnivore, hunted and tracked by fishermen, is becoming extremely rare, and has mainly taken refuge in the northern portions of the Pacific, where its species will probably soon become extinct. Captain Nemo’s companion came to take the beast, loaded it onto his shoulder, and we set off again. For an hour, a plain of sand unfolded before our feet. It often rose to within two meters of the water’s surface. I then saw our image, clearly reflected, taking shape in the direction reverse, and, above us, appeared an identical troop, reproducing our movements and gestures, in every way similar, in a word, except that it walked with its head down and its feet in the air. Another effect to note. It was the passage of thick clouds which formed and vanished quickly; but on reflection, I understood that these so-called clouds were only due to the variable thickness of the long ground waves, and I even saw the foamy “sheep” that their broken crests multiplied on the waters. There was not even the shadow of the large birds which passed over our heads, whose rapid brushing on the surface of the sea I did not surprise. On this occasion, I witnessed one of the most beautiful gunshots which has ever made the fibers of a hunter tremble. A large bird, with a wide wingspan, very clearly visible, was approaching while gliding. Captain Nemo’s companion took aim and shot him when he was only a few meters above the waves. The animal fell, struck by lightning, and its fall carried it within range of the skillful hunter who seized it. It was an albatross of the most beautiful species, an admirable specimen of pelagian birds. Our march had not been interrupted by this incident. For two hours, we followed sometimes sandy plains, sometimes meadows of kelp, very difficult to cross. Frankly, I could not take it any longer, when I saw a faint light breaking the darkness of the waters half a mile away . It was the Nautilus’s lantern. Within twenty minutes, we should be on board, and there, I would breathe easily, because it seemed to me that my tank was now only providing air very poor in oxygen. But I was counting on not having an encounter that delayed our arrival somewhat. I had remained about twenty paces behind when I saw Captain Nemo suddenly return towards me. With his strong hand, he bent me to the ground, while his companion did the same to the Council. At first, I didn’t know what to think of this sudden attack, but I reassured myself by observing that the captain lay down next to me and remained motionless. I was therefore lying on the ground, and precisely in the shelter of a kelp bush, when, raising my head, I saw enormous masses passing noisily, throwing off phosphorescent lights. My blood froze in my veins! I had recognized the formidable sharks that threatened us. They were a pair of tintoreas, terrible sharks, with enormous tails and dull, glassy eyes, which distill a phosphorescent substance through holes pierced around their snouts. Monstrous fireflies, which crush a man entirely in their iron jaws! I don’t know if Conseil was busy classifying them, but for my part, I observed their silvery bellies, their formidable mouths bristling with teeth, from a rather unscientific point of view, and more as a victim than as a naturalist. Very fortunately, these voracious animals have poor vision. They passed by without noticing us, brushing us with their brownish fins, and we escaped, as if by a miracle, this danger, greater, for sure, than meeting a tiger in the middle of the forest. Half an hour later, guided by the electric trail, we reached the Nautilus. The outer door had remained open, and Captain Nemo closed it as soon as we had entered the first cell. Then he pressed a button. I heard the pumps being operated inside the ship, I felt the water lowering around me, and in a few moments the cell was completely emptied. The inner door then opened, and we passed into the changing room. There our diving suits were removed, not without difficulty, and, very exhausted, falling from starvation and sleep, I returned to my room, completely amazed by this surprising excursion to the bottom of the sea. Chapter 18. FOUR THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE PACIFIC The next morning, November 18, I was fully recovered from my exertions of the previous day, and I went up onto the platform just as the second officer of the Nautilus was uttering his daily phrase. It then occurred to me that it referred to the state of the sea, or rather that it meant: “We have nothing in sight.” And indeed, the ocean was deserted. Not a sail on the horizon. The heights of Crespo Island had disappeared during the night. The sea, absorbing the colors of the prism, with the exception of the blue rays, reflected them in all directions and took on a wonderful shade of indigo. A moiré pattern, with broad stripes, was regularly outlined on the undulating waves. I was admiring this magnificent aspect of the ocean when Captain Nemo appeared. He did not seem to notice my presence, and began a series of astronomical observations. Then, his operation completed, he went to lean on the lantern cage, and his gaze was lost on the surface of the ocean. Meanwhile, about twenty sailors from the Nautilus, all vigorous and well-built people, had climbed onto the platform. They came to retrieve the nets that had been dragged during the night. These sailors obviously belonged to different nations, although the European type was evident in all of them. I recognized, without a doubt, Irish, French, a few Slavs, a Greek, or a Candiote. Moreover, these men were restrained in their speech, and used among themselves only that strange idiom whose origin I could not even suspect . So, I had to give up questioning them. The nets were hauled on board. They were a kind of trawl, similar to those of the Normandy coasts, vast pockets that a floating yard and a chain threaded through the lower meshes keep half-open. These pockets, thus dragged on their iron gloves, swept the bottom of the Ocean and collected all its products in their passage. That day, they brought back curious samples of these fishy waters, lophies, whose comical movements have earned them the title of histrions, black merchants, equipped with their antennae, undulated triggerfish, surrounded by red bands, crescent puffers, whose venom is extremely subtle, some olive lampreys, macrorhinques, covered with silver scales, trichiuras, whose electrical power is equal to that of the gymnotus and the torpedo, scaly notoptera, with brown and transverse bands, greenish gades, several varieties of gobies, etc., finally, some fish of larger proportions, a caranx with a prominent head, a meter long, several beautiful bonito scumbers , adorned with blue and silver colors, and three magnificent tuna that the speed of their march had not been able to save from the trawl.
I estimated that this haul brought in more than a thousand pounds of fish. It was a fine catch, but not surprising. Indeed, these nets remain dragged for several hours and enclose in their prison of wire a whole aquatic world. We were therefore not to be short of excellent food, which the speed of the Nautilus and the attraction of its electric light could constantly renew. These various seafood products were immediately lowered through the hatch into the galleys, some to be eaten fresh, others to be preserved. The catch finished, the air supply renewed, I thought that the Nautilus was going to resume its underwater excursion, and I was preparing to return to my room, when, turning to me, Captain Nemo said without further preamble: “Look at this ocean, Professor, is it not endowed with real life? Does it not have its angers and its tenderness?” Yesterday he fell asleep like us, and here he is waking up after a peaceful night ! ” Neither good morning nor good evening! Wouldn’t it have been as if this strange character were continuing with me a conversation that had already begun? “Look,” he continued, “he’s waking up under the caresses of the sun! He’s going to revive his diurnal existence! It’s an interesting study to follow the play of his organism. He has a pulse, arteries, he has his spasms, and I agree with that scientist Maury, who discovered in him a circulation as real as the blood circulation in animals.” It is certain that Captain Nemo wasn’t expecting any answer from me, and it seemed pointless to shower him with “Obviously,” ” Certainly,” and “You’re right.” He was talking to himself, taking long pauses between each sentence. It was a meditation out loud. “Yes,” he said, “the Ocean has a true circulation, and to provoke it, the Creator of all things only had to multiply within it the caloric, the salt, and the animalcules. The caloric, in fact, creates different densities, which bring about currents and counter-currents. Evaporation, nil in the hyperborean regions, very active in the equatorial zones, constitutes a permanent exchange of tropical waters and polar waters. Moreover, I have surprised these currents from top to bottom and from bottom to top, which form the true respiration of the Ocean. I have seen the molecule of sea water, heated at the surface, descend towards the depths, reach its maximum density at two degrees below zero, then cooling again, become lighter and rise again. You will see, at the poles, the consequences of this phenomenon, and you will understand why, by this law of provident nature, freezing can never occur except at the surface of the waters! ” While Captain Nemo was finishing his sentence, I said to myself: “The pole! Does this audacious character claim to lead us there!” However, the captain had fallen silent, and was looking at this element he had so completely, so incessantly studied. Then he continued: “Salts,” he said, “are in considerable quantity in the sea, Professor , and if you were to remove all those it contains in solution, you would make a mass of four and a half million cubic leagues, which, spread over the globe, would form a layer more than ten meters high. And do not believe that the presence of these salts is due only to a whim of nature. No. They make the sea waters less evaporable, and prevent the winds from removing too great a quantity of vapors, which, by being dissolved, would submerge the temperate zones. An immense role, a balancing role in the general economy of the globe! » Captain Nemo stopped, even stood up, took a few steps on the platform, and came back to me: “As for the infusoria,” he continued, “as for these billions of animalcules, which exist by the millions in a droplet, and of which it takes 800,000 to weigh one milligram, their role is no less important. They absorb sea salts, they assimilate the solid elements of the water, and, true makers of limestone continents, they create corals and madrepores! And then the drop of water, deprived of its mineral nourishment, becomes lighter, rises to the surface, absorbs the salts abandoned by evaporation, becomes heavier, descends again, and brings new elements to the animalcules to absorb. From there, a double ascending and descending current, and always movement, always life! Life, more intense than on the continents, more exuberant, more infinite, flourishing in all parts of this ocean, an element of death for man, it has been said, an element of life for myriads of animals and for me! When Captain Nemo spoke thus, he was transfigured and provoked in me an extraordinary emotion. “So,” he added, “there is true existence! And I would conceive the founding of nautical cities, agglomerations of underwater houses, which, like the Nautilus, would return to breathe every morning on the surface of the seas, free cities, if ever there were any, independent cities! And again, who knows if some despot… Captain Nemo finished his sentence with a violent gesture. Then, addressing me directly, as if to chase away a fatal thought: “Mr. Aronnax,” he asked me, “do you know how deep the ocean is? ” “I know, at least, Captain, what the principal soundings have taught us.
” “Could you cite them to me, so that I can check them if necessary? ” “Here are a few,” I replied, “that come to mind. If I am not mistaken, an average depth of 8,200 meters has been found in the North Atlantic, and 2,500 meters in the Mediterranean.” The most remarkable soundings were made in the South Atlantic, near the thirty-fifth degree, and they gave twelve thousand meters, fourteen thousand ninety-one meters, and fifteen thousand one hundred and forty-nine meters. In short, it is estimated that if the bottom of the sea were leveled, its average depth would be about seven kilometers. “Well, Professor,” replied Captain Nemo, “we will show you better than that, I hope. As for the average depth of this part of the Pacific, I will tell you that it is only four thousand meters.” Having said this, Captain Nemo went to the hatch and disappeared down the ladder. I followed him and returned to the main lounge. The propeller immediately started moving, and the log reached a speed of twenty miles per hour. During the days, during the weeks that passed, Captain Nemo was very sparing in his visits. I saw him only at rare intervals. His second regularly took the bearings that I found recorded on the map, so that I could accurately plot the Nautilus’s course. Conseil and Land spent long hours with me. Conseil had told his friend about the wonders of our trip, and the Canadian regretted not having accompanied us. But I hoped that the opportunity would arise to visit the oceanic forests. Almost every day, for a few hours, the hatches in the lounge opened, and our eyes never tired of penetrating the mysteries of the underwater world. The general direction of the Nautilus was southeast, and it remained between 100 and 150 meters deep. One day, however, by some caprice, driven diagonally by means of its inclined planes, it reached the layers of water located at 2,000 meters. The thermometer indicated a temperature of 4.25 centigrade, a temperature which, at this depth, seems to be common to all latitudes. On November 26, at three o’clock in the morning, the Nautilus crossed the Tropic of Cancer at 172° longitude. On the 27th, it passed in sight of the Sandwich Islands, where the illustrious Cook met his death on February 14, 1779. We had then traveled 4,860 leagues from our point of departure. In the morning, when I arrived on the platform, I saw, two miles to leeward, Haouaï, the largest of the seven islands that form this archipelago. I clearly distinguished its cultivated edge, the various mountain ranges that run parallel to the coast, and its volcanoes dominated by Mouna-Rea, raised 5,000 meters above sea level. Among other samples from these waters, the nets brought back pavonated flabelaria, compressed polyps of graceful shape, which are peculiar to this part of the Ocean. The Nautilus’s direction remained southeast. It crossed the Equator on December 1st, at longitude 142°, and on the 4th of the same month, after a rapid crossing without incident, we came across the Marquesas group. I sighted, three miles away, at longitude 8°57′ South latitude and 139°32′ West longitude, Martin Point of Nouka-Hiva, the main one of this group which belongs to France. I only saw the wooded mountains which appeared on the horizon, because Captain Nemo did not like to go inland. There, the nets brought back beautiful specimens of fish, choryphaenas with azure fins and a golden tail, whose flesh is without rival in the world, hologymnoses almost without scales, but of an exquisite taste, ostorhinques with bony jaws, yellowish thasards which were worth the bonito, all fish worthy of being classified in the ship’s galley. After leaving these charming islands protected by the French flag, from December 4 to 11, the Nautilus traveled about two thousand miles. This voyage was marked by the encounter with an immense troop of squid, curious mollusks, very similar to cuttlefish . French