Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea

by Jules Verne

Contents

List of Illustrations

PART ONE

CHAPTER I
A SHIFTING REEF

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER II
PRO AND CON

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER III
I FORM MY RESOLUTION

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

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

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

“Conseil,” I called in an impatient voice.

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

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

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

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

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

“Conseil,” I called a third time.

Conseil appeared.

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

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

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

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

“And your collections, sir?” observed Conseil.

“We will think of them by and by.”

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

“They will keep them at the hotel.”

“And your live Babiroussa, sir?”

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

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

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

“Will the curve please you, sir?”

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

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

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

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

“Monsieur Pierre Aronnax?” said he.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is the steam full on?” asked he.

“Yes, sir,” replied the engineer.

“Go ahead,” cried Commander Farragut.

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

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

CHAPTER IV
NED LAND

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And why this powerful organisation?” demanded Ned.

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

“I have no idea, M. Aronnax.”

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

“Without my perceiving it?”

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

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

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

“The devil!” exclaimed Ned.

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

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

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

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

“Well, have I convinced you?”

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

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

CHAPTER V
AT A VENTURE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on, my good friend.”

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

“Indeed!”

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

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

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

CHAPTER VI
AT FULL STEAM

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

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

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

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

A general cry rose from the frigate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Certainly, sir.”

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

“And mine too,” simply said the harpooner.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The frigate approached the cetacean. I examined it thoroughly.

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

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

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

“Yes, sir,” answered the engineer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What shall we do then?”

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

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

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

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

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

The engineer was again called.

“You have turned full steam in?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the engineer.

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

They heaved the log a second time.

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

“Nineteen miles and three-tenths, sir.”

“Clap on more steam.”

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

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

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

The captain then decided to take more direct means.

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

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

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

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

An old grey-bearded gunner . . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER VII
AN UNKNOWN SPECIES OF WHALE

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

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

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

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

I was sinking! I was suffocating!

“Help!”

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

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

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

“Is it you?” said I, “you?”

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

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

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

The worthy fellow thought that was but natural.

“And the frigate?” I asked.

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

“You think so?”

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

“Broken?”

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

“Then we are lost!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave me! leave me!” I said to him.

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

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

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

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

“Did you hear?” I murmured.

“Yes! Yes!”

And Conseil gave one more despairing call.

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

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

“What did you see?”

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

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

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

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

“Conseil!” I murmured.

“Does master call me?” asked Conseil.

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

“Ned!” I cried.

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

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

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

“An island?”

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

“Explain yourself, Ned!”

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

“Why, Ned, why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER VIII
MOBILIS IN MOBILI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ned did not beg off, and recommenced our story.

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

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

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

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

The door shut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good! and from what country?”

“From the land of rogues!”

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

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

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

“This is something like,” said Conseil.

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

“We shall see,” said Conseil.

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

MOBILIS IN MOBILI
N.

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

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

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

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

“So shall I,” replied Ned Land.

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

CHAPTER IX
NED LAND’S TEMPERS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is my opinion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER X
THE MAN OF THE SEAS

It was the commander of the vessel who thus spoke.

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

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

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

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

He continued the conversation in these terms:

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

“Unintentionally!” said I.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Speak, sir.”

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

“Entirely.”

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

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

It was evident that we did not understand one another.

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

“It must suffice you, however.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Simply.”

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

“None, sir,” answered the Unknown.

Then, in a gentler tone, he continued—

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

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

“By what name ought I to address you?”

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

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

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

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

“I am at your service, Captain.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like the sea, Captain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Certainly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I could only thank my host.

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

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

Captain Nemo pointed to a seat.

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

Captain Nemo’s state-room

CHAPTER XI
ALL BY ELECTRICITY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Electricity?” I cried in surprise.

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

“But not the air you breathe?”

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But how do you get back on board?”

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

“By your orders?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you get then?”

“A speed of fifty miles an hour.”

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

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

CHAPTER XII
SOME FIGURES

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

“Just so, sir.”

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

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

“That is evident.”

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

I had nothing to object to these reasonings.

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

“What, sir?”

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

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

“What are they, Captain?”

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

“I am impatient to learn.”

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

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

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

“Are these lenses capable of resisting such pressure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then the cost of this vessel is great?”

