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CHAPTER XVI
WANT OF AIR
Thus around the Nautilus, above and below, was an impenetrable wall
of ice. We were prisoners to the iceberg. I watched the Captain.
His countenance had resumed its habitual imperturbability.
"Gentlemen," he said calmly, "there are two ways of dying in
the circumstances in which we are placed." (This puzzling person
had the air of a mathematical professor lecturing to his pupils.)
"The first is to be crushed; the second is to die of suffocation.
I do not speak of the possibility of dying of hunger, for the supply
of provisions in the Nautilus will certainly last longer than we shall.
Let us, then, calculate our chances."
"As to suffocation, Captain," I replied, "that is not to be feared,
because our reservoirs are full."
"Just so; but they will only yield two days' supply of air.
Now, for thirty-six hours we have been hidden under the water,
and already the heavy atmosphere of the Nautilus requires renewal.
In forty-eight hours our reserve will be exhausted."
"Well, Captain, can we be delivered before forty-eight hours?"
"We will attempt it, at least, by piercing the wall that surrounds us."
"On which side?"
"Sound will tell us. I am going to run the Nautilus aground
on the lower bank, and my men will attack the iceberg on the side
that is least thick."
Captain Nemo went out. Soon I discovered by a hissing noise
that the water was entering the reservoirs. The Nautilus
sank slowly, and rested on the ice at a depth of 350 yards,
the depth at which the lower bank was immersed.
"My friends," I said, "our situation is serious, but I rely
on your courage and energy."
"Sir," replied the Canadian, "I am ready to do anything
for the general safety."
"Good! Ned," and I held out my hand to the Canadian.
"I will add," he continued, "that, being as handy with the pickaxe
as with the harpoon, if I can be useful to the Captain, he can
command my services."
"He will not refuse your help. Come, Ned!"
I led him to the room where the crew of the Nautilus
were putting on their cork-jackets. I told the Captain
of Ned's proposal, which he accepted. The Canadian put on
his sea-costume, and was ready as soon as his companions.
When Ned was dressed, I re-entered the drawing-room, where
the panes of glass were open, and, posted near Conseil,
I examined the ambient beds that supported the Nautilus.
Some instants after, we saw a dozen of the crew set foot on the bank
of ice, and among them Ned Land, easily known by his stature.
Captain Nemo was with them. Before proceeding to dig the walls,
he took the soundings, to be sure of working in the right direction.
Long sounding lines were sunk in the side walls, but after
fifteen yards they were again stopped by the thick wall.
It was useless to attack it on the ceiling-like surface,
since the iceberg itself measured more than 400 yards in height.
Captain Nemo then sounded the lower surface. There ten yards
of wall separated us from the water, so great was the thickness
of the ice-field. It was necessary, therefore, to cut from it
a piece equal in extent to the waterline of the Nautilus.
There were about 6,000 cubic yards to detach, so as to dig
a hole by which we could descend to the ice-field. The work
had begun immediately and carried on with indefatigable energy.
Instead of digging round the Nautilus which would have involved
greater difficulty, Captain Nemo had an immense trench made at eight
yards from the port-quarter. Then the men set to work simultaneously
with their screws on several points of its circumference.
Presently the pickaxe attacked this compact matter vigorously,
and large blocks were detached from the mass. By a curious
effect of specific gravity, these blocks, lighter than water,
fled, so to speak, to the vault of the tunnel, that increased
in thickness at the top in proportion as it diminished at the base.
But that mattered little, so long as the lower part grew thinner.
After two hours' hard work, Ned Land came in exhausted. He and his
comrades were replaced by new workers, whom Conseil and I joined.
The second lieutenant of the Nautilus superintended us.
The water seemed singularly cold, but I soon got warm
handling the pickaxe. My movements were free enough,
although they were made under a pressure of thirty atmospheres.
When I re-entered, after working two hours, to take some food
and rest, I found a perceptible difference between the pure
fluid with which the Rouquayrol engine supplied me and the
atmosphere of the Nautilus, already charged with carbonic acid.
The air had not been renewed for forty-eight hours, and its vivifying
qualities were considerably enfeebled. However, after a lapse
of twelve hours, we had only raised a block of ice one yard thick,
on the marked surface, which was about 600 cubic yards!
Reckoning that it took twelve hours to accomplish this much it
would take five nights and four days to bring this enterprise
to a satisfactory conclusion. Five nights and four days!
And we have only air enough for two days in the reservoirs!
"Without taking into account," said Ned, "that, even if we get out
of this infernal prison, we shall also be imprisoned under the iceberg,
shut out from all possible communication with the atmosphere."
True enough! Who could then foresee the minimum of time
necessary for our deliverance? We might be suffocated before
the Nautilus could regain the surface of the waves? Was it
destined to perish in this ice-tomb, with all those it enclosed?
The situation was terrible. But everyone had looked the danger
in the face, and each was determined to do his duty to the
last.
As I expected, during the night a new block a yard square
was carried away, and still further sank the immense hollow.
But in the morning when, dressed in my cork-jacket, I traversed
the slushy mass at a temperature of six or seven degrees below zero,
I remarked that the side walls were gradually closing in.
The beds of water farthest from the trench, that were not warmed
by the men's work, showed a tendency to solidification. In presence
of this new and imminent danger, what would become of our chances
of safety, and how hinder the solidification of this liquid medium,
that would burst the partitions of the Nautilus like glass?
I did not tell my companions of this new danger.
What was the good of damping the energy they displayed in
the painful work of escape? But when I went on board again,
I told Captain Nemo of this grave complication.
"I know it," he said, in that calm tone which could counteract
the most terrible apprehensions. "It is one danger more;
but I see no way of escaping it; the only chance of safety is to go
quicker than solidification. We must be beforehand with it,
that is all."
On this day for several hours I used my pickaxe vigorously.
The work kept me up. Besides, to work was to quit the Nautilus,
and breathe directly the pure air drawn from the reservoirs,
and supplied by our apparatus, and to quit the impoverished and
vitiated atmosphere. Towards evening the trench was dug one yard deeper.
When I returned on board, I was nearly suffocated by the carbonic
acid with which the air was filled--ah! if we had only the chemical
means to drive away this deleterious gas. We had plenty of oxygen;
all this water contained a considerable quantity, and by dissolving
it with our powerful piles, it would restore the vivifying fluid.
I had thought well over it; but of what good was that,
since the carbonic acid produced by our respiration had invaded
every part of the vessel? To absorb it, it was necessary to fill
some jars with caustic potash, and to shake them incessantly.
Now this substance was wanting on board, and nothing could replace it.
On that evening, Captain Nemo ought to open the taps of his reservoirs,
and let some pure air into the interior of the Nautilus; without this
precaution we could not get rid of the sense of suffocation. The next day,
March 26th, I resumed my miner's work in beginning the fifth yard.
The side walls and the lower surface of the iceberg thickened visibly.