fishermen call them encornets, and they belong to the class of cephalopods and the family of dibranchials, which includes cuttlefish and argonauts. These animals were particularly studied by the naturalists of antiquity, and they provided many metaphors to the orators of the Agora, as well as an excellent dish at the tables of wealthy citizens, if we are to believe Athenaeus, a Greek physician who lived before Gallienus. It was during the night of December 9 to 10 that the Nautilus encountered this army of mollusks, which are particularly nocturnal. They could be counted in millions. They were migrating from temperate zones to warmer zones, following the route of herring and sardines. We watched them through the thick crystal panes, swimming backward with extreme speed, moving by means of their locomotory tubes, chasing fish and mollusks, eating the small ones, eaten by the large ones, and waving in indescribable confusion the ten feet that nature had implanted on their heads, like a hair of pneumatic snakes. The Nautilus, despite its speed, sailed for several hours in the midst of this troop of animals, and its nets brought back an innumerable quantity, in which I recognized the nine species that d’Orbigny classified for the Pacific Ocean. As you can see, during this crossing, the sea was incessantly providing its most marvelous spectacles. It varied them infinitely. She changed her decor and her staging for the pleasure of our eyes, and we were called not only to contemplate the works of the Creator in the midst of the liquid element, but also to penetrate the most formidable mysteries of the Ocean. During the day of December 11, I was busy reading in the great hall. Ned Land and Conseil were observing the luminous waters through the half-open panels. The Nautilus was motionless. Its tanks filled, it remained at a depth of a thousand meters, a sparsely inhabited region of the Oceans, in which only large fish made rare appearances. I was at that moment reading a charming book by Jean Macé, Les Serviteurs de l’estomac, and I was savoring its ingenious lessons, when Conseil interrupted my reading. “Would Monsieur come for a moment?” he said to me in a singular voice. “What is it, Conseil? ” “Let Monsieur look.” ” I stood up, leaned my elbows in front of the window, and looked. In the full electric light, an enormous blackish mass, motionless, was suspended in the middle of the water. I observed it attentively, trying to recognize the nature of this gigantic cetacean. But a thought suddenly crossed my mind. “A ship!” I cried. “Yes,” replied the Canadian, “a disabled vessel that has sunk straight down! ” Ned Land was not mistaken. We were in the presence of a ship, whose cut shrouds still hung from their chainplates. Its hull appeared to be in good condition, and its sinking dated back at most a few hours. Three sections of mast, shaved off two feet above the deck, indicated that this ship, in the stricken condition, had had to sacrifice its rigging. But, lying on its side, it had filled up, and it was still listing to port. A sad spectacle, this carcass lost beneath the waves, but sadder still was the sight of its deck where a few corpses, moored by ropes, still lay! I counted four of them—four men, one of whom was standing at the helm—then a woman, half -exiting through the skylight of the poop deck, holding a child in her arms. This woman was young. I could recognize, brightly lit by the lights of the Nautilus, her features, which the water had not yet decomposed. In a supreme effort, she had raised her child above her head, a poor little creature whose arms were clasped around its mother’s neck! The attitude of the four sailors seemed frightening to me, twisted as they were in convulsive movements, and making a last effort to tear themselves away from the ropes that bound them to the ship. Alone, calmer, his face clear and grave, his graying hair stuck to his forehead, his hand clenched on the wheel of the rudder, the helmsman still seemed to be steering his wrecked three-master through the depths of the ocean! What a scene! We were speechless, our hearts pounding, before this shipwreck caught in the act, and, so to speak, photographed at its last minute! And I could already see, my eyes burning, enormous sharks advancing, attracted by this bait of human flesh! Meanwhile, the Nautilus, moving, circled the submerged ship, and for a moment I could read on its transom: Florida, Sunderland. Chapter 19. VANIKORO. This terrible spectacle inaugurated the series of maritime catastrophes that the Nautilus was to encounter on its route. Since it had been following more frequented seas, we often saw wrecked hulls that were finishing rotting between two waters, and, deeper down, cannons, cannonballs, anchors, chains, and a thousand other iron objects, which rust was eating away. However, still carried along by this Nautilus, where we lived as if isolated, on December 11, we became aware of the Pomotou archipelago, formerly Bougainville’s “dangerous group,” which extends over an area of ​​five hundred leagues from east-southeast to west-northwest, between 13°30′ and 23°50′ south latitude, and 125°30′ and 151°30′ west longitude, from Ducie Island to Lazareff Island. This archipelago covers an area of ​​three hundred and seventy square leagues, and is formed of about sixty groups of islands, among which we note the Gambier group, on which France has imposed its protectorate. These islands are coralligenous. A slow but continuous uplift, caused by the work of the polyps, will one day connect them together . Then, this new island will later join the neighboring archipelagos, and a fifth continent will extend from New Zealand and New Caledonia to the Marquesas. The day I developed this theory in front of Captain Nemo, he replied coldly: “It is not new continents that the earth needs, but new men!” The chances of its navigation had precisely led the Nautilus to Clermont-Tonnerre Island, one of the most curious of the group, which was discovered in 1822 by Captain Bell of the Minerve. I was then able to study this madreporic system to which the islands of this Ocean are due. Madrepores, which must not be confused with corals, have a tissue covered with a calcareous encrustation, and the modifications of its structure have led Mr. Milne-Edwards, my illustrious master, to classify them into five sections. The tiny animalcules that secrete this polyp live by the billions deep inside their cells. These are their limestone deposits that become rocks, reefs, islets, islands. Here, they form a circular ring, surrounding a lagoon or a small inland lake, which gaps connect with the sea. There, they form barrier reefs similar to those that exist on the coasts of New Caledonia and various Pomotou islands. In other places, such as Réunion and Mauritius, they raise fringed reefs, high straight walls, near which the depths of the Ocean are considerable. By extending only a few cables’ lengths from the shores of Clermont-Tonnerre Island , I admired the gigantic work accomplished by these microscopic workers. These walls were specifically the work of madreporarians designated by the names of millepores, porites, astrees and meandrines. These polyps develop particularly in the agitated layers of the sea surface, and consequently, it is from their upper part that they begin these substructures, which sink little by little with the debris of secretions which support them. Such, at least, is the theory of Mr. Darwin, which thus explains the formation of atolls – a theory superior, in my opinion, to that which gives as a basis for madreporic works the summits of mountains or volcanoes, submerged a few feet below sea level. I was able to observe these curious walls very closely, because, at their base, the probe showed more than three hundred meters of depth, and our electric sheets made this brilliant limestone sparkle. Answering a question that Conseil put to me, on the duration of the growth of these colossal barriers, I surprised him greatly by telling him that scientists put this increase at one eighth of an inch per century. “So, to build these walls,” he said to me, “it took… “One hundred and ninety-two thousand years, my good Counsel, which considerably lengthens the biblical days. Besides, the formation of coal, that is to say, the mineralization of the forests bogged down by the floods, required a much longer time. But I will add that the days of the Bible are only epochs and not the interval that elapses between two sunrises, because, according to the Bible itself, the sun does not date from the first day of creation.” When the Nautilus returned to the surface of the ocean, I was able to take in the whole of this island of Clermont-Tonnerre, low and wooded. Its madreporic rocks were obviously fertilized by waterspouts and storms. One day, some seed, carried by the hurricane from the neighboring lands, fell on the limestone layers, mixed with the decomposed detritus of fish and marine plants that formed the vegetable humus. A coconut, pushed by the waves, arrived on this new shore. The germ took root. The tree, growing, stopped the water vapor. The stream was born. Vegetation gradually spread. A few animalcules, worms, insects, landed on trunks torn from the windward islands. Turtles came to lay their eggs. Birds nested in the young trees. In this way, animal life developed, and, attracted by the greenery and fertility, man appeared. Thus were formed these islands, immense works of microscopic animals. Toward evening, Clermont-Tonnerre melted into the distance, and the route of the Nautilus changed noticeably. After touching the Tropic of Capricorn at the one hundred and thirty-fifth degree of longitude, it headed west-northwest, going up the entire intertropical zone. Although the summer sun was lavish with its rays, we suffered in no way from the heat, for at thirty or forty meters below the water, the temperature did not rise above ten to twelve degrees. On December 15, we left in the east the attractive Society Islands, and the graceful Taiti, the queen of the Pacific. I saw the morning, a few miles to leeward, the high peaks of this island. Its waters provided the tables on board with excellent fish, mackerel, bonito, albicore, and varieties of a sea serpent called munerophis. The Nautilus had crossed 8,100 miles. 9,720 miles were recorded on the log when it passed between the Tonga-Tabou archipelago, where the crews of the Argo, the Port-au-Prince, and the Duke of Portland perished, and the Navigators archipelago, where Captain de Langle, La Pérouse’s friend, was killed. Then, it came across the Viti archipelago, where the savages massacred the sailors of the Union and Captain Bureau, from Nantes, commanding the Aimable Josephine. This archipelago, which extends over an area of ​​one hundred leagues from north to south, and ninety leagues from east to west, is located between 60 and 20 south latitude, and 174° and 179° west longitude. It is composed of a certain number of islands, islets and reefs, among which are the islands of Viti-Levou, Vanoua-Levou and Kandubon. It was Tasman who discovered this group in 1643, the very year in which Toricelli invented the barometer, and Louis XIV ascended the throne. I leave it to the reader to imagine which of these facts was the most useful to humanity. Then came Cook in 1714, d’Entrecasteaux in 1793, and finally Dumont-d’Urville, in 1827, unraveled all the geographical chaos of this archipelago. The Nautilus approached Wailea Bay, the scene of the terrible adventures of Captain Dillon, who was the first to shed light on the mystery of the shipwreck of La Pérouse. This bay, dredged several times, provides an abundance of excellent oysters. We ate them immoderately, after opening them on our own table, following Seneca’s precept. These mollusks belonged to the species known as Ostrea lamellosa, which is very common in Corsica. This Wailea bed must have been considerable, and certainly, without multiple causes of destruction, these agglomerations would end up filling the bays, since up to two million eggs are counted in a single individual. And if Master Ned Land did not have to repent of his gluttony on this occasion, it is because the oyster is the only food that never causes indigestion. Indeed, it takes no less than sixteen dozen of these headless mollusks to provide the three hundred and fifteen grams of nitrogenous substance necessary for the daily food of a single man.
On December 25, the Nautilus was sailing in the middle of the archipelago of the New Hebrides, which Quiros discovered in 1606, which Bougainville explored in 1768, and to which Cook gave its present name in 1773. This group is composed mainly of nine large islands, and forms a strip of one hundred and twenty leagues from north-northwest to south-southeast, between 15° and 2° south latitude, and between 164° and 168° longitude. We passed quite close to the island of Aurou, which, at the time of the midday observations, appeared to me as a mass of green woods, dominated by a peak of great height. That day was Christmas, and Ned Land seemed to me to deeply miss the celebration of “Christmas,” the true family holiday, about which Protestants are fanatical. I hadn’t seen Captain Nemo for about a week, when on the morning of the 27th, he entered the main living room, still looking like a man who left you five minutes ago. I was busy recognizing the Nautilus’s route on the planisphere. The captain approached, placed a finger on a point on the map, and pronounced this single word:
“Vanikoro.” This name was magical. It was the name of the islets on which La Pérouse’s ships ended up. I suddenly stood up. “The Nautilus is taking us to Vanikoro?” I asked. “Yes, Professor,” replied the captain. “And I will be able to visit those famous islands where the _Compass_ and the _Astrolabe_ were wrecked ? ” “If that pleases you, Professor. ” “When will we be at Vanikoro? ” “We are here, Professor.” Followed by Captain Nemo, I climbed onto the platform, and from there, my gaze eagerly scanned the horizon. In the northeast emerged two volcanic islands of unequal size, surrounded by a coral reef that measured forty miles in circumference. We were in the presence of the island of Vanikoro itself, to which Dumont d’Urville gave the name of _Recherche_ Island, and precisely in front of the small harbor of Vanou, located at 16°4′ south latitude , and 164°32′ east longitude. The land seemed covered with greenery from the beach to the inland peaks, dominated by Mount Kapogo, 476 fathoms high. The Nautilus, after crossing the outer belt of rocks by a narrow pass, found itself inside the breakers, where the sea was 30 to 40 fathoms deep. Under the verdant shade of the mangroves, I saw some savages who showed extreme surprise at our approach. In this long blackish body, advancing at the surface of the water, did they not see some formidable cetacean of which they should be wary? At this moment, Captain Nemo asked me what I knew about the shipwreck of La Pérouse. “What everyone knows about it, Captain,” I replied. “And could you tell me what everyone knows about it?” he asked me in a somewhat ironic tone. “Very easily.” » I told him what the latest work of Dumont d’Urville had made known, work of which here is a very brief summary. La Pérouse and his second, Captain de Langle, were sent by Louis XVI in 1785 to complete a circumnavigation. They were on board the corvettes the _Boussole_ and the _Astrolabe_, which never reappeared. In 1791, the French government, justly concerned about the fate of the two corvettes, armed two large flutes, the _Recherche_ and the _Espérance_, which left Brest on September 28, under the command of Bruni d’Entrecasteaux. Two months later, we learned from the deposition of a certain Bowen, commanding the _Albermale_, that wrecks of shipwrecked vessels had been seen on the coast of New Georgia. But d’Entrecasteaux, unaware of this communication – rather uncertain, moreover – headed for the Admiralty Islands, designated in a report by Captain Hunter as the site of the shipwreck of La Pérouse. His search was in vain. The _Espérance_ and the _Recherche_ even passed Vanikoro without stopping there, and, in short, this voyage was very unfortunate, because it cost the lives of d’Entrecasteaux, two of his second-in-commands, and several sailors of his crew. It was an old Pacific veteran, Captain Dillon, who was the first to find unmistakable traces of the shipwrecked. On May 15, 1824, his ship, the _Saint-Patrick_, passed near the island of Tikopia, one of the New Hebrides. There, a rascal, having accosted him in a canoe, sold him a silver sword hilt which bore the imprint of characters engraved with a burin. This rascal claimed, moreover , that, six years previously, during a stay at Vanikoro, he had seen two Europeans who belonged to ships stranded for many years on the reefs of the island. Dillon guessed that these were the ships of La Pérouse, whose disappearance had moved the whole world. He wanted to reach Vanikoro, where, according to the rascal, there were numerous wrecks of the shipwreck; but the winds and currents prevented him from doing so. Dillon returned to Calcutta. There, he was able to interest the Société Asiatique and the Compagnie des Indes in his discovery . A ship, which was given the name of the _Recherche_, was placed at his disposal, and he left on the 23rd January 1827, accompanied by a French agent. The _Recherche_, after having put into several points in the Pacific, anchored off Vanikoro on July 7, 1827, in the same harbor of Vanou, where the _Nautilus_ was floating at that moment. There, he collected numerous remains of the shipwreck, iron utensils, anchors, pulley strops, swivel guns, an eighteen-gauge cannonball, debris from astronomical instruments, a piece of crowning, and a bronze bell bearing this inscription: ” _Bazin made me_”, mark of the foundry of the Arsenal of Brest around 1785. Doubt was therefore no longer possible. Dillon, completing his information, remained at the scene of the disaster until the month of October. Then he left Vanikoro, headed for New Zealand, anchored at Calcutta on April 7, 1828, and returned to France, where he was very kindly received by Charles X. But at that time, Dumont d’Urville, without having been aware of Dillon’s work, had already left to look elsewhere for the scene of the shipwreck. And, in fact, it had been learned from the reports of a whaler that medals and a cross of Saint-Louis were in the hands of the savages of Louisiade and New Caledonia. Dumont d’Urville, commanding the _Astrolabe_, had therefore put to sea, and, two months after Dillon had left Vanikoro, he anchored off Hobart Town. There he learned of the results obtained by Dillon, and, moreover, he learned that a certain James Hobbs, second in command of the Union, from Calcutta, having landed on an island located at 8°18′ south latitude and 156°30′ east longitude, had noticed iron bars and red cloth used by the natives of those parts. Dumont d’Urville, rather perplexed, and not knowing whether he should believe these stories reported by unreliable newspapers, nevertheless decided to follow in Dillon’s footsteps. On February 10, 1828, the Astrolabe appeared before Tikopia, took as guide and interpreter a deserter who had settled on this island, sailed towards Vanikoro, learned of it on February 12, extended its reefs until the 14th, and, only on the 20th, anchored inside the barrier, in the harbor of Vanou. On the 23rd, several of the officers went around the island, and brought back some unimportant debris. The natives, adopting a system of denials and evasions, refused to take them to the scene of the disaster. This very suspicious conduct led to the belief that they had mistreated the shipwrecked people, and, in fact, they seemed to fear that Dumont d’Urville had come to avenge La Pérouse and his unfortunate companions. However, on the 26th, persuaded by gifts, and understanding that they had no reprisals to fear, they led the second, Mr. Jacquinot, to the scene of the shipwreck. There, in three or four fathoms of water, between the Pacou and Vanou reefs, lay anchors, cannons, iron and lead salmon, stuck in the calcareous concretions. The longboat and whaleboat of the _Astrolabe_ were directed towards this place, and, not without long fatigue, their crews managed to remove an anchor weighing eighteen hundred pounds, an eight-gauge cast iron cannon, a lead salmon and two copper swivels. Dumont d’Urville, questioning the natives, also learned that La Pérouse, after having lost his two ships on the reefs of the island, had built a smaller vessel, to go and get lost a second time… Where? No one knew. The commander of the Astrolabe then had a cenotaph erected under a clump of mangroves in memory of the famous navigator and his companions. It was a simple quadrangular pyramid, set on a coral base, and in which no ironwork was inserted that could tempt the greed of the natives. Then, Dumont d’Urville wanted to leave; but his crews were undermined by the fevers of these unhealthy coasts, and, very ill himself, he could not was able to set sail only on March 17. However, the French government, fearing that Dumont d’Urville was not aware of Dillon’s work, had sent to Vanikoro the corvette _Bayonnaise_, commanded by Legoarant de Tromelin, who was stationed on the west coast of America. The _Bayonnaise_ anchored off Vanikoro, a few months after the departure of the _Astrolabe_, found no new documents, but noted that the savages had respected the mausoleum of La Pérouse. This is the substance of the story I told Captain Nemo. “So,” he said to me, “we still don’t know where this third ship built by the shipwrecked people on the island of Vanikoro went to perish? ” “We don’t know.” Captain Nemo said nothing, and signaled me to follow him to the main hall. The Nautilus sank a few meters below the waves, and the panels opened. I rushed to the window, and under the coral impastos, covered with fungi, syphonules, halcyons, cariophyllae, through myriads of charming fish, wrasse, glyphisidons , pompherides, diacopes, holocentres, I recognized certain debris that the dredges had not been able to tear away, iron stirrups, anchors, cannons, cannonballs, a capstan fitting, a stem, all objects from the wrecked ships and now carpeted with living flowers. And while I was looking at these desolate wrecks, Captain Nemo said to me in a grave voice: “Commander La Pérouse left on December 7, 1785 with his ships the Boussole and the Astrolabe. He first anchored at Botany Bay, visited the Friendly Islands, New Caledonia, headed for Santa Cruz and put into Namouka, one of the islands of the Hapaï group. Then his ships arrived at the unknown reefs of Vanikoro. The _Boussole_, which was sailing ahead, headed for the southern coast. The _Astrolabe_ came to its aid and also ran aground. The first ship was destroyed almost immediately. The second, caught in the wind, resisted for a few days. The natives gave the shipwrecked people a fairly good welcome. They settled on the island and built a smaller building with the debris of the two larger ones. Some sailors voluntarily remained at Vanikoro. The others, weakened and sick, left with La Pérouse. They headed for the Solomon Islands, and they perished, body and soul, on the western coast of the main island of the group, between Capes Disappointment and Satisfaction! “And how do you know that?” I cried. “Here is what I found on the very site of this last shipwreck!” Captain Nemo showed me a tin box, stamped with the arms of France, and corroded by the salt water. He opened it, and I saw a bundle of yellowed, but still legible, papers. They were the very instructions from the Minister of the Navy to Commander La Pérouse, annotated in the margin in the hand of Louis XVI! “Ah! that is a fine death for a sailor!” said Captain Nemo. “That coral tomb is a peaceful grave, and may God grant that my companions and I never have another!” » Chapter 20. THE TORRES STRAIT During the night of December 27-28, the Nautilus left the vicinity of Vanikoro at excessive speed. Its direction was southwest, and in three days, it crossed the 750 leagues that separate the La Pérouse group from the southeastern tip of Papua. Early on the morning of January 1, 1863, Conseil joined me on the platform. “Sir,” this good fellow said to me, “will sir allow me to wish him a Happy New Year? ” “What, Conseil, but exactly as if I were in Paris, in my study at the Jardin des Plantes. I accept your wishes and I thank you for them. Only, I will ask you what you mean by “a Happy New Year,” in the circumstances in which we find ourselves. Is this the year which will bring the end of our imprisonment, or the year which will see the continuation of this strange journey? “My goodness,” replied Conseil, “I don’t really know what to say to monsieur. It is certain that we are seeing curious things, and that, for two months, we have not had time to be bored. The last marvel is always the most astonishing, and if this progression continues, I don’t know how it will end. I think that we will never find a similar opportunity again. ” “Never, Conseil. ” “Besides, Monsieur Nemo, who well justifies his Latin name, is no more troublesome than if he did not exist. ” “As you say, Conseil. ” “I think then, with all due respect to monsieur, that a good year would be a year which would allow us to see everything… ” “To see everything, Conseil? It might take a long time. But what does Ned Land think? ” “Ned Land thinks exactly the opposite of me,” replied Conseil. ” He has a positive mind and an imperious stomach.” Looking at the fish and always eating them is not enough for him. The lack of wine, bread, meat, these are hardly suitable for a worthy Saxon who is familiar with beefsteaks , and who is not at all frightened by brandy or gin, taken in moderation! “As for me, Conseil, that is not what torments me, and I am very happy with the ship’s diet. ” “Me too,” Conseil replied. “So I am thinking as much of staying as Master Land of taking flight. So, if the year that is beginning is not good for me, it will be for him, and vice versa. In this way, there will always be someone satisfied. Finally, to conclude, I wish monsieur what will please monsieur. ” “Thank you, Conseil. Only I will ask you to postpone the question of New Year’s gifts, and to replace them temporarily with a good handshake. I have nothing else on me. ” “Monsieur has never been so generous,” Conseil replied. And with that, the brave boy left. By January 2, we had traveled eleven thousand three hundred and forty miles, or five thousand two hundred and fifty leagues, from our starting point in the Seas of Japan. Before the spur of the Nautilus stretched the dangerous waters of the Coral Sea, on the northeast coast of Australia. Our boat extended a few miles from that formidable bank on which Cook’s ships almost got lost on June 10, 1770. The ship Cook was boarding struck a rock, and if it did not sink, it was thanks to this circumstance that the piece of coral, detached by the impact, remained embedded in the half-open hull. I would have greatly desired to visit this reef, three hundred and sixty leagues long , against which the sea, always rough, broke with a formidable intensity comparable to the rolling of thunder. But at that moment, the inclined planes of the Nautilus were carrying us to a great depth, and I could see nothing of these high coral walls. I had to be content with the various samples of fish brought back by our nets. I noticed, among others, albacore, a species of scum as large as tuna, with bluish sides and striped with transverse bands that disappear with the life of the animal. These fish accompanied us in flocks and provided our table with an excessively delicate flesh. We also caught a large number of spare vertors, half a decimeter long, tasting like sea bream, and flying pyrapèdes, true underwater swallows, which, on dark nights, alternately streak the air and the water with their phosphorescent glow. Among the mollusks and zoophytes, I found in the meshes of the trawl various species of alcyonarians, sea urchins, hammerheads, spurs, dials, cerites, hyalles. The flora was represented by beautiful floating algae, laminaria and macrocysts, impregnated with the mucilage which transuded through their pores, and among which I collected an admirable _Nemastoma Geliniaroide_, which was classified among the natural curiosities of the museum. Two days after crossing the Coral Sea, on January 4, we discovered the coasts of Papua. On this occasion, Captain Nemo informed me that his intention was to reach the Indian Ocean by the Torres Strait. His communication was limited to that. Ned saw with pleasure that this route brought him closer to the European seas. This Torres Strait is regarded as no less dangerous because of the reefs that bristle there than because of the savage inhabitants who frequent its coasts. It separates the large island of Papua, also called New Guinea, from New Holland . Papua is 400 leagues long by 130 leagues wide, and has an area of ​​40,000 geographical leagues. It is situated, in latitude, between 0°19′ and 10°2′ south, and in longitude, between 128°23′ and 146°15′. At noon, while the second was taking the height of the sun, I perceived the summits of the Arfalxs mountains, raised in planes and ending in sharp peaks. This land, discovered in 1511 by the Portuguese Francisco Serrano, was visited successively by Don José de Menesès in 1526, by Grijalva in 1527, by the Spanish general Alvar de Saavedra in 1528, by Juigo Ortez in 1545, by the Dutchman Shouten in 1616, by Nicolas Sruick in 1753, by Tasman, Dampier, Fumel, Carteret, Edwards, Bougainville, Cook, Forrest, Mac Cluer, by d’Entrecasteaux in 1792, by Duperrey in 1823, and by Dumont d’Urville in 1827. “It is the home of the blacks who occupy all of Malaysia,” said M. de Rienzi, and I hardly suspected that the hazards of this navigation would bring me into the presence of the formidable Andamenes. The Nautilus thus presented itself at the entrance to the most dangerous strait in the world, the one that the boldest navigators hardly dare to cross, a strait that Louis Paz de Torres confronted on his return from the South Seas to Melanesia, and in which, in 1840, the grounded corvettes of Dumont d’Urville were on the point of losing their lives and belongings. The Nautilus itself, superior to all the dangers of the sea, was, however, about to make the acquaintance of the coral reefs. The Torres Strait is about thirty-four leagues wide, but it is obstructed by an innumerable quantity of islands, islets, breakers, and rocks, which make its navigation almost impracticable. Consequently , Captain Nemo took all the necessary precautions to cross it. The Nautilus, floating at the surface of the water, advanced at a moderate speed. Its propeller, like a cetacean’s tail, slowly beat the waves. Taking advantage of this situation, my two companions and I took our places on the still-deserted platform. In front of us rose the helmsman’s cage, and I was very mistaken, or Captain Nemo must have been there, himself steering his Nautilus. I had before my eyes the excellent charts of the Torres Strait surveyed and drawn up by the hydrographic engineer Vincendon Dumoulin and Ensign Coupvent-Desbois – now an admiral – who were part of Dumont d’Urville’s staff during his last circumnavigation. These, along with those of Captain King, are the best charts that unravel the imbroglio of this narrow passage, and I consulted them with scrupulous attention. Around the Nautilus the sea boiled furiously. The current of waves, which carried from the southeast to the northwest at a speed of two and a half miles, broke on the corals whose heads emerged here and there.