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

“One last question, Captain Nemo.”

“Ask it, Professor.”

“You are rich?”

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

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

CHAPTER XIII
THE BLACK RIVER

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have arrived,” said the Captain.

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

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

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

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

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

Captain Nemo took the Sun’s altitude

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XIV
A NOTE OF INVITATION

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nautron respoc lorni virch.”

What it meant I could not say.

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

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

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

16th of November, 1867.

TOPROFESSORARONNAX, On board theNautilus.

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

CAPTAINNEMO, Commander of the Nautilus.

“A hunt!” exclaimed Ned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But Captain, believe me——”

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

“I listen.”

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

“That is a diving apparatus,” said I.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then it is an air-gun.”

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

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

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

“But this air must be rapidly used?”

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

CHAPTER XV
A WALK ON THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA

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

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

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

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

“There is no alternative, Master Ned.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But how shall we get off?”

“You shall see.”

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

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

I was ready to set out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XVI
A SUBMARINE FOREST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XVII
FOUR THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE PACIFIC

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is the matter, Conseil?”

“I want master to look.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XVIII
VANIKORO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Vanikoro.”

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

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

“Yes, Professor,” said the Captain.

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

“If you like, Professor.”

“When shall we be there?”

“We are there now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Easily.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one knows.”

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

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

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

“How do you know that?”

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XIX
TORRES STRAITS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An accident?” I asked.

“No; an incident.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

“Really.”

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

The Canadian looked at Conseil, then shrugged his shoulders.

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

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

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

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

“I can ask him, but he will refuse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XX
A FEW DAYS ON LAND

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

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

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

“Excellent!” said Ned Land.

“Exquisite!” replied Conseil.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, Ned!” said Conseil.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, Ned.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let us be off,” replied Conseil.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There are only birds,” said Conseil.

“But they are eatable,” replied the harpooner.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Birds of paradise!” I exclaimed.

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

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

“Now, Ned, what do you miss now?”

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

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

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

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

“Ah! bravo, Conseil!”

“Master is very good.”

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

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

“Why, Conseil?”

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

“Drunk!”

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

“By Jove!” exclaimed the Canadian, “because I have drunk gin for two months,you must needs reproach me!”

However, I examined the curious bird. Conseil was right. The bird, drunk withthe juice, was quite powerless. It could not fly; it could hardly walk.

This bird belonged to the most beautiful of the eight species that are found inPapua and in the neighbouring islands. It was the “large emerald bird, the mostrare kind.” It measured three feet in length. Its head was comparatively small,its eyes placed near the opening of the beak, and also small. But the shades ofcolour were beautiful, having a yellow beak, brown feet and claws, nut-colouredwings with purple tips, pale yellow at the back of the neck and head, andemerald colour at the throat, chestnut on the breast and belly. Two horned,downy nets rose from below the tail, that prolonged the long light feathers ofadmirable fineness, and they completed the whole of this marvellous bird, thatthe natives have poetically named the “bird of the sun.”

But if my wishes were satisfied by the possession of the bird of paradise, theCanadian’s were not yet. Happily, about two o’clock, Ned Land brought down amagnificent hog; from the brood of those the natives call “bari-outang.” Theanimal came in time for us to procure real quadruped meat, and he was wellreceived. Ned Land was very proud of his shot. The hog, hit by the electricball, fell stone dead. The Canadian skinned and cleaned it properly, afterhaving taken half a dozen cutlets, destined to furnish us with a grilled repastin the evening. Then the hunt was resumed, which was still more marked by Nedand Conseil’s exploits.

Indeed, the two friends, beating the bushes, roused a herd of kangaroos thatfled and bounded along on their elastic paws. But these animals did not take toflight so rapidly but what the electric capsule could stop their course.

“Ah, Professor!” cried Ned Land, who was carried away by the delights of thechase, “what excellent game, and stewed, too! What a supply for theNautilus!Two! three! five down! And to think that we shall eat thatflesh, and that the idiots on board shall not have a crumb!”

