commit c77ec709b2f0618bc614e06fb632ec6721d4c46b Author: eline Date: Mon May 1 15:30:56 2023 +0200 initial diff --git a/20kleagues.txt b/20kleagues.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..643d515 --- /dev/null +++ b/20kleagues.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17974 @@ +Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas +An Underwater Tour of the World + +JULES VERNE + + +Translated from the Original French by F. P. Walter + +Copyright (C) 1999, Frederick Paul Walter. + + +A complete, unabridged translation of Vingt mille lieues sous les mers +by Jules Verne, based on the original French texts published in Paris +by J. Hetzel et Cie. over the period 1869-71. + +The paintings of Illinois watercolorist Milo Winter (1888-1956) first +appeared in a 1922 juvenile edition published by Rand McNally & +Company. + + +VERNE’S TITLE + +The French title of this novel is Vingt mille lieues sous les +mers. This is accurately translated as Twenty Thousand Leagues Under +the SEAS—rather than the SEA, as with many English editions. Verne’s +novel features a tour of the major oceans, and the term Leagues in its +title is used as a measure not of depth but distance. Ed. + + +Contents + +Introduction +Units of Measure + +FIRST PART + +1. A Runaway Reef +2. The Pros and Cons +3. As Master Wishes +4. Ned Land +5. At Random! +6. At Full Steam +7. A Whale of Unknown Species +8. “Mobilis in Mobili” +9. The Tantrums of Ned Land +10. The Man of the Waters +11. The Nautilus +12. Everything through Electricity +13. Some Figures +14. The Black Current +15. An Invitation in Writing +16. Strolling the Plains +17. An Underwater Forest +18. Four Thousand Leagues Under the Pacific +19. Vanikoro +20. The Torres Strait +21. Some Days Ashore +22. The Lightning Bolts of Captain Nemo +23. “Aegri Somnia” +24. The Coral Realm + +SECOND PART + +1. The Indian Ocean +2. A New Proposition from Captain Nemo +3. A Pearl Worth Ten Million +4. The Red Sea +5. Arabian Tunnel +6. The Greek Islands +7. The Mediterranean in Forty-Eight Hours +8. The Bay of Vigo +9. A Lost Continent +10. The Underwater Coalfields +11. The Sargasso Sea +12. Sperm Whales and Baleen Whales +13. The Ice Bank +14. The South Pole +15. Accident or Incident? +16. Shortage of Air +17. From Cape Horn to the Amazon +18. The Devilfish +19. The Gulf Stream +20. In Latitude 47° 24’ and Longitude 17° 28’ +21. A Mass Execution +22. The Last Words of Captain Nemo +23. Conclusion + + +Introduction + +“The deepest parts of the ocean are totally unknown to us,” admits +Professor Aronnax early in this novel. “What goes on in those distant +depths? What creatures inhabit, or could inhabit, those regions twelve +or fifteen miles beneath the surface of the water? It’s almost beyond +conjecture.” + +Jules Verne (1828-1905) published the French equivalents of these +words in 1869, and little has changed since. 126 years later, a Time +cover story on deep-sea exploration made much the same admission: “We +know more about Mars than we know about the oceans.” This reality +begins to explain the dark power and otherworldly fascination of +Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas. + +Born in the French river town of Nantes, Verne had a lifelong passion +for the sea. First as a Paris stockbroker, later as a celebrated +author and yachtsman, he went on frequent voyages—to Britain, America, +the Mediterranean. But the specific stimulus for this novel was an +1865 fan letter from a fellow writer, Madame George Sand. She praised +Verne’s two early novels Five Weeks in a Balloon (1863) and Journey to +the Center of the Earth (1864), then added: “Soon I hope you’ll take +us into the ocean depths, your characters traveling in diving +equipment perfected by your science and your imagination.” Thus +inspired, Verne created one of literature’s great rebels, a freedom +fighter who plunged beneath the waves to wage a unique form of +guerilla warfare. + +Initially, Verne’s narrative was influenced by the 1863 uprising of +Poland against Tsarist Russia. The Poles were quashed with a violence +that appalled not only Verne but all Europe. As originally conceived, +Verne’s Captain Nemo was a Polish nobleman whose entire family had +been slaughtered by Russian troops. Nemo builds a fabulous futuristic +submarine, the Nautilus, then conducts an underwater campaign of +vengeance against his imperialist oppressor. + +But in the 1860s France had to treat the Tsar as an ally, and Verne’s +publisher Pierre Hetzel pronounced the book unprintable. Verne +reworked its political content, devising new nationalities for Nemo +and his great enemy—information revealed only in a later novel, The +Mysterious Island (1875); in the present work Nemo’s background +remains a dark secret. In all, the novel had a difficult +gestation. Verne and Hetzel were in constant conflict and the book +went through multiple drafts, struggles reflected in its several +working titles over the period 1865-69: early on, it was variously +called Voyage Under the Waters, Twenty-five Thousand Leagues Under the +Waters, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Waters, and A Thousand +Leagues Under the Oceans. + +Verne is often dubbed, in Isaac Asimov’s phrase, “the world’s first +science-fiction writer.” And it’s true, many of his sixty-odd books do +anticipate future events and technologies: From the Earth to the Moon +(1865) and Hector Servadac (1877) deal in space travel, while Journey +to the Center of the Earth features travel to the earth’s core. But +with Verne the operative word is “travel,” and some of his best-known +titles don’t really qualify as sci-fi: Around the World in Eighty Days +(1872) and Michael Strogoff (1876) are closer to “travelogs”—adventure +yarns in far-away places. + +These observations partly apply here. The subtitle of the present book +is An Underwater Tour of the World, so in good travelog style, the +Nautilus’s exploits supply an episodic story line. Shark attacks, +giant squid, cannibals, hurricanes, whale hunts, and other rip-roaring +adventures erupt almost at random. Yet this loose structure gives the +novel an air of documentary realism. What’s more, Verne adds backbone +to the action by developing three recurring motifs: the deepening +mystery of Nemo’s past life and future intentions, the mounting +tension between Nemo and hot-tempered harpooner Ned Land, and Ned’s +ongoing schemes to escape from the Nautilus. These unifying threads +tighten the narrative and accelerate its momentum. + +Other subtleties occur inside each episode, the textures sparkling +with wit, information, and insight. Verne regards the sea from many +angles: in the domain of marine biology, he gives us thumbnail +sketches of fish, seashells, coral, sometimes in great catalogs that +swirl past like musical cascades; in the realm of geology, he studies +volcanoes literally inside and out; in the world of commerce, he +celebrates the high-energy entrepreneurs who lay the Atlantic Cable or +dig the Suez Canal. And Verne’s marine engineering proves especially +authoritative. His specifications for an open-sea submarine and a +self-contained diving suit were decades before their time, yet modern +technology bears them out triumphantly. + +True, today’s scientists know a few things he didn’t: the South Pole +isn’t at the water’s edge but far inland; sharks don’t flip over +before attacking; giant squid sport ten tentacles not eight; sperm +whales don’t prey on their whalebone cousins. This notwithstanding, +Verne furnishes the most evocative portrayal of the ocean depths +before the arrival of Jacques Cousteau and technicolor film. + +Lastly the book has stature as a novel of character. Even the +supporting cast is shrewdly drawn: Professor Aronnax, the career +scientist caught in an ethical conflict; Conseil, the compulsive +classifier who supplies humorous tag lines for Verne’s fast facts; the +harpooner Ned Land, a creature of constant appetites, man as heroic +animal. + +But much of the novel’s brooding power comes from Captain +Nemo. Inventor, musician, Renaissance genius, he’s a trail-blazing +creation, the prototype not only for countless renegade scientists in +popular fiction, but even for such varied figures as Sherlock Holmes +or Wolf Larsen. However, Verne gives his hero’s brilliance and +benevolence a dark underside—the man’s obsessive hate for his old +enemy. This compulsion leads Nemo into ugly contradictions: he’s a +fighter for freedom, yet all who board his ship are imprisoned there +for good; he works to save lives, both human and animal, yet he +himself creates a holocaust; he detests imperialism, yet he lays +personal claim to the South Pole. And in this last action he falls +into the classic sin of Pride. He’s swiftly punished. The Nautilus +nearly perishes in the Antarctic and Nemo sinks into a growing +depression. + +Like Shakespeare’s King Lear he courts death and madness in a great +storm, then commits mass murder, collapses in catatonic paralysis, and +suicidally runs his ship into the ocean’s most dangerous +whirlpool. Hate swallows him whole. + +For many, then, this book has been a source of fascination, surely one +of the most influential novels ever written, an inspiration for such +scientists and discoverers as engineer Simon Lake, oceanographer +William Beebe, polar traveler Sir Ernest Shackleton. Likewise +Dr. Robert D. Ballard, finder of the sunken Titanic, confesses that +this was his favorite book as a teenager, and Cousteau himself, most +renowned of marine explorers, called it his shipboard bible. + +The present translation is a faithful yet communicative rendering of +the original French texts published in Paris by J. Hetzel et Cie.—the +hardcover first edition issued in the autumn of 1871, collated with +the softcover editions of the First and Second Parts issued separately +in the autumn of 1869 and the summer of 1870. Although prior English +versions have often been heavily abridged, this new translation is +complete to the smallest substantive detail. + +Because, as that Time cover story suggests, we still haven’t caught up +with Verne. Even in our era of satellite dishes and video games, the +seas keep their secrets. We’ve seen progress in sonar, torpedoes, and +other belligerent machinery, but sailors and scientists—to say nothing +of tourists—have yet to voyage in a submarine with the luxury and +efficiency of the Nautilus. + +F. P. WALTER University of Houston + + +Units of Measure + +CABLE LENGTH In Verne’s context, 600 feet + +CENTIGRADE 0 degrees centigrade = freezing water + +37 degrees centigrade = human body temperature + +100 degrees centigrade = boiling water + +FATHOM 6 feet + +GRAM Roughly 1/28 of an ounce + +- MILLIGRAM Roughly 1/28,000 of an ounce + +- KILOGRAM (KILO) Roughly 2.2 pounds + +HECTARE Roughly 2.5 acres + +KNOT 1.15 miles per hour + +LEAGUE In Verne’s context, 2.16 miles + +LITER Roughly 1 quart + +METER Roughly 1 yard, 3 inches + +- MILLIMETER Roughly 1/25 of an inch + +- CENTIMETER Roughly 2/5 of an inch + +- DECIMETER Roughly 4 inches + +- KILOMETER Roughly 6/10 of a mile + +- MYRIAMETER Roughly 6.2 miles + +TON, METRIC Roughly 2,200 pounds viii + + + +FIRST PART + + +CHAPTER 1 + +A Runaway Reef + + +THE YEAR 1866 was marked by a bizarre development, an unexplained and +downright inexplicable phenomenon that surely no one has +forgotten. Without getting into those rumors that upset civilians in +the seaports and deranged the public mind even far inland, it must be +said that professional seamen were especially alarmed. Traders, +shipowners, captains of vessels, skippers, and master mariners from +Europe and America, naval officers from every country, and at their +heels the various national governments on these two continents, were +all extremely disturbed by the business. + +In essence, over a period of time several ships had encountered “an +enormous thing” at sea, a long spindle-shaped object, sometimes giving +off a phosphorescent glow, infinitely bigger and faster than any +whale. + +The relevant data on this apparition, as recorded in various logbooks, +agreed pretty closely as to the structure of the object or creature in +question, its unprecedented speed of movement, its startling +locomotive power, and the unique vitality with which it seemed to be +gifted. If it was a cetacean, it exceeded in bulk any whale previously +classified by science. No naturalist, neither Cuvier nor Lacépède, +neither Professor Dumeril nor Professor de Quatrefages, would have +accepted the existence of such a monster sight unseen—specifically, +unseen by their own scientific eyes. + +Striking an average of observations taken at different times—rejecting +those timid estimates that gave the object a length of 200 feet, and +ignoring those exaggerated views that saw it as a mile wide and three +long—you could still assert that this phenomenal creature greatly +exceeded the dimensions of anything then known to ichthyologists, if +it existed at all. + +Now then, it did exist, this was an undeniable fact; and since the +human mind dotes on objects of wonder, you can understand the +worldwide excitement caused by this unearthly apparition. As for +relegating it to the realm of fiction, that charge had to be dropped. + +In essence, on July 20, 1866, the steamer Governor Higginson, from the +Calcutta & Burnach Steam Navigation Co., encountered this moving mass +five miles off the eastern shores of Australia. + +Captain Baker at first thought he was in the presence of an unknown +reef; he was even about to fix its exact position when two waterspouts +shot out of this inexplicable object and sprang hissing into the air +some 150 feet. So, unless this reef was subject to the intermittent +eruptions of a geyser, the Governor Higginson had fair and honest +dealings with some aquatic mammal, until then unknown, that could +spurt from its blowholes waterspouts mixed with air and steam. + +Similar events were likewise observed in Pacific seas, on July 23 of +the same year, by the Christopher Columbus from the West India & +Pacific Steam Navigation Co. Consequently, this extraordinary cetacean +could transfer itself from one locality to another with startling +swiftness, since within an interval of just three days, the Governor +Higginson and the Christopher Columbus had observed it at two +positions on the charts separated by a distance of more than 700 +nautical leagues. + +Fifteen days later and 2,000 leagues farther, the Helvetia from the +Compagnie Nationale and the Shannon from the Royal Mail line, running +on opposite tacks in that part