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20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
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CHAPTER XI
THE SARGASSO SEA
That day the Nautilus crossed a singular part of the Atlantic Ocean.
No one can be ignorant of the existence of a current of warm
water known by the name of the Gulf Stream. After leaving
the Gulf of Florida, we went in the direction of Spitzbergen.
But before entering the Gulf of Mexico, about 45@ of N. lat., this
current divides into two arms, the principal one going towards
the coast of Ireland and Norway, whilst the second bends to the south
about the height of the Azores; then, touching the African shore,
and describing a lengthened oval, returns to the Antilles.
This second arm--it is rather a collar than an arm--surrounds with its
circles of warm water that portion of the cold, quiet, immovable ocean
called the Sargasso Sea, a perfect lake in the open Atlantic:
it takes no less than three years for the great current to pass round it.
Such was the region the Nautilus was now visiting, a perfect meadow,
a close carpet of seaweed, fucus, and tropical berries, so thick and so
compact that the stem of a vessel could hardly tear its way through it.
And Captain Nemo, not wishing to entangle his screw in this herbaceous mass,
kept some yards beneath the surface of the waves. The name Sargasso
comes from the Spanish word "sargazzo" which signifies kelp.
This kelp, or berry-plant, is the principal formation of this immense bank.
And this is the reason why these plants unite in the peaceful basin
of the Atlantic. The only explanation which can be given, he says,
seems to me to result from the experience known to all the world.
Place in a vase some fragments of cork or other floating body,
and give to the water in the vase a circular movement,
the scattered fragments will unite in a group in the centre of
the liquid surface, that is to say, in the part least agitated.
In the phenomenon we are considering, the Atlantic is the vase,
the Gulf Stream the circular current, and the Sargasso Sea the central
point at which the floating bodies unite.
I share Maury's opinion, and I was able to study the phenomenon
in the very midst, where vessels rarely penetrate. Above us floated
products of all kinds, heaped up among these brownish plants;
trunks of trees torn from the Andes or the Rocky Mountains, and floated
by the Amazon or the Mississippi; numerous wrecks, remains of keels,
or ships' bottoms, side-planks stove in, and so weighted with shells
and barnacles that they could not again rise to the surface.
And time will one day justify Maury's other opinion, that these
substances thus accumulated for ages will become petrified by
the action of the water and will then form inexhaustible coal-mines--
a precious reserve prepared by far-seeing Nature for the moment
when men shall have exhausted the mines of continents.
In the midst of this inextricable mass of plants and sea weed,
I noticed some charming pink halcyons and actiniae, with their long
tentacles trailing after them, and medusae, green, red, and blue.
All the day of the 22nd of February we passed in the Sargasso Sea,
where such fish as are partial to marine plants find abundant nourishment.
The next, the ocean had returned to its accustomed aspect.
From this time for nineteen days, from the 23rd of February to the 12th
of March, the Nautilus kept in the middle of the Atlantic, carrying us
at a constant speed of a hundred leagues in twenty-four hours.
Captain Nemo evidently intended accomplishing his submarine programme,
and I imagined that he intended, after doubling Cape Horn, to return
to the Australian seas of the Pacific. Ned Land had cause for fear.
In these large seas, void of islands, we could not attempt to leave
the boat. Nor had we any means of opposing Captain Nemo's will.
Our only course was to submit; but what we could neither gain by force
nor cunning, I liked to think might be obtained by persuasion.
This voyage ended, would he not consent to restore our liberty,
under an oath never to reveal his existence?--an oath of honour which we
should have religiously kept. But we must consider that delicate
question with the Captain. But was I free to claim this liberty?
Had he not himself said from the beginning, in the firmest manner,
that the secret of his life exacted from him our lasting imprisonment
on board the Nautilus? And would not my four months' silence appear
to him a tacit acceptance of our situation? And would not a return
to the subject result in raising suspicions which might be hurtful
to our projects, if at some future time a favourable opportunity offered
to return to them?
During the nineteen days mentioned above, no incident
of any kind happened to signalise our voyage. I saw little
of the Captain; he was at work. In the library I often found
his books left open, especially those on natural history.
My work on submarine depths, conned over by him, was covered
with marginal notes, often contradicting my theories and systems;
but the Captain contented himself with thus purging my work;
it was very rare for him to discuss it with me.
Sometimes I heard the melancholy tones of his organ;
but only at night, in the midst of the deepest obscurity,
when the Nautilus slept upon the deserted ocean. During this part
of our voyage we sailed whole days on the surface of the waves.
The sea seemed abandoned. A few sailing-vessels, on
the road to India, were making for the Cape of Good Hope.
One day we were followed by the boats of a whaler, who, no doubt,
took us for some enormous whale of great price; but Captain
Nemo did not wish the worthy fellows to lose their time
and trouble, so ended the chase by plunging under the water.
Our navigation continued until the 13th of March;
that day the Nautilus was employed in taking soundings,
which greatly interested me. We had then made about 13,000
leagues since our departure from the high seas of the Pacific.
The bearings gave us 45@ 37' S. lat., and 37@ 53' W. long.
It was the same water in which Captain Denham of the Herald
sounded 7,000 fathoms without finding the bottom.
There, too, Lieutenant Parker, of the American frigate Congress,
could not touch the bottom with 15,140 fathoms.
Captain Nemo intended seeking the bottom of the ocean by a
diagonal sufficiently lengthened by means of lateral planes
placed at an angle of 45@ with the water-line of the Nautilus.
Then the screw set to work at its maximum speed, its four
blades beating the waves with in describable force.
Under this powerful pressure, the hull of the Nautilus quivered
like a sonorous chord and sank regularly under the water.
At 7,000 fathoms I saw some blackish tops rising from the midst of the waters;
but these summits might belong to high mountains like the Himalayas or
Mont Blanc, even higher; and the depth of the abyss remained incalculable.
The Nautilus descended still lower, in spite of the great pressure.
I felt the steel plates tremble at the fastenings of the bolts;
its bars bent, its partitions groaned; the windows of the saloon
seemed to curve under the pressure of the waters. And this firm
structure would doubtless have yielded, if, as its Captain had said,
it had not been capable of resistance like a solid block. We had attained
a depth of 16,000 yards (four leagues), and the sides of the Nautilus
then bore a pressure of 1,600 atmospheres, that is to say, 3,200 lb.
to each square two-fifths of an inch of its surface.
"What a situation to be in!" I exclaimed. "To overrun these deep regions
where man has never trod! Look, Captain, look at these magnificent rocks,
these uninhabited grottoes, these lowest receptacles of the globe,
where life is no longer possible! What unknown sights are here!
Why should we be unable to preserve a remembrance of them?"
"Would you like to carry away more than the remembrance?"
said Captain Nemo.
"What do you mean by those words?"
"I mean to say that nothing is easier than to make a photographic
view of this submarine region."
I had not time to express my surprise at this new proposition, when,
at Captain Nemo's call, an objective was brought into the saloon.
Through the widely-opened panel, the liquid mass was bright with electricity,
which was distributed with such uniformity that not a shadow, not a gradation,
was to be seen in our manufactured light. The Nautilus remained motionless,
the force of its screw subdued by the inclination of its planes:
the instrument was propped on the bottom of the oceanic site, and in a few
seconds we had obtained a perfect negative.
But, the operation being over, Captain Nemo said, "Let us go up;
we must not abuse our position, nor expose the Nautilus too long
to such great pressure."
"Go up again!" I exclaimed.
"Hold well on."
I had not time to understand why the Captain cautioned me thus, when I
was thrown forward on to the carpet. At a signal from the Captain,
its screw was shipped, and its blades raised vertically; the Nautilus
shot into the air like a balloon, rising with stunning rapidity,
and cutting the mass of waters with a sonorous agitation.