I think that, in the excess of his joy, the Canadian, if he had not talked somuch, would have killed them all. But he contented himself with a single dozenof these interesting marsupians. These animals were small. They were a speciesof those “kangaroo rabbitss” that live habitually in the hollows of trees, andwhose speed is extreme; but they are moderately fat, and furnish, at least,estimable food. We were very satisfied with the results of the hunt. Happy Nedproposed to return to this enchanting island the next day, for he wished todepopulate it of all the eatable quadrupeds. But he had reckoned without hishost.

At six o’clock in the evening we had regained the shore; our boat was moored tothe usual place. The Nautilus, like a long rock, emerged from the wavestwo miles from the beach. Ned Land, without waiting, occupied himself about theimportant dinner business. He understood all about cooking well. The“bari-outang,” grilled on the coals, soon scented the air with a deliciousodour.

Indeed, the dinner was excellent. Two wood-pigeons completed this extraordinarymenu. The sago pasty, the artocarpus bread, some mangoes, half a dozenpineapples, and the liquor fermented from some coco-nuts, overjoyed us. I eventhink that my worthy companions’ ideas had not all the plainness desirable.

“Suppose we do not return to the Nautilusthis evening?” said Conseil.

“Suppose we never return?” added Ned Land.

Just then a stone fell at our feet and cut short the harpooner’s proposition.

CHAPTER XXI
CAPTAIN NEMO’S THUNDERBOLT

We looked at the edge of the forest without rising, my hand stopping in theaction of putting it to my mouth, Ned Land’s completing its office.

“Stones do not fall from the sky,” remarked Conseil, “or they would merit thename aerolites.”

A second stone, carefully aimed, that made a savoury pigeon’s leg fall fromConseil’s hand, gave still more weight to his observation. We all three arose,shouldered our guns, and were ready to reply to any attack.

“Are they apes?” cried Ned Land.

“Very nearly—they are savages.”

“To the boat!” I said, hurrying to the sea.

It was indeed necessary to beat a retreat, for about twenty natives armed withbows and slings appeared on the skirts of a copse that masked the horizon tothe right, hardly a hundred steps from us.

Our boat was moored about sixty feet from us. The savages approached us, notrunning, but making hostile demonstrations. Stones and arrows fell thickly.

Ned Land had not wished to leave his provisions; and, in spite of his imminentdanger, his pig on one side and kangaroos on the other, he went tolerably fast.In two minutes we were on the shore. To load the boat with provisions and arms,to push it out to sea, and ship the oars, was the work of an instant. We hadnot gone two cable-lengths, when a hundred savages, howling and gesticulating,entered the water up to their waists. I watched to see if their apparitionwould attract some men from the Nautiluson to the platform. But no. Theenormous machine, lying off, was absolutely deserted.

Twenty minutes later we were on board. The panels were open. After making theboat fast, we entered into the interior of the Nautilus.

I descended to the drawing-room, from whence I heard some chords. Captain Nemowas there, bending over his organ, and plunged in a musical ecstasy.

“Captain!”

He did not hear me.

“Captain!” I said, touching his hand.

He shuddered, and, turning round, said, “Ah! it is you, Professor? Well, haveyou had a good hunt, have you botanised successfully?”

“Yes Captain; but we have unfortunately brought a troop of bipeds, whosevicinity troubles me.”

“What bipeds?”

“Savages.”

“Savages!” he echoed, ironically. “So you are astonished, Professor, at havingset foot on a strange land and finding savages? Savages! where are there notany? Besides, are they worse than others, these whom you call savages?”

“But Captain——”

“How many have you counted?”

“A hundred at least.”

“M. Aronnax,” replied Captain Nemo, placing his fingers on the organ stops,“when all the natives of Papua are assembled on this shore, the Nautiluswill have nothing to fear from their attacks.”

The Captain’s fingers were then running over the keys of the instrument, and Iremarked that he touched only the black keys, which gave his melodies anessentially Scotch character. Soon he had forgotten my presence, and hadplunged into a reverie that I did not disturb. I went up again on to theplatform: night had already fallen; for, in this low latitude, the sun setsrapidly and without twilight. I could only see the island indistinctly; but thenumerous fires, lighted on the beach, showed that the natives did not think ofleaving it. I was alone for several hours, sometimes thinking of thenatives—but without any dread of them, for the imperturbable confidence of theCaptain was catching—sometimes forgetting them to admire the splendours of thenight in the tropics. My remembrances went to France in the train of thosezodiacal stars that would shine in some hours’ time. The moon shone in themidst of the constellations of the zenith.