of the Atlantic lying between the +United States and Europe, respectively signaled each other that the +monster had been sighted in latitude 42 degrees 15’ north and +longitude 60 degrees 35’ west of the meridian of Greenwich. From their +simultaneous observations, they were able to estimate the mammal’s +minimum length at more than 350 English feet;* this was because both +the Shannon and the Helvetia were of smaller dimensions, although each +measured 100 meters stem to stern. Now then, the biggest whales, those +rorqual whales that frequent the waterways of the Aleutian Islands, +have never exceeded a length of 56 meters—if they reach even that. + +*Author’s Note: About 106 meters. An English foot is only 30.4 +centimeters. + +One after another, reports arrived that would profoundly affect public +opinion: new observations taken by the transatlantic liner Pereire, +the Inman line’s Etna running afoul of the monster, an official report +drawn up by officers on the French frigate Normandy, dead-earnest +reckonings obtained by the general staff of Commodore Fitz-James +aboard the Lord Clyde. In lighthearted countries, people joked about +this phenomenon, but such serious, practical countries as England, +America, and Germany were deeply concerned. + +In every big city the monster was the latest rage; they sang about it +in the coffee houses, they ridiculed it in the newspapers, they +dramatized it in the theaters. The tabloids found it a fine +opportunity for hatching all sorts of hoaxes. In those newspapers +short of copy, you saw the reappearance of every gigantic imaginary +creature, from “Moby Dick,” that dreadful white whale from the High +Arctic regions, to the stupendous kraken whose tentacles could entwine +a 500-ton craft and drag it into the ocean depths. They even reprinted +reports from ancient times: the views of Aristotle and Pliny accepting +the existence of such monsters, then the Norwegian stories of Bishop +Pontoppidan, the narratives of Paul Egede, and finally the reports of +Captain Harrington—whose good faith is above suspicion—in which he +claims he saw, while aboard the Castilian in 1857, one of those +enormous serpents that, until then, had frequented only the seas of +France’s old extremist newspaper, The Constitutionalist. + +An interminable debate then broke out between believers and skeptics +in the scholarly societies and scientific journals. The “monster +question” inflamed all minds. During this memorable campaign, +journalists making a profession of science battled with those making a +profession of wit, spilling waves of ink and some of them even two or +three drops of blood, since they went from sea serpents to the most +offensive personal remarks. + +For six months the war seesawed. With inexhaustible zest, the popular +press took potshots at feature articles from the Geographic Institute +of Brazil, the Royal Academy of Science in Berlin, the British +Association, the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., at +discussions in The Indian Archipelago, in Cosmos published by Father +Moigno, in Petermann’s Mittheilungen,* and at scientific chronicles in +the great French and foreign newspapers. When the monster’s detractors +cited a saying by the botanist Linnaeus that “nature doesn’t make +leaps,” witty writers in the popular periodicals parodied it, +maintaining in essence that “nature doesn’t make lunatics,” and +ordering their contemporaries never to give the lie to nature by +believing in krakens, sea serpents, “Moby Dicks,” and other all-out +efforts from drunken seamen. Finally, in a much-feared satirical +journal, an article by its most popular columnist finished off the +monster for good, spurning it in the style of Hippolytus repulsing the +amorous advances of his stepmother Phaedra, and giving the creature +its quietus amid a universal burst of laughter. Wit had defeated +science. + +*German: “Bulletin.” Ed. + +During the first months of the year 1867, the question seemed to be +buried, and it didn’t seem due for resurrection, when new facts were +brought to the public’s attention. But now it was no longer an issue +of a scientific problem to be solved, but a quite real and serious +danger to be avoided. The question took an entirely new turn. The +monster again became an islet, rock, or reef, but a runaway reef, +unfixed and elusive. + +On March 5, 1867, the Moravian from the Montreal Ocean Co., lying +during the night in latitude 27 degrees 30’ and longitude 72 degrees +15’, ran its starboard quarter afoul of a rock marked on no charts of +these waterways. Under the combined efforts of wind and 400-horsepower +steam, it was traveling at a speed of thirteen knots. Without the high +quality of its hull, the Moravian would surely have split open from +this collision and gone down together with those 237 passengers it was +bringing back from Canada. + +This accident happened around five o’clock in the morning, just as day +was beginning to break. The officers on watch rushed to the craft’s +stern. They examined the ocean with the most scrupulous care. They saw +nothing except a strong eddy breaking three cable lengths out, as if +those sheets of water had been violently churned. The site’s exact +bearings were taken, and the Moravian continued on course apparently +undamaged. Had it run afoul of an underwater rock or the wreckage of +some enormous derelict ship? They were unable to say. But when they +examined its undersides in the service yard, they discovered that part +of its keel had been smashed. + +This occurrence, extremely serious in itself, might perhaps have been +forgotten like so many others, if three weeks later it hadn’t been +reenacted under identical conditions. Only, thanks to the nationality +of the ship victimized by this new ramming, and thanks to the +reputation of the company to which this ship belonged, the event +caused an immense uproar. + +No one is unaware of the name of that famous English shipowner, +Cunard. In 1840 this shrewd industrialist founded a postal service +between Liverpool and Halifax, featuring three wooden ships with +400-horsepower paddle wheels and a burden of 1,162 metric tons. Eight +years later, the company’s assets were increased by four +650-horsepower ships at 1,820 metric tons, and in two more years, by +two other vessels of still greater power and tonnage. In 1853 the +Cunard Co., whose mail-carrying charter had just been renewed, +successively added to its assets the Arabia, the Persia, the China, +the Scotia, the Java, and the Russia, all ships of top speed and, +after the Great Eastern, the biggest ever to plow the seas. So in 1867 +this company owned twelve ships, eight with paddle wheels and four +with propellers. + +If I give these highly condensed details, it is so everyone can fully +understand the importance of this maritime transportation company, +known the world over for its shrewd management. No transoceanic +navigational undertaking has been conducted with more ability, no +business dealings have been crowned with greater success. In +twenty-six years Cunard ships have made 2,000 Atlantic crossings +without so much as a voyage canceled, a delay recorded, a man, a +craft, or even a letter lost. Accordingly, despite strong competition +from France, passengers still choose the Cunard line in preference to +all others, as can be seen in a recent survey of official +documents. Given this, no one will be astonished at the uproar +provoked by this accident involving one of its finest steamers. + +On April 13, 1867, with a smooth sea and a moderate breeze, the Scotia +lay in longitude 15 degrees 12’ and latitude 45 degrees 37’. It was +traveling at a speed of 13.43 knots under the thrust of its +1,000-horsepower engines. Its paddle wheels were churning the sea with +perfect steadiness. It was then drawing 6.7 meters of water and +displacing 6,624 cubic meters. + +At 4:17 in the afternoon, during a high tea for passengers gathered in +the main lounge, a collision occurred, scarcely noticeable on the +whole, affecting the Scotia’s hull in that quarter a little astern of +its port paddle wheel. + +The Scotia hadn’t run afoul of something, it had been fouled, and by a +cutting or perforating instrument rather than a blunt one. This +encounter seemed so minor that nobody on board would have been +disturbed by it, had it not been for the shouts of crewmen in the +hold, who climbed on deck yelling: + +“We’re sinking! We’re sinking!” + +At first the passengers were quite frightened, but Captain Anderson +hastened to reassure them. In fact, there could be no immediate +danger. Divided into seven compartments by watertight bulkheads, the +Scotia could brave any leak with impunity. + +Captain Anderson immediately made his way into the hold. He discovered +that the fifth compartment had been invaded by the sea, and the speed +of this invasion proved that the leak was considerable. Fortunately +this compartment didn’t contain the boilers, because their furnaces +would have been abruptly extinguished. + +Captain Anderson called an immediate halt, and one of his sailors +dived down to assess the damage. Within moments they had located a +hole two meters in width on the steamer’s underside. Such a leak could +not be patched, and with its paddle wheels half swamped, the Scotia +had no choice but to continue its voyage. By then it lay 300 miles +from Cape Clear, and after three days of delay that filled Liverpool +with acute anxiety, it entered the company docks. + +The engineers then proceeded to inspect the Scotia, which had been put +in dry dock. They couldn’t believe their eyes. Two and a half meters +below its waterline, there gaped a symmetrical gash in the shape of an +isosceles triangle. This breach in the sheet iron was so perfectly +formed, no punch could have done a cleaner job of it. Consequently, it +must have been produced by a perforating tool of uncommon +toughness—plus, after being launched with prodigious power and then +piercing four centimeters of sheet iron, this tool had needed to +withdraw itself by a backward motion truly inexplicable. + +This was the last straw, and it resulted in arousing public passions +all over again. Indeed, from this moment on, any maritime casualty +without an established cause was charged to the monster’s +account. This outrageous animal had to shoulder responsibility for all +derelict vessels, whose numbers are unfortunately considerable, since +out of those 3,000 ships whose losses are recorded annually at the +marine insurance bureau, the figure for steam or sailing ships +supposedly lost with all hands, in the absence of any news, amounts to +at least 200! + +Now then, justly or unjustly, it was the “monster” who stood accused +of their disappearance; and since, thanks to it, travel between the +various continents had become more and more dangerous, the public +spoke up and demanded straight out that, at all cost, the seas be +purged of this fearsome cetacean. + + +CHAPTER 2 + +The Pros and Cons + + +DURING THE PERIOD in which these developments were occurring, I had +returned from a scientific undertaking organized to explore the +Nebraska badlands in the United States. In my capacity as Assistant +Professor at the Paris Museum of Natural History, I had been attached +to this expedition by the French government. After spending six months +in Nebraska, I arrived in New York laden with valuable collections +near the end of March. My departure for France was set for early +May. In the meantime, then, I was busy classifying my mineralogical, +botanical, and zoological treasures when that incident took place with +the Scotia. + +I was perfectly abreast of this question, which was the big news of +the day, and how could I not have been? I had read and reread every +American and European newspaper without being any farther along. This +mystery puzzled me. Finding it impossible to form any views, I drifted +from one extreme to the other. Something was out there, that much was +certain, and any doubting Thomas was invited to place his finger on +the Scotia’s wound. + +When I arrived in New York, the question was at the boiling point. The +hypothesis of a drifting islet or an elusive reef, put forward by +people not quite in their right minds, was completely eliminated. And +indeed, unless this reef had an engine in its belly, how could it move +about with such prodigious speed? + +Also discredited was the idea of a floating hull or some other +enormous wreckage, and again because of this speed of movement. + +So only two possible solutions to the question were left, creating two +very distinct groups of supporters: on one side, those favoring a +monster of colossal strength; on the other, those favoring an +“underwater boat” of tremendous motor power. + +Now then, although the latter hypothesis was completely admissible, it +couldn’t stand up to inquiries conducted in both the New World and the +Old. That a private individual had such a mechanism at his disposal +was less than probable. Where and when had he built it, and how could +he have built it in secret? + +Only some government could own such an engine of destruction, and in +these disaster-filled times, when men tax their ingenuity to build +increasingly powerful aggressive weapons, it was possible that, +unknown to the rest of the world, some nation could have been testing +such a fearsome machine. The Chassepot rifle led to the torpedo, and +the torpedo has led to this underwater battering ram, which in turn +will lead to the world putting its foot down. At least I hope it will. + +But this hypothesis of a war machine collapsed in the face of formal +denials from the various governments. Since the public interest was at +stake and transoceanic travel was suffering, the sincerity of these +governments could not be doubted. Besides, how could the assembly of +this underwater boat have escaped public notice? Keeping a secret +under such circumstances would be difficult enough for an individual, +and certainly impossible for a nation whose every move is under +constant surveillance by rival powers. + +So, after inquiries conducted in England, France, Russia, Prussia, +Spain, Italy, America, and even Turkey, the hypothesis of an +underwater Monitor was ultimately rejected. + +And so the monster surfaced again, despite the endless witticisms +heaped on it by the popular press, and the human imagination soon got +caught up in the most ridiculous ichthyological fantasies. + +After I arrived in New York, several people did me the honor of +consulting me on the phenomenon in question. In France I had