It was evident that they would meet before the Nautilus was
able to disengage itself. Despair seized me for an instant;
my pickaxe nearly fell from my hands. What was the good of digging
if I must be suffocated, crushed by the water that was turning
into stone?--a punishment that the ferocity of the savages even
would not have invented! Just then Captain Nemo passed near me.
I touched his hand and showed him the walls of our prison.
The wall to port had advanced to at least four yards from the hull of
the Nautilus. The Captain understood me, and signed me to follow him.
We went on board. I took off my cork-jacket and accompanied him into the
drawing-room.
"M. Aronnax, we must attempt some desperate means, or we shall
be sealed up in this solidified water as in cement."
"Yes; but what is to be done?"
"Ah! if my Nautilus were strong enough to bear this pressure
without being crushed!"
"Well?" I asked, not catching the Captain's idea.
"Do you not understand," he replied, "that this congelation of water
will help us? Do you not see that by its solidification, it would
burst through this field of ice that imprisons us, as, when it freezes,
it bursts the hardest stones? Do you not perceive that it would be
an agent of safety instead of destruction?"
"Yes, Captain, perhaps. But, whatever resistance to crushing
the Nautilus possesses, it could not support this terrible pressure,
and would be flattened like an iron plate."
"I know it, sir. Therefore we must not reckon on the aid of nature,
but on our own exertions. We must stop this solidification.
Not only will the side walls be pressed together; but there
is not ten feet of water before or behind the Nautilus.
The congelation gains on us on all sides."
"How long will the air in the reservoirs last for us to breathe on board?"
The Captain looked in my face. "After to-morrow they will be empty!"
A cold sweat came over me. However, ought I to have been astonished
at the answer? On March 22, the Nautilus was in the open polar seas.
We were at 26@. For five days we had lived on the reserve on board.
And what was left of the respirable air must be kept for the workers.
Even now, as I write, my recollection is still so vivid that an
involuntary terror seizes me and my lungs seem to be without air.
Meanwhile, Captain Nemo reflected silently, and evidently an idea
had struck him; but he seemed to reject it. At last, these words
escaped his lips:
"Boiling water!" he muttered.
"Boiling water?" I cried.
"Yes, sir. We are enclosed in a space that is relatively confined.
Would not jets of boiling water, constantly injected by the pumps,
raise the temperature in this part and stay the congelation?"
"Let us try it," I said resolutely.
"Let us try it, Professor."
The thermometer then stood at 7@ outside. Captain Nemo took
me to the galleys, where the vast distillatory machines
stood that furnished the drinkable water by evaporation.
They filled these with water, and all the electric heat from
the piles was thrown through the worms bathed in the liquid.
In a few minutes this water reached 100@. It was directed
towards the pumps, while fresh water replaced it in proportion.
The heat developed by the troughs was such that cold water,
drawn up from the sea after only having gone through the machines,
came boiling into the body of the pump. The injection was begun,
and three hours after the thermometer marked 6@ below zero outside.
One degree was gained. Two hours later the thermometer only marked
4@.
"We shall succeed," I said to the Captain, after having anxiously
watched the result of the operation.
"I think," he answered, "that we shall not be crushed.
We have no more suffocation to fear."
During the night the temperature of the water rose to 1@ below zero.
The injections could not carry it to a higher point. But, as the congelation
of the sea-water produces at least 2@, I was at least reassured against
the dangers of solidification.
The next day, March 27th, six yards of ice had been cleared, twelve feet
only remaining to be cleared away. There was yet forty-eight hours' work.
The air could not be renewed in the interior of the Nautilus.
And this day would make it worse. An intolerable weight oppressed me.
Towards three o'clock in the evening this feeling rose to a violent degree.
Yawns dislocated my jaws. My lungs panted as they inhaled this burning fluid,
which became rarefied more and more. A moral torpor took hold of me.
I was powerless, almost unconscious. My brave Conseil, though exhibiting
the same symptoms and suffering in the same manner, never left me.
He took my hand and encouraged me, and I heard him murmur, "Oh! if I could
only not breathe, so as to leave more air for my master!"
Tears came into my eyes on hearing him speak thus. If our
situation to all was intolerable in the interior, with what haste
and gladness would we put on our cork-jackets to work in our turn!
Pickaxes sounded on the frozen ice-beds. Our arms ached,
the skin was torn off our hands. But what were these fatigues,
what did the wounds matter? Vital air came to the lungs!
We breathed! we breathed!
All this time no one prolonged his voluntary task beyond the prescribed time.
His task accomplished, each one handed in turn to his panting companions
the apparatus that supplied him with life. Captain Nemo set the example,
and submitted first to this severe discipline. When the time came,
he gave up his apparatus to another and returned to the vitiated air
on board, calm, unflinching, unmurmuring.
On that day the ordinary work was accomplished with unusual vigour.
Only two yards remained to be raised from the surface.
Two yards only separated us from the open sea. But the reservoirs
were nearly emptied of air. The little that remained ought
to be kept for the workers; not a particle for the Nautilus.
When I went back on board, I was half suffocated. What a night!
I know not how to describe it. The next day my breathing
was oppressed. Dizziness accompanied the pain in my head and made
me like a drunken man. My companions showed the same symptoms.
Some of the crew had rattling in the throat.
On that day, the sixth of our imprisonment, Captain Nemo,
finding the pickaxes work too slowly, resolved to crush
the ice-bed that still separated us from the liquid sheet.
This man's coolness and energy never forsook him. He subdued his
physical pains by moral force.
By his orders the vessel was lightened, that is to say,
raised from the ice-bed by a change of specific gravity.
When it floated they towed it so as to bring it above
the immense trench made on the level of the water-line. Then,
filling his reservoirs of water, he descended and shut himself up
in the hole.
Just then all the crew came on board, and the double door of communication
was shut. The Nautilus then rested on the bed of ice, which was not one
yard thick, and which the sounding leads had perforated in a thousand places.
The taps of the reservoirs were then opened, and a hundred cubic yards
of water was let in, increasing the weight of the Nautilus to 1,800 tons.
We waited, we listened, forgetting our sufferings in hope. Our safety
depended on this last chance. Notwithstanding the buzzing in my head,
I soon heard the humming sound under the hull of the Nautilus. The ice
cracked with a singular noise, like tearing paper, and the Nautilus sank.
"We are off!" murmured Conseil in my ear.
I could not answer him. I seized his hand, and pressed it convulsively.
All at once, carried away by its frightful overcharge, the Nautilus sank like
a bullet under the waters, that is to say, it fell as if it was in a vacuum.
Then all the electric force was put on the pumps, that soon began to let
the water out of the reservoirs. After some minutes, our fall was stopped.
Soon, too, the manometer indicated an ascending movement. The screw,
going at full speed, made the iron hull tremble to its very bolts and drew
us towards the north. But if this floating under the iceberg is to last
another day before we reach the open sea, I shall be dead first.
Half stretched upon a divan in the library, I was suffocating.