The night slipped away without any mischance, the islanders frightened no doubtat the sight of a monster aground in the bay. The panels were open, and wouldhave offered an easy access to the interior of the Nautilus.

At six o’clock in the morning of the 8th January I went up on to the platform.The dawn was breaking. The island soon showed itself through the dissipatingfogs, first the shore, then the summits.

The natives were there, more numerous than on the day before—five or sixhundred perhaps—some of them, profiting by the low water, had come on to thecoral, at less than two cable-lengths from the Nautilus. I distinguishedthem easily; they were true Papuans, with athletic figures, men of good race,large high foreheads, large, but not broad and flat, and white teeth. Theirwoolly hair, with a reddish tinge, showed off on their black shining bodieslike those of the Nubians. From the lobes of their ears, cut and distended,hung chaplets of bones. Most of these savages were naked. Amongst them, Iremarked some women, dressed from the hips to knees in quite a crinoline ofherbs, that sustained a vegetable waistband. Some chiefs had ornamented theirnecks with a crescent and collars of glass beads, red and white; nearly allwere armed with bows, arrows, and shields and carried on their shoulders a sortof net containing those round stones which they cast from their slings withgreat skill. One of these chiefs, rather near to the Nautilus, examinedit attentively. He was, perhaps, a “mado” of high rank, for he was draped in amat of banana-leaves, notched round the edges, and set off with brilliantcolours.

I could easily have knocked down this native, who was within a short length;but I thought that it was better to wait for real hostile demonstrations.Between Europeans and savages, it is proper for the Europeans to parry sharply,not to attack.

During low water the natives roamed about near the Nautilus, but werenot troublesome; I heard them frequently repeat the word “Assai,” and by theirgestures I understood that they invited me to go on land, an invitation that Ideclined.

So that, on that day, the boat did not push off, to the great displeasure ofMaster Land, who could not complete his provisions.

This adroit Canadian employed his time in preparing the viands and meat that hehad brought off the island. As for the savages, they returned to the shoreabout eleven o’clock in the morning, as soon as the coral tops began todisappear under the rising tide; but I saw their numbers had increasedconsiderably on the shore. Probably they came from the neighbouring islands, orvery likely from Papua. However, I had not seen a single native canoe. Havingnothing better to do, I thought of dragging these beautiful limpid waters,under which I saw a profusion of shells, zoophytes, and marine plants.Moreover, it was the last day that the Nautiluswould pass in theseparts, if it float in open sea the next day, according to Captain Nemo’spromise.

I therefore called Conseil, who brought me a little light drag, very like thosefor the oyster fishery. Now to work! For two hours we fished unceasingly, butwithout bringing up any rarities. The drag was filled with midas-ears, harps,melames, and particularly the most beautiful hammers I have ever seen. We alsobrought up some sea-slugs, pearl-oysters, and a dozen little turtles that werereserved for the pantry on board.

But just when I expected it least, I put my hand on a wonder, I might say anatural deformity, very rarely met with. Conseil was just dragging, and his netcame up filled with divers ordinary shells, when, all at once, he saw me plungemy arm quickly into the net, to draw out a shell, and heard me utter a cry.

“What is the matter, sir?” he asked in surprise. “Has master been bitten?”

“No, my boy; but I would willingly have given a finger for my discovery.”

“What discovery?”

“This shell,” I said, holding up the object of my triumph.

“It is simply an olive porphyry, genus olive, order of the pectinibranchidæ,class of gasteropods, sub-class mollusca.”

“Yes, Conseil; but, instead of being rolled from right to left, this oliveturns from left to right.”

“Is it possible?”

“Yes, my boy; it is a left shell.”

Shells are all right-handed, with rare exceptions; and, when by chance theirspiral is left, amateurs are ready to pay their weight in gold.

Conseil and I were absorbed in the contemplation of our treasure, and I waspromising myself to enrich the museum with it, when a stone unfortunatelythrown by a native struck against, and broke, the precious object in Conseil’shand. I uttered a cry of despair! Conseil took up his gun, and aimed at asavage who was poising his sling at ten yards from him. I would have stoppedhim, but his blow took effect and broke the bracelet of amulets which encircledthe arm of the savage.