Nothing was visible; and in four minutes it had shot through the four
leagues which separated it from the ocean, and, after emerging like a
flying-fish, fell, making the waves rebound to an enormous height.
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CHAPTER XII
CACHALOTS AND WHALES
During the nights of the 13th and 14th of March, the Nautilus returned
to its southerly course. I fancied that, when on a level with Cape Horn,
he would turn the helm westward, in order to beat the Pacific seas,
and so complete the tour of the world. He did nothing of the kind,
but continued on his way to the southern regions. Where was he going to?
To the pole? It was madness! I began to think that the Captain's
temerity justified Ned Land's fears. For some time past the Canadian
had not spoken to me of his projects of flight; he was less communicative,
almost silent. I could see that this lengthened imprisonment was
weighing upon him, and I felt that rage was burning within him.
When he met the Captain, his eyes lit up with suppressed anger;
and I feared that his natural violence would lead him into some extreme.
That day, the 14th of March, Conseil and he came to me in my room.
I inquired the cause of their visit.
"A simple question to ask you, sir," replied the Canadian.
"Speak, Ned."
"How many men are there on board the Nautilus, do you think?"
"I cannot tell, my friend."
"I should say that its working does not require a large crew."
"Certainly, under existing conditions, ten men, at the most,
ought to be enough."
"Well, why should there be any more?"
"Why?" I replied, looking fixedly at Ned Land, whose meaning was easy
to guess. "Because," I added, "if my surmises are correct, and if I have
well understood the Captain's existence, the Nautilus is not only a vessel:
it is also a place of refuge for those who, like its commander, have broken
every tie upon earth."
"Perhaps so," said Conseil; "but, in any case, the Nautilus can only contain
a certain number of men. Could not you, sir, estimate their maximum?"
"How, Conseil?"
"By calculation; given the size of the vessel, which you know, sir,
and consequently the quantity of air it contains, knowing also how much
each man expends at a breath, and comparing these results with the fact
that the Nautilus is obliged to go to the surface every twenty-four hours."
Conseil had not finished the sentence before I saw what he was driving at.
"I understand," said I; "but that calculation, though simple enough,
can give but a very uncertain result."
"Never mind," said Ned Land urgently.
"Here it is, then," said I. "In one hour each man consumes the oxygen
contained in twenty gallons of air; and in twenty-four, that contained
in 480 gallons. We must, therefore find how many times 480 gallons
of air the Nautilus contains."
"Just so," said Conseil.
"Or," I continued, "the size of the Nautilus being 1,500 tons;
and one ton holding 200 gallons, it contains 300,000 gallons
of air, which, divided by 480, gives a quotient of 625.
Which means to say, strictly speaking, that the air contained in
the Nautilus would suffice for 625 men for twenty-four hours."
"Six hundred and twenty-five!" repeated Ned.
"But remember that all of us, passengers, sailors, and officers included,
would not form a tenth part of that number."
"Still too many for three men," murmured Conseil.
The Canadian shook his head, passed his hand across his forehead,
and left the room without answering.
"Will you allow me to make one observation, sir?" said Conseil.
"Poor Ned is longing for everything that he can not have. His past life
is always present to him; everything that we are forbidden he regrets.
His head is full of old recollections. And we must understand him.
What has he to do here? Nothing; he is not learned like you, sir;
and has not the same taste for the beauties of the sea that we have.
He would risk everything to be able to go once more into a tavern
in his own country."
Certainly the monotony on board must seem intolerable to the Canadian,
accustomed as he was to a life of liberty and activity.
Events were rare which could rouse him to any show of spirit; but that day
an event did happen which recalled the bright days of the harpooner.
About eleven in the morning, being on the surface of the ocean,
the Nautilus fell in with a troop of whales--an encounter which did
not astonish me, knowing that these creatures, hunted to death,
had taken refuge in high latitudes.
We were seated on the platform, with a quiet sea. The month of October
in those latitudes gave us some lovely autumnal days. It was the Canadian--
he could not be mistaken--who signalled a whale on the eastern horizon.
Looking attentively, one might see its black back rise and fall with the waves
five miles from the Nautilus.
"Ah!" exclaimed Ned Land, "if I was on board a whaler, now such
a meeting would give me pleasure. It is one of large size.
See with what strength its blow-holes throw up columns of air an steam!
Confound it, why am I bound to these steel plates?"
"What, Ned," said I, "you have not forgotten your old ideas of fishing?"
"Can a whale-fisher ever forget his old trade, sir? Can he ever
tire of the emotions caused by such a chase?"
"You have never fished in these seas, Ned?"
"Never, sir; in the northern only, and as much in Behring
as in Davis Straits."
"Then the southern whale is still unknown to you. It is the Greenland
whale you have hunted up to this time, and that would not risk passing
through the warm waters of the equator. Whales are localised,
according to their kinds, in certain seas which they never leave.
And if one of these creatures went from Behring to Davis Straits,
it must be simply because there is a passage from one sea to the other,
either on the American or the Asiatic side."
"In that case, as I have never fished in these seas, I do not know
the kind of whale frequenting them!"
"I have told you, Ned."
"A greater reason for making their acquaintance," said Conseil.
"Look! look!" exclaimed the Canadian, "they approach:
they aggravate me; they know that I cannot get at them!"
Ned stamped his feet. His hand trembled, as he grasped an imaginary harpoon.
"Are these cetaceans as large as those of the northern seas?" asked he.
"Very nearly, Ned."
"Because I have seen large whales, sir, whales measuring a hundred feet.
I have even been told that those of Hullamoch and Umgallick,
of the Aleutian Islands, are sometimes a hundred and fifty feet long."
"That seems to me exaggeration. These creatures are generally much smaller
than the Greenland whale." {this paragraph has been edited}
"Ah!" exclaimed the Canadian, whose eyes had never left the ocean,
"they are coming nearer; they are in the same water as the Nautilus."
Then, returning to the conversation, he said:
"You spoke of the cachalot as a small creature.
I have heard of gigantic ones. They are intelligent cetacea.
It is said of some that they cover themselves with seaweed and fucus,
and then are taken for islands. People encamp upon them,
and settle there; lights a fire----"
"And build houses," said Conseil.
"Yes, joker," said Ned Land. "And one fine day the creature plunges,
carrying with it all the inhabitants to the bottom of the sea."
"Something like the travels of Sinbad the Sailor," I replied, laughing.
"Ah!" suddenly exclaimed Ned Land, "it is not one whale;
there are ten--there are twenty--it is a whole troop!
And I not able to do anything! hands and feet tied!"
"But, friend Ned," said Conseil, "why do you not ask Captain
Nemo's permission to chase them?"
Conseil had not finished his sentence when Ned Land had
lowered himself through the panel to seek the Captain.
A few minutes afterwards the two appeared together on the platform.
Captain Nemo watched the troop of cetacea playing on the waters
about a mile from the Nautilus.
"They are southern whales," said he; "there goes the fortune
of a whole fleet of whalers."
"Well, sir," asked the Canadian, "can I not chase them,
if only to remind me of my old trade of harpooner?"
"And to what purpose?" replied Captain Nemo; "only to destroy!
We have nothing to do with the whale-oil on board."
"But, sir," continued the Canadian, "in the Red Sea you allowed
us to follow the dugong."
"Then it was to procure fresh meat for my crew. Here it would
be killing for killing's sake. I know that is a privilege
reserved for man, but I do not approve of such murderous pastime.
In destroying the southern whale (like the Greenland whale,
an inoffensive creature), your traders do a culpable action,
Master Land. They have already depopulated the whole of
Baffin's Bay, and are annihilating a class of useful animals.
Leave the unfortunate cetacea alone. They have plenty
of natural enemies--cachalots, swordfish, and sawfish--
without you troubling them."
The Captain was right. The barbarous and inconsiderate greed of these
fishermen will one day cause the disappearance of the last whale
in the ocean. Ned Land whistled "Yankee-doodle" between his teeth,
thrust his hands into his pockets, and turned his back upon us.