My face was purple, my lips blue, my faculties suspended.
I neither saw nor heard. All notion of time had gone from my mind.
My muscles could not contract. I do not know how many hours
passed thus, but I was conscious of the agony that was coming over me.
I felt as if I was going to die. Suddenly I came to.
Some breaths of air penetrated my lungs. Had we risen to the surface
of the waves? Were we free of the iceberg? No! Ned and Conseil,
my two brave friends, were sacrificing themselves to save me.
Some particles of air still remained at the bottom of one apparatus.
Instead of using it, they had kept it for me, and, while they
were being suffocated, they gave me life, drop by drop.
I wanted to push back the thing; they held my hands,
and for some moments I breathed freely. I looked at the clock;
it was eleven in the morning. It ought to be the 28th of March.
The Nautilus went at a frightful pace, forty miles an hour. It literally
tore through the water. Where was Captain Nemo? Had he succumbed?
Were his companions dead with him? At the moment the manometer
indicated that we were not more than twenty feet from the surface.
A mere plate of ice separated us from the atmosphere. Could we not
break it? Perhaps. In any case the Nautilus was going to attempt it.
I felt that it was in an oblique position, lowering the stern,
and raising the bows. The introduction of water had been the means
of disturbing its equilibrium. Then, impelled by its powerful screw,
it attacked the ice-field from beneath like a formidable battering-ram.
It broke it by backing and then rushing forward against the field,
which gradually gave way; and at last, dashing suddenly against it,
shot forwards on the ice-field, that crushed beneath its weight.
The panel was opened--one might say torn off--and the pure air came in in
abundance to all parts of the Nautilus.
CHAPTER XVII
FROM CAPE HORN TO THE AMAZON
How I got on to the platform, I have no idea; perhaps the Canadian
had carried me there. But I breathed, I inhaled the vivifying sea-air.
My two companions were getting drunk with the fresh particles.
The other unhappy men had been so long without food, that they
could not with impunity indulge in the simplest aliments that were
given them. We, on the contrary, had no end to restrain ourselves;
we could draw this air freely into our lungs, and it was the breeze,
the breeze alone, that filled us with this keen enjoyment.
"Ah!" said Conseil, "how delightful this oxygen is!
Master need not fear to breathe it. There is enough for everybody."
Ned Land did not speak, but he opened his jaws wide enough
to frighten a shark. Our strength soon returned, and, when I
looked round me, I saw we were alone on the platform.
The foreign seamen in the Nautilus were contented with the air
that circulated in the interior; none of them had come to drink
in the open air.
The first words I spoke were words of gratitude and
thankfulness to my two companions. Ned and Conseil had
prolonged my life during the last hours of this long agony.
All my gratitude could not repay such devotion.
"My friends," said I, "we are bound one to the other for ever,
and I am under infinite obligations to you."
"Which I shall take advantage of," exclaimed the Canadian.
"What do you mean?" said Conseil.
"I mean that I shall take you with me when I leave this infernal Nautilus."
"Well," said Conseil, "after all this, are we going right?"
"Yes," I replied, "for we are going the way of the sun,
and here the sun is in the north."
"No doubt," said Ned Land; "but it remains to be seen whether
he will bring the ship into the Pacific or the Atlantic Ocean,
that is, into frequented or deserted seas."
I could not answer that question, and I feared that Captain Nemo
would rather take us to the vast ocean that touches the coasts
of Asia and America at the same time. He would thus complete
the tour round the submarine world, and return to those waters
in which the Nautilus could sail freely. We ought, before long,
to settle this important point. The Nautilus went at a rapid pace.
The polar circle was soon passed, and the course shaped for Cape Horn.
We were off the American point, March 31st, at seven o'clock
in the evening. Then all our past sufferings were forgotten.
The remembrance of that imprisonment in the ice was effaced
from our minds. We only thought of the future. Captain Nemo did
not appear again either in the drawing-room or on the platform.
The point shown each day on the planisphere, and, marked by
the lieutenant, showed me the exact direction of the Nautilus.
Now, on that evening, it was evident, to, my great satisfaction,
that we were going back to the North by the Atlantic.
The next day, April 1st, when the Nautilus ascended to the surface
some minutes before noon, we sighted land to the west.
It was Terra del Fuego, which the first navigators named thus from
seeing the quantity of smoke that rose from the natives' huts.
The coast seemed low to me, but in the distance rose high mountains.
I even thought I had a glimpse of Mount Sarmiento, that rises 2,070
yards above the level of the sea, with a very pointed summit, which,
according as it is misty or clear, is a sign of fine or of wet weather.
At this moment the peak was clearly defined against the sky.
The Nautilus, diving again under the water, approached the coast,
which was only some few miles off. From the glass windows in
the drawing-room, I saw long seaweeds and gigantic fuci and varech,
of which the open polar sea contains so many specimens, with their
sharp polished filaments; they measured about 300 yards in length--
real cables, thicker than one's thumb; and, having great tenacity,
they are often used as ropes for vessels. Another weed known as velp,
with leaves four feet long, buried in the coral concretions,
hung at the bottom. It served as nest and food for myriads
of crustacea and molluscs, crabs, and cuttlefish.
There seals and otters had splendid repasts, eating the flesh
of fish with sea-vegetables, according to the English fashion.
Over this fertile and luxuriant ground the Nautilus passed with
great rapidity. Towards evening it approached the Falkland group,
the rough summits of which I recognised the following day.
The depth of the sea was moderate. On the shores our nets brought
in beautiful specimens of sea weed, and particularly a certain fucus,
the roots of which were filled with the best mussels in the world.
Geese and ducks fell by dozens on the platform, and soon took
their places in the pantry on board.
When the last heights of the Falklands had disappeared
from the horizon, the Nautilus sank to between twenty
and twenty-five yards, and followed the American coast.
Captain Nemo did not show himself. Until the 3rd of April we
did not quit the shores of Patagonia, sometimes under the ocean,
sometimes at the surface. The Nautilus passed beyond the large
estuary formed by the Uraguay. Its direction was northwards,
and followed the long windings of the coast of South America.
We had then made 1,600 miles since our embarkation in the seas
of Japan. About eleven o'clock in the morning the Tropic
of Capricorn was crossed on the thirty-seventh meridian,
and we passed Cape Frio standing out to sea. Captain Nemo,
to Ned Land's great displeasure, did not like the neighbourhood
of the inhabited coasts of Brazil, for we went at a giddy speed.
Not a fish, not a bird of the swiftest kind could follow us,
and the natural curiosities of these seas escaped all observation.
This speed was kept up for several days, and in the evening
of the 9th of April we sighted the most westerly point of South
America that forms Cape San Roque. But then the Nautilus
swerved again, and sought the lowest depth of a submarine valley
which is between this Cape and Sierra Leone on the African coast.
This valley bifurcates to the parallel of the Antilles,
and terminates at the mouth by the enormous depression of 9,000 yards.