Conseil seized his gun

“Conseil!” cried I. “Conseil!”

“Well, sir! do you not see that the cannibal has commenced the attack?”

“A shell is not worth the life of a man,” said I.

“Ah! the scoundrel!” cried Conseil; “I would rather he had broken my shoulder!”

Conseil was in earnest, but I was not of his opinion. However, the situationhad changed some minutes before, and we had not perceived. A score of canoessurrounded the Nautilus. These canoes, scooped out of the trunk of atree, long, narrow, well adapted for speed, were balanced by means of a longbamboo pole, which floated on the water. They were managed by skilful,half-naked paddlers, and I watched their advance with some uneasiness. It wasevident that these Papuans had already had dealings with the Europeans and knewtheir ships. But this long iron cylinder anchored in the bay, without masts orchimneys, what could they think of it? Nothing good, for at first they kept ata respectful distance. However, seeing it motionless, by degrees they tookcourage, and sought to familiarise themselves with it. Now this familiarity wasprecisely what it was necessary to avoid. Our arms, which were noiseless, couldonly produce a moderate effect on the savages, who have little respect foraught but blustering things. The thunderbolt without the reverberations ofthunder would frighten man but little, though the danger lies in the lightning,not in the noise.

At this moment the canoes approached the Nautilus, and a shower ofarrows alighted on her.

I went down to the saloon, but found no one there. I ventured to knock at thedoor that opened into the Captain’s room. “Come in,” was the answer.

I entered, and found Captain Nemo deep in algebraical calculations of xand other quantities.

“I am disturbing you,” said I, for courtesy’s sake.

“That is true, M. Aronnax,” replied the Captain; “but I think you have seriousreasons for wishing to see me?”

“Very grave ones; the natives are surrounding us in their canoes, and in a fewminutes we shall certainly be attacked by many hundreds of savages.”

“Ah!” said Captain Nemo quietly, “they are come with their canoes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, sir, we must close the hatches.”

“Exactly, and I came to say to you——”

“Nothing can be more simple,” said Captain Nemo. And, pressing an electricbutton, he transmitted an order to the ship’s crew.

“It is all done, sir,” said he, after some moments. “The pinnace is ready, andthe hatches are closed. You do not fear, I imagine, that these gentlemen couldstave in walls on which the balls of your frigate have had no effect?”

“No, Captain; but a danger still exists.”

“What is that, sir?”

“It is that to-morrow, at about this hour, we must open the hatches to renewthe air of the Nautilus. Now, if, at this moment, the Papuans shouldoccupy the platform, I do not see how you could prevent them from entering.”

“Then, sir, you suppose that they will board us?”

“I am certain of it.”

“Well, sir, let them come. I see no reason for hindering them. After all, thesePapuans are poor creatures, and I am unwilling that my visit to the islandshould cost the life of a single one of these wretches.”

Upon that I was going away; But Captain Nemo detained me, and asked me to sitdown by him. He questioned me with interest about our excursions on shore, andour hunting; and seemed not to understand the craving for meat that possessedthe Canadian. Then the conversation turned on various subjects, and, withoutbeing more communicative, Captain Nemo showed himself more amiable.

Amongst other things, we happened to speak of the situation of theNautilus, run aground in exactly the same spot in this strait whereDumont d’Urville was nearly lost. Apropos of this:

“This D’Urville was one of your great sailors,” said the Captain to me, “one ofyour most intelligent navigators. He is the Captain Cook of you Frenchmen.Unfortunate man of science, after having braved the icebergs of the South Pole,the coral reefs of Oceania, the cannibals of the Pacific, to perish miserablyin a railway train! If this energetic man could have reflected during the lastmoments of his life, what must have been uppermost in his last thoughts, do yousuppose?”

So speaking, Captain Nemo seemed moved, and his emotion gave me a betteropinion of him. Then, chart in hand, we reviewed the travels of the Frenchnavigator, his voyages of circumnavigation, his double detention at the SouthPole, which led to the discovery of Adelaide and Louis Philippe, and fixing thehydrographical bearings of the principal islands of Oceania.