But Captain Nemo watched the troop of cetacea, and, addressing me, said:
"I was right in saying that whales had natural enemies enough,
without counting man. These will have plenty to do before long.
Do you see, M. Aronnax, about eight miles to leeward,
those blackish moving points?"
"Yes, Captain," I replied.
"Those are cachalots--terrible animals, which I have met in troops of two
or three hundred. As to those, they are cruel, mischievous creatures;
they would be right in exterminating them."
The Canadian turned quickly at the last words.
"Well, Captain," said he, "it is still time, in the interest
of the whales."
"It is useless to expose one's self, Professor. The Nautilus
will disperse them. It is armed with a steel spur as good
as Master Land's harpoon, I imagine."
The Canadian did not put himself out enough to shrug his shoulders.
Attack cetacea with blows of a spur! Who had ever heard of such a thing?
"Wait, M. Aronnax," said Captain Nemo. "We will show you something you
have never yet seen. We have no pity for these ferocious creatures.
They are nothing but mouth and teeth."
Mouth and teeth! No one could better describe the macrocephalous
cachalot, which is sometimes more than seventy-five feet long.
Its enormous head occupies one-third of its entire body.
Better armed than the whale, whose upper jaw is furnished only
with whalebone, it is supplied with twenty-five large tusks,
about eight inches long, cylindrical and conical at the top,
each weighing two pounds. It is in the upper part of this
enormous head, in great cavities divided by cartilages, that is
to be found from six to eight hundred pounds of that precious
oil called spermaceti. The cachalot is a disagreeable creature,
more tadpole than fish, according to Fredol's description.
It is badly formed, the whole of its left side being
(if we may say it), a "failure," and being only able to see
with its right eye. But the formidable troop was nearing us.
They had seen the whales and were preparing to attack them.
One could judge beforehand that the cachalots would be victorious,
not only because they were better built for attack than
their inoffensive adversaries, but also because they could
remain longer under water without coming to the surface.
There was only just time to go to the help of the whales.
The Nautilus went under water. Conseil, Ned Land,
and I took our places before the window in the saloon,
and Captain Nemo joined the pilot in his cage to work
his apparatus as an engine of destruction. Soon I felt
the beatings of the screw quicken, and our speed increased.
The battle between the cachalots and the whales had already begun
when the Nautilus arrived. They did not at first show any fear
at the sight of this new monster joining in the conflict.
But they soon had to guard against its blows. What a battle!
The Nautilus was nothing but a formidable harpoon,
brandished by the hand of its Captain. It hurled itself against
the fleshy mass, passing through from one part to the other,
leaving behind it two quivering halves of the animal.
It could not feel the formidable blows from their tails upon
its sides, nor the shock which it produced itself, much more.
One cachalot killed, it ran at the next, tacked on the spot
that it might not miss its prey, going forwards and backwards,
answering to its helm, plunging when the cetacean dived into
the deep waters, coming up with it when it returned to the surface,
striking it front or sideways, cutting or tearing in all
directions and at any pace, piercing it with its terrible spur.
What carnage! What a noise on the surface of the waves!
What sharp hissing, and what snorting peculiar to
these enraged animals! In the midst of these waters,
generally so peaceful, their tails made perfect billows.
For one hour this wholesale massacre continued, from which the
cachalots could not escape. Several times ten or twelve united
tried to crush the Nautilus by their weight. From the window
we could see their enormous mouths, studded with tusks,
and their formidable eyes. Ned Land could not contain himself;
he threatened and swore at them. We could feel them clinging
to our vessel like dogs worrying a wild boar in a copse.
But the Nautilus, working its screw, carried them here and there,
or to the upper levels of the ocean, without caring for their
enormous weight, nor the powerful strain on the vessel.
At length the mass of cachalots broke up, the waves
became quiet, and I felt that we were rising to the surface.
The panel opened, and we hurried on to the platform.
The sea was covered with mutilated bodies. A formidable explosion
could not have divided and torn this fleshy mass with more violence.
We were floating amid gigantic bodies, bluish on the back
and white underneath, covered with enormous protuberances.
Some terrified cachalots were flying towards the horizon.
The waves were dyed red for several miles, and the Nautilus
floated in a sea of blood: Captain Nemo joined
us.
"Well, Master Land?" said he.
"Well, sir," replied the Canadian, whose enthusiasm had somewhat calmed;
"it is a terrible spectacle, certainly. But I am not a butcher.
I am a hunter, and I call this a butchery."
"It is a massacre of mischievous creatures," replied the Captain;
"and the Nautilus is not a butcher's knife."
"I like my harpoon better," said the Canadian.
"Every one to his own," answered the Captain, looking fixedly
at Ned Land.
I feared he would commit some act of violence, which would end
in sad consequences. But his anger was turned by the sight
of a whale which the Nautilus had just come up with.
The creature had not quite escaped from the cachalot's teeth.
I recognised the southern whale by its flat head,
which is entirely black. Anatomically, it is distinguished
from the white whale and the North Cape whale by the seven
cervical vertebrae, and it has two more ribs than its congeners.
The unfortunate cetacean was lying on its side,
riddled with holes from the bites, and quite dead.
From its mutilated fin still hung a young whale which it could
not save from the massacre. Its open mouth let the water flow
in and out, murmuring like the waves breaking on the shore.
Captain Nemo steered close to the corpse of the creature.
Two of his men mounted its side, and I saw, not without surprise,
that they were drawing from its breasts all the milk which
they contained, that is to say, about two or three tons.
The Captain offered me a cup of the milk, which was still warm.
I could not help showing my repugnance to the drink;
but he assured me that it was excellent, and not to be distinguished
from cow's milk. I tasted it, and was of his opinion.
It was a useful reserve to us, for in the shape of salt butter
or cheese it would form an agreeable variety from our ordinary food.
From that day I noticed with uneasiness that Ned Land's ill-will
towards Captain Nemo increased, and I resolved to watch the
Canadian's gestures closely.
CHAPTER XIII
THE ICEBERG
The Nautilus was steadily pursuing its southerly course,
following the fiftieth meridian with considerable speed.
Did he wish to reach the pole? I did not think so,
for every attempt to reach that point had hitherto failed.
Again, the season was far advanced, for in the Antarctic regions
the 13th of March corresponds with the 13th of September
of northern regions, which begin at the equinoctial season.
On the 14th of March I saw floating ice in latitude 55@,
merely pale bits of debris from twenty to twenty-five
feet long, forming banks over which the sea curled.
The Nautilus remained on the surface of the ocean.
Ned Land, who had fished in the Arctic Seas, was familiar with
its icebergs; but Conseil and I admired them for the first time.
In the atmosphere towards the southern horizon stretched
a white dazzling band. English whalers have given it
the name of "ice blink." However thick the clouds may be,
it is always visible, and announces the presence of an ice
pack or bank. Accordingly, larger blocks soon appeared,
whose brilliancy changed with the caprices of the fog.
Some of these masses showed green veins, as if long undulating
lines had been traced with sulphate of copper; others resembled
enormous amethysts with the light shining through them.
Some reflected the light of day upon a thousand crystal facets.
Others shaded with vivid calcareous reflections resembled a perfect
town of marble. The more we neared the south the more these floating
islands increased both in number and importance.
At 60@ lat. every pass had disappeared. But, seeking carefully,
Captain Nemo soon found a narrow opening, through which he boldly slipped,
knowing, however, that it would close behind him. Thus, guided by this
clever hand, the Nautilus passed through all the ice with a precision
which quite charmed Conseil; icebergs or mountains, ice-fields or
smooth plains, seeming to have no limits, drift-ice or floating ice-packs,
plains broken up, called palchs when they are circular, and streams
when they are made up of long strips. The temperature was very low;
the thermometer exposed to the air marked 2@ or 3@ below zero, but we
were warmly clad with fur, at the expense of the sea-bear and seal.