In this place, the geological basin of the ocean forms,
as far as the Lesser Antilles, a cliff to three and a half
miles perpendicular in height, and, at the parallel of
the Cape Verde Islands, an other wall not less considerable,
that encloses thus all the sunk continent of the Atlantic.
The bottom of this immense valley is dotted with some mountains,
that give to these submarine places a picturesque aspect.
I speak, moreover, from the manuscript charts that were in the library
of the Nautilus--charts evidently due to Captain Nemo's hand,
and made after his personal observations. For two days the desert
and deep waters were visited by means of the inclined planes.
The Nautilus was furnished with long diagonal broadsides which carried
it to all elevations. But on the 11th of April it rose suddenly,
and land appeared at the mouth of the Amazon River, a vast estuary,
the embouchure of which is so considerable that it freshens
the sea-water for the distance of several leagues. {8 paragraphs
are deleted from this edition}
CHAPTER XVIII
THE POULPS
For several days the Nautilus kept off from the American coast.
Evidently it did not wish to risk the tides of the Gulf of
Mexico or of the sea of the Antilles. April 16th, we sighted
Martinique and Guadaloupe from a distance of about thirty miles.
I saw their tall peaks for an instant. The Canadian,
who counted on carrying out his projects in the Gulf,
by either landing or hailing one of the numerous boats that
coast from one island to another, was quite disheartened.
Flight would have been quite practicable, if Ned Land had been able
to take possession of the boat without the Captain's knowledge.
But in the open sea it could not be thought of. The Canadian,
Conseil, and I had a long conversation on this subject.
For six months we had been prisoners on board the Nautilus.
We had travelled 17,000 leagues; and, as Ned Land said, there was
no reason why it should come to an end. We could hope nothing
from the Captain of the Nautilus, but only from ourselves.
Besides, for some time past he had become graver, more retired,
less sociable. He seemed to shun me. I met him rarely.
Formerly he was pleased to explain the submarine marvels to me;
now he left me to my studies, and came no more to the saloon.
What change had come over him? For what cause? For my part,
I did not wish to bury with me my curious and novel studies.
I had now the power to write the true book of the sea;
and this book, sooner or later, I wished to see daylight.
The land nearest us was the archipelago of the Bahamas. There rose
high submarine cliffs covered with large weeds. It was about eleven
o'clock when Ned Land drew my attention to a formidable pricking,
like the sting of an ant, which was produced by means of large
seaweeds.
"Well," I said, "these are proper caverns for poulps, and I
should not be astonished to see some of these monsters."
"What!" said Conseil; "cuttlefish, real cuttlefish of the cephalopod class?"
"No," I said, "poulps of huge dimensions."
"I will never believe that such animals exist," said Ned.
"Well," said Conseil, with the most serious air in the world,
"I remember perfectly to have seen a large vessel drawn under
the waves by an octopus's arm."
"You saw that?" said the Canadian.
"Yes, Ned."
"With your own eyes?"
"With my own eyes."
"Where, pray, might that be?"
"At St. Malo," answered Conseil.
"In the port?" said Ned, ironically.
"No; in a church," replied Conseil.
"In a church!" cried the Canadian.
"Yes; friend Ned. In a picture representing the poulp in question."
"Good!" said Ned Land, bursting out laughing.
"He is quite right," I said. "I have heard of this picture;
but the subject represented is taken from a legend, and you know
what to think of legends in the matter of natural history.
Besides, when it is a question of monsters, the imagination
is apt to run wild. Not only is it supposed that these poulps
can draw down vessels, but a certain Olaus Magnus speaks of an
octopus a mile long that is more like an island than an animal.
It is also said that the Bishop of Nidros was building
an altar on an immense rock. Mass finished, the rock began
to walk, and returned to the sea. The rock was a poulp.
Another Bishop, Pontoppidan, speaks also of a poulp on which
a regiment of cavalry could manoeuvre. Lastly, the ancient
naturalists speak of monsters whose mouths were like gulfs,
and which were too large to pass through the Straits of Gibraltar."
"But how much is true of these stories?" asked Conseil.
"Nothing, my friends; at least of that which passes the limit of truth
to get to fable or legend. Nevertheless, there must be some ground
for the imagination of the story-tellers. One cannot deny that poulps and
cuttlefish exist of a large species, inferior, however, to the cetaceans.
Aristotle has stated the dimensions of a cuttlefish as five cubits,
or nine feet two inches. Our fishermen frequently see some that are
more than four feet long. Some skeletons of poulps are preserved in
the museums of Trieste and Montpelier, that measure two yards in length.
Besides, according to the calculations of some naturalists, one of these
animals only six feet long would have tentacles twenty-seven feet long.
That would suffice to make a formidable monster."
"Do they fish for them in these days?" asked Ned.
"If they do not fish for them, sailors see them at least.
One of my friends, Captain Paul Bos of Havre, has often affirmed
that he met one of these monsters of colossal dimensions in
the Indian seas. But the most astonishing fact, and which does
not permit of the denial of the existence of these gigantic animals,
happened some years ago, in 1861."
"What is the fact?" asked Ned Land.
"This is it. In 1861, to the north-east of Teneriffe, very nearly
in the same latitude we are in now, the crew of the despatch-boat
Alector perceived a monstrous cuttlefish swimming in the waters.
Captain Bouguer went near to the animal, and attacked it with
harpoon and guns, without much success, for balls and harpoons
glided over the soft flesh. After several fruitless attempts
the crew tried to pass a slip-knot round the body of the mollusc.
The noose slipped as far as the tail fins and there stopped.
They tried then to haul it on board, but its weight was so
considerable that the tightness of the cord separated the tail
from the body, and, deprived of this ornament, he disappeared
under the water."
"Indeed! is that a fact?"
"An indisputable fact, my good Ned. They proposed to name this
poulp `Bouguer's cuttlefish.'"
"What length was it?" asked the Canadian.
"Did it not measure about six yards?" said Conseil, who, posted at the window,
was examining again the irregular windings of the cliff.
"Precisely," I replied.
"Its head," rejoined Conseil, "was it not crowned with eight tentacles,
that beat the water like a nest of serpents?"
"Precisely."
"Had not its eyes, placed at the back of its head, considerable development?"
"Yes, Conseil."
"And was not its mouth like a parrot's beak?"
"Exactly, Conseil."
"Very well! no offence to master," he replied, quietly; "if this
is not Bouguer's cuttlefish, it is, at least, one of its brothers."
I looked at Conseil. Ned Land hurried to the window.
"What a horrible beast!" he cried.
I looked in my turn, and could not repress a gesture of disgust.
Before my eyes was a horrible monster worthy to figure in the legends
of the marvellous. It was an immense cuttlefish, being eight yards long.