published +a two-volume work, in quarto, entitled The Mysteries of the Great +Ocean Depths. Well received in scholarly circles, this book had +established me as a specialist in this pretty obscure field of natural +history. My views were in demand. As long as I could deny the reality +of the business, I confined myself to a flat “no comment.” But soon, +pinned to the wall, I had to explain myself straight out. And in this +vein, “the honorable Pierre Aronnax, Professor at the Paris Museum,” +was summoned by The New York Herald to formulate his views no matter +what. + +I complied. Since I could no longer hold my tongue, I let it wag. I +discussed the question in its every aspect, both political and +scientific, and this is an excerpt from the well-padded article I +published in the issue of April 30. + +“Therefore,” I wrote, “after examining these different hypotheses one +by one, we are forced, every other supposition having been refuted, to +accept the existence of an extremely powerful marine animal. + +“The deepest parts of the ocean are totally unknown to us. No +soundings have been able to reach them. What goes on in those distant +depths? What creatures inhabit, or could inhabit, those regions twelve +or fifteen miles beneath the surface of the water? What is the +constitution of these animals? It’s almost beyond conjecture. + +“However, the solution to this problem submitted to me can take the +form of a choice between two alternatives. + +“Either we know every variety of creature populating our planet, or we +do not. + +“If we do not know every one of them, if nature still keeps +ichthyological secrets from us, nothing is more admissible than to +accept the existence of fish or cetaceans of new species or even new +genera, animals with a basically ‘cast-iron’ constitution that inhabit +strata beyond the reach of our soundings, and which some development +or other, an urge or a whim if you prefer, can bring to the upper +level of the ocean for long intervals. + +“If, on the other hand, we do know every living species, we must look +for the animal in question among those marine creatures already +cataloged, and in this event I would be inclined to accept the +existence of a giant narwhale. + +“The common narwhale, or sea unicorn, often reaches a length of sixty +feet. Increase its dimensions fivefold or even tenfold, then give this +cetacean a strength in proportion to its size while enlarging its +offensive weapons, and you have the animal we’re looking for. It would +have the proportions determined by the officers of the Shannon, the +instrument needed to perforate the Scotia, and the power to pierce a +steamer’s hull. + +“In essence, the narwhale is armed with a sort of ivory sword, or +lance, as certain naturalists have expressed it. It’s a king-sized +tooth as hard as steel. Some of these teeth have been found buried in +the bodies of baleen whales, which the narwhale attacks with +invariable success. Others have been wrenched, not without difficulty, +from the undersides of vessels that narwhales have pierced clean +through, as a gimlet pierces a wine barrel. The museum at the Faculty +of Medicine in Paris owns one of these tusks with a length of 2.25 +meters and a width at its base of forty-eight centimeters! + +“All right then! Imagine this weapon to be ten times stronger and the +animal ten times more powerful, launch it at a speed of twenty miles +per hour, multiply its mass times its velocity, and you get just the +collision we need to cause the specified catastrophe. + +“So, until information becomes more abundant, I plump for a sea +unicorn of colossal dimensions, no longer armed with a mere lance but +with an actual spur, like ironclad frigates or those warships called +‘rams,’ whose mass and motor power it would possess simultaneously. + +“This inexplicable phenomenon is thus explained away—unless it’s +something else entirely, which, despite everything that has been +sighted, studied, explored and experienced, is still possible!” + +These last words were cowardly of me; but as far as I could, I wanted +to protect my professorial dignity and not lay myself open to laughter +from the Americans, who when they do laugh, laugh raucously. I had +left myself a loophole. Yet deep down, I had accepted the existence of +“the monster.” + +My article was hotly debated, causing a fine old uproar. It rallied a +number of supporters. Moreover, the solution it proposed allowed for +free play of the imagination. The human mind enjoys impressive visions +of unearthly creatures. Now then, the sea is precisely their best +medium, the only setting suitable for the breeding and growing of such +giants—next to which such land animals as elephants or rhinoceroses +are mere dwarves. The liquid masses support the largest known species +of mammals and perhaps conceal mollusks of incomparable size or +crustaceans too frightful to contemplate, such as 100-meter lobsters +or crabs weighing 200 metric tons! Why not? Formerly, in prehistoric +days, land animals (quadrupeds, apes, reptiles, birds) were built on a +gigantic scale. Our Creator cast them using a colossal mold that time +has gradually made smaller. With its untold depths, couldn’t the sea +keep alive such huge specimens of life from another age, this sea that +never changes while the land masses undergo almost continuous +alteration? Couldn’t the heart of the ocean hide the last-remaining +varieties of these titanic species, for whom years are centuries and +centuries millennia? + +But I mustn’t let these fantasies run away with me! Enough of these +fairy tales that time has changed for me into harsh realities. I +repeat: opinion had crystallized as to the nature of this phenomenon, +and the public accepted without argument the existence of a prodigious +creature that had nothing in common with the fabled sea serpent. + +Yet if some saw it purely as a scientific problem to be solved, more +practical people, especially in America and England, were determined +to purge the ocean of this daunting monster, to insure the safety of +transoceanic travel. The industrial and commercial newspapers dealt +with the question chiefly from this viewpoint. The Shipping & +Mercantile Gazette, the Lloyd’s List, France’s Packetboat and Maritime +& Colonial Review, all the rags devoted to insurance companies—who +threatened to raise their premium rates—were unanimous on this point. + +Public opinion being pronounced, the States of the Union were the +first in the field. In New York preparations were under way for an +expedition designed to chase this narwhale. A high-speed frigate, the +Abraham Lincoln, was fitted out for putting to sea as soon as +possible. The naval arsenals were unlocked for Commander Farragut, who +pressed energetically forward with the arming of his frigate. + +But, as it always happens, just when a decision had been made to chase +the monster, the monster put in no further appearances. For two months +nobody heard a word about it. Not a single ship encountered +it. Apparently the unicorn had gotten wise to these plots being woven +around it. People were constantly babbling about the creature, even +via the Atlantic Cable! Accordingly, the wags claimed that this +slippery rascal had waylaid some passing telegram and was making the +most of it. + +So the frigate was equipped for a far-off voyage and armed with +fearsome fishing gear, but nobody knew where to steer it. And +impatience grew until, on June 2, word came that the Tampico, a +steamer on the San Francisco line sailing from California to Shanghai, +had sighted the animal again, three weeks before in the northerly seas +of the Pacific. + +This news caused intense excitement. Not even a 24-hour breather was +granted to Commander Farragut. His provisions were loaded on +board. His coal bunkers were overflowing. Not a crewman was missing +from his post. To cast off, he needed only to fire and stoke his +furnaces! Half a day’s delay would have been unforgivable! But +Commander Farragut wanted nothing more than to go forth. + +I received a letter three hours before the Abraham Lincoln left its +Brooklyn pier;* the letter read as follows: + +*Author’s Note: A pier is a type of wharf expressly set aside for an +individual vessel. + + Pierre Aronnax + Professor at the Paris Museum + Fifth Avenue Hotel + New York + + Sir: + + If you would like to join the expedition on the Abraham Lincoln, the + government of the Union will be pleased to regard you as France’s + representative in this undertaking. Commander Farragut has a cabin at + your disposal. + + Very cordially yours, + + J. B. HOBSON, + Secretary of the Navy. + + +CHAPTER 3 + +As Master Wishes + + +THREE SECONDS before the arrival of J. B. Hobson’s letter, I no more +dreamed of chasing the unicorn than of trying for the Northwest +Passage. Three seconds after reading this letter from the honorable +Secretary of the Navy, I understood at last that my true vocation, my +sole purpose in life, was to hunt down this disturbing monster and rid +the world of it. + +Even so, I had just returned from an arduous journey, exhausted and +badly needing a rest. I wanted nothing more than to see my country +again, my friends, my modest quarters by the Botanical Gardens, my +dearly beloved collections! But now nothing could hold me back. I +forgot everything else, and without another thought of exhaustion, +friends, or collections, I accepted the American government’s offer. + +“Besides,” I mused, “all roads lead home to Europe, and our unicorn +may be gracious enough to take me toward the coast of France! That +fine animal may even let itself be captured in European seas—as a +personal favor to me—and I’ll bring back to the Museum of Natural +History at least half a meter of its ivory lance!” + +But in the meantime I would have to look for this narwhale in the +northern Pacific Ocean; which meant returning to France by way of the +Antipodes. + +“Conseil!” I called in an impatient voice. + +Conseil was my manservant. A devoted lad who went with me on all my +journeys; a gallant Flemish boy whom I genuinely liked and who +returned the compliment; a born stoic, punctilious on principle, +habitually hardworking, rarely startled by life’s surprises, very +skillful with his hands, efficient in his every duty, and despite his +having a name that means “counsel,” never giving advice—not even the +unsolicited kind! + +From rubbing shoulders with scientists in our little universe by the +Botanical Gardens, the boy had come to know a thing or two. In Conseil +I had a seasoned specialist in biological classification, an +enthusiast who could run with acrobatic agility up and down the whole +ladder of branches, groups, classes, subclasses, orders, families, +genera, subgenera, species, and varieties. But there his science came +to a halt. Classifying was everything to him, so he knew nothing +else. Well versed in the theory of classification, he was poorly +versed in its practical application, and I doubt that he could tell a +sperm whale from a baleen whale! And yet, what a fine, gallant lad! + +For the past ten years, Conseil had gone with me wherever science +beckoned. Not once did he comment on the length or the hardships of a +journey. Never did he object to buckling up his suitcase for any +country whatever, China or the Congo, no matter how far off it was. He +went here, there, and everywhere in perfect contentment. Moreover, he +enjoyed excellent health that defied all ailments, owned solid +muscles, but hadn’t a nerve in him, not a sign of nerves—the mental +type, I mean. + +The lad was thirty years old, and his age to that of his employer was +as fifteen is to twenty. Please forgive me for this underhanded way of +admitting I had turned forty. + +But Conseil had one flaw. He was a fanatic on formality, and he only +addressed me in the third person—to the point where it got tiresome. + +“Conseil!” I repeated, while feverishly beginning my preparations for +departure. + +To be sure, I had confidence in this devoted lad. Ordinarily, I never +asked whether or not it suited him to go with me on my journeys; but +this time an expedition was at issue that could drag on indefinitely, +a hazardous undertaking whose purpose was to hunt an animal that could +sink a frigate as easily as a walnut shell! There was good reason to +stop and think, even for the world’s most emotionless man. What would +Conseil say? + +“Conseil!” I called a third time. + +Conseil appeared. + +“Did master summon me?” he said, entering. + +“Yes, my boy. Get my things ready, get yours ready. We’re departing in +two hours.” + +“As master wishes,” Conseil replied serenely. + +“We haven’t a moment to lose. Pack as much into my trunk as you can, +my traveling kit, my suits, shirts, and socks, don’t bother counting, +just squeeze it all in—and hurry!” + +“What about master’s collections?” Conseil ventured to observe. + +“We’ll deal with them later.” + +“What! The archaeotherium, hyracotherium, oreodonts, cheiropotamus, +and master’s other fossil skeletons?” + +“The hotel will keep them for us.” + +“What about master’s live babirusa?” + +“They’ll feed it during our absence. Anyhow, we’ll leave instructions +to ship the whole menagerie to France.” + +“Then we aren’t returning to Paris?” Conseil asked. + +“Yes, we are . . . certainly . . . ,” I replied evasively, “but after +we make a detour.” + +“Whatever detour master wishes.” + +“Oh, it’s nothing really! A route slightly less direct, that’s +all. We’re leaving on the Abraham Lincoln.” + +“As master thinks best,” Conseil replied placidly. + +“You see, my friend, it’s an issue of the monster, the notorious +narwhale. We’re going to rid the seas of it! The author of a +two-volume work, in quarto, on The Mysteries of the Great Ocean Depths +has no excuse for not setting sail with Commander Farragut. It’s a +glorious mission but also a dangerous one! We don’t know where it will +take us! These beasts can be quite unpredictable! But we’re going just +the same! We have a commander who’s game for anything!” + +“What master does, I’ll do,” Conseil replied. + +“But think it over, because I don’t want to hide anything from +you. This is one of those voyages from which people don’t always come +back!” + +“As master wishes.” + +A quarter of an hour later, our trunks were ready. Conseil did them in +a flash, and I was sure the lad hadn’t missed a thing, because he +classified shirts and suits as expertly as birds and mammals. + +The hotel elevator dropped us off in the main vestibule on the +mezzanine. I went down a short stair leading to the ground floor. I +settled my bill at that huge counter that was always under siege by a +considerable crowd. I left instructions for shipping my containers of +stuffed animals and dried plants to Paris, France. I opened a line of +credit sufficient to cover the babirusa and, Conseil at my heels, I +jumped into a carriage. + +For a fare of twenty francs, the vehicle went down Broadway to Union +Square, took Fourth Ave. to its junction with Bowery St., turned into +Katrin St. and halted at Pier 34. There the Katrin ferry transferred +men, horses, and carriage to Brooklyn, that great New York annex +located on the left bank of the East River, and in a few minutes we +arrived at the wharf next to which the Abraham Lincoln was vomiting +torrents of black smoke from its two funnels. + +Our baggage was immediately carried to the deck of the frigate. I +rushed aboard. I asked for Commander Farragut. One of the sailors led +me to the afterdeck, where I stood in the presence of a smart-looking +officer who extended his hand to me. + +“Professor Pierre Aronnax?” he said to me. + +“The same,” I replied. “Commander Farragut?” + +“In person. Welcome aboard, professor. Your cabin is waiting for you.” + +I bowed, and letting the commander attend to getting under way, I was +taken to the cabin that had been set aside for me. + +The Abraham Lincoln had been perfectly chosen and fitted out for its +new assignment. It was a high-speed frigate furnished with +superheating equipment that allowed the tension of its steam to build +to seven atmospheres. Under this pressure the Abraham Lincoln reached +an average speed of 18.3 miles per hour, a considerable speed but +still not enough to cope with our gigantic cetacean. + +The frigate’s interior accommodations complemented its nautical +virtues. I was well satisfied with my cabin, which was located in the +stern and opened into the officers’ mess. + +“We’ll be quite comfortable here,” I told Conseil. + +“With all due respect to master,” Conseil replied, “as comfortable as +a hermit crab inside the shell of a whelk.” + +I left Conseil to the proper stowing of our luggage and climbed on +deck to watch the preparations for getting under way. + +Just then Commander Farragut was giving orders to cast off the last +moorings holding the Abraham Lincoln to its Brooklyn pier. And so if +I’d been delayed by a quarter of an hour or even less, the frigate +would have gone without me, and I would have missed out on this +unearthly, extraordinary, and inconceivable expedition, whose true +story might well meet with some skepticism. + +But Commander Farragut didn’t want to waste a single day, or even a +single hour, in making for those seas where the animal had just been +sighted. He summoned his engineer. + +“Are we up to pressure?” he asked the man. + +“Aye, sir,” the engineer replied. + +“Go ahead, then!” Commander Farragut called. + +At this order, which was relayed to the engine by means of a +compressed-air device, the mechanics activated the start-up +wheel. Steam rushed whistling into the gaping valves. Long horizontal +pistons groaned and pushed the tie rods of the drive shaft. The blades +of the propeller churned the waves with increasing speed, and the +Abraham Lincoln moved out majestically amid a spectator-laden escort +of some 100 ferries and tenders.* + +*Author’s Note: Tenders are small steamboats that assist the big +liners. + +The wharves of Brooklyn, and every part of New York bordering the East +River, were crowded with curiosity seekers. Departing from 500,000 +throats, three cheers burst forth in succession. Thousands of +handkerchiefs were waving above these tightly packed masses, hailing +the Abraham + +Lincoln until it reached the waters of the Hudson River, at the tip of +the long peninsula that forms New York City. + +The frigate then went along the New Jersey coast—the wonderful right +bank of this river, all loaded down with country homes—and passed by +the forts to salutes from their biggest cannons. The Abraham Lincoln +replied by three times lowering and hoisting the American flag, whose +thirty-nine stars gleamed from the gaff of the mizzen sail; then, +changing speed to take the buoy-marked channel that curved into the +inner bay formed by the spit of Sandy Hook, it hugged this +sand-covered strip of land where thousands of spectators acclaimed us +one more time. + +The escort of boats and tenders still followed the frigate and only +left us when we came abreast of the lightship, whose two signal lights +mark the entrance of the narrows to Upper New York Bay. + +Three o’clock then sounded. The harbor pilot went down into his dinghy +and rejoined a little schooner waiting for him to leeward. The +furnaces were stoked; the propeller churned the waves more swiftly; +the frigate skirted the flat, yellow coast of Long Island; and at +eight o’clock in the evening, after the lights of Fire Island had +vanished into the northwest, we ran at full steam onto the dark waters +of the Atlantic. + + +CHAPTER 4 + +Ned Land + + +COMMANDER FARRAGUT was a good seaman, worthy of the frigate he +commanded. His ship and he were one. He was its very soul. On the +cetacean question no doubts arose in his mind, and he didn’t allow the +animal’s existence to be disputed aboard his vessel. He believed in it +as certain pious women believe in the leviathan from the Book of +Job—out of faith, not reason. The monster existed, and he had vowed to +rid the seas of it. The man was a sort of Knight of Rhodes, a +latter-day Sir Dieudonné of Gozo, on his way to fight an encounter +with the dragon devastating the island. Either Commander Farragut +would slay the narwhale, or the narwhale would slay Commander +Farragut. No middle of the road for these two. + +The ship’s officers shared the views of their leader. They could be +heard chatting, discussing, arguing, calculating the different chances +of an encounter, and observing the vast expanse of the +ocean. Voluntary watches from the crosstrees of the topgallant sail +were self-imposed by more than one who would have cursed such toil +under any other circumstances. As often as the sun swept over its +daily arc, the masts were populated with sailors whose feet itched and +couldn’t hold still on the planking of the deck below! And the Abraham +Lincoln’s stempost hadn’t even cut the suspected waters of the +Pacific. + +As for the crew, they only wanted to encounter the unicorn, harpoon +it, haul it on board, and carve it up. They surveyed the sea with +scrupulous care. Besides, Commander Farragut had mentioned that a +certain sum of $2,000.00 was waiting for the man who first sighted the +animal, be he cabin boy or sailor, mate or officer. I’ll let the +reader decide whether eyes got proper exercise aboard the Abraham +Lincoln. + +As for me, I didn’t lag behind the others and I yielded to no one my +share in these daily observations. Our frigate would have had +fivescore good reasons for renaming itself the Argus, after that +mythological beast with 100 eyes! The lone rebel among us was Conseil, +who seemed utterly uninterested in the question exciting us and was +out of step with the general enthusiasm on board. + +As I said, Commander Farragut had carefully equipped his ship with all +the gear needed to fish for a gigantic cetacean. No whaling vessel +could have been better armed. We had every known mechanism, from the +hand-hurled harpoon, to the blunderbuss firing barbed arrows, to the +duck gun with exploding bullets. On the forecastle was mounted the +latest model breech-loading cannon, very heavy of barrel and narrow of +bore, a weapon that would figure in the Universal Exhibition of +1867. Made in America, this valuable instrument could fire a +four-kilogram conical projectile an average distance of sixteen +kilometers without the least bother. + +So the Abraham Lincoln wasn’t lacking in means of destruction. But it +had better still. It had Ned Land, the King of Harpooners. + +Gifted with uncommon manual ability, Ned Land was a Canadian who had +no equal in his dangerous trade. Dexterity, coolness, bravery, and +cunning were virtues he possessed to a high degree, and it took a +truly crafty baleen whale or an exceptionally astute sperm whale to +elude the thrusts of his harpoon. + +Ned Land was about forty years old. A man of great height—over six +English feet—he was powerfully built, serious in manner, not very +sociable, sometimes headstrong, and quite ill-tempered when +crossed. His looks caught the attention, and above all the strength of +his gaze, which gave a unique emphasis to his facial appearance. + +Commander Farragut, to my thinking, had made a wise move in hiring on +this man. With his eye and his throwing arm, he was worth the whole +crew all by himself. I can do no better than to compare him with a +powerful telescope that could double as a cannon always ready to fire. + +To say Canadian is to say French, and as unsociable as Ned Land was, I +must admit he took a definite liking to me. No doubt it was my +nationality that attracted him. It was an opportunity for him to +speak, and for me to hear, that old Rabelaisian dialect still used in +some Canadian provinces. The harpooner’s family originated in Quebec, +and they were already a line of bold fishermen back in the days when +this town still belonged to France. + +Little by little Ned developed a taste for chatting, and I loved +hearing the tales of his adventures in the polar seas. He described +his fishing trips and his battles with great natural lyricism. His +tales took on the form of an epic poem, and I felt I was hearing some +Canadian Homer reciting his Iliad of the High Arctic regions. + +I’m writing of this bold companion as I currently know him. Because +we’ve become old friends, united in that permanent comradeship born +and cemented during only the most frightful crises! Ah, my gallant +Ned! I ask only to live 100 years more, the longer to remember you! + +And now, what were Ned Land’s views on this question of a marine +monster? I must admit that he flatly didn’t believe in the unicorn, +and alone on board, he didn’t share the general conviction. He avoided +even dealing with the subject, for which one day I felt compelled to +take him to task. + +During the magnificent evening of June 25—in other words, three weeks +after our departure—the frigate lay abreast of Cabo Blanco, thirty +miles to leeward of the coast of Patagonia. We had crossed the Tropic +of Capricorn, and the Strait of Magellan opened less than 700 miles to +the south. Before eight days were out, the Abraham Lincoln would plow +the waves of the Pacific. + +Seated on the afterdeck, Ned Land and I chatted about one thing and +another, staring at that mysterious sea whose depths to this day are +beyond the reach of human eyes. Quite naturally, I led our +conversation around to the giant unicorn, and I weighed our +expedition’s various chances for success or failure. Then, seeing that +Ned just let me talk without saying much himself, I pressed him more +closely. + +“Ned,” I asked him, “how can you still doubt the reality of this +cetacean we’re after? Do you have any particular reasons for being so +skeptical?” + +The harpooner stared at me awhile before replying, slapped his broad +forehead in one of his standard gestures, closed his eyes as if to +collect himself, and finally said: + +“Just maybe, Professor Aronnax.” + +“But Ned, you’re a professional whaler, a man familiar with all the +great marine mammals—your mind should easily accept this hypothesis of +an enormous cetacean, and you ought to be the last one to doubt it +under these circumstances!” + +“That’s just where you’re mistaken, professor,” Ned replied. “The +common man may still believe in fabulous comets crossing outer space, +or in prehistoric monsters living at the earth’s core, but astronomers +and geologists don’t swallow such fairy tales. It’s the same with +whalers. I’ve chased plenty of cetaceans, I’ve harpooned a good +number, I’ve killed several. But no matter how powerful and well armed +they were, neither their tails or their tusks could puncture the +sheet-iron plates of a steamer.” + +“Even so, Ned, people mention vessels that narwhale tusks have run +clean through.” + +“Wooden ships maybe,” the Canadian replied. “But I’ve never seen the +like. So till I have proof to the contrary, I’ll deny that baleen +whales, sperm whales, or unicorns can do any such thing.” + +“Listen to me, Ned—” + +“No, no, professor. I’ll go along with anything you want except +that. Some gigantic devilfish maybe . . . ?” + +“Even less likely, Ned. The devilfish is merely a mollusk, and even +this name hints at its semiliquid flesh, because it’s Latin meaning +soft one. The devilfish doesn’t belong to the vertebrate branch, and +even if it were 500 feet long, it would still be utterly harmless to +ships like the Scotia or the Abraham Lincoln. Consequently, the feats +of krakens or other monsters of that ilk must be relegated to the +realm of fiction.” + +“So, Mr. Naturalist,” Ned Land continued in a bantering tone, “you’ll +just keep on believing in the existence of some enormous cetacean +. . . ?” + +“Yes, Ned, I repeat it with a conviction backed by factual logic. I +believe in the existence of a mammal with a powerful constitution, +belonging to the vertebrate branch like baleen whales, sperm whales, +or dolphins, and armed with a tusk made of horn that has tremendous +penetrating power.” + +“Humph!” the harpooner put in, shaking his head with the attitude of a +man who doesn’t want to be convinced. + +“Note well, my fine Canadian,” I went on, “if such an animal exists, +if it lives deep in the ocean, if it frequents the liquid strata +located miles beneath the surface of the water, it needs to have a +constitution so solid, it defies all comparison.” + +“And why this powerful constitution?” Ned asked. + +“Because it takes incalculable strength just to live in those deep +strata and withstand their pressure.” + +“Oh really?” Ned said, tipping me a wink. + +“Oh really, and I can prove it to you with a few simple figures.” + +“Bosh!” Ned replied. “You can make figures do anything you want!” + +“In business, Ned, but not in mathematics. Listen to me. Let’s accept +that the pressure of one atmosphere is represented by the pressure of +a column of water thirty-two feet high. In reality, such a column of +water wouldn’t be quite so high because here we’re dealing with salt +water, which is denser than fresh water. Well then, when you dive +under the waves, Ned, for every thirty-two feet of water above you, +your body is tolerating the pressure of one