“That’s a bad sea!” Ned Land told me. “Detestable, indeed,” I replied, “and hardly suitable for a vessel like the Nautilus. ” “That damned captain,” the Canadian continued, “must be quite certain of his course, for I see coral patches there which would tear his hull to pieces if he so much as touched them!” Indeed, the situation was perilous, but the Nautilus seemed to be slip as if by magic among these furious reefs. He was not exactly following the route of the _Astrolabe_ and the _Zélée_ which was fatal to Dumont d’Urville. He turned further north, passed Murray Island , and returned to the southwest, towards the Cumberland Passage. I thought he was going to give in frankly, when, going back up to the northwest, he headed, through a large number of little-known islands and islets, towards Tound Island and the Mauvais Channel. I was already wondering if Captain Nemo, imprudent to the point of madness, wanted to engage his ship in this pass where Dumont d’ Urville’s two corvettes touched down, when, changing his direction a second time and cutting straight to the west, he headed towards Gueboroar Island . It was then three o’clock in the afternoon. The tide was breaking, the tide being almost full. The Nautilus approached this island, which I can still see with its remarkable fringe of pendanus. We were less than two miles away. Suddenly, a shock knocked me over. The Nautilus had just struck a reef, and remained motionless, listing slightly to port. When I got up, I saw Captain Nemo and his first mate on the platform . They were examining the ship’s situation, exchanging a few words in their incomprehensible language. This was the situation. Two miles off, to starboard, Gueboroar Island appeared, its coastline curving from north to west like an immense arm. To the south and east, a few coral heads were already visible, left uncovered by the ebb tide. We had run aground at full tide, and in one of those seas where the tides are mediocre, an unfortunate circumstance for the refloating of the Nautilus. However. The ship had not suffered at all, its hull being so firmly bound. But if it could neither sink nor break open, it was very likely to be forever tied to these reefs, and then it would have been the end of Captain Nemo’s underwater apparatus. I was thinking this when the captain, cold and calm, always in control of himself, appearing neither moved nor upset, approached: “An accident?” I said to him. “No, an incident,” he answered. “But an incident,” I replied, “which will perhaps force you to become once again an inhabitant of these lands you are fleeing!” Captain Nemo looked at me with a strange expression and made a negative gesture. This was telling me quite clearly that nothing would ever force him to set foot on a continent again. Then he said: “Besides, Mr. Aronnax, the Nautilus is not in distress.” It will transport you again to the midst of the wonders of the Ocean. Our voyage has only just begun, and I do not wish to deprive myself so quickly of the honor of your company. “However, Captain Nemo,” I continued, without noticing the ironic turn of this sentence, “the Nautilus ran aground at high tide. Now, the tides are not strong in the Pacific, and if you cannot unload the Nautilus – which seems impossible to me, I do not see how it will be refloated. ” “The tides are not strong in the Pacific, you are right, Professor,” replied Captain Nemo, “but, in the Torres Strait, there is still a difference of one and a half meters between the level of high and low tides. Today is January 4, and in five days the full moon. Now, I will be very surprised if this obliging satellite does not sufficiently raise these masses of water, and does not render me a service that I wish to owe only to it.” ” Having said this, Captain Nemo, followed by his second, went back down inside the Nautilus. As for the building, it no longer moved and remained motionless, as if the coral polyps had already built it in their indestructible cement. “Well, sir?” said Ned Land, who came to me after the captain had left. “Well, friend Ned, we will wait quietly for the tide of the 9th, because it It seems that the moon will be kind enough to put us back afloat. “Quite simply? ” “Quite simply. ” “And this captain is not going to drop his anchors offshore, put his engine on its chains, and do everything he can to haul himself out? Since the tide will suffice!” Conseil replied simply. The Canadian looked at Conseil, then shrugged his shoulders. It was the sailor in him speaking. “Sir,” he replied, “you can believe me when I tell you that this piece of iron will never sail again, either on or under the sea. It is only good for sale by weight. I therefore think that the time has come to give Captain Nemo the slip. ” “Friend Ned,” I replied, “I do not despair of this valiant Nautilus like you, and in four days we will know what to expect on the tides of the Pacific.” Besides, the advice to flee might be appropriate if we were in sight of the coasts of England or Provence , but in the vicinity of Papua, it’s a different matter, and there will always be time to resort to this extremity, if the Nautilus does not manage to get back on its feet, which I would regard as a serious event. “But couldn’t we at least feel this ground?” Ned Land continued. ” Here is an island. On this island, there are trees. Under these trees, land animals, carriers of chops and roast beef, which I would gladly give a few bites. ” “Here, friend Ned is right,” Conseil said, “and I agree with him. Couldn’t the gentleman get his friend Captain Nemo to transport us to land, if only so we don’t lose the habit of treading on the solid parts of our planet? ” “I can ask him,” I replied, “but he will refuse.” “Let the gentleman take the risk,” Conseil said, “and we will know what to expect from the captain’s kindness.” To my great surprise, Captain Nemo granted me the permission I requested, and he did so with great grace and eagerness, without even requiring a promise from me to return on board. But an escape across the lands of New Guinea would have been very perilous, and I would not have advised Ned Land to attempt it. It would have been better to be a prisoner on board the Nautilus than to fall into the hands of the natives of Papua. The boat was placed at our disposal for the next morning. I did not seek to know if Captain Nemo would accompany us. I even thought that no man from the crew would be given to us, and that Ned Land would be the only one charged with steering the boat. Besides, land was two miles away at most, and it was only a game for the Canadian to steer this light canoe between the lines of reefs so fatal to large ships. The next day, January 5, the canoe, undecked, was torn from its socket and launched into the sea from the top of the platform. Two men were enough for this operation. The oars were in the boat, and we only had to get into them. At eight o’clock, armed with rifles and axes, we left the Nautilus. The sea was fairly calm. A light breeze was blowing from the land. Conseil and I, at the oars, swam vigorously, and Ned steered in the narrow passes that the breakers left between them. The canoe handled well and sped along quickly. Ned Land could not contain his joy. He was a prisoner escaped from his prison, and he hardly dreamed that he would have to return to it. “Meat!” he repeated, “so we are going to eat meat, and what meat! Real game! No bread, for example! I am not saying that fish is not a good thing, but we must not abuse it, and a piece of fresh venison, grilled on hot coals , will pleasantly vary our diet. ” “Gourmet!” Conseil replied, “it makes my mouth water. ” “It remains to be seen,” I said, “if these forests are full of game, and if the game is not of such a size that it can itself hunt the hunter. “Good! Mr. Aronnax,” replied the Canadian, whose teeth seemed to be sharpened like an axe edge, “but I will eat tiger, tiger sirloin, if there are no other quadrupeds on this island. ” “Friend Ned is worrying,” replied Conseil. “Whatever it is,” continued Ned Land, “any animal with four legs without feathers, or two legs with feathers, will be greeted with my first shot . ” “Good!” I replied, “that’s Master Land’s imprudence starting again! ” “Don’t be afraid, Mr. Aronnax,” replied the Canadian, “and swim fast! I don’t ask for twenty-five minutes to offer you a dish of my own.” At eight thirty, the Nautilus’s boat came gently aground on a sandy beach, after having fortunately passed through the coral ring surrounding the island of Gueboroar. Chapter 21. A FEW DAYS ON LAND. I was quite deeply impressed when I touched land. Ned Land was testing the ground with his feet, as if to take possession of it. Yet it had only been two months since we had been, in Captain Nemo’s words, the “passengers of the Nautilus,” that is to say, in reality, the prisoners of his commander. In a few minutes, we were within rifle range of the coast. The soil was almost entirely madreporic, but certain dried-up torrent beds , strewn with granite debris, demonstrated that this island was due to a primordial formation. The entire horizon was hidden behind a curtain of admirable forests. Enormous trees, sometimes reaching 200 feet in height, were linked to each other by garlands of vines, veritable natural hammocks rocked by a light breeze. There were mimosas, ficus, casuarinas, teaks, hibiscus, pendanus, palm trees, mixed in profusion, and under the shelter of their verdant canopy, at the foot of their gigantic stype, grew orchids, legumes, and ferns. But, without noticing all these beautiful samples of Papuan flora , the Canadian abandoned the pleasant for the useful. He saw a coconut tree, cut down some of its fruits, broke them, and we drank their milk, we ate their kernels, with a satisfaction that protested against the ordinary fare of the Nautilus. “Excellent!” said Ned Land. “Exquisite!” replied Conseil. “And I don’t think,” said the Canadian, “that your Nemo would object to our bringing a cargo of coconuts on board? ” “I don’t think so,” I replied, “but he won’t want to taste them!” “So much the worse for him!” said Conseil. “And so much the better for us!” retorted Ned Land. “There will be more left. ” “Just a word, Master Land,” I said to the harpooner who was preparing to ravage another coconut tree, “coconuts are a good thing, but before filling the boat with them, it seems wise to see if the island does not produce some substance no less useful. Fresh vegetables would be welcome in the Nautilus’s pantry. ” “Sir is right,” replied Conseil, “and I propose reserving three places in our boat, one for fruit, another for vegetables, and the third for venison, of which I have not yet glimpsed the slightest sample. ” “Conseil, we must not despair of anything,” replied the Canadian. “Let us continue our excursion then,” I continued, “but let us keep a watchful eye . Although the island appears uninhabited, it could, however, contain a few individuals who would be less picky than we are about the nature of the game! ” “Hey! Hey!” said Ned Land, with a very significant movement of his jaw. “Well! Ned!” cried Conseil. “My goodness,” retorted the Canadian, “I am beginning to understand the charms of cannibalism! ” “Ned! Ned! What are you saying?” replied Conseil. “You, cannibal! But I will no longer be safe near you, I who share your cabin! Must I wake up one day half- devoured? “Friend Conseil, I love you very much, but not enough to eat you unnecessarily. ” “I don’t trust it,” Conseil replied. “On the hunt! We absolutely must kill some game to satisfy this cannibal, or else, one of these mornings, monsieur will find nothing left but pieces of servant to serve him.” While these various remarks were being exchanged, we entered the dark vaults of the forest, and for two hours, we roamed it in all directions. Chance served this search for edible plants perfectly, and one of the most useful products of tropical zones provided us with a precious food that was lacking on board. I am referring to the breadfruit tree, very abundant on Gueboroar Island, and I noticed there mainly this variety without seeds, which in Malay is called “Rima.” This tree was distinguished from other trees by a straight trunk forty feet high. Its crown, gracefully rounded and formed of large multi-lobed leaves, sufficiently designated in the eyes of a naturalist this “artocarpus” which has been very happily naturalized in the Mascarene Islands. From its mass of greenery stood out large globular fruits, a decimeter wide, and provided externally with rugosities which took on a hexagonal arrangement. Useful plant with which nature has graciously endowed the regions where wheat is lacking, and which, without requiring any cultivation, produces fruit for eight months of the year. Ned Land knew these fruits well. He had already eaten them during his numerous travels, and he knew how to prepare their edible substance. Also, the sight of them excited his desires, and he could hold out no longer. “Sir,” he said to me, “may I die if I do not taste a little of this breadfruit paste! ” “Taste, friend Ned, taste at your leisure. We are here to make experiments, let us do them.” “It won’t be long,” replied the Canadian. And, armed with a lentil, he lit a fire of dead wood that crackled happily. Meanwhile, Conseil and I were choosing the best fruits of the artocarpus. Some had not yet reached a sufficient degree of maturity, and their thick skin covered a white, but not very fibrous, pulp. Others, in very large numbers, yellowish and gelatinous, were just waiting to be picked. These fruits contained no pits. Conseil brought a dozen to Ned Land, who placed them on a coal fire, after cutting them into thick slices, and as he did so, he kept repeating: “You’ll see, sir, how good this bread is!” “Especially when you’ve been without it for a long time,” said Conseil. “It’s not even bread anymore,” added the Canadian. “It’s a delicate pastry. Have you never eaten it, sir? ” “No, Ned.” “Well, prepare yourself to eat something delicious. If you don’t come back, I’m no longer the king of harpooners!” After a few minutes, the part of the fruit exposed to the fire was completely charred. Inside appeared a white paste, a sort of tender crumb, whose flavor recalled that of artichoke. It must be admitted, this bread was excellent, and I ate it with great pleasure. “Unfortunately,” I said, “such a paste cannot be kept fresh, and it seems to me useless to make a supply for the ship. ” “For example, sir!” cried Ned Land. “You speak like a naturalist, but I will act like a baker. My advice: harvest some of these fruits that we will take back on our return. ” “And how will you prepare them?” I asked the Canadian. “By making a fermented paste with their pulp that will keep indefinitely and without spoiling. ” When I want to use it, I will cook it in the ship’s kitchen, and despite its slightly acidic flavor, you will find it excellent. “Well, Master Ned, I see that this bread is not missing anything… ” “Yes, Professor,” replied the Canadian, “it is missing some fruit or at least some vegetables! Let us look for the fruit and vegetables.” When our harvest was finished, we set out to complete this “earthly” dinner. Our search was not in vain, and around noon, we had gathered an ample supply of bananas. These delicious products of the torrid zone ripen throughout the year, and the Malays, who gave them the name “pisang,” eat them without cooking them. With these bananas, we gathered enormous jaks with a very strong flavor, tasty mangoes, and pineapples of an incredible size. But this harvest took up a large part of our time, which, moreover, there was no reason to regret. Conseil was still watching Ned. The harpooner walked ahead, and during his walk through the forest, he gleaned with a sure hand some excellent fruits that would complete his provision. “Finally,” Conseil asked, “are you missing anything, friend Ned? ” “Hmm!” said the Canadian. “What! You’re complaining? ” “All these vegetables can’t constitute a meal,” replied Ned. ” It’s the end of a meal, it’s a dessert. But the soup? But the roast? ” “Indeed,” I said, “Ned promised us chops, which