It swam crossways in the direction of the Nautilus with great speed,
watching us with its enormous staring green eyes. Its eight arms,
or rather feet, fixed to its head, that have given the name
of cephalopod to these animals, were twice as long as its body,
and were twisted like the furies' hair. One could see the 250 air
holes on the inner side of the tentacles. The monster's mouth,
a horned beak like a parrot's, opened and shut vertically.
Its tongue, a horned substance, furnished with several rows
of pointed teeth, came out quivering from this veritable pair
of shears. What a freak of nature, a bird's beak on a mollusc!
Its spindle-like body formed a fleshy mass that might weigh 4,000
to 5,000 lb.; the, varying colour changing with great rapidity,
according to the irritation of the animal, passed successively
from livid grey to reddish brown. What irritated this mollusc?
No doubt the presence of the Nautilus, more formidable than itself,
and on which its suckers or its jaws had no hold. Yet, what monsters
these poulps are! what vitality the Creator has given them!
what vigour in their movements! and they possess three hearts!
Chance had brought us in presence of this cuttlefish, and I did not wish
to lose the opportunity of carefully studying this specimen of cephalopods.
I overcame the horror that inspired me, and, taking a pencil, began
to draw it.
"Perhaps this is the same which the Alector saw," said Conseil.
"No," replied the Canadian; "for this is whole, and the other
had lost its tail."
"That is no reason," I replied. "The arms and tails of these animals
are re-formed by renewal; and in seven years the tail of Bouguer's
cuttlefish has no doubt had time to grow."
By this time other poulps appeared at the port light. I counted seven.
They formed a procession after the Nautilus, and I heard their beaks
gnashing against the iron hull. I continued my work. These monsters
kept in the water with such precision that they seemed immovable.
Suddenly the Nautilus stopped. A shock made it tremble in every plate.
"Have we struck anything?" I asked.
"In any case," replied the Canadian, "we shall be free,
for we are floating."
The Nautilus was floating, no doubt, but it did not move.
A minute passed. Captain Nemo, followed by his lieutenant,
entered the drawing-room. I had not seen him for some time.
He seemed dull. Without noticing or speaking to us, he went
to the panel, looked at the poulps, and said something to
his lieutenant. The latter went out. Soon the panels were shut.
The ceiling was lighted. I went towards the Captain.
"A curious collection of poulps?" I said.
"Yes, indeed, Mr. Naturalist," he replied; "and we are going to fight them,
man to beast."
I looked at him. I thought I had not heard aright.
"Man to beast?" I repeated.
"Yes, sir. The screw is stopped. I think that the horny
jaws of one of the cuttlefish is entangled in the blades.
That is what prevents our moving."
"What are you going to do?"
"Rise to the surface, and slaughter this vermin."
"A difficult enterprise."
"Yes, indeed. The electric bullets are powerless against the
soft flesh, where they do not find resistance enough to go off.
But we shall attack them with the hatchet."
"And the harpoon, sir," said the Canadian, "if you do not refuse my help."
"I will accept it, Master Land."
"We will follow you," I said, and, following Captain Nemo,
we went towards the central staircase.
There, about ten men with boarding-hatchets were ready for the attack.
Conseil and I took two hatchets; Ned Land seized a harpoon.
The Nautilus had then risen to the surface. One of the sailors,
posted on the top ladderstep, unscrewed the bolts of the panels.
But hardly were the screws loosed, when the panel rose with
great violence, evidently drawn by the suckers of a poulp's arm.
Immediately one of these arms slid like a serpent down the opening
and twenty others were above. With one blow of the axe, Captain Nemo
cut this formidable tentacle, that slid wriggling down the ladder.
Just as we were pressing one on the other to reach the platform,
two other arms, lashing the air, came down on the seaman placed
before Captain Nemo, and lifted him up with irresistible power.
Captain Nemo uttered a cry, and rushed out. We hurried after him.
What a scene! The unhappy man, seized by the tentacle and fixed
to the suckers, was balanced in the air at the caprice of this
enormous trunk. He rattled in his throat, he was stifled, he cried,
"Help! help!" These words, spoken in French, startled me!
I had a fellow-countryman on board, perhaps several!
That heart-rending cry! I shall hear it all my life.
The unfortunate man was lost. Who could rescue him from that
powerful pressure? However, Captain Nemo had rushed to the poulp,
and with one blow of the axe had cut through one arm.
His lieutenant struggled furiously against other monsters that crept
on the flanks of the Nautilus. The crew fought with their axes.
The Canadian, Conseil, and I buried our weapons in the fleshy masses;
a strong smell of musk penetrated the atmosphere.
It was horrible!
For one instant, I thought the unhappy man, entangled with the poulp, would be
torn from its powerful suction. Seven of the eight arms had been cut off.
One only wriggled in the air, brandishing the victim like a feather. But just
as Captain Nemo and his lieutenant threw themselves on it, the animal ejected
a stream of black liquid. We were blinded with it. When the cloud dispersed,
the cuttlefish had disappeared, and my unfortunate countryman with it.
Ten or twelve poulps now invaded the platform and sides of the Nautilus.
We rolled pell-mell into the midst of this nest of serpents, that wriggled
on the platform in the waves of blood and ink. It seemed as though these
slimy tentacles sprang up like the hydra's heads. Ned Land's harpoon,
at each stroke, was plunged into the staring eyes of the cuttle fish.
But my bold companion was suddenly overturned by the tentacles of a monster
he had not been able to avoid.
Ah! how my heart beat with emotion and horror!
The formidable beak of a cuttlefish was open over Ned Land.
The unhappy man would be cut in two. I rushed to his succour.
But Captain Nemo was before me; his axe disappeared between
the two enormous jaws, and, miraculously saved, the Canadian,
rising, plunged his harpoon deep into the triple heart
of the poulp.
"I owed myself this revenge!" said the Captain to the Canadian.
Ned bowed without replying. The combat had lasted a quarter of an hour.
The monsters, vanquished and mutilated, left us at last, and disappeared
under the waves. Captain Nemo, covered with blood, nearly exhausted,
gazed upon the sea that had swallowed up one of his companions, and great
tears gathered in his eyes.
CHAPTER XIX
THE GULF STREAM
This terrible scene of the 20th of April none of us can ever forget.
I have written it under the influence of violent emotion. Since then I
have revised the recital; I have read it to Conseil and to the Canadian.
They found it exact as to facts, but insufficient as to effect.
To paint such pictures, one must have the pen of the most illustrious
of our poets, the author of The Toilers of the Deep.
I have said that Captain Nemo wept while watching the waves;
his grief was great. It was the second companion he had
lost since our arrival on board, and what a death!
That friend, crushed, stifled, bruised by the dreadful
arms of a poulp, pounded by his iron jaws, would not
rest with his comrades in the peaceful coral cemetery!
In the midst of the struggle, it was the despairing cry
uttered by the unfortunate man that had torn my heart.
The poor Frenchman, forgetting his conventional language,
had taken to his own mother tongue, to utter a last appeal!