The interior of the Nautilus, warmed regularly by its electric apparatus,
defied the most intense cold. Besides, it would only have been necessary
to go some yards beneath the waves to find a more bearable temperature.
Two months earlier we should have had perpetual daylight in these latitudes;
but already we had had three or four hours of night, and by and by there
would be six months of darkness in these circumpolar regions. On the 15th
of March we were in the latitude of New Shetland and South Orkney.
The Captain told me that formerly numerous tribes of seals inhabited them;
but that English and American whalers, in their rage for destruction,
massacred both old and young; thus, where there was once life and animation,
they had left silence and death.
About eight o'clock on the morning of the 16th of March the Nautilus,
following the fifty-fifth meridian, cut the Antarctic polar circle.
Ice surrounded us on all sides, and closed the horizon.
But Captain Nemo went from one opening to another, still going higher.
I cannot express my astonishment at the beauties of these new regions.
The ice took most surprising forms. Here the grouping formed an
oriental town, with innumerable mosques and minarets; there a fallen
city thrown to the earth, as it were, by some convulsion of nature.
The whole aspect was constantly changed by the oblique rays
of the sun, or lost in the greyish fog amidst hurricanes of snow.
Detonations and falls were heard on all sides, great overthrows of icebergs,
which altered the whole landscape like a diorama. Often seeing no exit,
I thought we were definitely prisoners; but, instinct guiding him
at the slightest indication, Captain Nemo would discover a new pass.
He was never mistaken when he saw the thin threads of bluish water
trickling along the ice-fields; and I had no doubt that he had
already ventured into the midst of these Antarctic seas before.
On the 16th of March, however, the ice-fields absolutely blocked our road.
It was not the iceberg itself, as yet, but vast fields cemented
by the cold. But this obstacle could not stop Captain Nemo:
he hurled himself against it with frightful violence. The Nautilus entered
the brittle mass like a wedge, and split it with frightful crackings.
It was the battering ram of the ancients hurled by infinite strength.
The ice, thrown high in the air, fell like hail around us.
By its own power of impulsion our apparatus made a canal for itself;
some times carried away by its own impetus, it lodged on the ice-field,
crushing it with its weight, and sometimes buried beneath it,
dividing it by a simple pitching movement, producing large rents in it.
Violent gales assailed us at this time, accompanied by thick fogs,
through which, from one end of the platform to the other, we could
see nothing. The wind blew sharply from all parts of the compass,
and the snow lay in such hard heaps that we had to break it with
blows of a pickaxe. The temperature was always at 5@ below zero;
every outward part of the Nautilus was covered with ice.
A rigged vessel would have been entangled in the blocked up gorges.
A vessel without sails, with electricity for its motive power,
and wanting no coal, could alone brave such high latitudes. At length,
on the 18th of March, after many useless assaults, the Nautilus was
positively blocked. It was no longer either streams, packs, or ice-fields,
but an interminable and immovable barrier, formed by mountains soldered
together.
"An iceberg!" said the Canadian to me.
I knew that to Ned Land, as well as to all other navigators who had
preceded us, this was an inevitable obstacle. The sun appearing for an
instant at noon, Captain Nemo took an observation as near as possible,
which gave our situation at 51@ 30' long. and 67@ 39' of S. lat.
We had advanced one degree more in this Antarctic region.
Of the liquid surface of the sea there was no longer a glimpse.
Under the spur of the Nautilus lay stretched a vast plain,
entangled with confused blocks. Here and there sharp points and slender
needles rising to a height of 200 feet; further on a steep shore,
hewn as it were with an axe and clothed with greyish tints;
huge mirrors, reflecting a few rays of sunshine, half drowned in the fog.
And over this desolate face of nature a stern silence reigned,
scarcely broken by the flapping of the wings of petrels and puffins.
Everything was frozen--even the noise. The Nautilus was then
obliged to stop in its adventurous course amid these fields of ice.
In spite of our efforts, in spite of the powerful means
employed to break up the ice, the Nautilus remained immovable.
Generally, when we can proceed no further, we have return still
open to us; but here return was as impossible as advance,
for every pass had closed behind us; and for the few moments
when we were stationary, we were likely to be entirely blocked,
which did indeed happen about two o'clock in the afternoon,
the fresh ice forming around its sides with astonishing rapidity.
I was obliged to admit that Captain Nemo was more than imprudent.
I was on the platform at that moment. The Captain had been observing
our situation for some time past, when he said to me:
"Well, sir, what do you think of this?"
"I think that we are caught, Captain."
"So, M. Aronnax, you really think that the Nautilus cannot disengage itself?"
"With difficulty, Captain; for the season is already too far
advanced for you to reckon on the breaking of the ice."
"Ah! sir," said Captain Nemo, in an ironical tone, "you will always
be the same. You see nothing but difficulties and obstacles.
I affirm that not only can the Nautilus disengage itself,
but also that it can go further still."
"Further to the South?" I asked, looking at the Captain.
"Yes, sir; it shall go to the pole."
"To the pole!" I exclaimed, unable to repress a gesture of incredulity.
"Yes," replied the Captain, coldly, "to the Antarctic pole--
to that unknown point from whence springs every meridian of the globe.
You know whether I can do as I please with the Nautilus!"
Yes, I knew that. I knew that this man was bold, even to rashness.
But to conquer those obstacles which bristled round the South Pole,
rendering it more inaccessible than the North, which had not yet
been reached by the boldest navigators--was it not a mad enterprise,
one which only a maniac would have conceived? It then came into
my head to ask Captain Nemo if he had ever discovered that pole
which had never yet been trodden by a human creature?
"No, sir," he replied; "but we will discover it together.
Where others have failed, I will not fail. I have never yet led
my Nautilus so far into southern seas; but, I repeat, it shall
go further yet."
"I can well believe you, Captain," said I, in a slightly ironical tone.
"I believe you! Let us go ahead! There are no obstacles for us!
Let us smash this iceberg! Let us blow it up; and, if it resists,
let us give the Nautilus wings to fly over it!"
"Over it, sir!" said Captain Nemo, quietly; "no, not over it,
but under it!"
"Under it!" I exclaimed, a sudden idea of the Captain's projects flashing
upon my mind. I understood; the wonderful qualities of the Nautilus were
going to serve us in this superhuman enterprise.
"I see we are beginning to understand one another, sir," said the Captain,
half smiling. "You begin to see the possibility--I should say the success--
of this attempt. That which is impossible for an ordinary vessel is easy
to the Nautilus. If a continent lies before the pole, it must stop before
the continent; but if, on the contrary, the pole is washed by open sea,
it will go even to the pole."
"Certainly," said I, carried away by the Captain's reasoning;
"if the surface of the sea is solidified by the ice,
the lower depths are free by the Providential law which has
placed the maximum of density of the waters of the ocean one
degree higher than freezing-point; and, if I am not mistaken,
the portion of this iceberg which is above the water is as one
to four to that which is below."
"Very nearly, sir; for one foot of iceberg above the sea there
are three below it. If these ice mountains are not more than 300
feet above the surface, they are not more than 900 beneath.
And what are 900 feet to the Nautilus?"
"Nothing, sir."
"It could even seek at greater depths that uniform temperature
of sea-water, and there brave with impunity the thirty or forty
degrees of surface cold."
"Just so, sir--just so," I replied, getting animated.
"The only difficulty," continued Captain Nemo, "is that of remaining
several days without renewing our provision of air."
"Is that all? The Nautilus has vast reservoirs; we can fill them,
and they will supply us with all the oxygen we want."
"Well thought of, M. Aronnax," replied the Captain, smiling.
"But, not wishing you to accuse me of rashness, I will first give
you all my objections."
"Have you any more to make?"