seem very problematic to me. ” “Sir,” replied the Canadian, “not only is the hunt not over, but it hasn’t even begun. Patience! We’ll end up meeting some animal with feathers or fur, and if not in this place, it will be in another… ” “And if not today, it will be tomorrow,” added Conseil, “for we mustn’t stray too far. I even propose returning to the canoe. ” “What! Already!” cried Ned. “We must be back before nightfall,” I said. “But what time is it?” asked the Canadian. “Two o’clock, at least,” replied Conseil. “How time flies on this firm ground!” cried Master Ned Land with a sigh of regret. “On our way,” replied Conseil. So we returned through the forest, and we completed our harvest by raiding cabbage palms that had to be picked from the tops of the trees, small beans that I recognized as the ” abrou” of the Malays, and yams of a superior quality. We were overloaded when we arrived at the canoe. However, Ned Land still did not find his provisions sufficient. But fate favored him. As he was about to embark, he saw several trees, twenty-five to thirty feet high, which belonged to the palm species. These trees, as precious as the artocarpus, are rightly counted among the most useful products of Malaysia. They were sago palms, plants that grow without cultivation, reproducing, like mulberry trees, by their offshoots and their seeds. Ned Land knew how to treat these trees. He took his axe, and wielding it with great vigor, he soon had laid two or three sago palms on the ground, the maturity of which could be recognized by the white dust that sprinkled their palms. I watched him do it more with the eyes of a naturalist than with the eyes of a starving man. He began by removing from each trunk a strip of bark, an inch thick, which covered a network of elongated fibers forming inextricable knots, which were chewed with a sort of gummy flour. This flour was sago, an edible substance that serves mainly as a food for the Melanesian populations. For the moment, Ned Land was content to cut these trunks into pieces, as he would have done firewood, reserving the right to extract the flour from them later, to pass it through a cloth in order to separate it from its fibrous ligaments, to evaporate the humidity in the sun, and to let it harden in molds. Finally, at five o’clock in the evening, laden with all our riches, we left the shore of the island, and half an hour later, we docked the Nautilus. No one appeared upon our arrival. The enormous sheet metal cylinder seemed deserted. Once the provisions were loaded, I went down to my room. There I found my supper ready. I ate, then fell asleep. The next day, January 6, nothing new on board. Not a sound inside, not a sign of life. The canoe had remained along the shore, in the very place where we had left it. We resolved to return to Gueboroar Island. Ned Land hoped to be happier than the day before from the hunter’s point of view, and wanted to visit another part of the forest. At sunrise, we were on our way. The boat, carried ashore by the tide, reached the island in a few moments. We disembarked, and, thinking it best to rely on the Canadian’s instinct, we followed Ned Land, whose long legs threatened to outdistance us. Ned Land went up the coast towards the west, then, fording some torrent beds, he reached the high plain bordered by admirable forests. A few kingfishers prowled along the watercourses, but they did not allow themselves to be approached. Their circumspection proved to me that these birds knew what to expect from bipeds of our species, and I concluded that, if the island was not inhabited, at least human beings frequented it. After crossing a fairly lush meadow, we arrived at the edge of a small wood animated by the song and flight of a large number of birds. “They are still only birds,” said Conseil. “But there are some that are edible!” replied the harpooner. “Not at all, friend Ned,” replied Conseil, “for I see only simple parrots there. ” “Friend Conseil,” replied Ned gravely, “the parrot is the pheasant of those who have nothing else to eat. ” “And I will add,” I said, “that this bird, properly prepared, is worth its forkful.” Indeed, under the thick foliage of this wood, a whole world of parrots fluttered from branch to branch, only awaiting a more careful education to speak the human language. For the moment, they chattered in the company of parakeets of all colors, grave cockatoos, which seemed to be meditating on some philosophical problem, while bright red lorises passed like a piece of muslin carried by the breeze, amidst noisy-flying hornbills, Papuans painted in the finest shades of azure, and a whole variety of charming, but generally inedible, birds. However, a bird peculiar to these lands, and which has never gone beyond the Arrou Islands and the Papua Islands, was missing from this collection. But fate had in store for me to admire it before long. After crossing a thicket of moderate thickness, we found a plain obstructed by bushes. I then saw magnificent birds take flight, whose long feathers forced them to head against the wind. Their undulating flight, the grace of their aerial curves, the shimmering of their colors, attracted and charmed the eye. I had no trouble recognizing them. “Birds of paradise!” I cried. “Order of passerines, section of clystomores,” Conseil replied. “Partridge family?” asked Ned Land. “I don’t think so, Master Land. Nevertheless, I’m counting on your skill to catch one of these charming products of tropical nature! ” “We’ll try, Professor, although I’m more accustomed to handling a harpoon than a gun.” ” The Malays, who trade extensively in these birds with the Chinese, have various means of catching them that we could not use. Sometimes they place loopholes at the top of the tall trees where the birds of paradise prefer to inhabit. Sometimes they seize them with a tenacious glue that paralyzes their movements. They even go so far as to poison the fountains where these birds are accustomed to drinking. As for us, we were reduced to shooting them in flight, which left us little chance of hitting them. And indeed, we exhausted part of our ammunition in vain. Around eleven o’clock in the morning, the first plane of the mountains that form the center of the island was crossed, and we had still not killed anything. Hunger was spurring us on. The hunters had trusted the product of their hunt, and they had been wrong. Very fortunately, Conseil, to his great surprise, scored a double hit and ensured lunch. He shot a white pigeon and a woodpigeon, which, nimbly plucked and suspended from a skewer, roasted before a blazing fire of dead wood. While these interesting animals were cooking, Ned prepared some artocarpus fruits. Then, the pigeon and the woodpigeon were devoured to the bone and declared excellent. The nutmeg, which they are accustomed to gorging themselves on, perfumes their flesh and makes it a delicious meal. “It’s as if the hens were feeding on truffles,” said Conseil. “And now, Ned, what do you lack?” I asked the Canadian. “A four-legged game, Mr. Aronnax,” replied Ned Land. “All these pigeons are only hors d’oeuvres and appetizers for the mouth. Also, until I have killed an animal with chops, I will not be happy! ” “Nor I, Ned, if I do not catch a bird of paradise. ” “Let us continue the hunt then,” replied Conseil, “but return towards the sea. We have reached the first slopes of the mountains, and I think it would be better to return to the forest region.” This was sound advice, and it was followed. After an hour’s walk, we had reached a veritable forest of sago palms. A few harmless snakes fled beneath our feet. The birds of paradise were eluding our approach, and truly, I despaired of ever reaching them, when Conseil, who was walking in front, suddenly bent down, gave a cry of triumph, and returned to me, bringing back a magnificent bird of paradise. “Ah! bravo! Conseil,” I cried. “Sir is very kind,” replied Conseil. “But no, my boy. You have done a masterstroke there. To take one of these birds alive, and to hold it in your hand! ” “If sir will examine it closely, he will see that I have not done much credit. ” “And why, Conseil? ” “Because this bird is as drunk as a quail. ” “Drunk? ” “Yes, sir, drunk on the nutmegs it was devouring under the nutmeg tree where I caught it. See, friend Ned, see the monstrous effects of intemperance! ” “A thousand devils!” retorted the Canadian, “for all the gin I have drunk for two months, there is no point in reproaching me!” » Meanwhile, I examined the curious bird. Conseil was not mistaken. The bird of paradise, intoxicated by the heady juice, was reduced to impotence. It could not fly. It could hardly walk. But this worried me little, and I let it sleep off its nutmegs. This bird belonged to the most beautiful of the eight species found in Papua and the neighboring islands. It was the ” great-emerald” bird of paradise, one of the rarest. It measured three decimeters in length. Its head was relatively small, its eyes placed near the opening of the beak, and small too. But it offered an admirable combination of shades, being yellow in the beak, brown in the feet and nails, hazel in the wings crimsoned at their tips, pale yellow on the head and on the back of the neck, emerald in the throat, brownish-brown on the belly and breast. Two horny and downy filaments rose above its tail, which were extended by long , very light feathers of admirable finesse, and they completed the whole of this marvelous bird that the natives poetically called the “bird of the sun.” I very much hoped to be able to bring this superb specimen back to Paris . birds of paradise, in order to donate them to the Jardin des Plantes, which does not have a single live one. “Is it really rare then?” asked the Canadian, in the tone of a hunter who has very little regard for game from an artistic point of view. “Very rare, my good companion, and above all very difficult to catch alive. And even dead, these birds are still the object of considerable traffic. Also, the natives have thought of making them as one makes pearls or diamonds. ” “What!” cried Conseil, “are fake birds of paradise made? ” “Yes, Conseil. ” “And does the gentleman know the natives’ method? ” “Perfectly. Birds of paradise, during the east monsoon, lose those magnificent feathers that surround their tails, and which naturalists have called subalar feathers. These are the feathers that counterfeiters collect from birds, and which they skillfully adapt to some poor parakeet that has been previously mutilated.” Then they dye the suture, they varnish the bird, and they send these products of their singular industry to the museums and to the amateurs of Europe. “Good!” said Ned Land, “if it is not the bird, it is always its feathers, and as long as the object is not intended to be eaten, I do not see much harm in it!” But if my desires were satisfied by the possession of this bird of paradise, those of the Canadian hunter were not yet. Fortunately, around two o’clock, Ned Land shot a magnificent wood pig, one of those that the natives call “bari-outang.” The animal came just in time to provide us with real quadruped meat, and it was well received. Ned Land showed himself very proud of his shot . The pig, hit by the electric bullet, had fallen down dead. The Canadian skinned it and gutted it properly, after having removed half a dozen chops intended to provide a grill for the evening meal. Then the hunt was resumed, which was to be marked again by the exploits of Ned and Conseil. Indeed, the two friends, beating the bushes, raised a troop of kangaroos, which fled, leaping on their elastic legs. But these animals did not flee so quickly that the electric capsule could stop them in their tracks. “Ah! Professor,” cried Ned Land, whose hunter’s rage was taking hold of his head, “what excellent game, especially stewed! What supplies for the Nautilus! Two! Three! Five ashore ! And when I think that we will devour all this flesh, and that those imbeciles on board will not have a crumb!” I believe that, in the excess of his joy, the Canadian, if he had not talked so much, would have massacred the whole band! But he contented himself with a dozen of these interesting marsupials, which form the first order of aplacental mammals, Conseil tells us. These animals were small. They were a species of ” rabbit-kangaroos,” which usually roost in the hollows of trees, and whose velocity is extreme; but if they are of moderate size, they at least provide the most esteemed meat. We were very satisfied with the results of our hunt. The cheerful Ned intended to return the next day to this enchanted island, which he wanted to depopulate of all its edible quadrupeds. But he did not count on events. At six o’clock in the evening, we had returned to the beach. Our canoe was beached in its usual place. The Nautilus, like a long reef, emerged from the waves two miles from the shore. Ned Land, without further delay, took care of the great business of dinner. He understood all this cooking admirably. The “bari-outang” chops , grilled over coals, soon spread a delicious smell that perfumed the atmosphere!… But I realize that I am following in the footsteps of the Canadian. Here I am in ecstasy before a grilled piece of fresh pork! May I be forgiven, How I have forgiven Master Land, and for the same reasons! Finally, the dinner was excellent. Two wood pigeons completed this extraordinary menu. The sago paste, the artocarpus bread, a few mangoes, half a dozen pineapples, and the fermented liquor of certain coconuts, delighted us. I even believe that the ideas of my worthy companions did not have all the desired clarity. “Suppose we did not return to the Nautilus this evening?” said Conseil. ” Suppose we never returned there?” added Ned Land. At that moment a stone fell at our feet, and cut short the harpooner’s proposal. Chapter 22. CAPTAIN NEMO’S LIGHTNING We had looked towards the forest, without getting up, my hand stopping in its movement towards my mouth, Ned Land’s completing his office. “A stone does not fall from the sky,” said Conseil, “or it deserves the name of aerolite.” » A second stone, carefully rounded, which removed a tasty pigeon leg from Conseil’s hand , gave even more weight to his observation. All three of us stood up, rifles on our shoulders, ready to respond to any attack. “Are they monkeys?” cried Ned Land. “Just about,” replied Conseil, “they are savages. ” “To the canoe!” I said, heading towards the sea. We had, in fact, to retreat, because about twenty natives, armed with bows and slings, appeared on the edge of a thicket, which masked the horizon on the right, barely a hundred paces away. Our canoe was beached ten fathoms from us. The savages were approaching, without running, but they were making the most hostile displays. Stones and arrows rained down. Ned Land had not wanted to abandon his provisions, and despite the imminence of danger, his pig on one side, his kangaroos on the other, he scampered off with a certain speed. In two minutes, we were on the beach. Loading the boat with provisions and weapons, pushing it out to sea, and manning the two oars was a matter of an instant. We had not gone two cables’ lengths when a hundred savages, howling and gesticulating, entered the water up to their waists. I looked to see if their appearance would attract some of the men from the Nautilus to the platform. But no. The enormous craft, lying offshore, remained absolutely deserted. Twenty minutes later, we climbed aboard. The hatches were open. After mooring the boat, we went back inside the Nautilus. I went down to the lounge, from which a few chords were emerging. Captain Nemo was there, bent over his organ and plunged into musical ecstasy . “Captain!” I said to him. He didn’t hear me. “Captain!” I continued, touching him with my hand. He shuddered, and turning around, “Ah! Is that you, Professor?” he said to me. “Well! Did you have a good hunt? Did you successfully collect herbs? ” “Yes, Captain,” I replied, “but unfortunately we brought back a troop of bipeds whose proximity seems disturbing to me. ” “What bipeds? ” “Savages. ” “Savages!” Captain Nemo replied ironically. “And