more atmosphere, in other +words, one more kilogram per each square centimeter on your body’s +surface. So it follows that at 320 feet down, this pressure is equal +to ten atmospheres, to 100 atmospheres at 3,200 feet, and to 1,000 +atmospheres at 32,000 feet, that is, at about two and a half vertical +leagues down. Which is tantamount to saying that if you could reach +such a depth in the ocean, each square centimeter on your body’s +surface would be experiencing 1,000 kilograms of pressure. Now, my +gallant Ned, do you know how many square centimeters you have on your +bodily surface?” + +“I haven’t the foggiest notion, Professor Aronnax.” + +“About 17,000.” + +“As many as that?” + +“Yes, and since the atmosphere’s pressure actually weighs slightly +more than one kilogram per square centimeter, your 17,000 square +centimeters are tolerating 17,568 kilograms at this very moment.” + +“Without my noticing it?” + +“Without your noticing it. And if you aren’t crushed by so much +pressure, it’s because the air penetrates the interior of your body +with equal pressure. When the inside and outside pressures are in +perfect balance, they neutralize each other and allow you to tolerate +them without discomfort. But in the water it’s another story.” + +“Yes, I see,” Ned replied, growing more interested. “Because the water +surrounds me but doesn’t penetrate me.” + +“Precisely, Ned. So at thirty-two feet beneath the surface of the sea, +you’ll undergo a pressure of 17,568 kilograms; at 320 feet, or ten +times greater pressure, it’s 175,680 kilograms; at 3,200 feet, or 100 +times greater pressure, it’s 1,756,800 kilograms; finally, at 32,000 +feet, or 1,000 times greater pressure, it’s 17,568,000 kilograms; in +other words, you’d be squashed as flat as if you’d just been yanked +from between the plates of a hydraulic press!” + +“Fire and brimstone!” Ned put in. + +“All right then, my fine harpooner, if vertebrates several hundred +meters long and proportionate in bulk live at such depths, their +surface areas make up millions of square centimeters, and the pressure +they undergo must be assessed in billions of kilograms. Calculate, +then, how much resistance of bone structure and strength of +constitution they’d need in order to withstand such pressures!” + +“They’d need to be manufactured,” Ned Land replied, “from sheet-iron +plates eight inches thick, like ironclad frigates.” + +“Right, Ned, and then picture the damage such a mass could inflict if +it were launched with the speed of an express train against a ship’s +hull.” + +“Yes . . . indeed . . . maybe,” the Canadian replied, staggered by +these figures but still not willing to give in. + +“Well, have I convinced you?” + +“You’ve convinced me of one thing, Mr. Naturalist. That deep in the +sea, such animals would need to be just as strong as you say—if they +exist.” + +“But if they don’t exist, my stubborn harpooner, how do you explain +the accident that happened to the Scotia?” + +“It’s maybe . . . ,” Ned said, hesitating. + +“Go on!” + +“Because . . . it just couldn’t be true!” the Canadian replied, +unconsciously echoing a famous catchphrase of the scientist Arago. + +But this reply proved nothing, other than how bullheaded the harpooner +could be. That day I pressed him no further. The Scotia’s accident was +undeniable. Its hole was real enough that it had to be plugged up, and +I don’t think a hole’s existence can be more emphatically proven. Now +then, this hole didn’t make itself, and since it hadn’t resulted from +underwater rocks or underwater machines, it must have been caused by +the perforating tool of some animal. + +Now, for all the reasons put forward to this point, I believed that +this animal was a member of the branch Vertebrata, class Mammalia, +group Pisciforma, and finally, order Cetacea. As for the family in +which it would be placed (baleen whale, sperm whale, or dolphin), the +genus to which it belonged, and the species in which it would find its +proper home, these questions had to be left for later. To answer them +called for dissecting this unknown monster; to dissect it called for +catching it; to catch it called for harpooning it—which was Ned Land’s +business; to harpoon it called for sighting it—which was the crew’s +business; and to sight it called for encountering it—which was a +chancy business. + + +CHAPTER 5 + +At Random! + + +FOR SOME WHILE the voyage of the Abraham Lincoln was marked by no +incident. But one circumstance arose that displayed Ned Land’s +marvelous skills and showed just how much confidence we could place in +him. + +Off the Falkland Islands on June 30, the frigate came in contact with +a fleet of American whalers, and we learned that they hadn’t seen the +narwhale. But one of them, the captain of the Monroe, knew that Ned +Land had shipped aboard the Abraham Lincoln and asked his help in +hunting a baleen whale that was in sight. Anxious to see Ned Land at +work, Commander Farragut authorized him to make his way aboard the +Monroe. And the Canadian had such good luck that with a right-and-left +shot, he harpooned not one whale but two, striking the first straight +to the heart and catching the other after a few minutes’ chase! + +Assuredly, if the monster ever had to deal with Ned Land’s harpoon, I +wouldn’t bet on the monster. + +The frigate sailed along the east coast of South America with +prodigious speed. By July 3 we were at the entrance to the Strait of +Magellan, abreast of Cabo de las Virgenes. But Commander Farragut was +unwilling to attempt this tortuous passageway and maneuvered instead +to double Cape Horn. + +The crew sided with him unanimously. Indeed, were we likely to +encounter the narwhale in such a cramped strait? Many of our sailors +swore that the monster couldn’t negotiate this passageway simply +because “he’s too big for it!” + +Near three o’clock in the afternoon on July 6, fifteen miles south of +shore, the Abraham Lincoln doubled that solitary islet at the tip of +the South American continent, that stray rock Dutch seamen had named +Cape Horn after their hometown of Hoorn. Our course was set for the +northwest, and the next day our frigate’s propeller finally churned +the waters of the Pacific. + +“Open your eyes! Open your eyes!” repeated the sailors of the Abraham +Lincoln. + +And they opened amazingly wide. Eyes and spyglasses (a bit dazzled, it +is true, by the vista of $2,000.00) didn’t remain at rest for an +instant. Day and night we observed the surface of the ocean, and those +with nyctalopic eyes, whose ability to see in the dark increased their +chances by fifty percent, had an excellent shot at winning the prize. + +As for me, I was hardly drawn by the lure of money and yet was far +from the least attentive on board. Snatching only a few minutes for +meals and a few hours for sleep, come rain or come shine, I no longer +left the ship’s deck. Sometimes bending over the forecastle railings, +sometimes leaning against the sternrail, I eagerly scoured that +cotton-colored wake that whitened the ocean as far as the eye could +see! And how many times I shared the excitement of general staff and +crew when some unpredictable whale lifted its blackish back above the +waves. In an instant the frigate’s deck would become densely +populated. The cowls over the companionways would vomit a torrent of +sailors and officers. With panting chests and anxious eyes, we each +would observe the cetacean’s movements. I stared; I stared until I +nearly went blind from a worn-out retina, while Conseil, as stoic as +ever, kept repeating to me in a calm tone: + +“If master’s eyes would kindly stop bulging, master will see farther!” + +But what a waste of energy! The Abraham Lincoln would change course +and race after the animal sighted, only to find an ordinary baleen +whale or a common sperm whale that soon disappeared amid a chorus of +curses! + +However, the weather held good. Our voyage was proceeding under the +most favorable conditions. By then it was the bad season in these +southernmost regions, because July in this zone corresponds to our +January in Europe; but the sea remained smooth and easily visible over +a vast perimeter. + +Ned Land still kept up the most tenacious skepticism; beyond his +spells on watch, he pretended that he never even looked at the surface +of the waves, at least while no whales were in sight. And yet the +marvelous power of his vision could have performed yeoman service. But +this stubborn Canadian spent eight hours out of every twelve reading +or sleeping in his cabin. A hundred times I chided him for his +unconcern. + +“Bah!” he replied. “Nothing’s out there, Professor Aronnax, and if +there is some animal, what chance would we have of spotting it? Can’t +you see we’re just wandering around at random? People say they’ve +sighted this slippery beast again in the Pacific high seas—I’m truly +willing to believe it, but two months have already gone by since then, +and judging by your narwhale’s personality, it hates growing moldy +from hanging out too long in the same waterways! It’s blessed with a +terrific gift for getting around. Now, professor, you know even better +than I that nature doesn’t violate good sense, and she wouldn’t give +some naturally slow animal the ability to move swiftly if it hadn’t a +need to use that talent. So if the beast does exist, it’s already long +gone!” + +I had no reply to this. Obviously we were just groping blindly. But +how else could we go about it? All the same, our chances were +automatically pretty limited. Yet everyone still felt confident of +success, and not a sailor on board would have bet against the narwhale +appearing, and soon. + +On July 20 we cut the Tropic of Capricorn at longitude 105 degrees, +and by the 27th of the same month, we had cleared the equator on the +110th meridian. These bearings determined, the frigate took a more +decisive westward heading and tackled the seas of the central +Pacific. Commander Farragut felt, and with good reason, that it was +best to stay in deep waters and keep his distance from continents or +islands, whose neighborhoods the animal always seemed to avoid—“No +doubt,” our bosun said, “because there isn’t enough water for him!” So +the frigate kept well out when passing the Tuamotu, Marquesas, and +Hawaiian Islands, then cut the Tropic of Cancer at longitude 132 +degrees and headed for the seas of China. + +We were finally in the area of the monster’s latest antics! And in all +honesty, shipboard conditions became life-threatening. Hearts were +pounding hideously, gearing up for futures full of incurable +aneurysms. The entire crew suffered from a nervous excitement that +it’s beyond me to describe. Nobody ate, nobody slept. Twenty times a +day some error in perception, or the optical illusions of some sailor +perched in the crosstrees, would cause intolerable anguish, and this +emotion, repeated twenty times over, kept us in a state of +irritability so intense that a reaction was bound to follow. + +And this reaction wasn’t long in coming. For three months, during +which each day seemed like a century, the Abraham Lincoln plowed all +the northerly seas of the Pacific, racing after whales sighted, +abruptly veering off course, swerving sharply from one tack to +another, stopping suddenly, putting on steam and reversing engines in +quick succession, at the risk of stripping its gears, and it didn’t +leave a single point unexplored from the beaches of Japan to the +coasts of America. And we found nothing! Nothing except an immenseness +of deserted waves! Nothing remotely resembling a gigantic narwhale, or +an underwater islet, or a derelict shipwreck, or a runaway reef, or +anything the least bit unearthly! + +So the reaction set in. At first, discouragement took hold of people’s +minds, opening the door to disbelief. A new feeling appeared on board, +made up of three-tenths shame and seven-tenths fury. The crew called +themselves “out-and-out fools” for being hoodwinked by a fairy tale, +then grew steadily more furious! The mountains of arguments amassed +over a year collapsed all at once, and each man now wanted only to +catch up on his eating and sleeping, to make up for the time he had so +stupidly sacrificed. + +With typical human fickleness, they jumped from one extreme to the +other. Inevitably, the most enthusiastic supporters of the undertaking +became its most energetic opponents. This reaction mounted upward from +the bowels of the ship, from the quarters of the bunker hands to the +messroom of the general staff; and for certain, if it hadn’t been for +Commander Farragut’s characteristic stubbornness, the frigate would +ultimately have put back to that cape in the south. + +But this futile search couldn’t drag on much longer. The Abraham +Lincoln had done everything it could to succeed and had no reason to +blame itself. Never had the crew of an American naval craft shown more +patience and zeal; they weren’t responsible for this failure; there +was nothing to do but go home. + +A request to this effect was presented to the commander. The commander +stood his ground. His sailors couldn’t hide their discontent, and +their work suffered because of it. I’m unwilling to say that there was +mutiny on board, but after a reasonable period of intransigence, +Commander Farragut, like Christopher Columbus before him, asked for a +grace period of just three days more. After this three-day delay, if +the monster hadn’t appeared, our helmsman would give three turns of +the wheel, and the Abraham Lincoln would chart a course toward +European seas. + +This promise was given on November 2. It had the immediate effect of +reviving the crew’s failing spirits. The ocean was observed with +renewed care. Each man wanted one last look with which to sum up his +experience. Spyglasses functioned with feverish energy. A supreme +challenge had been issued to the giant narwhale, and the latter had no +acceptable excuse for ignoring this Summons to Appear! + +Two days passed. The Abraham Lincoln stayed at half steam. On the +offchance that the animal might be found in these waterways, a +thousand methods were used to spark its interest or rouse it from its +apathy. Enormous sides of bacon were trailed in our wake, to the great +satisfaction, I must say, of assorted sharks. While the Abraham +Lincoln heaved to, its longboats radiated in every direction around it +and didn’t leave a single point of the sea unexplored. But the evening +of November 4 arrived with this underwater mystery still unsolved. + +At noon the next day, November 5, the agreed-upon delay expired. After +a position