Amongst the crew of the Nautilus, associated with
the body and soul of the Captain, recoiling like him
from all contact with men, I had a fellow-countryman. Did
he alone represent France in this mysterious association,
evidently composed of individuals of divers nationalities?
It was one of these insoluble problems that rose up unceasingly
before my mind!
Captain Nemo entered his room, and I saw him no more for some time.
But that he was sad and irresolute I could see by the vessel,
of which he was the soul, and which received all his impressions.
The Nautilus did not keep on in its settled course; it floated
about like a corpse at the will of the waves. It went at random.
He could not tear himself away from the scene of the last struggle,
from this sea that had devoured one of his men. Ten days passed thus.
It was not till the 1st of May that the Nautilus resumed its northerly course,
after having sighted the Bahamas at the mouth of the Bahama Canal.
We were then following the current from the largest river to the sea,
that has its banks, its fish, and its proper temperatures. I mean
the Gulf Stream. It is really a river, that flows freely to the middle
of the Atlantic, and whose waters do not mix with the ocean waters.
It is a salt river, salter than the surrounding sea. Its mean depth is
1,500 fathoms, its mean breadth ten miles. In certain places the current
flows with the speed of two miles and a half an hour. The body of its
waters is more considerable than that of all the rivers in the globe.
It was on this ocean river that the Nautilus then sailed.
I must add that, during the night, the phosphorescent waters
of the Gulf Stream rivalled the electric power of our watch-light,
especially in the stormy weather that threatened us so frequently.
May 8th, we were still crossing Cape Hatteras, at the height
of the North Caroline. The width of the Gulf Stream there
is seventy-five miles, and its depth 210 yards. The Nautilus
still went at random; all supervision seemed abandoned.
I thought that, under these circumstances, escape would be possible.
Indeed, the inhabited shores offered anywhere an easy refuge.
The sea was incessantly ploughed by the steamers that ply
between New York or Boston and the Gulf of Mexico, and overrun
day and night by the little schooners coasting about the several
parts of the American coast. We could hope to be picked up.
It was a favourable opportunity, notwithstanding the thirty
miles that separated the Nautilus from the coasts of the Union.
One unfortunate circumstance thwarted the Canadian's plans.
The weather was very bad. We were nearing those shores
where tempests are so frequent, that country of waterspouts and
cyclones actually engendered by the current of the Gulf Stream.
To tempt the sea in a frail boat was certain destruction. Ned Land
owned this himself. He fretted, seized with nostalgia that flight
only could cure.
"Master," he said that day to me, "this must come to an end. I must make
a clean breast of it. This Nemo is leaving land and going up to the north.
But I declare to you that I have had enough of the South Pole, and I will not
follow him to the North."
"What is to be done, Ned, since flight is impracticable just now?"
"We must speak to the Captain," said he; "you said nothing when we
were in your native seas. I will speak, now we are in mine.
When I think that before long the Nautilus will be by Nova Scotia,
and that there near New foundland is a large bay, and into that bay
the St. Lawrence empties itself, and that the St. Lawrence is my river,
the river by Quebec, my native town--when I think of this,
I feel furious, it makes my hair stand on end. Sir, I would
rather throw myself into the sea! I will not stay here!
I am stifled!"
The Canadian was evidently losing all patience.
His vigorous nature could not stand this prolonged imprisonment.
His face altered daily; his temper became more surly. I knew
what he must suffer, for I was seized with home-sickness myself.
Nearly seven months had passed without our having had any news
from land; Captain Nemo's isolation, his altered spirits,
especially since the fight with the poulps, his taciturnity, all made
me view things in a different light.
"Well, sir?" said Ned, seeing I did not reply.
"Well, Ned, do you wish me to ask Captain Nemo his intentions concerning us?"
"Yes, sir."
"Although he has already made them known?"
"Yes; I wish it settled finally. Speak for me, in my name only,
if you like."
"But I so seldom meet him. He avoids me."
"That is all the more reason for you to go to see him."
I went to my room. From thence I meant to go to Captain Nemo's.
It would not do to let this opportunity of meeting him slip.
I knocked at the door. No answer. I knocked again, then turned
the handle. The door opened, I went in. The Captain was there.
Bending over his work-table, he had not heard me.
Resolved not to go without having spoken, I approached him.
He raised his head quickly, frowned, and said roughly, "You here!
What do you want?"
"To speak to you, Captain."
"But I am busy, sir; I am working. I leave you at liberty to shut
yourself up; cannot I be allowed the same?"
This reception was not encouraging; but I was determined to hear
and answer everything.
"Sir," I said coldly, "I have to speak to you on a matter that admits
of no delay."
"What is that, sir?" he replied, ironically. "Have you discovered something
that has escaped me, or has the sea delivered up any new secrets?"
We were at cross-purposes. But, before I could reply, he showed me
an open manuscript on his table, and said, in a more serious tone,
"Here, M. Aronnax, is a manuscript written in several languages.
It contains the sum of my studies of the sea; and, if it please God,
it shall not perish with me. This manuscript, signed with my name,
complete with the history of my life, will be shut up in a little
floating case. The last survivor of all of us on board the Nautilus
will throw this case into the sea, and it will go whither it is borne
by the waves."
This man's name! his history written by himself!
His mystery would then be revealed some day.
"Captain," I said, "I can but approve of the idea that makes you act thus.
The result of your studies must not be lost. But the means you employ seem
to me to be primitive. Who knows where the winds will carry this case,
and in whose hands it will fall? Could you not use some other means?
Could not you, or one of yours----"
"Never, sir!" he said, hastily interrupting me.
"But I and my companions are ready to keep this manuscript
in store; and, if you will put us at liberty----"
"At liberty?" said the Captain, rising.
"Yes, sir; that is the subject on which I wish to question you.
For seven months we have been here on board, and I ask you to-day,
in the name of my companions and in my own, if your intention is
to keep us here always?"
"M. Aronnax, I will answer you to-day as I did seven months ago:
Whoever enters the Nautilus, must never quit it."
"You impose actual slavery upon us!"
"Give it what name you please."
"But everywhere the slave has the right to regain his liberty."
"Who denies you this right? Have I ever tried to chain you with an oath?"
He looked at me with his arms crossed.
"Sir," I said, "to return a second time to this subject will be neither
to your nor to my taste; but, as we have entered upon it, let us go
through with it. I repeat, it is not only myself whom it concerns.
Study is to me a relief, a diversion, a passion that could make
me forget everything. Like you, I am willing to live obscure,
in the frail hope of bequeathing one day, to future time,
the result of my labours. But it is otherwise with Ned Land.
Every man, worthy of the name, deserves some consideration.
Have you thought that love of liberty, hatred of slavery,
can give rise to schemes of revenge in a nature like the Canadian's;
that he could think, attempt, and try----"
I was silenced; Captain Nemo rose.
"Whatever Ned Land thinks of, attempts, or tries, what does it matter to me?
I did not seek him! It is not for my pleasure that I keep him on board!