"Only one. It is possible, if the sea exists at the South Pole,
that it may be covered; and, consequently, we shall be unable
to come to the surface."
"Good, sir! but do you forget that the Nautilus is armed with a powerful spur,
and could we not send it diagonally against these fields of ice, which would
open at the shocks."
"Ah! sir, you are full of ideas to-day."
"Besides, Captain," I added, enthusiastically, "why should we
not find the sea open at the South Pole as well as at the North?
The frozen poles of the earth do not coincide, either in the southern
or in the northern regions; and, until it is proved to the contrary,
we may suppose either a continent or an ocean free from ice at these two
points of the globe."
"I think so too, M. Aronnax," replied Captain Nemo.
"I only wish you to observe that, after having made so many
objections to my project, you are now crushing me with arguments
in its favour!"
The preparations for this audacious attempt now began.
The powerful pumps of the Nautilus were working air into the
reservoirs and storing it at high pressure. About four o'clock,
Captain Nemo announced the closing of the panels on the platform.
I threw one last look at the massive iceberg which we were going
to cross. The weather was clear, the atmosphere pure enough,
the cold very great, being 12@ below zero; but, the wind
having gone down, this temperature was not so unbearable.
About ten men mounted the sides of the Nautilus, armed with
pickaxes to break the ice around the vessel, which was soon free.
The operation was quickly performed, for the fresh ice was still
very thin. We all went below. The usual reservoirs were filled
with the newly-liberated water, and the Nautilus soon descended.
I had taken my place with Conseil in the saloon; through the open
window we could see the lower beds of the Southern Ocean.
The thermometer went up, the needle of the compass deviated
on the dial. At about 900 feet, as Captain Nemo had foreseen,
we were floating beneath the undulating bottom of the iceberg.
But the Nautilus went lower still--it went to the depth of four
hundred fathoms. The temperature of the water at the surface
showed twelve degrees, it was now only ten; we had gained two.
I need not say the temperature of the Nautilus was raised by its heating
apparatus to a much higher degree; every manoeuvre was accomplished
with wonderful precision.
"We shall pass it, if you please, sir," said Conseil.
"I believe we shall," I said, in a tone of firm conviction.
In this open sea, the Nautilus had taken its course direct
to the pole, without leaving the fifty-second meridian.
From 67@ 30' to 90@, twenty-two degrees and a half of latitude
remained to travel; that is, about five hundred leagues.
The Nautilus kept up a mean speed of twenty-six miles an hour--
the speed of an express train. If that was kept up, in forty hours we
should reach the pole.
For a part of the night the novelty of the situation kept us
at the window. The sea was lit with the electric lantern; but it
was deserted; fishes did not sojourn in these imprisoned waters;
they only found there a passage to take them from the
Antarctic Ocean to the open polar sea. Our pace was rapid;
we could feel it by the quivering of the long steel body.
About two in the morning I took some hours' repose, and Conseil
did the same. In crossing the waist I did not meet Captain Nemo:
I supposed him to be in the pilot's cage. The next morning,
the 19th of March, I took my post once more in the saloon.
The electric log told me that the speed of the Nautilus
had been slackened. It was then going towards the surface;
but prudently emptying its reservoirs very slowly.
My heart beat fast. Were we going to emerge and regain the open
polar atmosphere? No! A shock told me that the Nautilus
had struck the bottom of the iceberg, still very thick,
judging from the deadened sound. We had in deed "struck," to use
a sea expression, but in an inverse sense, and at a thousand
feet deep. This would give three thousand feet of ice above us;
one thousand being above the water-mark. The iceberg was then
higher than at its borders--not a very reassuring fact.
Several times that day the Nautilus tried again, and every
time it struck the wall which lay like a ceiling above it.
Sometimes it met with but 900 yards, only 200 of which
rose above the surface. It was twice the height it was
when the Nautilus had gone under the waves. I carefully
noted the different depths, and thus obtained a submarine
profile of the chain as it was developed under the water.
That night no change had taken place in our situation.
Still ice between four and five hundred yards in depth!
It was evidently diminishing, but, still, what a thickness
between us and the surface of the ocean! It was then eight.
According to the daily custom on board the Nautilus,
its air should have been renewed four hours ago;
but I did not suffer much, although Captain Nemo had not yet
made any demand upon his reserve of oxygen. My sleep was
painful that night; hope and fear besieged me by turns:
I rose several times. The groping of the Nautilus continued.
About three in the morning, I noticed that the lower surface
of the iceberg was only about fifty feet deep. One hundred
and fifty feet now separated us from the surface of the waters.
The iceberg was by degrees becoming an ice-field, the mountain
a plain. My eyes never left the manometer. We were still rising
diagonally to the surface, which sparkled under the electric rays.
The iceberg was stretching both above and beneath into
lengthening slopes; mile after mile it was getting thinner.
At length, at six in the morning of that memorable day,
the 19th of March, the door of the saloon opened, and Captain Nemo
appeared.
"The sea is open!!" was all he said.
CHAPTER XIV
THE SOUTH POLE
I rushed on to the platform. Yes! the open sea, with but a few
scattered pieces of ice and moving icebergs--a long stretch of sea;
a world of birds in the air, and myriads of fishes under those waters,
which varied from intense blue to olive green, according to the bottom.
The thermometer marked 3@ C. above zero. It was comparatively spring,
shut up as we were behind this iceberg, whose lengthened mass was dimly
seen on our northern horizon.
"Are we at the pole?" I asked the Captain, with a beating heart.
"I do not know," he replied. "At noon I will take our bearings."
"But will the sun show himself through this fog?" said I,
looking at the leaden sky.
"However little it shows, it will be enough," replied the Captain.
About ten miles south a solitary island rose to a height
of one hundred and four yards. We made for it, but carefully,
for the sea might be strewn with banks. One hour afterwards we
had reached it, two hours later we had made the round of it.
It measured four or five miles in circumference.
A narrow canal separated it from a considerable stretch of land,
perhaps a continent, for we could not see its limits.
The existence of this land seemed to give some colour to Maury's theory.
The ingenious American has remarked that, between the South Pole
and the sixtieth parallel, the sea is covered with floating ice
of enormous size, which is never met with in the North Atlantic.
From this fact he has drawn the conclusion that the Antarctic
Circle encloses considerable continents, as icebergs cannot form
in open sea, but only on the coasts. According to these calculations,
the mass of ice surrounding the southern pole forms a vast cap,
the circumference of which must be, at least, 2,500 miles.
But the Nautilus, for fear of running aground, had stopped
about three cable-lengths from a strand over which reared
a superb heap of rocks. The boat was launched; the Captain,
two of his men, bearing instruments, Conseil, and myself were in it.
It was ten in the morning. I had not seen Ned Land.
Doubtless the Canadian did not wish to admit the presence of
the South Pole. A few strokes of the oar brought us to the sand,
where we ran ashore. Conseil was going to jump on to the land,
when I held him back.
"Sir," said I to Captain Nemo, "to you belongs the honour of first setting
foot on this land."
"Yes, sir," said the Captain, "and if I do not hesitate
to tread this South Pole, it is because, up to this time,
no human being has left a trace there."
Saying this, he jumped lightly on to the sand. His heart beat
with emotion. He climbed a rock, sloping to a little promontory,
and there, with his arms crossed, mute and motionless, and with an
eager look, he seemed to take possession of these southern regions.
After five minutes passed in this ecstasy, he turned to us.
"When you like, sir."
I landed, followed by Conseil, leaving the two men in the boat.
For a long way the soil was composed of a reddish sandy stone,
something like crushed brick, scoriae, streams of lava,
and pumice-stones. One could not mistake its volcanic origin.
In some parts, slight curls of smoke emitted a sulphurous smell,
proving that the internal fires had lost nothing of their
expansive powers, though, having climbed a high acclivity,
I could see no volcano for a radius of several miles.