fix, true to his promise, Commander Farragut would have to +set his course for the southeast and leave the northerly regions of +the Pacific decisively behind. + +By then the frigate lay in latitude 31 degrees 15’ north and longitude +136 degrees 42’ east. The shores of Japan were less than 200 miles to +our leeward. Night was coming on. Eight o’clock had just struck. Huge +clouds covered the moon’s disk, then in its first quarter. The sea +undulated placidly beneath the frigate’s stempost. + +Just then I was in the bow, leaning over the starboard rail. Conseil, +stationed beside me, stared straight ahead. Roosting in the shrouds, +the crew examined the horizon, which shrank and darkened little by +little. Officers were probing the increasing gloom with their night +glasses. Sometimes the murky ocean sparkled beneath moonbeams that +darted between the fringes of two clouds. Then all traces of light +vanished into the darkness. + +Observing Conseil, I discovered that, just barely, the gallant lad had +fallen under the general influence. At least so I thought. Perhaps his +nerves were twitching with curiosity for the first time in history. + +“Come on, Conseil!” I told him. “Here’s your last chance to pocket +that $2,000.00!” + +“If master will permit my saying so,” Conseil replied, “I never +expected to win that prize, and the Union government could have +promised $100,000.00 and been none the poorer.” + +“You’re right, Conseil, it turned out to be a foolish business after +all, and we jumped into it too hastily. What a waste of time, what a +futile expense of emotion! Six months ago we could have been back in +France—” + +“In master’s little apartment,” Conseil answered. “In master’s museum! +And by now I would have classified master’s fossils. And master’s +babirusa would be ensconced in its cage at the zoo in the Botanical +Gardens, and it would have attracted every curiosity seeker in town!” + +“Quite so, Conseil, and what’s more, I imagine that people will soon +be poking fun at us!” + +“To be sure,” Conseil replied serenely, “I do think they’ll have fun +at master’s expense. And must it be said . . . ?” + +“It must be said, Conseil.” + +“Well then, it will serve master right!” + +“How true!” + +“When one has the honor of being an expert as master is, one mustn’t +lay himself open to—” + +Conseil didn’t have time to complete the compliment. In the midst of +the general silence, a voice became audible. It was Ned Land’s voice, +and it shouted: + +“Ahoy! There’s the thing in question, abreast of us to leeward!” + + +CHAPTER 6 + +At Full Steam + + +AT THIS SHOUT the entire crew rushed toward the harpooner—commander, +officers, mates, sailors, cabin boys, down to engineers leaving their +machinery and stokers neglecting their furnaces. The order was given +to stop, and the frigate merely coasted. + +By then the darkness was profound, and as good as the Canadian’s eyes +were, I still wondered how he could see—and what he had seen. My heart +was pounding fit to burst. + +But Ned Land was not mistaken, and we all spotted the object his hand +was indicating. + +Two cable lengths off the Abraham Lincoln’s starboard quarter, the sea +seemed to be lit up from underneath. This was no mere phosphorescent +phenomenon, that much was unmistakable. Submerged some fathoms below +the surface of the water, the monster gave off that very intense but +inexplicable glow that several captains had mentioned in their +reports. This magnificent radiance had to come from some force with a +great illuminating capacity. The edge of its light swept over the sea +in an immense, highly elongated oval, condensing at the center into a +blazing core whose unbearable glow diminished by degrees outward. + +“It’s only a cluster of phosphorescent particles!” exclaimed one of +the officers. + +“No, sir,” I answered with conviction. “Not even angel-wing clams or +salps have ever given off such a powerful light. That glow is +basically electric in nature. Besides . . . look, look! It’s shifting! +It’s moving back and forth! It’s darting at us!” + +A universal shout went up from the frigate. + +“Quiet!” Commander Farragut said. “Helm hard to leeward! Reverse +engines!” + +Sailors rushed to the helm, engineers to their machinery. Under +reverse steam immediately, the Abraham Lincoln beat to port, sweeping +in a semicircle. + +“Right your helm! Engines forward!” Commander Farragut called. + +These orders were executed, and the frigate swiftly retreated from +this core of light. + +My mistake. It wanted to retreat, but the unearthly animal came at us +with a speed double our own. + +We gasped. More stunned than afraid, we stood mute and motionless. The +animal caught up with us, played with us. It made a full circle around +the frigate—then doing fourteen knots—and wrapped us in sheets of +electricity that were like luminous dust. Then it retreated two or +three miles, leaving a phosphorescent trail comparable to those swirls +of steam that shoot behind the locomotive of an express +train. Suddenly, all the way from the dark horizon where it had gone +to gather momentum, the monster abruptly dashed toward the Abraham +Lincoln with frightening speed, stopped sharply twenty feet from our +side plates, and died out—not by diving under the water, since its +glow did not recede gradually—but all at once, as if the source of +this brilliant emanation had suddenly dried up. Then it reappeared on +the other side of the ship, either by circling around us or by gliding +under our hull. At any instant a collision could have occurred that +would have been fatal to us. + +Meanwhile I was astonished at the frigate’s maneuvers. It was fleeing, +not fighting. Built to pursue, it was being pursued, and I commented +on this to Commander Farragut. His face, ordinarily so emotionless, +was stamped with indescribable astonishment. + +“Professor Aronnax,” he answered me, “I don’t know what kind of +fearsome creature I’m up against, and I don’t want my frigate running +foolish risks in all this darkness. Besides, how should we attack this +unknown creature, how should we defend ourselves against it? Let’s +wait for daylight, and then we’ll play a different role.” + +“You’ve no further doubts, commander, as to the nature of this +animal?” + +“No, sir, it’s apparently a gigantic narwhale, and an electric one to +boot.” + +“Maybe,” I added, “it’s no more approachable than an electric eel or +an electric ray!” + +“Right,” the commander replied. “And if it has their power to +electrocute, it’s surely the most dreadful animal ever conceived by +our Creator. That’s why I’ll keep on my guard, sir.” + +The whole crew stayed on their feet all night long. No one even +thought of sleeping. Unable to compete with the monster’s speed, the +Abraham Lincoln slowed down and stayed at half steam. For its part, +the narwhale mimicked the frigate, simply rode with the waves, and +seemed determined not to forsake the field of battle. + +However, near midnight it disappeared, or to use a more appropriate +expression, “it went out,” like a huge glowworm. Had it fled from us? +We were duty bound to fear so rather than hope so. But at 12:53 in the +morning, a deafening hiss became audible, resembling the sound made by +a waterspout expelled with tremendous intensity. + +By then Commander Farragut, Ned Land, and I were on the afterdeck, +peering eagerly into the profound gloom. + +“Ned Land,” the commander asked, “you’ve often heard whales +bellowing?” + +“Often, sir, but never a whale like this, whose sighting earned me +$2,000.00.” + +“Correct, the prize is rightfully yours. But tell me, isn’t that the +noise cetaceans make when they spurt water from their blowholes?” + +“The very noise, sir, but this one’s way louder. So there can be no +mistake. There’s definitely a whale lurking in our waters. With your +permission, sir,” the harpooner added, “tomorrow at daybreak we’ll +have words with it.” + +“If it’s in a mood to listen to you, Mr. Land,” I replied in a tone +far from convinced. + +“Let me get within four harpoon lengths of it,” the Canadian shot +back, “and it had better listen!” + +“But to get near it,” the commander went on, “I’d have to put a +whaleboat at your disposal?” + +“Certainly, sir.” + +“That would be gambling with the lives of my men.” + +“And with my own!” the harpooner replied simply. + +Near two o’clock in the morning, the core of light reappeared, no less +intense, five miles to windward of the Abraham Lincoln. Despite the +distance, despite the noise of wind and sea, we could distinctly hear +the fearsome thrashings of the animal’s tail, and even its panting +breath. Seemingly, the moment this enormous narwhale came up to +breathe at the surface of the ocean, air was sucked into its lungs +like steam into the huge cylinders of a 2,000-horsepower engine. + +“Hmm!” I said to myself. “A cetacean as powerful as a whole cavalry +regiment—now that’s a whale of a whale!” + +We stayed on the alert until daylight, getting ready for +action. Whaling gear was set up along the railings. Our chief officer +loaded the blunderbusses, which can launch harpoons as far as a mile, +and long duck guns with exploding bullets that can mortally wound even +the most powerful animals. Ned Land was content to sharpen his +harpoon, a dreadful weapon in his hands. + +At six o’clock day began to break, and with the dawn’s early light, +the narwhale’s electric glow disappeared. At seven o’clock the day was +well along, but a very dense morning mist shrank the horizon, and our +best spyglasses were unable to pierce it. The outcome: disappointment +and anger. + +I hoisted myself up to the crosstrees of the mizzen sail. Some +officers were already perched on the mastheads. + +At eight o’clock the mist rolled ponderously over the waves, and its +huge curls were lifting little by little. The horizon grew wider and +clearer all at once. + +Suddenly, just as on the previous evening, Ned Land’s voice was +audible. + +“There’s the thing in question, astern to port!” the harpooner +shouted. + +Every eye looked toward the point indicated. + +There, a mile and a half from the frigate, a long blackish body +emerged a meter above the waves. Quivering violently, its tail was +creating a considerable eddy. Never had caudal equipment thrashed the +sea with such power. An immense wake of glowing whiteness marked the +animal’s track, sweeping in a long curve. + +Our frigate drew nearer to the cetacean. I examined it with a +completely open mind. Those reports from the Shannon and the Helvetia +had slightly exaggerated its dimensions, and I put its length at only +250 feet. Its girth was more difficult to judge, but all in all, the +animal seemed to be wonderfully proportioned in all three dimensions. + +While I was observing this phenomenal creature, two jets of steam and +water sprang from its blowholes and rose to an altitude of forty +meters, which settled for me its mode of breathing. From this I +finally concluded that it belonged to the branch Vertebrata, class +Mammalia, subclass Monodelphia, group Pisciforma, order Cetacea, +family . . . but here I couldn’t make up my mind. The order Cetacea +consists of three families, baleen whales, sperm whales, dolphins, and +it’s in this last group that narwhales are placed. Each of these +families is divided into several genera, each genus into species, each +species into varieties. So I was still missing variety, species, +genus, and family, but no doubt I would complete my classifying with +the aid of Heaven and Commander Farragut. + +The crew were waiting impatiently for orders from their leader. The +latter, after carefully observing the animal, called for his +engineer. The engineer raced over. + +“Sir,” the commander said, “are you up to pressure?” + +“Aye, sir,” the engineer replied. + +“Fine. Stoke your furnaces and clap on full steam!” + +Three cheers greeted this order. The hour of battle had sounded. A few +moments later, the frigate’s two funnels vomited torrents of black +smoke, and its deck quaked from the trembling of its boilers. + +Driven forward by its powerful propeller, the Abraham Lincoln headed +straight for the animal. Unconcerned, the latter let us come within +half a cable length; then, not bothering to dive, it got up a little +speed, retreated, and was content to keep its distance. + +This chase dragged on for about three-quarters of an hour without the +frigate gaining two fathoms on the cetacean. At this rate, it was +obvious that we would never catch up with it. + +Infuriated, Commander Farragut kept twisting the thick tuft of hair +that flourished below his chin. + +“Ned Land!” he called. + +The Canadian reported at once. + +“Well, Mr. Land,” the commander asked, “do you still advise putting my +longboats to sea?” + +“No, sir,” Ned Land replied, “because that beast won’t be caught +against its will.” + +“Then what should we do?” + +“Stoke up more steam, sir, if you can. As for me, with your permission +I’ll go perch on the bobstays under the bowsprit, and if we can get +within a harpoon length, I’ll harpoon the brute.” + +“Go to it, Ned,” Commander Farragut replied. “Engineer,” he called, +“keep the pressure mounting!” + +Ned Land made his way to his post. The furnaces were urged into +greater activity; our propeller did forty-three revolutions per +minute, and steam shot from the valves. Heaving the log, we verified +that the Abraham Lincoln was going at the rate of 18.5 miles per hour. + +But that damned animal also did a speed of 18.5. + +For the next hour our frigate kept up this pace without gaining a +fathom! This was humiliating for one of the fastest racers in the +American navy. The crew were working up into a blind rage. Sailor +after sailor heaved insults at the monster, which couldn’t be bothered +with answering back. Commander Farragut was no longer content simply +to twist his goatee; he chewed on it. + +The engineer was summoned once again. + +“You’re up to maximum pressure?” the commander asked him. + +“Aye, sir,” the engineer replied. + +“And your valves are charged to . . . ?” + +“To six and a half atmospheres.” + +“Charge them to ten atmospheres.” + +A typical American order if I ever heard one. It would have sounded +just fine during some Mississippi paddle-wheeler race, to “outstrip +the competition!” + +“Conseil,” I said to my gallant servant, now at my side, “you realize +that we’ll probably blow ourselves skyhigh?” + +“As master wishes!” Conseil replied. + +All right, I admit it: I did wish to run this risk! + +The valves were charged. More coal was swallowed by the +furnaces. Ventilators shot torrents of