you are surprised, Professor, that having set foot on one of the lands of this globe, you find savages there? Savages, where are there not? And besides, are they worse than the others, those you call savages?” — But, Captain… — For my part, sir, I have met them everywhere. — Well, I replied, if you do not want to receive any on board the Nautilus, you would do well to take some precautions. — Calm down, Professor, there is nothing to worry about. — But there are many of these natives. — How many have you counted? — A hundred, at least. — Monsieur Aronnax, replied Captain Nemo, whose fingers had returned to the keys of the organ, when all the natives of Papua were gathered on this beach, the Nautilus would have nothing to fear from their attacks! The captain’s fingers then ran over the keyboard of the instrument, and I noticed that he struck only the black keys, which gave his melodies an essentially Scottish color. Soon, he had forgotten my presence, and was plunged into a reverie that I no longer sought to dispel. I went back up onto the platform. Night had already fallen, because, in this low latitude, the sun sets quickly and without twilight. I could only see Gueboroar Island in a dim light. But numerous fires lit on the beach attested that the natives were not thinking of leaving it. I remained alone like this for several hours, sometimes thinking of these natives but without fearing them otherwise, for the captain’s imperturbable confidence won me over – sometimes forgetting them, to admire the splendors of this tropical night. My memory flew towards France, following those zodiacal stars which were to light it up in a few hours. The moon shone resplendently in the middle of the constellations at the zenith. I then thought that this faithful and obliging satellite would return the day after tomorrow, to this same place, to raise these waves and tear the Nautilus from its bed of coral. Around midnight, seeing that all was quiet on the darkening waves as well as under the trees on the shore, I returned to my cabin, and I fell asleep peacefully. The night passed without mishap. The Papuans were no doubt frightened at the mere sight of the monster stranded in the bay, for the hatches, left open, would have given them easy access to the interior of the Nautilus. At six o’clock in the morning – January 8th – I went back up onto the platform. The morning shadows were rising. The island soon revealed itself, through the dissipated mists, first its beaches, then its peaks. The natives were still there, more numerous than the day before – perhaps five or six hundred. Some, taking advantage of the low tide, had advanced onto the coral heads, less than two cables’ length from the Nautilus. I easily distinguished them. They were indeed real Papuans, athletically built, men of fine race, with broad, high foreheads, large but not flat noses, and white teeth. Their woolly hair, dyed red, stood out against a body, black and shiny like that of the Nubians. From their earlobes, cut and distended, hung bone rosaries. These savages were generally naked. Among them, I noticed a few women, dressed, from the hips to the knee, in a veritable crinoline of grass supported by a plant belt. Some chiefs had adorned their necks with a crescent and necklaces of red and white glass beads. Almost all of them, armed with bows, arrows and shields, carried on their shoulders a sort of net containing these rounded stones that their slings hurl with skill. One of these chiefs, quite close to the Nautilus, was examining it carefully. He must have been a high-ranking “mado,” for he was draped in a banana leaf mat, jagged at the edges and decorated with brilliant colors. I could have easily shot this native, who was at close range; but I thought it better to wait for truly hostile demonstrations . Between Europeans and savages, it is appropriate that Europeans retaliate and not attack. Throughout the low tide, these natives prowled near the Nautilus, but they did not make noise. I heard them frequently repeat the word “assai,” and from their gestures I understood that they were inviting me to go ashore, an invitation that I thought I should decline. So, that day, the canoe did not leave the shore, to the great displeasure of Master Land who was unable to replenish his provisions. This skillful Canadian spent his time preparing the meat and flour he had brought back from Gueboroar Island. As for the savages, they returned to land around eleven o’clock in the morning, as soon as the coral heads began to disappear under the flood of the rising tide. But I saw their number increase considerably on the beach. It was likely that they came from the neighboring islands or from Papua itself. However, I had not seen a single native canoe. Having nothing better to do, I thought of dredging these beautiful, clear waters, which revealed a profusion of shells, zoophytes , and pelagian plants. This was, moreover, the last day that the Nautilus would spend in these waters, if, however, it floated at high tide the next day, as Captain Nemo had promised. So I called Conseil, who brought me a small dredge, roughly similar to those used for fishing oysters. “And these savages?” Conseil asked me. “With all due respect to the gentleman, they don’t seem very bad to me! ” “They are cannibals, though, my boy. ” “One can be a cannibal and a good man,” Conseil replied, “just as one can be greedy and honest. One does not exclude the other. ” “Good! Conseil, I grant you that they are honest cannibals, and that they devour their prisoners honestly. However, as I do not want to be devoured, even honestly, I will be on my guard, because the commander of the Nautilus does not seem to be taking any precautions. And now to work.” For two hours, our fishing was actively conducted, but without bringing in any rarities. The dredge was filling up with Midas ears, harps, melanies, and particularly the most beautiful hammerheads I had seen to date. We also caught some sea cucumbers, pearl oysters, and a dozen small turtles which were reserved for the ship’s kitchen. But, when I least expected it, I got my hands on a marvel, I should say a natural deformity, very rare to encounter. Conseil had just given the dredge a pull, and his apparatus was coming up loaded with various rather ordinary shells, when, all of a sudden, he saw me quickly plunge my arm into the net, pull out a shell, and utter a conchologist’s cry, that is to say, the most piercing cry a throat can produce: “Hey! What’s the matter with you, sir?” Conseil asked, very surprised. ” Has the sir been bitten?” “No, my boy, and yet I would have gladly paid for my discovery with a finger! ” “What discovery? ” “This shell,” I said, pointing to the object of my triumph. “But it’s quite simply a porphyry olive, genus olive, order pectinibranchs, class gastropods, branch of mollusks… ” “Yes, Conseil, but instead of being coiled from right to left, this olive turns from left to right! ” “Is it possible!” cried Conseil. “Yes, my boy, it’s a sinister shell! ” “A sinister shell!” Conseil repeated, his heart pounding. “Look at its whorl! ” “Ah! Sir, believe me,” said Conseil, taking the precious shell with a trembling hand, “but I have never experienced such emotion!” And there was reason to be moved! We know, in fact, as naturalists have observed, that dextrosity is a law of nature. The stars and their satellites, in their translational and rotational movements, move from right to left. Man uses his right hand more often than his left, and, consequently, his instruments and devices, staircases, locks, watch springs, etc., are combined in such a way as to be used from right to left. Now, nature has generally followed this law for the winding of its shells. They are all right-handed, with rare exceptions, and when, By chance, their spiral is sinister, and amateurs pay their weight in gold. Conseil and I were thus immersed in the contemplation of our treasure, and I promised myself to enrich the Museum with it, when a stone, unfortunately thrown by a native, came to break the precious object in Conseil’s hand. I let out a cry of despair! Conseil threw himself on my rifle, and aimed at a savage who was swinging his sling ten meters from him. I wanted to stop him, but his shot went off and broke the bracelet of amulets hanging from the native’s arm. “Conseil,” I cried, “Conseil! ” “What! Doesn’t the gentleman see that this cannibal has begun the attack? ” “A shell is not worth a man’s life!” I said to him. “Ah! the beggar!” cried Conseil, “I would have preferred that he had broken my shoulder!” ” Conseil was sincere, but I didn’t agree with him. However, the situation had changed a few moments ago, and we hadn’t noticed. About twenty canoes were surrounding the Naulilus. These canoes, hollowed out of tree trunks, long, narrow, well-designed for sailing, were balanced by means of a double bamboo outrigger that floated on the surface of the water. They were maneuvered by skillful, half-naked paddlers, and I didn’t see them advance without anxiety. It was obvious that these Papuans had already had dealings with the Europeans, and that they knew their ships. But what must they think of this long iron cylinder lying in the bay, without masts, without a funnel ? Nothing good, because they had initially kept a respectful distance from it. However, seeing it motionless, they gradually regained confidence and tried to familiarize themselves with it. Now, it was precisely this familiarity that had to be prevented. Our weapons, which lacked detonation, could produce only a mediocre effect on these natives, who have respect only for noisy machines . Lightning, without the rumble of thunder, would scare the men little, although the danger lies in the flash, not in the noise. At that moment, the canoes approached closer to the Nautilus, and a cloud of arrows rained down on it. “Damn it! It’s hailing!” Conseil said, “and perhaps poisoned hail! ” “We must warn Captain Nemo,” I said, going back in through the hatch. I went down to the living room. I found no one there. I ventured to knock on the door that opened onto the captain’s room. An “enter” answered me. I entered and found Captain Nemo immersed in a calculation involving x’s and other algebraic signs . “Am I disturbing you?” I said out of politeness. “Indeed, Mr. Aronnax,” the captain replied, “but I think you had serious reasons for seeing me? ” “Very serious. The natives’ canoes are surrounding us, and in a few minutes we will certainly be attacked by several hundred savages. ” “Ah!” Captain Nemo said calmly, “they came with their canoes? ” “Yes, sir. ” “Well, sir, all we have to do is close the hatches. ” “Precisely, and I came to tell you… ” “Nothing is easier,” said Captain Nemo. And, pressing an electric button, he transmitted an order to the crew’s station. “That’s done, sir,” he said to me after a few moments. “The boat is in place, and the hatches are closed.” You are not afraid, I imagine, that these gentlemen will break down walls that the cannonballs from your frigate could not penetrate? — No, captain, but there is still a danger. — What is it, sir? — It is that tomorrow, at this time, we will have to reopen the hatches to renew the air of the Nautilus… — Without a doubt, sir, since our ship breathes at the cetacean manner. — Now, if at that moment, the Papuans occupy the platform, I don’t see how you can prevent them from entering. — So, sir, you suppose they will come on board? — I am certain of it. — Well, sir, let them come on board. I see no reason to prevent them. Basically, they are poor devils, these Papuans, and I don’t want my visit to Gueboroar Island to cost the life of a single one of these unfortunates! ” Having said that, I was about to leave; but Captain Nemo held me back and invited me to sit near him. He questioned me with interest about our excursions on land, about our hunts, and did not seem to understand this need for meat that was so passionate about the Canadian. Then, the conversation touched on various subjects, and, without being more communicative, Captain Nemo appeared more amiable. Among other things, we came to talk about the situation of the Nautilus, grounded in this very strait, where Dumont d’Urville was on the verge of being lost. Then, in this connection: “He was one of your great sailors,” the captain told me, “one of your most intelligent navigators, that d’Urville! He is your Captain Cook, you Frenchmen. Unfortunate scientist! To have braved the ice floes of the South Pole, the corals of Oceania, the cannibals of the Pacific, only to perish miserably in a railway train! If this energetic man was able to reflect during the last seconds of his existence, can you imagine what his supreme thoughts must have been! ”
As he spoke, Captain Nemo seemed moved, and I credit this emotion to him. Then, map in hand, we reviewed the work of the French navigator, his circumnavigation, his double attempt at the South Pole which led to the discovery of Adélie and Louis-Philippe Lands, and finally his hydrographic surveys of the principal islands of Oceania. “What your d’Urville did on the surface of the seas,” Captain Nemo told me, “I did in the interior of the Ocean, and more easily, more completely than he. The _Astrolabe_ and the _Zélée_, incessantly tossed about by hurricanes, could not be worth the _Nautilus_, a tranquil study, and truly sedentary in the middle of the waters! “However, Captain,” I said, “there is one point of resemblance between Dumont d’Urville’s corvettes and the _Nautilus_. ” “Which one, sir? ” “It’s that the _Nautilus_ ran aground like them!” “The Nautilus has not run aground, sir,” Captain Nemo replied coldly. ” The Nautilus is made to rest on the seabed , and I will not undertake the painful work, the maneuvers that d’Urville was forced to do to refloat his corvettes. The Astrolabe and the Zelee nearly perished, but my Nautilus is in no danger. Tomorrow, on the appointed day, at the appointed hour, the tide will lift it peacefully, and it will resume its navigation across the seas. ” “Captain,” I said, “I have no doubt… ” “Tomorrow,” added Captain Nemo as he got up, “tomorrow, at 2:40 p.m., the Nautilus will float and leave the Torres Strait without damage.” These words spoken very briefly, Captain Nemo bowed slightly. This was to give me leave, and I returned to my room. There I found Conseil, who wanted to know the result of my interview with the captain. “My boy,” I replied, “when I seemed to believe that his Nautilus was threatened by the natives of Papua, the captain answered me very ironically. I have only one thing to say: Have confidence in him, and go to sleep in peace. ” “Doesn’t Monsieur need my services? ” “No, my friend. What is Ned Land doing? ” “Excuse me, sir,” Conseil replied, “but our friend Ned is making a kangaroo pie that will be marvelous!” I remained alone, I went to bed, but I slept rather badly. I heard the noise of the savages trampling on the platform, uttering deafening cries. The night passed like this, and without the crew breaking its usual inertia. It was no more worried about the presence of these cannibals than the soldiers of an armored fort are concerned about the ants running on its armor. At six o’clock in the morning, I got up… The hatches had not been opened. The air was therefore not renewed inside, but the tanks, loaded for every occurrence, worked appropriately and released a few cubic meters of oxygen into the impoverished atmosphere of the Nautilus. I worked in my room until noon, without having seen Captain Nemo, even for a moment. No preparations for departure appeared to be being made on board. I waited a little longer, then went to the main lounge. The clock showed two thirty. In ten minutes, the tide should have reached its maximum height, and, if Captain Nemo had not made a rash promise, the Nautilus would have been freed immediately. Otherwise, many months would pass before it could leave its coral bed. However, some warning tremors were soon felt in the hull of the boat. I heard the limestone asperities of the coral bottom creaking against its planking. At 2:35, Captain Nemo appeared in the saloon.