We know that in those Antarctic countries, James Ross found
two craters, the Erebus and Terror, in full activity,
on the 167th meridian, latitude 77@ 32'. The vegetation
of this desolate continent seemed to me much restricted.
Some lichens lay upon the black rocks; some microscopic plants,
rudimentary diatomas, a kind of cells placed between two quartz shells;
long purple and scarlet weed, supported on little swimming bladders,
which the breaking of the waves brought to the shore.
These constituted the meagre flora of this region.
The shore was strewn with molluscs, little mussels, and limpets.
I also saw myriads of northern clios, one-and-a-quarter inches long,
of which a whale would swallow a whole world at a mouthful;
and some perfect sea-butterflies, animating the waters on the skirts
of the shore.
There appeared on the high bottoms some coral shrubs,
of the kind which, according to James Ross, live in
the Antarctic seas to the depth of more than 1,000 yards.
Then there were little kingfishers and starfish studding the soil.
But where life abounded most was in the air. There thousands
of birds fluttered and flew of all kinds, deafening us with
their cries; others crowded the rock, looking at us as we passed
by without fear, and pressing familiarly close by our feet.
There were penguins, so agile in the water, heavy and awkward
as they are on the ground; they were uttering harsh cries,
a large assembly, sober in gesture, but extravagant in clamour.
Albatrosses passed in the air, the expanse of their wings being
at least four yards and a half, and justly called the vultures
of the ocean; some gigantic petrels, and some damiers, a kind
of small duck, the underpart of whose body is black and white;
then there were a whole series of petrels, some whitish, with
brown-bordered wings, others blue, peculiar to the Antarctic seas,
and so oily, as I told Conseil, that the inhabitants of the Ferroe
Islands had nothing to do before lighting them but to put
a wick in.
"A little more," said Conseil, "and they would be perfect lamps!
After that, we cannot expect Nature to have previously furnished
them with wicks!"
About half a mile farther on the soil was riddled with ruffs'
nests, a sort of laying-ground, out of which many birds were issuing.
Captain Nemo had some hundreds hunted. They uttered a cry like the braying
of an ass, were about the size of a goose, slate-colour on the body,
white beneath, with a yellow line round their throats; they allowed
themselves to be killed with a stone, never trying to escape.
But the fog did not lift, and at eleven the sun had not yet shown itself.
Its absence made me uneasy. Without it no observations were possible.
How, then, could we decide whether we had reached the pole? When I rejoined
Captain Nemo, I found him leaning on a piece of rock, silently watching
the sky. He seemed impatient and vexed. But what was to be done?
This rash and powerful man could not command the sun as he did the sea.
Noon arrived without the orb of day showing itself for an instant.
We could not even tell its position behind the curtain of fog; and soon
the fog turned to snow.
"Till to-morrow," said the Captain, quietly, and we returned
to the Nautilus amid these atmospheric disturbances.
The tempest of snow continued till the next day.
It was impossible to remain on the platform. From the saloon,
where I was taking notes of incidents happening during this
excursion to the polar continent, I could hear the cries of petrels
and albatrosses sporting in the midst of this violent storm.
The Nautilus did not remain motionless, but skirted the coast,
advancing ten miles more to the south in the half-light
left by the sun as it skirted the edge of the horizon.
The next day, the 20th of March, the snow had ceased.
The cold was a little greater, the thermometer showing 2@
below zero. The fog was rising, and I hoped that that day
our observations might be taken. Captain Nemo not having
yet appeared, the boat took Conseil and myself to land.
The soil was still of the same volcanic nature;
everywhere were traces of lava, scoriae, and basalt;
but the crater which had vomited them I could not see.
Here, as lower down, this continent was alive with myriads
of birds. But their rule was now divided with large troops
of sea-mammals, looking at us with their soft eyes.
There were several kinds of seals, some stretched on the earth,
some on flakes of ice, many going in and out of the sea. They did
not flee at our approach, never having had anything to do with man;
and I reckoned that there were provisions there for hundreds
of vessels.
"Sir," said Conseil, "will you tell me the names of these creatures?"
"They are seals and morses."
It was now eight in the morning. Four hours remained to us before
the sun could be observed with advantage. I directed our steps
towards a vast bay cut in the steep granite shore. There, I can aver
that earth and ice were lost to sight by the numbers of sea-mammals
covering them, and I involuntarily sought for old Proteus,
the mythological shepherd who watched these immense flocks of Neptune.
There were more seals than anything else, forming distinct groups,
male and female, the father watching over his family, the mother
suckling her little ones, some already strong enough to go a few steps.
When they wished to change their place, they took little jumps,
made by the contraction of their bodies, and helped awkwardly enough
by their imperfect fin, which, as with the lamantin, their cousins,
forms a perfect forearm. I should say that, in the water,
which is their element--the spine of these creatures is flexible;
with smooth and close skin and webbed feet--they swim admirably.
In resting on the earth they take the most graceful attitudes.
Thus the ancients, observing their soft and expressive looks,
which cannot be surpassed by the most beautiful look a woman can give,
their clear voluptuous eyes, their charming positions, and the poetry
of their manners, metamorphosed them, the male into a triton and
the female into a mermaid. I made Conseil notice the considerable
development of the lobes of the brain in these interesting cetaceans.
No mammal, except man, has such a quantity of brain matter;
they are also capable of receiving a certain amount of education,
are easily domesticated, and I think, with other naturalists,
that if properly taught they would be of great service as fishing-dogs.
The greater part of them slept on the rocks or on the sand.
Amongst these seals, properly so called, which have no external ears
(in which they differ from the otter, whose ears are prominent),
I noticed several varieties of seals about three yards long,
with a white coat, bulldog heads, armed with teeth in both jaws,
four incisors at the top and four at the bottom, and two large
canine teeth in the shape of a fleur-de-lis. Amongst them glided
sea-elephants, a kind of seal, with short, flexible trunks.
The giants of this species measured twenty feet round and ten yards
and a half in length; but they did not move as we approached.
"These creatures are not dangerous?" asked Conseil.
"No; not unless you attack them. When they have to defend
their young their rage is terrible, and it is not uncommon
for them to break the fishing-boats to pieces."
"They are quite right," said Conseil.
"I do not say they are not."
Two miles farther on we were stopped by the promontory which shelters
the bay from the southerly winds. Beyond it we heard loud bellowings
such as a troop of ruminants would produce.
"Good!" said Conseil; "a concert of bulls!"
"No; a concert of morses."
"They are fighting!"
"They are either fighting or playing."
We now began to climb the blackish rocks, amid unforeseen stumbles,
and over stones which the ice made slippery. More than once I rolled
over at the expense of my loins. Conseil, more prudent or more steady,
did not stumble, and helped me up, saying:
"If, sir, you would have the kindness to take wider steps,
you would preserve your equilibrium better."
Arrived at the upper ridge of the promontory, I saw a vast white
plain covered with morses. They were playing amongst themselves,
and what we heard were bellowings of pleasure, not of anger.
As I passed these curious animals I could examine them leisurely,
for they did not move. Their skins were thick and rugged,
of a yellowish tint, approaching to red; their hair was short
and scant. Some of them were four yards and a quarter long.
Quieter and less timid than their cousins of the north, they did not,
like them, place sentinels round the outskirts of their encampment.
After examining this city of morses, I began to think of returning.
It was eleven o'clock, and, if Captain Nemo found the conditions
favourable for observations, I wished to be present at the operation.
We followed a narrow pathway running along the summit of the steep shore.
At half-past eleven we had reached the place where we landed.
The boat had run aground, bringing the Captain. I saw him standing on a block
of basalt, his instruments near him, his eyes fixed on the northern horizon,
near which the sun was then describing a lengthened curve. I took my place
beside him, and waited without speaking. Noon arrived, and, as before,
the sun did not appear. It was a fatality. Observations were still wanting.