air over the braziers. The +Abraham Lincoln’s speed increased. Its masts trembled down to their +blocks, and swirls of smoke could barely squeeze through the narrow +funnels. + +We heaved the log a second time. + +“Well, helmsman?” Commander Farragut asked. + +“19.3 miles per hour, sir.” + +“Keep stoking the furnaces.” + +The engineer did so. The pressure gauge marked ten atmospheres. But no +doubt the cetacean itself had “warmed up,” because without the least +trouble, it also did 19.3. + +What a chase! No, I can’t describe the excitement that shook my very +being. Ned Land stayed at his post, harpoon in hand. Several times the +animal let us approach. + +“We’re overhauling it!” the Canadian would shout. + +Then, just as he was about to strike, the cetacean would steal off +with a swiftness I could estimate at no less than thirty miles per +hour. And even at our maximum speed, it took the liberty of thumbing +its nose at the frigate by running a full circle around us! A howl of +fury burst from every throat! + +By noon we were no farther along than at eight o’clock in the morning. + +Commander Farragut then decided to use more direct methods. + +“Bah!” he said. “So that animal is faster than the Abraham +Lincoln. All right, we’ll see if it can outrun our conical shells! +Mate, man the gun in the bow!” + +Our forecastle cannon was immediately loaded and leveled. The +cannoneer fired a shot, but his shell passed some feet above the +cetacean, which stayed half a mile off. + +“Over to somebody with better aim!” the commander shouted. “And +$500.00 to the man who can pierce that infernal beast!” + +Calm of eye, cool of feature, an old gray-bearded gunner—I can see him +to this day—approached the cannon, put it in position, and took aim +for a good while. There was a mighty explosion, mingled with cheers +from the crew. + +The shell reached its target; it hit the animal, but not in the usual +fashion—it bounced off that rounded surface and vanished into the sea +two miles out. + +“Oh drat!” said the old gunner in his anger. “That rascal must be +covered with six-inch armor plate!” + +“Curse the beast!” Commander Farragut shouted. + +The hunt was on again, and Commander Farragut leaned over to me, +saying: + +“I’ll chase that animal till my frigate explodes!” + +“Yes,” I replied, “and nobody would blame you!” + +We could still hope that the animal would tire out and not be as +insensitive to exhaustion as our steam engines. But no such luck. Hour +after hour went by without it showing the least sign of weariness. + +However, to the Abraham Lincoln’s credit, it must be said that we +struggled on with tireless persistence. I estimate that we covered a +distance of at least 500 kilometers during this ill-fated day of +November 6. But night fell and wrapped the surging ocean in its +shadows. + +By then I thought our expedition had come to an end, that we would +never see this fantastic animal again. I was mistaken. + +At 10:50 in the evening, that electric light reappeared three miles to +windward of the frigate, just as clear and intense as the night +before. + +The narwhale seemed motionless. Was it asleep perhaps, weary from its +workday, just riding with the waves? This was our chance, and +Commander Farragut was determined to take full advantage of it. + +He gave his orders. The Abraham Lincoln stayed at half steam, +advancing cautiously so as not to awaken its adversary. In midocean +it’s not unusual to encounter whales so sound asleep they can +successfully be attacked, and Ned Land had harpooned more than one in +its slumber. The Canadian went to resume his post on the bobstays +under the bowsprit. + +The frigate approached without making a sound, stopped two cable +lengths from the animal and coasted. Not a soul breathed on board. A +profound silence reigned over the deck. We were not 100 feet from the +blazing core of light, whose glow grew stronger and dazzled the eyes. + +Just then, leaning over the forecastle railing, I saw Ned Land below +me, one hand grasping the martingale, the other brandishing his +dreadful harpoon. Barely twenty feet separated him from the motionless +animal. + +All at once his arm shot forward and the harpoon was launched. I heard +the weapon collide resonantly, as if it had hit some hard substance. + +The electric light suddenly went out, and two enormous waterspouts +crashed onto the deck of the frigate, racing like a torrent from stem +to stern, toppling crewmen, breaking spare masts and yardarms from +their lashings. + +A hideous collision occurred, and thrown over the rail with no time to +catch hold of it, I was hurled into the sea. + + +CHAPTER 7 + +A Whale of Unknown Species + + +ALTHOUGH I WAS startled by this unexpected descent, I at least have a +very clear recollection of my sensations during it. + +At first I was dragged about twenty feet under. I’m a good swimmer, +without claiming to equal such other authors as Byron and Edgar Allan +Poe, who were master divers, and I didn’t lose my head on the way +down. With two vigorous kicks of the heel, I came back to the surface +of the sea. + +My first concern was to look for the frigate. Had the crew seen me go +overboard? Was the Abraham Lincoln tacking about? Would Commander +Farragut put a longboat to sea? Could I hope to be rescued? + +The gloom was profound. I glimpsed a black mass disappearing eastward, +where its running lights were fading out in the distance. It was the +frigate. I felt I was done for. + +“Help! Help!” I shouted, swimming desperately toward the Abraham +Lincoln. + +My clothes were weighing me down. The water glued them to my body, +they were paralyzing my movements. I was sinking! I was suffocating +. . . ! + +“Help!” + +This was the last shout I gave. My mouth was filling with water. I +struggled against being dragged into the depths. . . . + +Suddenly my clothes were seized by energetic hands, I felt myself +pulled abruptly back to the surface of the sea, and yes, I heard these +words pronounced in my ear: + +“If master would oblige me by leaning on my shoulder, master will swim +with much greater ease.” + +With one hand I seized the arm of my loyal Conseil. + +“You!” I said. “You!” + +“Myself,” Conseil replied, “and at master’s command.” + +“That collision threw you overboard along with me?” + +“Not at all. But being in master’s employ, I followed master.” + +The fine lad thought this only natural! + +“What about the frigate?” I asked. + +“The frigate?” Conseil replied, rolling over on his back. “I think +master had best not depend on it to any great extent!” + +“What are you saying?” + +“I’m saying that just as I jumped overboard, I heard the men at the +helm shout, ‘Our propeller and rudder are smashed!’ ” + +“Smashed?” + +“Yes, smashed by the monster’s tusk! I believe it’s the sole injury +the Abraham Lincoln has sustained. But most inconveniently for us, the +ship can no longer steer.” + +“Then we’re done for!” + +“Perhaps,” Conseil replied serenely. “However, we still have a few +hours before us, and in a few hours one can do a great many things!” + +Conseil’s unflappable composure cheered me up. I swam more vigorously, +but hampered by clothes that were as restricting as a cloak made of +lead, I was managing with only the greatest difficulty. Conseil +noticed as much. + +“Master will allow me to make an incision,” he said. + +And he slipped an open clasp knife under my clothes, slitting them +from top to bottom with one swift stroke. Then he briskly undressed me +while I swam for us both. + +I then did Conseil the same favor, and we continued to “navigate” side +by side. + +But our circumstances were no less dreadful. Perhaps they hadn’t seen +us go overboard; and even if they had, the frigate—being undone by its +rudder—couldn’t return to leeward after us. So we could count only on +its longboats. + +Conseil had coolly reasoned out this hypothesis and laid his plans +accordingly. An amazing character, this boy; in midocean, this stoic +lad seemed right at home! + +So, having concluded that our sole chance for salvation lay in being +picked up by the Abraham Lincoln’s longboats, we had to take steps to +wait for them as long as possible. Consequently, I decided to divide +our energies so we wouldn’t both be worn out at the same time, and +this was the arrangement: while one of us lay on his back, staying +motionless with arms crossed and legs outstretched, the other would +swim and propel his partner forward. This towing role was to last no +longer than ten minutes, and by relieving each other in this way, we +could stay afloat for hours, perhaps even until daybreak. + +Slim chance, but hope springs eternal in the human breast! Besides, +there were two of us. Lastly, I can vouch—as improbable as it +seems—that even if I had wanted to destroy all my illusions, even if I +had been willing to “give in to despair,” I could not have done so! + +The cetacean had rammed our frigate at about eleven o’clock in the +evening. I therefore calculated on eight hours of swimming until +sunrise. A strenuous task, but feasible, thanks to our relieving each +other. The sea was pretty smooth and barely tired us. Sometimes I +tried to peer through the dense gloom, which was broken only by the +phosphorescent flickers coming from our movements. I stared at the +luminous ripples breaking over my hands, shimmering sheets spattered +with blotches of bluish gray. It seemed as if we’d plunged into a pool +of quicksilver. + +Near one o’clock in the morning, I was overcome with tremendous +exhaustion. My limbs stiffened in the grip of intense cramps. Conseil +had to keep me going, and attending to our self-preservation became +his sole responsibility. I soon heard the poor lad gasping; his +breathing became shallow and quick. I didn’t think he could stand such +exertions for much longer. + +“Go on! Go on!” I told him. + +“Leave master behind?” he replied. “Never! I’ll drown before he does!” + +Just then, past the fringes of a large cloud that the wind was driving +eastward, the moon appeared. The surface of the sea glistened under +its rays. That kindly light rekindled our strength. I held up my head +again. My eyes darted to every point of the horizon. I spotted the +frigate. It was five miles from us and formed no more than a dark, +barely perceptible mass. But as for longboats, not a one in sight! + +I tried to call out. What was the use at such a distance! My swollen +lips wouldn’t let a single sound through. Conseil could still +articulate a few words, and I heard him repeat at intervals: + +“Help! Help!” + +Ceasing all movement for an instant, we listened. And it may have been +a ringing in my ear, from this organ filling with impeded blood, but +it seemed to me that Conseil’s shout had received an answer back. + +“Did you hear that?” I muttered. + +“Yes, yes!” + +And Conseil hurled another desperate plea into space. + +This time there could be no mistake! A human voice had answered us! +Was it the voice of some poor devil left behind in midocean, some +other victim of that collision suffered by our ship? Or was it one of +the frigate’s longboats, hailing us out of the gloom? + +Conseil made one final effort, and bracing his hands on my shoulders, +while I offered resistance with one supreme exertion, he raised +himself half out of the water, then fell back exhausted. + +“What did you see?” + +“I saw . . . ,” he muttered, “I saw . . . but we mustn’t talk +. . . save our strength . . . !” + +What had he seen? Then, lord knows why, the thought of the monster +came into my head for the first time . . . ! But even so, that voice +. . . ? Gone are the days when Jonahs took refuge in the bellies of +whales! + +Nevertheless, Conseil kept towing me. Sometimes he looked up, stared +straight ahead, and shouted a request for directions, which was +answered by a voice that was getting closer and closer. I could barely +hear it. I was at the end of my strength; my fingers gave out; my +hands were no help to me; my mouth opened convulsively, filling with +brine; its coldness ran through me; I raised my head one last time, +then I collapsed. . . . + +Just then something hard banged against me. I clung to it. Then I felt +myself being pulled upward, back to the surface of the water; my chest +caved in, and I fainted. . . . + +For certain, I came to quickly, because someone was massaging me so +vigorously it left furrows in my flesh. I half opened my eyes. . . . + +“Conseil!” I muttered. + +“Did master ring for me?” Conseil replied. + +Just then, in the last light of a moon settling on the horizon, I +spotted a face that wasn’t Conseil’s but which I recognized at once. + +“Ned!” I exclaimed. + +“In person, sir, and still after his prize!” the Canadian replied. + +“You were thrown overboard after the frigate’s collision?” + +“Yes, professor, but I was luckier than you, and right away I was able +to set foot on this floating islet.” + +“Islet?” + +“Or in other words, on our gigantic narwhale.” + +“Explain yourself, Ned.” + +“It’s just that I soon realized why my harpoon got blunted and +couldn’t puncture its hide.” + +“Why, Ned, why?” + +“Because, professor, this beast is made of boilerplate steel!” + +At this point in my story, I need to get a grip on myself, reconstruct +exactly what I experienced, and make doubly sure of everything I +write. + +The Canadian’s last words caused a sudden upheaval in my brain. I +swiftly hoisted myself to the summit of this half-submerged creature +or object that was serving as our refuge. I tested it with my +foot. Obviously it was some hard, impenetrable substance, not the soft +matter that makes up the bodies of our big marine mammals. + +But this hard substance could have been a bony carapace, like those +that covered some prehistoric animals, and I might have left it at +that and classified this monster among such amphibious reptiles as +turtles or alligators. + +Well, no. The blackish back supporting me was smooth and polished with +no overlapping scales. On impact, it gave off a metallic sonority, and +as incredible as this sounds, it seemed, I swear, to be made of +riveted plates. + +No doubts were possible! This animal, this monster, this natural +phenomenon that had puzzled the whole scientific world, that had +muddled and misled the minds of seamen in both hemispheres, was, there +could be no escaping it, an even more astonishing phenomenon—a +phenomenon made by the hand of man. + +Even if I had discovered that some fabulous, mythological creature +really existed, it wouldn’t have given me such a terrific mental +jolt. It’s easy enough to accept that prodigious things can