“That which your D’Urville has done on the surface of the seas,” said CaptainNemo, “that have I done under them, and more easily, more completely than he.The Astrolabe and the Zelee, incessantly tossed about by the hurricane, couldnot be worth the Nautilus, quiet repository of labour that she is, trulymotionless in the midst of the waters.

“To-morrow,” added the Captain, rising, “to-morrow, at twenty minutes to threep.m., the Nautilusshall float, and leave the Strait of Torresuninjured.”

Having curtly pronounced these words, Captain Nemo bowed slightly. This was todismiss me, and I went back to my room.

There I found Conseil, who wished to know the result of my interview with theCaptain.

“My boy,” said I, “when I feigned to believe that his Nautiluswasthreatened by the natives of Papua, the Captain answered me very sarcastically.I have but one thing to say to you: Have confidence in him, and go to sleep inpeace.”

“Have you no need of my services, sir?”

“No, my friend. What is Ned Land doing?”

“If you will excuse me, sir,” answered Conseil, “friend Ned is busy making akangaroo-pie which will be a marvel.”

I remained alone and went to bed, but slept indifferently. I heard the noise ofthe savages, who stamped on the platform, uttering deafening cries. The nightpassed thus, without disturbing the ordinary repose of the crew. The presenceof these cannibals affected them no more than the soldiers of a masked batterycare for the ants that crawl over its front.

At six in the morning I rose. The hatches had not been opened. The inner airwas not renewed, but the reservoirs, filled ready for any emergency, were nowresorted to, and discharged several cubic feet of oxygen into the exhaustedatmosphere of the Nautilus.

I worked in my room till noon, without having seen Captain Nemo, even for aninstant. On board no preparations for departure were visible.

I waited still some time, then went into the large saloon. The clock markedhalf-past two. In ten minutes it would be high-tide: and, if Captain Nemo hadnot made a rash promise, the Nautiluswould be immediately detached. Ifnot, many months would pass ere she could leave her bed of coral.

However, some warning vibrations began to be felt in the vessel. I heard thekeel grating against the rough calcareous bottom of the coral reef.

At five-and-twenty minutes to three, Captain Nemo appeared in the saloon.

“We are going to start,” said he.

“Ah!” replied I.

“I have given the order to open the hatches.”

“And the Papuans?”

“The Papuans?” answered Captain Nemo, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

“Will they not come inside the Nautilus?”

“How?”

“Only by leaping over the hatches you have opened.”

“M. Aronnax,” quietly answered Captain Nemo, “they will not enter the hatchesof the Nautilusin that way, even if they were open.”

I looked at the Captain.

“You do not understand?” said he.

“Hardly.”

“Well, come and you will see.”

I directed my steps towards the central staircase. There Ned Land and Conseilwere slyly watching some of the ship’s crew, who were opening the hatches,while cries of rage and fearful vociferations resounded outside.

The port lids were pulled down outside. Twenty horrible faces appeared. But thefirst native who placed his hand on the stair-rail, struck from behind by someinvisible force, I know not what, fled, uttering the most fearful cries andmaking the wildest contortions.

Ten of his companions followed him. They met with the same fate.

Conseil was in ecstasy. Ned Land, carried away by his violent instincts, rushedon to the staircase. But the moment he seized the rail with both hands, he, inhis turn, was overthrown.

“I am struck by a thunderbolt,” cried he, with an oath.

This explained all. It was no rail; but a metallic cable charged withelectricity from the deck communicating with the platform. Whoever touched itfelt a powerful shock—and this shock would have been mortal if Captain Nemo haddischarged into the conductor the whole force of the current. It might truly besaid that between his assailants and himself he had stretched a network ofelectricity which none could pass with impunity.

Meanwhile, the exasperated Papuans had beaten a retreat paralysed with terror.As for us, half laughing, we consoled and rubbed the unfortunate Ned Land, whoswore like one possessed.

But at this moment the Nautilus, raised by the last waves of the tide,quitted her coral bed exactly at the fortieth minute fixed by the Captain. Herscrew swept the waters slowly and majestically. Her speed increased gradually,and, sailing on the surface of the ocean, she quitted safe and sound thedangerous passes of the Straits of Torres.