If not accomplished to-morrow, we must give up all idea of taking any.
We were indeed exactly at the 20th of March. To-morrow, the 21st,
would be the equinox; the sun would disappear behind the horizon for
six months, and with its disappearance the long polar night would begin.
Since the September equinox it had emerged from the northern horizon,
rising by lengthened spirals up to the 21st of December. At this period,
the summer solstice of the northern regions, it had begun to descend;
and to-morrow was to shed its last rays upon them. I communicated my fears
and observations to Captain Nemo.
"You are right, M. Aronnax," said he; "if to-morrow I cannot take
the altitude of the sun, I shall not be able to do it for six months.
But precisely because chance has led me into these seas on the 21st
of March, my bearings will be easy to take, if at twelve we can
see the sun."
"Why, Captain?"
"Because then the orb of day described such lengthened curves that it
is difficult to measure exactly its height above the horizon,
and grave errors may be made with instruments."
"What will you do then?"
"I shall only use my chronometer," replied Captain Nemo.
"If to-morrow, the 21st of March, the disc of the sun,
allowing for refraction, is exactly cut by the northern horizon,
it will show that I am at the South Pole."
"Just so," said I. "But this statement is not mathematically correct,
because the equinox does not necessarily begin at noon."
"Very likely, sir; but the error will not be a hundred yards
and we do not want more. Till to-morrow, then!"
Captain Nemo returned on board. Conseil and I remained to survey
the shore, observing and studying until five o'clock. Then I
went to bed, not, however, without invoking, like the Indian,
the favour of the radiant orb. The next day, the 21st
of March, at five in the morning, I mounted the platform.
I found Captain Nemo there.
"The weather is lightening a little," said he. "I have some hope.
After breakfast we will go on shore and choose a post for observation."
That point settled, I sought Ned Land. I wanted to take him with me.
But the obstinate Canadian refused, and I saw that his taciturnity and his
bad humour grew day by day. After all, I was not sorry for his obstinacy
under the circumstances. Indeed, there were too many seals on shore,
and we ought not to lay such temptation in this unreflecting fisherman's way.
Breakfast over, we went on shore. The Nautilus had gone some miles
further up in the night. It was a whole league from the coast,
above which reared a sharp peak about five hundred yards high.
The boat took with me Captain Nemo, two men of the crew, and the instruments,
which consisted of a chronometer, a telescope, and a barometer.
While crossing, I saw numerous whales belonging to the three kinds
peculiar to the southern seas; the whale, or the English "right whale,"
which has no dorsal fin; the "humpback," with reeved chest and large,
whitish fins, which, in spite of its name, do not form wings;
and the fin-back, of a yellowish brown, the liveliest of all the cetacea.
This powerful creature is heard a long way off when he throws to a great
height columns of air and vapour, which look like whirlwinds of smoke.
These different mammals were disporting themselves in troops in the
quiet waters; and I could see that this basin of the Antarctic Pole serves
as a place of refuge to the cetacea too closely tracked by the hunters.
I also noticed large medusae floating between the reeds.
At nine we landed; the sky was brightening, the clouds were flying to
the south, and the fog seemed to be leaving the cold surface of the waters.
Captain Nemo went towards the peak, which he doubtless meant
to be his observatory. It was a painful ascent over the sharp lava
and the pumice-stones, in an atmosphere often impregnated with a
sulphurous smell from the smoking cracks. For a man unaccustomed
to walk on land, the Captain climbed the steep slopes with an
agility I never saw equalled and which a hunter would have envied.
We were two hours getting to the summit of this peak, which was half
porphyry and half basalt. From thence we looked upon a vast sea which,
towards the north, distinctly traced its boundary line upon the sky.
At our feet lay fields of dazzling whiteness. Over our heads
a pale azure, free from fog. To the north the disc of the sun seemed
like a ball of fire, already horned by the cutting of the horizon.
From the bosom of the water rose sheaves of liquid jets by hundreds.
In the distance lay the Nautilus like a cetacean asleep on the water.
Behind us, to the south and east, an immense country and a chaotic
heap of rocks and ice, the limits of which were not visible.
On arriving at the summit Captain Nemo carefully took the mean height
of the barometer, for he would have to consider that in taking
his observations. At a quarter to twelve the sun, then seen only
by refraction, looked like a golden disc shedding its last rays upon
this deserted continent and seas which never man had yet ploughed.
Captain Nemo, furnished with a lenticular glass which, by means
of a mirror, corrected the refraction, watched the orb sinking
below the horizon by degrees, following a lengthened diagonal.
I held the chronometer. My heart beat fast. If the disappearance of
the half-disc of the sun coincided with twelve o'clock on the chronometer,
we were at the pole itself.
"Twelve!" I exclaimed.
"The South Pole!" replied Captain Nemo, in a grave voice,
handing me the glass, which showed the orb cut in exactly equal
parts by the horizon.
I looked at the last rays crowning the peak, and the shadows
mounting by degrees up its slopes. At that moment Captain Nemo,
resting with his hand on my shoulder, said:
"I, Captain Nemo, on this 21st day of March, 1868, have reached the South Pole
on the ninetieth degree; and I take possession of this part of the globe,
equal to one-sixth of the known continents."
"In whose name, Captain?"
"In my own, sir!"
Saying which, Captain Nemo unfurled a black banner, bearing an "N"
in gold quartered on its bunting. Then, turning towards the orb of day,
whose last rays lapped the horizon of the sea, he exclaimed:
"Adieu, sun! Disappear, thou radiant orb! rest beneath this open sea,
and let a night of six months spread its shadows over my new domains!"
CHAPTER XV
ACCIDENT OR INCIDENT?
The next day, the 22nd of March, at six in the morning,
preparations for departure were begun. The last gleams
of twilight were melting into night. The cold was great,
the constellations shone with wonderful intensity.
In the zenith glittered that wondrous Southern Cross--
the polar bear of Antarctic regions. The thermometer showed 120
below zero, and when the wind freshened it was most biting.
Flakes of ice increased on the open water. The sea seemed
everywhere alike. Numerous blackish patches spread on the surface,
showing the formation of fresh ice. Evidently the southern basin,
frozen during the six winter months, was absolutely inaccessible.
What became of the whales in that time? Doubtless they
went beneath the icebergs, seeking more practicable seas.
As to the seals and morses, accustomed to live in a hard climate,
they remained on these icy shores. These creatures have the
instinct to break holes in the ice-field and to keep them open.
To these holes they come for breath; when the birds,
driven away by the cold, have emigrated to the north,
these sea mammals remain sole masters of the polar continent.
But the reservoirs were filling with water, and the Nautilus
was slowly descending. At 1,000 feet deep it stopped;
its screw beat the waves, and it advanced straight towards
the north at a speed of fifteen miles an hour. Towards night
it was already floating under the immense body of the iceberg.
At three in the morning I was awakened by a violent shock.
I sat up in my bed and listened in the darkness,
when I was thrown into the middle of the room.
The Nautilus, after having struck, had rebounded violently.
I groped along the partition, and by the staircase to the saloon,
which was lit by the luminous ceiling. The furniture was upset.
Fortunately the windows were firmly set, and had held fast.
The pictures on the starboard side, from being no longer vertical,
were clinging to the paper, whilst those of the port side
were hanging at least a foot from the wall. The Nautilus
was lying on its starboard side perfectly motionless.
I heard footsteps, and a confusion of voices; but Captain Nemo did
not appear. As I was leaving the saloon, Ned Land and Conseil
entered.
"What is the matter?" said I, at once.
"I came to ask you, sir," replied Conseil.
"Confound it!" exclaimed the Canadian, "I know well enough!
The Nautilus has struck; and, judging by the way she lies,
I do not think she will right herself as she did the first time
in Torres Straits."
"But," I asked, "has she at least come to the surface of the sea?"