As for you, M. Aronnax, you are one of those who can understand everything,
even silence. I have nothing more to say to you. Let this first time you
have come to treat of this subject be the last, for a second time I will not
listen to you."
I retired. Our situation was critical. I related my conversation
to my two companions.
"We know now," said Ned, "that we can expect nothing from this man.
The Nautilus is nearing Long Island. We will escape, whatever the
weather may be."
But the sky became more and more threatening. Symptoms of a hurricane
became manifest. The atmosphere was becoming white and misty.
On the horizon fine streaks of cirrhous clouds were succeeded
by masses of cumuli. Other low clouds passed swiftly by.
The swollen sea rose in huge billows. The birds disappeared
with the exception of the petrels, those friends of the storm.
The barometer fell sensibly, and indicated an extreme extension
of the vapours. The mixture of the storm glass was decomposed
under the influence of the electricity that pervaded the atmosphere.
The tempest burst on the 18th of May, just as the Nautilus was
floating off Long Island, some miles from the port of New York.
I can describe this strife of the elements! for,
instead of fleeing to the depths of the sea, Captain Nemo,
by an unaccountable caprice, would brave it at the surface.
The wind blew from the south-west at first. Captain Nemo,
during the squalls, had taken his place on the platform.
He had made himself fast, to prevent being washed overboard
by the monstrous waves. I had hoisted myself up, and made myself
fast also, dividing my admiration between the tempest and this
extraordinary man who was coping with it. The raging sea was swept
by huge cloud-drifts, which were actually saturated with the waves.
The Nautilus, sometimes lying on its side, sometimes standing up
like a mast, rolled and pitched terribly. About five o'clock
a torrent of rain fell, that lulled neither sea nor wind.
The hurri cane blew nearly forty leagues an hour. It is under
these conditions that it overturns houses, breaks iron gates,
displaces twenty-four pounders. However, the Nautilus, in the midst
of the tempest, confirmed the words of a clever engineer,
"There is no well-constructed hull that cannot defy the sea."
This was not a resisting rock; it was a steel spindle,
obedient and movable, without rigging or masts, that braved its fury
with impunity. However, I watched these raging waves attentively.
They measured fifteen feet in height, and 150 to 175 yards long,
and their speed of propagation was thirty feet per second.
Their bulk and power increased with the depth of the water.
Such waves as these, at the Hebrides, have displaced a mass
weighing 8,400 lb. They are they which, in the tempest of
December 23rd, 1864, after destroying the town of Yeddo, in Japan,
broke the same day on the shores of America. The intensity of
the tempest increased with the night. The barometer, as in 1860
at Reunion during a cyclone, fell seven-tenths at the close of day.
I saw a large vessel pass the horizon struggling painfully.
She was trying to lie to under half steam, to keep up above the waves.
It was probably one of the steamers of the line from New York
to Liverpool, or Havre. It soon disappeared in the gloom.
At ten o'clock in the evening the sky was on fire.
The atmosphere was streaked with vivid lightning.
I could not bear the brightness of it; while the captain,
looking at it, seemed to envy the spirit of the tempest.
A terrible noise filled the air, a complex noise, made up
of the howls of the crushed waves, the roaring of the wind,
and the claps of thunder. The wind veered suddenly to all
points of the horizon; and the cyclone, rising in the east,
returned after passing by the north, west, and south, in the inverse
course pursued by the circular storm of the southern hemisphere.
Ah, that Gulf Stream! It deserves its name of the King of Tempests.
It is that which causes those formidable cyclones, by the
difference of temperature between its air and its currents.
A shower of fire had succeeded the rain. The drops of water were
changed to sharp spikes. One would have thought that Captain Nemo
was courting a death worthy of himself, a death by lightning.
As the Nautilus, pitching dreadfully, raised its steel spur in the air,
it seemed to act as a conductor, and I saw long sparks burst from it.
Crushed and without strength I crawled to the panel, opened it,
and descended to the saloon. The storm was then at its height.
It was impossible to stand upright in the interior of the Nautilus.
Captain Nemo came down about twelve. I heard the reservoirs filling
by degrees, and the Nautilus sank slowly beneath the waves.
Through the open windows in the saloon I saw large fish terrified,
passing like phantoms in the water. Some were struck before my eyes.
The Nautilus was still descending. I thought that at about eight
fathoms deep we should find a calm. But no! the upper beds
were too violently agitated for that. We had to seek repose
at more than twenty-five fathoms in the bowels of the deep.
But there, what quiet, what silence, what peace! Who could have told
that such a hurricane had been let loose on the surface of that
ocean?
CHAPTER XX
FROM LATITUDE 47@ 24' TO LONGITUDE 17@ 28'
In consequence of the storm, we had been thrown eastward once more.
All hope of escape on the shores of New York or St. Lawrence had faded away;
and poor Ned, in despair, had isolated himself like Captain Nemo.
Conseil and I, however, never left each other. I said that the Nautilus
had gone aside to the east. I should have said (to be more exact)
the north-east. For some days, it wandered first on the surface,
and then beneath it, amid those fogs so dreaded by sailors.
What accidents are due to these thick fogs! What shocks upon
these reefs when the wind drowns the breaking of the waves!
What collisions between vessels, in spite of their warning lights,
whistles, and alarm bells! And the bottoms of these seas look like
a field of battle, where still lie all the conquered of the ocean;
some old and already encrusted, others fresh and reflecting from their
iron bands and copper plates the brilliancy of our lantern.
On the 15th of May we were at the extreme south of the Bank of Newfoundland.
This bank consists of alluvia, or large heaps of organic matter,
brought either from the Equator by the Gulf Stream, or from the North Pole
by the counter-current of cold water which skirts the American coast.
There also are heaped up those erratic blocks which are carried along
by the broken ice; and close by, a vast charnel-house of molluscs,
which perish here by millions. The depth of the sea is not great
at Newfoundland--not more than some hundreds of fathoms; but towards
the south is a depression of 1,500 fathoms. There the Gulf Stream widens.
It loses some of its speed and some of its temperature, but it
becomes a sea.
It was on the 17th of May, about 500 miles from Heart's Content,
at a depth of more than 1,400 fathoms, that I saw the electric cable lying
on the bottom. Conseil, to whom I had not mentioned it, thought at first
that it was a gigantic sea-serpent. But I undeceived the worthy fellow,
and by way of consolation related several particulars in the laying
of this cable. The first one was laid in the years 1857 and 1858;
but, after transmitting about 400 telegrams, would not act any longer.
In 1863 the engineers constructed an other one, measuring 2,000 miles
in length, and weighing 4,500 tons, which was embarked on the Great Eastern.
This attempt also failed.
On the 25th of May the Nautilus, being at a depth of more
than 1,918 fathoms, was on the precise spot where the rupture
occurred which ruined the enterprise. It was within 638 miles
of the coast of Ireland; and at half-past two in the afternoon
they discovered that communication with Europe had ceased.