CHAPTER XXII
“ÆGRI SOMNIA”

The following day 10th January, the Nautiluscontinued her coursebetween two seas, but with such remarkable speed that I could not estimate itat less than thirty-five miles an hour. The rapidity of her screw was such thatI could neither follow nor count its revolutions. When I reflected that thismarvellous electric agent, after having afforded motion, heat, and light to theNautilus, still protected her from outward attack, and transformed herinto an ark of safety which no profane hand might touch without beingthunderstricken, my admiration was unbounded, and from the structure itextended to the engineer who had called it into existence.

Our course was directed to the west, and on the 11th of January we doubled CapeWessel, situation in 135° long. and 10° north lat., which forms the east point ofthe Gulf of Carpentaria. The reefs were still numerous, but more equalised, andmarked on the chart with extreme precision. The Nautiluseasily avoidedthe breakers of Money to port and the Victoria reefs to starboard, placed at130° long. and on the 10th parallel, which we strictly followed.

On the 13th of January, Captain Nemo arrived in the Sea of Timor, andrecognised the island of that name in 122° long.

From this point the direction of the Nautilusinclined towards thesouth-west. Her head was set for the Indian Ocean. Where would the fancy ofCaptain Nemo carry us next? Would he return to the coast of Asia or would heapproach again the shores of Europe? Improbable conjectures both, to a man whofled from inhabited continents. Then would he descend to the south? Was hegoing to double the Cape of Good Hope, then Cape Horn, and finally go as far asthe Antarctic pole? Would he come back at last to the Pacific, where hisNautiluscould sail free and independently? Time would show.

After having skirted the sands of Cartier, of Hibernia, Seringapatam, andScott, last efforts of the solid against the liquid element, on the 14th ofJanuary we lost sight of land altogether. The speed of the Nautiluswasconsiderably abated, and with irregular course she sometimes swam in the bosomof the waters, sometimes floated on their surface.

During this period of the voyage, Captain Nemo made some interestingexperiments on the varied temperature of the sea, in different beds. Underordinary conditions these observations are made by means of rather complicatedinstruments, and with somewhat doubtful results, by means of thermometricalsounding-leads, the glasses often breaking under the pressure of the water, oran apparatus grounded on the variations of the resistance of metals to theelectric currents. Results so obtained could not be correctly calculated. Onthe contrary, Captain Nemo went himself to test the temperature in the depthsof the sea, and his thermometer, placed in communication with the differentsheets of water, gave him the required degree immediately and accurately.

It was thus that, either by overloading her reservoirs or by descendingobliquely by means of her inclined planes, the Nautilussuccessivelyattained the depth of three, four, five, seven, nine, and ten thousand yards,and the definite result of this experience was that the sea preserved anaverage temperature of four degrees and a half at a depth of five thousandfathoms under all latitudes.

On the 16th of January, the Nautilusseemed becalmed only a few yardsbeneath the surface of the waves. Her electric apparatus remained inactive andher motionless screw left her to drift at the mercy of the currents. I supposedthat the crew was occupied with interior repairs, rendered necessary by theviolence of the mechanical movements of the machine.

My companions and I then witnessed a curious spectacle. The hatches of thesaloon were open, and, as the beacon light of the Nautiluswas not inaction, a dim obscurity reigned in the midst of the waters. I observed thestate of the sea, under these conditions, and the largest fish appeared to meno more than scarcely defined shadows, when the Nautilusfound herselfsuddenly transported into full light. I thought at first that the beacon hadbeen lighted, and was casting its electric radiance into the liquid mass. I wasmistaken, and after a rapid survey perceived my error.

The Nautilusfloated in the midst of a phosphorescent bed which, in thisobscurity, became quite dazzling. It was produced by myriads of luminousanimalculae, whose brilliancy was increased as they glided over the metallichull of the vessel. I was surprised by lightning in the midst of these luminoussheets, as though they had been rivulets of lead melted in an ardent furnace ormetallic masses brought to a white heat, so that, by force of contrast, certainportions of light appeared to cast a shade in the midst of the generalignition, from which all shade seemed banished. No; this was not the calmirradiation of our ordinary lightning. There was unusual life and vigour: thiswas truly living light!

In reality, it was an infinite agglomeration of coloured infusoria, ofveritable globules of jelly, provide