"We do not know," said Conseil.
"It is easy to decide," I answered. I consulted the manometer.
To my great surprise, it showed a depth of more than 180 fathoms.
"What does that mean?" I exclaimed.
"We must ask Captain Nemo," said Conseil.
"But where shall we find him?" said Ned Land.
"Follow me," said I, to my companions.
We left the saloon. There was no one in the library.
At the centre staircase, by the berths of the ship's crew, there was
no one. I thought that Captain Nemo must be in the pilot's cage.
It was best to wait. We all returned to the saloon. For twenty
minutes we remained thus, trying to hear the slightest noise which
might be made on board the Nautilus, when Captain Nemo entered.
He seemed not to see us; his face, generally so impassive,
showed signs of uneasiness. He watched the compass silently,
then the manometer; and, going to the planisphere,
placed his finger on a spot representing the southern seas.
I would not interrupt him; but, some minutes later, when he
turned towards me, I said, using one of his own expressions
in the Torres Straits:
"An incident, Captain?"
"No, sir; an accident this time."
"Serious?"
"Perhaps."
"Is the danger immediate?"
"No."
"The Nautilus has stranded?"
"Yes."
"And this has happened--how?"
"From a caprice of nature, not from the ignorance of man.
Not a mistake has been made in the working. But we cannot prevent
equilibrium from producing its effects. We may brave human laws,
but we cannot resist natural ones."
Captain Nemo had chosen a strange moment for uttering this
philosophical reflection. On the whole, his answer helped me little.
"May I ask, sir, the cause of this accident?"
"An enormous block of ice, a whole mountain, has turned over," he replied.
"When icebergs are undermined at their base by warmer water or reiterated
shocks their centre of gravity rises, and the whole thing turns over.
This is what has happened; one of these blocks, as it fell,
struck the Nautilus, then, gliding under its hull, raised it with
irresistible force, bringing it into beds which are not so thick,
where it is lying on its side."
"But can we not get the Nautilus off by emptying its reservoirs,
that it might regain its equilibrium?"
"That, sir, is being done at this moment. You can hear the pump working.
Look at the needle of the manometer; it shows that the Nautilus is rising,
but the block of ice is floating with it; and, until some obstacle stops its
ascending motion, our position cannot be altered."
Indeed, the Nautilus still held the same position to starboard;
doubtless it would right itself when the block stopped.
But at this moment who knows if we may not be frightfully
crushed between the two glassy surfaces? I reflected on all
the consequences of our position. Captain Nemo never took
his eyes off the manometer. Since the fall of the iceberg,
the Nautilus had risen about a hundred and fifty feet,
but it still made the same angle with the perpendicular.
Suddenly a slight movement was felt in the hold.
Evidently it was righting a little. Things hanging in
the saloon were sensibly returning to their normal position.
The partitions were nearing the upright. No one spoke.
With beating hearts we watched and felt the straightening.
The boards became horizontal under our feet.
Ten minutes passed.
"At last we have righted!" I exclaimed.
"Yes," said Captain Nemo, going to the door of the saloon.
"But are we floating?" I asked.
"Certainly," he replied; "since the reservoirs are not empty; and, when empty,
the Nautilus must rise to the surface of the sea."
We were in open sea; but at a distance of about ten yards,
on either side of the Nautilus, rose a dazzling wall of ice.
Above and beneath the same wall. Above, because the lower surface
of the iceberg stretched over us like an immense ceiling.
Beneath, because the overturned block, having slid by degrees, had found
a resting-place on the lateral walls, which kept it in that position.
The Nautilus was really imprisoned in a perfect tunnel of ice
more than twenty yards in breadth, filled with quiet water.
It was easy to get out of it by going either forward or backward,
and then make a free passage under the iceberg, some hundreds
of yards deeper. The luminous ceiling had been extinguished,
but the saloon was still resplendent with intense light.
It was the powerful reflection from the glass partition sent violently
back to the sheets of the lantern. I cannot describe the effect
of the voltaic rays upon the great blocks so capriciously cut;
upon every angle, every ridge, every facet was thrown a different light,
according to the nature of the veins running through the ice;
a dazzling mine of gems, particularly of sapphires, their blue rays
crossing with the green of the emerald. Here and there were opal
shades of wonderful softness, running through bright spots like
diamonds of fire, the brilliancy of which the eye could not bear.
The power of the lantern seemed increased a hundredfold, like a lamp
through the lenticular plates of a first-class lighthouse.
"How beautiful! how beautiful!" cried Conseil.
"Yes," I said, "it is a wonderful sight. Is it not, Ned?"
"Yes, confound it! Yes," answered Ned Land, "it is superb!
I am mad at being obliged to admit it. No one has ever seen anything
like it; but the sight may cost us dear. And, if I must say all,
I think we are seeing here things which God never intended
man to see."
Ned was right, it was too beautiful. Suddenly a cry from Conseil
made me turn.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Shut your eyes, sir! Do not look, sir!" Saying which,
Conseil clapped his hands over his eyes.
"But what is the matter, my boy?"
"I am dazzled, blinded."
My eyes turned involuntarily towards the glass, but I could not stand
the fire which seemed to devour them. I understood what had happened.
The Nautilus had put on full speed. All the quiet lustre of the ice-walls
was at once changed into flashes of lightning. The fire from these myriads
of diamonds was blinding. It required some time to calm our troubled looks.
At last the hands were taken down.
"Faith, I should never have believed it," said Conseil.
It was then five in the morning; and at that moment a shock was
felt at the bows of the Nautilus. I knew that its spur had struck
a block of ice. It must have been a false manoeuvre, for this
submarine tunnel, obstructed by blocks, was not very easy navigation.
I thought that Captain Nemo, by changing his course, would either
turn these obstacles or else follow the windings of the tunnel.
In any case, the road before us could not be entirely blocked.
But, contrary to my expectations, the Nautilus took a decided
retrograde motion.
"We are going backwards?" said Conseil.
"Yes," I replied. "This end of the tunnel can have no egress."
"And then?"
"Then," said I, "the working is easy. We must go back again,
and go out at the southern opening. That is all."
In speaking thus, I wished to appear more confident than I really was.
But the retrograde motion of the Nautilus was increasing; and, reversing
the screw, it carried us at great speed.
"It will be a hindrance," said Ned.
"What does it matter, some hours more or less, provided we get
out at last?"
"Yes," repeated Ned Land, "provided we do get out at last!"
For a short time I walked from the saloon to the library.
My companions were silent. I soon threw myself on an ottoman,
and took a book, which my eyes overran mechanically. A quarter
of an hour after, Conseil, approaching me, said, "Is what you are
reading very interesting, sir?"
"Very interesting!" I replied.
"I should think so, sir. It is your own book you are reading."
"My book?"
And indeed I was holding in my hand the work on the Great Submarine Depths.
I did not even dream of it. I closed the book and returned to my walk.
Ned and Conseil rose to go.
"Stay here, my friends," said I, detaining them.
"Let us remain together until we are out of this block."
"As you please, sir," Conseil replied.
Some hours passed. I often looked at the instruments hanging
from the partition. The manometer showed that the Nautilus kept
at a constant depth of more than three hundred yards; the compass
still pointed to south; the log indicated a speed of twenty
miles an hour, which, in such a cramped space, was very great.
But Captain Nemo knew that he could not hasten too much,
and that minutes were worth ages to us. At twenty-five minutes
past eight a second shock took place, this time from behind.
I turned pale. My companions were close by my side.
I seized Conseil's hand. Our looks expressed our feelings better
than words. At this moment the Captain entered the saloon.
I went up to him.
"Our course is barred southward?" I asked.
"Yes, sir. The iceberg has shifted and closed every outlet."
"We are blocked up then?"
"Yes."
You are now at the end of the section:
"20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,
Part 2, Chapters 11-15"
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