“We are going to leave,” he said. “Ah!” I said. “I gave the order to open the hatches. ” “And the Papuans? ” “The Papuans?” replied Captain Nemo, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “Won’t they get inside the Nautilus? ” “And how? ” “By going through the hatches that you have had opened.” “Mr. Aronnax,” Captain Nemo replied calmly, “you don’t enter through the Nautilus’s hatches like that, even when they’re open.” I looked at the captain. “Don’t you understand?” he said. “Not at all. ” “Well! Come and see.” I headed toward the central staircase. There, Ned Land and Conseil, very intrigued, watched some of the crewmen opening the hatches, while cries of rage and terrible vociferations echoed outside. The mantles were pulled back. Twenty horrible figures appeared. But the first of these natives to put his hand on the banister of the staircase, thrown back by some invisible force , fled, uttering horrible cries and making exorbitant capers . Ten of his companions followed him. Ten suffered the same fate. Conseil was in ecstasy. Ned Land, carried away by his violent instincts , rushed up the stairs. But, as soon as he had grasped the railing with both hands, he was knocked down in turn. “A thousand devils!” he cried. “I’m struck by lightning!” This word explained everything to me. It was no longer a railing, but a metal cable, fully charged with electricity from the ship, which led to the platform. Anyone who touched it felt a tremendous jolt, and this jolt would have been fatal if Captain Nemo had thrown all the current from his apparatus into this conductor! It can truly be said that between his assailants and himself, he had stretched an electrical network that no one could cross with impunity. Meanwhile, the terrified Papuans had retreated, panicked with terror. We, half laughing, consoled and rubbed the unfortunate Ned Land who was swearing like a man possessed. But at that moment the Nautilus, lifted by the last ripples of the tide, left its coral bed at the exact fortieth minute fixed by the captain. Its propeller churned the waters with majestic slowness. Its speed gradually increased, and, sailing on the surface of the ocean, it left the dangerous passes of the Torres Strait safe and sound. Chapter 23. _ÆGRI SOMNIA_. The following day, January 10, the _Nautilus_ resumed its voyage between two waters, but with a remarkable speed that I cannot estimate at less than thirty-five miles per hour. The speed of its propeller was such that I could neither follow its revolutions nor count them. When I thought that this marvelous electrical agent, after having given movement, heat, and light to the _Nautilus_, still protected it against external attacks, and transformed it into a holy ark that no desecrator touched without being struck by lightning, my admiration knew no bounds, and from the apparatus, it immediately went back to the engineer who had created it. We marched directly west, and on January 11, we doubled Cape Wessel, located at 135° longitude and 10° north latitude, which forms the eastern tip of the Gulf of Carpentaria. The reefs were still numerous, but more sparse, and plotted on the chart with extreme precision. The Nautilus easily avoided the Money breakers to port, and the Victoria reefs to starboard, located at 1300 longitude, and on this tenth parallel that we were rigorously following. On January 13, Captain Nemo, having arrived in the Timor Sea, was aware of the island of that name at 1220 longitude. This island, whose surface area is 1625 square leagues, is governed by rajahs. These princes claim to be sons of crocodiles, that is to say, descended from the highest origin to which a human being can claim. Also, these scaly ancestors abound in the rivers of the island, and are the object of particular veneration. They are protected, spoiled, adulated, fed, offered young girls as food, and woe betide any stranger who lays hands on these sacred lizards. But the Nautilus had nothing to do with these ugly animals. Timor was only visible for a moment, at noon, while the second officer was taking his position. Also, I only caught a glimpse of this small Rotti Island, which is part of the group, and whose women have a well-established reputation for beauty in the Malaysian markets. From this point, the Nautilus’s direction, in latitude, turned southwest. The course was set for the Indian Ocean. Where would Captain Nemo’s whim take us? Was he heading back toward the coasts of Asia? Would he approach the shores of Europe ? Unlikely decisions from a man fleeing the inhabited continents? Would he then go south? Would he round the Cape of Good Hope, then Cape Horn, and push on to the Antarctic Pole? Would he finally return to his Pacific seas, where his Nautilus found easy and independent navigation? The future would teach us. After having continued past the reefs of Cartier, Hibernia, Seringapatam, and Scott, the last efforts of the solid element against the liquid element, on January 14, we were beyond all land. The speed of the Nautilus was singularly slowed, and, very capricious in its gait, sometimes it swam in the middle of the waters, and sometimes it floated on their surface. During this period of the voyage, Captain Nemo carried out interesting experiments on the various temperatures of the sea at different layers . Under ordinary conditions, these readings are obtained by means of rather complicated instruments, the ratios of which are at least doubtful, whether they be thermometric probes, whose glass often breaks under the pressure of the water, or devices based on the variation in resistance of metals to electric currents. These results thus obtained cannot be sufficiently controlled. On the contrary, Captain Nemo himself went to look for this temperature in the depths of the sea, and his thermometer, put in communication with the various liquid layers, immediately and surely gave him the degree sought. Thus, either by overloading its tanks or by descending obliquely by means of its inclined planes, the Nautilus successively reached depths of three, four, five, seven, nine, and ten thousand meters, and the definitive result of these experiments was that the sea had a permanent temperature of four and a half degrees, at a depth of one thousand meters, in all latitudes. I followed these experiments with the greatest interest. Captain Nemo brought a real passion to them. Often, I wondered for what purpose he made these observations. Was it for the benefit of his fellow creatures? It was not likely, because, one day or another, his work would perish with him in some unknown sea! Unless he intended the result of his experiments for me. But that was to admit that my strange voyage would have an end, and that end, I did not yet perceive. In any case, Captain Nemo also shared with me various figures he had obtained that established the ratio of water densities in the world’s major seas. From this communication, I drew a personal lesson that had nothing scientific about it. It was during the morning of January 15. The captain, with whom I was walking on the platform, asked me if I knew the different densities of sea water. I replied negatively, and added that science lacked rigorous observations on this subject. “I have made these observations,” he told me, “and I can state my certainty. ” “Good,” I replied, “but the Nautilus is a world apart, and the secrets of its scientists do not reach land. ” “You are right, Professor,” he told me, after a few moments of silence. “It is a world apart.” It is as foreign to the earth as the planets that accompany this globe around the sun, and we will never know the work of the scientists of Saturn or Jupiter. However, since chance has linked our two lives, I can communicate to you the result of my observations. — I am listening, Captain. — You know, Professor, that sea water is denser than fresh water, but this density is not uniform. Indeed, if I represent the density of fresh water by one, I find one twenty-eight thousandth for the waters of the Atlantic, one twenty-six thousandth for the waters of the Pacific, one thirty-thousandth for the waters of the Mediterranean… — Ah! I thought, it is venturing into the Mediterranean? — One eighteen thousandth for the waters of the Ionian Sea, and one twenty-nine thousandth for the waters of the Adriatic. » The Nautilus was definitely not fleeing the busy seas of Europe, and I concluded that it would bring us back – perhaps before long – to more civilized continents. I thought that Ned Land would learn of this peculiarity with very natural satisfaction. For several days, our days were spent in experiments of all kinds, which concerned the degrees of salinity of the waters at different depths, their electrification, their coloring, their transparency, and in all these circumstances, Captain Nemo displayed an ingenuity that was only equaled by his good grace towards me. Then, for a few days, I did not see him again, and remained once again as if isolated on board. On January 16, the Nautilus seemed to fall asleep only a few meters below the surface of the waves. Its electrical equipment was not working, and its motionless propeller left it to wander at the mercy of the currents. I assumed that the crew was busy with interior repairs , necessitated by the violent mechanical movements of the machine. My companions and I then witnessed a curious spectacle. The saloon hatches were open, and as the Nautilus’s lantern was not in operation, a vague darkness reigned in the middle of the water. The stormy sky, covered with thick clouds, gave the lower layers of the ocean only insufficient clarity. I was observing the state of the sea in these conditions, and the largest fish appeared to me only as barely formed shadows , when the Nautilus suddenly found itself transported into full light. I thought at first that the lantern had been relighted, and that it was projecting its electric brilliance into the liquid mass. I was mistaken, and after a quick observation, I recognized my error. The Nautilus was floating in the middle of a phosphorescent layer, which in this darkness became dazzling. It was produced by myriads of luminous animalcules, whose sparkle increased as they slid over the metal hull of the craft. I then surprised flashes in the middle of these luminous sheets, like flows of molten lead in a burning furnace, or metallic masses heated to white red; so that by contrast, certain luminous portions cast shadows in this igneous environment, from which all shadow seemed to have to be banished. No! It was no longer the calm irradiation of our usual lighting! There was an unusual vigor and movement there! This light, one felt it alive! Indeed, it was an infinite agglomeration of pelagian infusoria, miliary noctiluca, veritable globules of diaphanous jelly, equipped with a filiform tentacle, and of which up to twenty-five thousand have been counted in thirty cubic centimeters of water. And their light was further doubled by those gleams peculiar to jellyfish, starfish, aurelia, pholadesdates, and other phosphorescent zoophytes, impregnated with the grease of organic matter decomposed by the sea, and perhaps with the mucus secreted by fish. For several hours, the Nautilus floated in these brilliant waves, and our admiration increased as we watched the large marine animals play there like salamanders. I saw there, in the midst of this fire that did not burn, elegant and swift porpoises, tireless clowns of the sea, and billfish three meters long, intelligent harbingers of hurricanes, whose formidable swords sometimes struck the window of the living room. Then smaller fish appeared, various triggerfish, jumping scombroids, wolffish, and a hundred others that streaked the luminous atmosphere as they raced. This dazzling spectacle was enchanting! Perhaps some atmospheric condition increased the intensity of this phenomenon? Perhaps a storm was raging on the surface of the waves? But, at this depth of a few meters, the Nautilus did not feel his fury, and it rocked peacefully in the middle of the calm waters. Thus we moved on, incessantly charmed by some new wonder. Conseil observed and classified his zoophytes, his articulates, his mollusks, his fish. The days passed quickly, and I no longer counted them. Ned, as was his habit, sought to vary the daily routine on board. True snails, we were used to our shell, and I affirm that it is easy to become a perfect snail. Therefore, this existence seemed easy to us, natural, and we no longer imagined that there existed a different life on the surface of the terrestrial globe, when an event came to remind us of the strangeness of our situation. On January 18, the Nautilus was at 105° longitude and 15° south latitude. The weather was threatening, the sea rough and choppy. The wind was blowing from the east in a strong breeze. The barometer, which had been falling for several days, announced an impending battle of the elements. I had gone up onto the platform at the moment when the second mate was taking his hour angle measurements. I was waiting, as was customary, for the daily sentence to be pronounced. But, that day, it was replaced by another sentence no less incomprehensible. Almost immediately, I I saw Captain Nemo appear, his eyes, equipped with a telescope, directed towards the horizon. For a few minutes, the captain remained motionless, without leaving the point enclosed in the field of his objective. Then, he lowered his telescope, and exchanged about ten words with his second. The latter seemed to be in the grip of an emotion that he tried in vain to contain. Captain Nemo, more in control of himself, remained cold. He seemed, moreover, to make certain objections to which the second responded with formal assurances. At least, that’s how I understood it, unlike their tone and their gestures. As for me, I had carefully looked in the direction observed, without seeing anything. The sky and the water merged on a horizon line of perfect clarity. Meanwhile, Captain Nemo walked from one end of the platform to the other, without looking at me, perhaps without seeing me. His step was assured, but less regular than usual. He would sometimes stop, and with his arms crossed over his chest, he would observe the sea. What could he be looking for in this immense space? The Nautilus was then a few hundred miles from the nearest coast. The second officer had picked up his telescope again and was stubbornly searching the horizon, pacing back and forth, stamping his feet, contrasting with his captain by his nervous agitation. Besides, this mystery was bound to be cleared up, and before long, because, on an order from Captain Nemo, the machine, increasing its propulsive power, made the propeller rotate more quickly. At this moment, the second officer again attracted the captain’s attention. The latter suspended his walk and directed his telescope toward the indicated point. He observed it for a long time. For my part, very seriously intrigued, I went down to the lounge and brought back an excellent telescope that I ordinarily used. Then, leaning it on the lantern cage that protruded from the front of the platform, I prepared to scan the entire line of the sky and the sea. But, my eye had not yet focused on the eyepiece, when the instrument was quickly snatched from my hands. I turned around. Captain Nemo was in front of me, but I did not recognize him. His face was transfigured. His eye, shining with a dark fire, was hidden beneath his furrowed brow. His teeth were half-bared. His stiff body, his clenched fists, his head drawn back between his shoulders, testified to the violent hatred that breathed from his entire person. He did not move. My telescope had fallen from his hand and rolled to his feet. Had I, then, unwittingly provoked this attitude of anger ? Did he, this incomprehensible character, imagine that I had overheard some secret forbidden to the guests of the Nautilus? No! I was not the object of this hatred, for he was not looking at me , and his eye remained obstinately fixed on the impenetrable point of the horizon. Finally, Captain Nemo regained control of himself. His face, so profoundly altered, regained its usual calm. He addressed a few words to his second in command in a foreign language, then turned towards me. “Monsieur Aronnax,” he said to me in a rather imperious tone, “I demand from you the observance of one of the engagements which bind you to me. ” “What is it, Captain? ” “You and your companions must be kept locked up until the moment when I judge it appropriate to set you free. ” “You are the master,” I replied, looking at him fixedly. “But may I ask you a question? ” “None, sir.” At this word, I did not have to argue, but to obey, since all resistance would have been impossible. I went down to the cabin occupied by Ned Land and Conseil, and I informed them of the captain’s determination. I leave it to the reader to imagine how this communication was received by the Canadian. Besides, there was no time for any explanation. Four men of the crew were waiting at the door, and they led us to the cell where we had spent our first night aboard the Nautilus. Ned Land wanted to complain, but the door closed behind him as his only reply. “Will Monsieur tell me what this means?” Conseil asked me. I told my companions what had happened. They were as astonished as I was, but just as little advanced. However, I was plunged into an abyss of reflection, and the strange apprehension of Captain Nemo’s physiognomy did not leave my thoughts. I was incapable of coupling two logical ideas, and I was losing myself in the most absurd hypotheses, when I was pulled from my mental contention by these words from Ned Land: “Look! Lunch is served!” Indeed, the table was prepared. It was obvious that Captain Nemo had given this order at the same time as he hastened the progress of the Nautilus. “Will Monsieur allow me to make him a recommendation?” Conseil asked me. “Yes, my boy,” I replied. “Well! Let Monsieur have lunch. It’s prudent, for we don’t know what might happen. ” “You’re right, Conseil. ” “Unfortunately,” said Ned Land, “we were only given the ship’s menu. ” “Friend Ned,” Conseil replied, “what would you say if lunch had been completely lacking!” This reason cut short the harpooner’s recriminations. We sat down to eat. The meal was eaten fairly silently. I ate little. Conseil “forced himself,” always out of prudence, and Ned Land, whatever he might have, did not miss a bite. Then, lunch finished, each of us leaned against our corner. At that moment, the luminous globe that lit up the cell went out and left us in profound darkness. Ned Land soon fell asleep, and, to my surprise, Conseil also gave in to a heavy doze. I was wondering what could have caused this urgent need for sleep in him, when I felt my brain becoming imbued with a thick torpor. My eyes, which I wanted to keep open, closed in spite of myself. I was in the grip of a painful hallucination. Obviously, soporific substances had been mixed with the food we had just eaten! So the prison wasn’t enough to hide Captain Nemo’s plans from us; we still needed sleep! Then I heard the hatches close. The ripples of the sea , which were causing a slight rolling movement, stopped. Had the Nautilus left the surface of the ocean? Had it reentered the still layer of water? I tried to resist sleep. It was impossible. My breathing weakened. I felt a deadly cold freeze my heavy, paralyzed limbs. My eyelids, like lead caps, fell over my eyes. I could not lift them. A morbid sleep, full of hallucinations, took possession of my entire being. Then the visions disappeared, leaving me in a state of complete annihilation. Chapter 24. THE CORAL KINGDOM The next day, I awoke with my head remarkably clear. To my great surprise, I was in my room. My companions had doubtless been reinstated in their cabin, without having noticed it any more than I had. They were as ignorant of what had happened during that night as I was of it, and to unveil this mystery, I relied only on the hazards of the future. I then thought of leaving my room. Was I once again free or a prisoner? Completely free. I opened the door, went through the passageways, and climbed the central staircase. The hatches, closed the day before, were open. I arrived on the platform. Ned Land and Conseil were waiting for me there. I questioned them. They knew nothing. Slumbering in a heavy sleep that left them with no memory, they had been very surprised to find themselves in their cabin. As for the Nautilus, it seemed calm and mysterious as always. It floated on the surface of the waves at a moderate speed. Nothing seemed to have changed on board. Ned Land, with his penetrating eyes, observed the sea. It was deserted. The Canadian reported nothing new on the horizon, neither sail nor land. A westerly breeze was blowing noisily, and long waves, disheveled by the wind, gave the apparatus a very noticeable roll. The Nautilus, after having renewed its air, maintained itself at an average depth of fifteen meters, so as to be able to quickly return to the surface of the waves. An operation which, contrary to custom, was practiced several times during that day of January 19. The second then climbed onto the platform, and the usual phrase resounded inside the ship. As for Captain Nemo, he did not appear. Of the people on board, I saw only the impassive steward, who served me with his usual punctuality and silence. Around two o’clock, I was in the lounge, busy sorting my notes, when the captain opened the door and appeared. I greeted him. He returned an almost imperceptible bow, without speaking to me. I returned my work, hoping that he might perhaps give me some explanations about the events that had marked the previous night. He did nothing. I looked at him. His face seemed tired; his reddened eyes had not been refreshed by sleep; his physiognomy expressed a profound sadness, a real sorrow. He paced back and forth, sat down and got up, picked up a book at random, and immediately abandoned it. He consulted his instruments without taking his usual notes, and seemed unable to stay still for a moment. Finally, he came towards me and said: “Are you a doctor, Mr. Aronnax?” » I had so little expected this request that I looked at him for a while without answering. « Are you a doctor? » he repeated. « Several of your colleagues have studied medicine, Gratiolet, Moquin-Tandon and others. » « Indeed, » I said, « I am a doctor and a hospital intern. I practiced for several years before entering the Museum. » « Good, sir. » My answer had obviously satisfied Captain Nemo. But not knowing where he was going with this, I waited for further questions, reserving my right to answer according to the circumstances. « Monsieur Aronnax, » the captain said to me, « would you consent to give your care to one of my men? » « Do you have a sick person? » « Yes. » « I am ready to follow you. » « Come. » I will admit that my heart was pounding. I don’t know why I saw a certain connection between this illness of a member of the crew and the events of the previous day, and this mystery preoccupied me at least as much as the sick person. Captain Nemo led me to the stern of the Nautilus and into a cabin near the sailors’ quarters. There, on a bed, lay a man of about forty, with an energetic face, a true Anglo-Saxon type. I bent over him. He was not only sick, he was wounded. His head, swaddled in bloody cloths, rested on a double pillow. I untied these cloths, and the wounded man, looking with his large, fixed eyes, let me do it, without uttering a single complaint. The injury was horrible. The skull, shattered by a blunt instrument, exposed the brain, and the cerebral substance had undergone profound attrition. Blood clots had formed in the diffluent mass, which was a wine-red color. There had been both contusion and concussion of the brain. The patient’s breathing was slow, and some spasmodic movements of the muscles agitated his face. The cerebral phlegmasia was complete and resulted in paralysis of feeling and movement. I took the wounded man’s pulse. It was intermittent. The extremities of the body were already growing cold, and I saw that death was approaching, without that it seemed possible to stop it. After dressing this unfortunate man, I adjusted the linens around his head and turned to Captain Nemo.