The electricians on board resolved to cut the cable before
fishing it up, and at eleven o'clock at night they had recovered
the damaged part. They made another point and spliced it,
and it was once more submerged. But some days after it broke again,
and in the depths of the ocean could not be recaptured.
The Americans, however, were not discouraged. Cyrus Field, the bold
promoter of the enterprise, as he had sunk all his own fortune,
set a new subscription on foot, which was at once answered,
and another cable was constructed on better principles.
The bundles of conducting wires were each enveloped in gutta-percha,
and protected by a wadding of hemp, contained in a metallic covering.
The Great Eastern sailed on the 13th of July, 1866. The operation
worked well. But one incident occurred. Several times in
unrolling the cable they observed that nails had recently been
forced into it, evidently with the motive of destroying it.
Captain Anderson, the officers, and engineers consulted together,
and had it posted up that, if the offender was surprised on board,
he would be thrown without further trial into the sea.
From that time the criminal attempt was never repeated.
On the 23rd of July the Great Eastern was not more than 500 miles
from Newfoundland, when they telegraphed from Ireland the news
of the armistice concluded between Prussia and Austria after Sadowa.
On the 27th, in the midst of heavy fogs, they reached the port
of Heart's Content. The enterprise was successfully terminated;
and for its first despatch, young America addressed old Europe in these
words of wisdom, so rarely understood: "Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace, goodwill towards men."
I did not expect to find the electric cable in its
primitive state, such as it was on leaving the manufactory.
The long serpent, covered with the remains of shells,
bristling with foraminiferae, was encrusted with a strong coating
which served as a protection against all boring molluscs.
It lay quietly sheltered from the motions of the sea, and under
a favourable pressure for the transmission of the electric
spark which passes from Europe to America in .32 of a second.
Doubtless this cable will last for a great length of time,
for they find that the gutta-percha covering is improved
by the sea-water. Besides, on this level, so well chosen,
the cable is never so deeply submerged as to cause it to break.
The Nautilus followed it to the lowest depth, which was more than
2,212 fathoms, and there it lay without any anchorage; and then
we reached the spot where the accident had taken place in 1863.
The bottom of the ocean then formed a valley about 100
miles broad, in which Mont Blanc might have been placed without
its summit appearing above the waves. This valley is closed
at the east by a perpendicular wall more than 2,000 yards high.
We arrived there on the 28th of May, and the Nautilus was then not
more than 120 miles from Ireland.
Was Captain Nemo going to land on the British Isles?
No. To my great surprise he made for the south, once more coming
back towards European seas. In rounding the Emerald Isle,
for one instant I caught sight of Cape Clear, and the light which
guides the thousands of vessels leaving Glasgow or Liverpool.
An important question then arose in my mind. Did the Nautilus
dare entangle itself in the Manche? Ned Land, who had re-appeared
since we had been nearing land, did not cease to question me.
How could I answer? Captain Nemo reminded invisible.
After having shown the Canadian a glimpse of American shores,
was he going to show me the coast of France?
But the Nautilus was still going southward. On the 30th of May,
it passed in sight of Land's End, between the extreme point
of England and the Scilly Isles, which were left to starboard.
If we wished to enter the Manche, he must go straight to the east.
He did not do so.
During the whole of the 31st of May, the Nautilus described
a series of circles on the water, which greatly interested me.
It seemed to be seeking a spot it had some trouble in finding.
At noon, Captain Nemo himself came to work the ship's log.
He spoke no word to me, but seemed gloomier than ever. What could
sadden him thus? Was it his proxim ity to European shores?
Had he some recollections of his abandoned country?
If not, what did he feel? Remorse or regret?
For a long while this thought haunted my mind, and I had
a kind of presentiment that before long chance would betray
the captain's secrets.
The next day, the 1st of June, the Nautilus continued the same process.
It was evidently seeking some particular spot in the ocean.
Captain Nemo took the sun's altitude as he had done the day before.
The sea was beautiful, the sky clear. About eight miles to the east,
a large steam vessel could be discerned on the horizon.
No flag fluttered from its mast, and I could not discover
its nationality. Some minutes before the sun passed the meridian,
Captain Nemo took his sextant, and watched with great attention.
The perfect rest of the water greatly helped the operation.
The Nautilus was motionless; it neither rolled nor pitched.
I was on the platform when the altitude was taken, and the Captain
pronounced these words: "It is here."
He turned and went below. Had he seen the vessel which
was changing its course and seemed to be nearing us?
I could not tell. I returned to the saloon. The panels closed,
I heard the hissing of the water in the reservoirs.
The Nautilus began to sink, following a vertical line, for its
screw communicated no motion to it. Some minutes later it stopped
at a depth of more than 420 fathoms, resting on the ground.
The luminous ceiling was darkened, then the panels were opened,
and through the glass I saw the sea brilliantly illuminated by
the rays of our lantern for at least half a mile round us.
I looked to the port side, and saw nothing but an immensity
of quiet waters. But to starboard, on the bottom appeared
a large protuberance, which at once attracted my attention.
One would have thought it a ruin buried under a coating
of white shells, much resembling a covering of snow.
Upon examining the mass attentively, I could recognise
the ever-thickening form of a vessel bare of its masts,
which must have sunk. It certainly belonged to past times.
This wreck, to be thus encrusted with the lime of the water,
must already be able to count many years passed at the bottom
of the ocean.
What was this vessel? Why did the Nautilus visit its tomb?
Could it have been aught but a shipwreck which had drawn it under the water?
I knew not what to think, when near me in a slow voice I heard
Captain Nemo say:
"At one time this ship was called the Marseillais. It carried
seventy-four guns, and was launched in 1762. In 1778, the 13th of August,
commanded by La Poype-Ver trieux, it fought boldly against the Preston.
In 1779, on the 4th of July, it was at the taking of Grenada,
with the squadron of Admiral Estaing. In 1781, on the 5th of September,
it took part in the battle of Comte de Grasse, in Chesapeake Bay.
In 1794, the French Republic changed its name. On the 16th of April,
in the same year, it joined the squadron of Villaret Joyeuse, at Brest,
being entrusted with the escort of a cargo of corn coming from America,
under the command of Admiral Van Stebel. On the 11th and 12th Prairal
of the second year, this squadron fell in with an English vessel.
Sir, to-day is the 13th Prairal, the first of June, 1868. It is now
seventy-four years ago, day for day on this very spot, in latitude 47@
24', longitude 17@ 28', that this vessel, after fighting heroically,
losing its three masts, with the water in its hold, and the third of its
crew disabled, preferred sinking with its 356 sailors to surrendering;
and, nailing its colours to the poop, disappeared under the waves to
the cry of `Long live the Republic!'"
"The Avenger!" I exclaimed.
"Yes, sir, the Avenger! A good name!" muttered Captain Nemo,
crossing his arms.
You are now at the end of the section:
"20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,
Part 2, Chapters 16-20"
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