“Where did this injury come from?” I asked him. “What does it matter!” the captain replied evasively. “A shock from the Nautilus broke one of the engine’s levers, which struck this man. But what is your opinion of his condition?” I hesitated to say. “You can speak,” the captain told me. “This man doesn’t understand French.” I looked at the wounded man one last time, then replied: “This man will be dead in two hours. ” “Nothing can save him? ” “Nothing.” Captain Nemo’s hand tightened, and a few tears slipped from his eyes, which I didn’t think were made for crying. For a few moments, I still watched this dying man whose life was gradually fading away. His pallor increased even more under the electric glare that bathed his deathbed. I looked at his intelligent head, furrowed with premature wrinkles, which misfortune, perhaps misery, had dug long ago. I sought to surprise the secret of his life in the last words that escaped his lips! “You can retire, Mr. Aronnax,” Captain Nemo told me. I left the captain in the dying man’s cabin and returned to my room, deeply moved by this scene. All day long, I was agitated by sinister forebodings. At night, I slept badly, and, between my frequently interrupted dreams, I thought I heard distant sighs and something like a funeral psalmody. Was it the prayer for the dead, murmured in that language I could not understand? The next morning, I went up on deck. Captain Nemo had preceded me there. As soon as he saw me, he came to me. “Professor,” he said to me, “would it be convenient for you to go on an underwater excursion today? ” “With my companions?” I asked. “If they like. ” “We are at your command, Captain. ” “Please go and put on your diving suits.” There was no question of the dying or the dead. I joined Ned Land and Conseil. I told them of Captain Nemo’s proposal. Conseil hastened to accept, and this time the Canadian showed himself very willing to follow us. It was eight o’clock in the morning. At eight-thirty, we were dressed for this new excursion, and equipped with the two lighting and breathing apparatuses. The double door was opened, and, accompanied by Captain Nemo, followed by a dozen men of the crew, we set foot at a depth of ten meters on the firm ground where the Nautilus lay. A slight slope led to a rough bottom, about fifteen fathoms deep. This seabed was completely different from the one I had visited during my first excursion under the waters of the Pacific Ocean. Here, there was no fine sand, no underwater meadows, no pelagian forest. I immediately recognized this marvelous region, which Captain Nemo was showing us around that day . It was the kingdom of coral. In the zoophyte phylum and in the alcyonarian class, we note the order of gorgonarians, which includes the three groups of gorgonians, isidians, and corallians. Coral belongs to the latter , a curious substance that was successively classified in the mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms. A remedy for the ancients, a jewel for the moderns, it was only in 1694 that Peysonnel, from Marseille, definitively classified it in the animal kingdom. Coral is a group of animalcules, gathered on a polypary of a brittle and stony nature. These polyps have a unique generator that produced them by budding, and they possess an existence of their own, while participating in the common life. It is therefore a kind of natural socialism. I was aware of the latest work done on this strange zoophyte, which mineralizes while arborizing, according to the very accurate observation of naturalists, and nothing could be more interesting for me than to visit one of these petrified forests that nature has planted at the bottom of the sea. The Rumhkorff apparatus were put into operation, and we followed a coral bank in the process of formation, which, with the help of time, will one day close this portion of the Indian Ocean. The road was bordered by inextricable bushes formed by the tangle of shrubs covered with small star-shaped flowers with white rays. Only, unlike the plants of the earth, these arborizations, attached to the rocks of the ground, all directed from top to bottom. The light produced a thousand charming effects as it played among these so brightly colored branches. It seemed to me that I saw these membranous and cylindrical tubes trembling under the ripples of the water. I was tempted to pick their fresh corollas adorned with delicate tentacles, some newly opened, others barely born , while light fish with swift fins brushed past them like flocks of birds. But, if my hand approached these living flowers, these animated sensitives, immediately the alarm went up in the colony. The white corollas returned to their red cases, the flowers vanished before my eyes, and the bush changed into a block of stony nipples. Chance had brought me here in the presence of the most precious specimens of this zoophyte. This coral was worth as much as that which is fished in the Mediterranean, on the coasts of France, Italy and Barbary. It justified by its vivid tones those poetic names of _blood flower_ and _blood foam_ which commerce gives to its finest products. Coral sells for up to five hundred francs a kilogram, and in this place, the liquid layers covered the fortunes of a whole world of coral divers. This precious material, often mixed with other polyps, then formed compact and inextricable clusters called “macciota,” and on which I noticed admirable specimens of pink coral. But soon the bushes tightened, the trees grew. Real petrified thickets and long spans of fanciful architecture opened up before our feet. Captain Nemo entered a dark gallery whose gentle slope led us to a depth of one hundred meters. The light from our streamers sometimes produced magical effects, clinging to the rough asperities of these natural arches and to the pendants arranged like chandeliers, which it pricked with points of fire. Between the coral shrubs, I observed other polyps no less curious, melites, irises with articulated branches, then a few tufts of coralline algae, some green, others red, real algae encrusted in their calcareous salts, which naturalists, after long discussions, have definitively classified in the plant kingdom. But, following the remark of a thinker, “this is perhaps the real point where life obscurely rises from the sleep of stone, without yet detaching itself from this harsh starting point.” Finally, after two hours of walking, we had reached a depth of about three hundred meters, that is to say the extreme limit on which the coral begins to form. But there, it was no longer the isolated bush, nor the modest coppice of low trees. It was the immense forest , the great mineral vegetation, the enormous petrified trees, united by garlands of elegant plumarias, these lianas of the sea, all adorned with nuances and reflections. We passed freely under their tall branches lost in the shadow of the waves, while at our feet, the tubipores, the meandrines, the astreas, the fungi, the cariophylla, formed a carpet of flowers, strewn with dazzling gems . What an indescribable spectacle! Ah! what could we not communicate our sensations! Why were we imprisoned under this mask of metal and glass! Why were words forbidden to us from one to the other! Why did we not live, at least, the life of these fish that populate the liquid element, or rather that of these amphibians that, for long hours, can travel, at the whim of their caprice, the double domain of land and water! However, Captain Nemo had stopped. My companions and I suspended our march, and, turning around, I saw that his men formed a semicircle around their leader. Looking more closely , I observed that four of them were carrying an oblong-shaped object on their shoulders. We occupied, at this point, the center of a vast clearing, surrounded by the tall trees of the underwater forest. Our lamps projected on this space a sort of twilight light that disproportionately lengthened the shadows on the ground. At the edge of the clearing, the darkness became deep again, and only collected small sparks held back by the sharp edges of the coral. Ned Land and Conseil were near me. We were watching, and it occurred to me that I was about to witness a strange scene. Observing the ground, I saw that it was swollen, in certain points, by slight extumescences encrusted with calcareous deposits, and arranged with a regularity that betrayed the hand of man. In the middle of the clearing, on a pedestal of roughly piled rocks, stood a coral cross, extending its long arms that looked like they were made of petrified blood. At a sign from Captain Nemo, one of his men stepped forward, and a few feet from the cross, he began to dig a hole with a pickaxe that he detached from his belt. I understood everything! This clearing was a cemetery, this hole, a tomb, this oblong object, the body of the man who died in the night! Captain Nemo and his men had come to bury their companion in this common dwelling, at the bottom of this inaccessible Ocean! No! Never had my mind been so overexcited! Never had more impressive ideas invaded my hoop! I did not want to see what my eyes saw! Meanwhile, the grave was slowly being dug. The fish were fleeing here and there from their troubled retreat. I heard the iron of the pick resonating on the chalky ground, sometimes sparkling as it struck some flint lost at the bottom of the water. The hole lengthened, widened, and soon it was deep enough to receive the body. Then the bearers approached. The body, wrapped in a white byssus cloth, was lowered into its damp grave. Captain Nemo, arms crossed on his chest, and all the friends of the one who had loved them knelt in an attitude of prayer… My two companions and I bowed religiously. The grave was then covered with debris torn from the ground, which formed a slight bulge. When this was done, Captain Nemo and his men straightened up; then, approaching the grave, all bent their knees again, and all extended their hands in a sign of supreme farewell… Then, the funereal troop took the path back to the Nautilus, passing under the arches of the forest, through the thickets, along the coral bushes , and always climbing. Finally, the ship’s fires appeared. Their luminous trail guided us to the Nautilus. At one o’clock, we were back. As soon as my clothes were changed, I went back up onto the platform, and, prey to a terrible obsession of ideas, I went to sit near the lantern. Captain Nemo joined me. I stood up and said to him: “So, as I expected, this man died during the night? ” “Yes, Mr. Aronnax,” replied Captain Nemo. “And he now rests near his companions, in this coral cemetery? ” “Yes, forgotten by all, but not by us! We dig the grave, and the polyps are responsible for sealing our dead there for eternity!” And hiding his face in his clenched hands with a sudden gesture, the captain tried in vain to suppress a sob. Then he added: “That is our peaceful cemetery, a few hundred feet below the surface of the waves! — Your dead sleep there, at least, peacefully, captain, out of the reach of sharks! ” — Yes, sir, replied Captain Nemo gravely, sharks and men!” END OF THE FIRST PART You have just finished the first part of “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea” by Jules Verne, a visionary work that plunges us into the heart of the oceans and makes us reflect on science, freedom and the destiny of men. Through the mysterious character of Captain Nemo and the adventures of his companions, Verne offers us a unique fresco where the imagination mixes with astonishing scientific discoveries. Stay with us for the rest of this extraordinary journey, where new puzzles and ever more thrilling adventures await you in the depths of the sea.

Plongez dans les profondeurs mystérieuses de l’océan avec *Vingt Mille Lieues Sous Les Mers — Partie 1* de Jules Verne 🌊✨. Ce chef-d’œuvre de la littérature d’aventure vous entraîne aux côtés du professeur Aronnax, de son fidèle Conseil et du harponneur Ned Land, embarqués malgré eux à bord du légendaire sous-marin Nautilus, dirigé par l’énigmatique capitaine Nemo ⚓.

Dans cette première partie, découvrez :
– 🌍 Des explorations sous-marines fascinantes et inédites
– 🐠 Une faune et une flore marines décrites avec un réalisme saisissant
– 🚤 Le mystère du Nautilus, une machine révolutionnaire en avance sur son temps
– 👤 La figure sombre et captivante du capitaine Nemo

Cette histoire emblématique, mélange d’aventure, de science et de philosophie, demeure l’une des plus grandes œuvres de la littérature mondiale. Préparez-vous à une immersion totale dans un univers où la frontière entre le réel et l’imaginaire s’efface.

👉 Abonnez-vous dès maintenant pour ne manquer aucune des prochaines parties de ce récit épique : https://bit.ly/LivresAudioLaMagieDesMots
👍 N’oubliez pas de liker, partager, commenter et vous abonner ! 🔔📲
-🌊📚 Vingt Mille Lieues Sous Les Mers — Partie 1 | Jules Verne 🚢🐙[https://youtu.be/fpH1IsazeOA]

#LivresAudio #JulesVerne #Aventure #Classique #LectureAudio #Ocean #Nautilus #CapitaineNemo #VingtMilleLieuesSousLesMers

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