come from +our Creator. But to find, all at once, right before your eyes, that +the impossible had been mysteriously achieved by man himself: this +staggers the mind! + +But there was no question now. We were stretched out on the back of +some kind of underwater boat that, as far as I could judge, boasted +the shape of an immense steel fish. Ned Land had clear views on the +issue. Conseil and I could only line up behind him. + +“But then,” I said, “does this contraption contain some sort of +locomotive mechanism, and a crew to run it?” + +“Apparently,” the harpooner replied. “And yet for the three hours I’ve +lived on this floating island, it hasn’t shown a sign of life.” + +“This boat hasn’t moved at all?” + +“No, Professor Aronnax. It just rides with the waves, but otherwise it +hasn’t stirred.” + +“But we know that it’s certainly gifted with great speed. Now then, +since an engine is needed to generate that speed, and a mechanic to +run that engine, I conclude: we’re saved.” + +“Humph!” Ned Land put in, his tone denoting reservations. + +Just then, as if to take my side in the argument, a bubbling began +astern of this strange submersible—whose drive mechanism was obviously +a propeller—and the boat started to move. We barely had time to hang +on to its topside, which emerged about eighty centimeters above +water. Fortunately its speed was not excessive. + +“So long as it navigates horizontally,” Ned Land muttered, “I’ve no +complaints. But if it gets the urge to dive, I wouldn’t give $2.00 for +my hide!” + +The Canadian might have quoted a much lower price. So it was +imperative to make contact with whatever beings were confined inside +the plating of this machine. I searched its surface for an opening or +a hatch, a “manhole,” to use the official term; but the lines of +rivets had been firmly driven into the sheet-iron joins and were +straight and uniform. + +Moreover, the moon then disappeared and left us in profound +darkness. We had to wait for daylight to find some way of getting +inside this underwater boat. + +So our salvation lay totally in the hands of the mysterious helmsmen +steering this submersible, and if it made a dive, we were done for! +But aside from this occurring, I didn’t doubt the possibility of our +making contact with them. In fact, if they didn’t produce their own +air, they inevitably had to make periodic visits to the surface of the +ocean to replenish their oxygen supply. Hence the need for some +opening that put the boat’s interior in contact with the atmosphere. + +As for any hope of being rescued by Commander Farragut, that had to be +renounced completely. We were being swept westward, and I estimate +that our comparatively moderate speed reached twelve miles per +hour. The propeller churned the waves with mathematical regularity, +sometimes emerging above the surface and throwing phosphorescent spray +to great heights. + +Near four o’clock in the morning, the submersible picked up speed. We +could barely cope with this dizzying rush, and the waves battered us +at close range. Fortunately Ned’s hands came across a big mooring ring +fastened to the topside of this sheet-iron back, and we all held on +for dear life. + +Finally this long night was over. My imperfect memories won’t let me +recall my every impression of it. A single detail comes back to +me. Several times, during various lulls of wind and sea, I thought I +heard indistinct sounds, a sort of elusive harmony produced by distant +musical chords. What was the secret behind this underwater navigating, +whose explanation the whole world had sought in vain? What beings +lived inside this strange boat? What mechanical force allowed it to +move about with such prodigious speed? + +Daylight appeared. The morning mists surrounded us, but they soon +broke up. I was about to proceed with a careful examination of the +hull, whose topside formed a sort of horizontal platform, when I felt +it sinking little by little. + +“Oh, damnation!” Ned Land shouted, stamping his foot on the resonant +sheet iron. “Open up there, you antisocial navigators!” + +But it was difficult to make yourself heard above the deafening beats +of the propeller. Fortunately this submerging movement stopped. + +From inside the boat, there suddenly came noises of iron fastenings +pushed roughly aside. One of the steel plates flew up, a man appeared, +gave a bizarre yell, and instantly disappeared. + +A few moments later, eight strapping fellows appeared silently, their +faces like masks, and dragged us down into their fearsome machine. + + +CHAPTER 8 + +“Mobilis in Mobili” + + +THIS BRUTALLY EXECUTED capture was carried out with lightning +speed. My companions and I had no time to collect ourselves. I don’t +know how they felt about being shoved inside this aquatic prison, but +as for me, I was shivering all over. With whom were we dealing? Surely +with some new breed of pirates, exploiting the sea after their own +fashion. + +The narrow hatch had barely closed over me when I was surrounded by +profound darkness. Saturated with the outside light, my eyes couldn’t +make out a thing. I felt my naked feet clinging to the steps of an +iron ladder. Forcibly seized, Ned Land and Conseil were behind me. At +the foot of the ladder, a door opened and instantly closed behind us +with a loud clang. + +We were alone. Where? I couldn’t say, could barely even imagine. All +was darkness, but such utter darkness that after several minutes, my +eyes were still unable to catch a single one of those hazy gleams that +drift through even the blackest nights. + +Meanwhile, furious at these goings on, Ned Land gave free rein to his +indignation. + +“Damnation!” he exclaimed. “These people are about as hospitable as +the savages of New Caledonia! All that’s lacking is for them to be +cannibals! I wouldn’t be surprised if they were, but believe you me, +they won’t eat me without my kicking up a protest!” + +“Calm yourself, Ned my friend,” Conseil replied serenely. “Don’t flare +up so quickly! We aren’t in a kettle yet!” + +“In a kettle, no,” the Canadian shot back, “but in an oven for +sure. It’s dark enough for one. Luckily my Bowie knife hasn’t left me, +and I can still see well enough to put it to use.* The first one of +these bandits who lays a hand on me—” + +*Author’s Note: A Bowie knife is a wide-bladed dagger that Americans +are forever carrying around. + +“Don’t be so irritable, Ned,” I then told the harpooner, “and don’t +ruin things for us with pointless violence. Who knows whether they +might be listening to us? Instead, let’s try to find out where we +are!” + +I started moving, groping my way. After five steps I encountered an +iron wall made of riveted boilerplate. Then, turning around, I bumped +into a wooden table next to which several stools had been set. The +floor of this prison lay hidden beneath thick, hempen matting that +deadened the sound of footsteps. Its naked walls didn’t reveal any +trace of a door or window. Going around the opposite way, Conseil met +up with me, and we returned to the middle of this cabin, which had to +be twenty feet long by ten wide. As for its height, not even Ned Land, +with his great stature, was able to determine it. + +Half an hour had already gone by without our situation changing, when +our eyes were suddenly spirited from utter darkness into blinding +light. Our prison lit up all at once; in other words, it filled with +luminescent matter so intense that at first I couldn’t stand the +brightness of it. From its glare and whiteness, I recognized the +electric glow that had played around this underwater boat like some +magnificent phosphorescent phenomenon. After involuntarily closing my +eyes, I reopened them and saw that this luminous force came from a +frosted half globe curving out of the cabin’s ceiling. + +“Finally! It’s light enough to see!” Ned Land exclaimed, knife in +hand, staying on the defensive. + +“Yes,” I replied, then ventured the opposite view. “But as for our +situation, we’re still in the dark.” + +“Master must learn patience,” said the emotionless Conseil. + +This sudden illumination of our cabin enabled me to examine its +tiniest details. It contained only a table and five stools. Its +invisible door must have been hermetically sealed. Not a sound reached +our ears. Everything seemed dead inside this boat. Was it in motion, +or stationary on the surface of the ocean, or sinking into the depths? +I couldn’t tell. + +But this luminous globe hadn’t been turned on without good +reason. Consequently, I hoped that some crewmen would soon make an +appearance. If you want to consign people to oblivion, you don’t light +up their dungeons. + +I was not mistaken. Unlocking noises became audible, a door opened, +and two men appeared. + +One was short and stocky, powerfully muscled, broad shouldered, robust +of limbs, the head squat, the hair black and luxuriant, the mustache +heavy, the eyes bright and penetrating, and his whole personality +stamped with that southern-blooded zest that, in France, typifies the +people of Provence. The philosopher Diderot has very aptly claimed +that a man’s bearing is the clue to his character, and this stocky +little man was certainly a living proof of this claim. You could sense +that his everyday conversation must have been packed with such vivid +figures of speech as personification, symbolism, and misplaced +modifiers. But I was never in a position to verify this because, +around me, he used only an odd and utterly incomprehensible dialect. + +The second stranger deserves a more detailed description. A disciple +of such character-judging anatomists as Gratiolet or Engel could have +read this man’s features like an open book. Without hesitation, I +identified his dominant qualities—self-confidence, since his head +reared like a nobleman’s above the arc formed by the lines of his +shoulders, and his black eyes gazed with icy assurance; calmness, +since his skin, pale rather than ruddy, indicated tranquility of +blood; energy, shown by the swiftly knitting muscles of his brow; and +finally courage, since his deep breathing denoted tremendous reserves +of vitality. + +I might add that this was a man of great pride, that his calm, firm +gaze seemed to reflect thinking on an elevated plane, and that the +harmony of his facial expressions and bodily movements resulted in an +overall effect of unquestionable candor—according to the findings of +physiognomists, those analysts of facial character. + +I felt “involuntarily reassured” in his presence, and this boded well +for our interview. + +Whether this individual was thirty-five or fifty years of age, I could +not precisely state. He was tall, his forehead broad, his nose +straight, his mouth clearly etched, his teeth magnificent, his hands +refined, tapered, and to use a word from palmistry, highly “psychic,” +in other words, worthy of serving a lofty and passionate spirit. This +man was certainly the most wonderful physical specimen I had ever +encountered. One unusual detail: his eyes were spaced a little far +from each other and could instantly take in nearly a quarter of the +horizon. This ability—as I later verified—was strengthened by a range +of vision even greater than Ned Land’s. When this stranger focused his +gaze on an object, his eyebrow lines gathered into a frown, his heavy +eyelids closed around his pupils to contract his huge field of vision, +and he looked! What a look—as if he could magnify objects shrinking +into the distance; as if he could probe your very soul; as if he could +pierce those sheets of water so opaque to our eyes and scan the +deepest seas . . . ! + +Wearing caps made of sea-otter fur, and shod in sealskin fishing +boots, these two strangers were dressed in clothing made from some +unique fabric that flattered the figure and allowed great freedom of +movement. + +The taller of the two—apparently the leader on board—examined us with +the greatest care but without pronouncing a word. Then, turning to his +companion, he conversed with him in a language I didn’t recognize. It +was a sonorous, harmonious, flexible dialect whose vowels seemed to +undergo a highly varied accentuation. + +The other replied with a shake of the head and added two or three +utterly incomprehensible words. Then he seemed to question me directly +with a long stare. + +I replied in clear French that I wasn’t familiar with his language; +but he didn’t seem to understand me, and the situation grew rather +baffling. + +“Still, master should tell our story,” Conseil said to me. “Perhaps +these gentlemen will grasp a few words of it!” + +I tried again, telling the tale of our adventures, clearly +articulating my every syllable, and not leaving out a single detail. I +stated our names and titles; then, in order, I introduced Professor +Aronnax, his manservant Conseil, and Mr. Ned Land, harpooner. + +The man with calm, gentle eyes listened to me serenely, even +courteously, and paid remarkable attention. But nothing in his facial +expression indicated that he understood my story. When I finished, he +didn’t pronounce a single word. + +One resource still left was to speak English. Perhaps they would be +familiar with this nearly universal language. But I only knew it, as I +did the German language, well enough to read it fluently, not well +enough to speak it correctly. Here, however, our overriding need was +to make ourselves understood. + +“Come on, it’s your turn,” I told the harpooner. “Over to you, +Mr. Land. Pull out of your bag of tricks the best English ever spoken +by an Anglo-Saxon, and try for a more favorable result than mine.” + +Ned needed no persuading and started our story all over again, most of +which I could follow. Its content was the same, but the form +differed. Carried away by his volatile temperament, the Canadian put +great animation into it. He complained vehemently about being +imprisoned in defiance of his civil rights, asked by virtue of which +law he was hereby detained, invoked writs of habeas corpus, threatened +to press charges against anyone holding him in illegal custody, +ranted, gesticulated, shouted, and finally conveyed by an expressive +gesture that we were dying of hunger. + +This was perfectly true, but we had nearly forgotten the fact. + +Much to his amazement, the harpooner seemed no more intelligible than +I had been. Our visitors didn’t bat an eye. Apparently they were +engineers who understood the languages of neither the French physicist +Arago nor the English physicist Faraday. + +Thoroughly baffled after vainly exhausting our philological resources, +I no longer knew what tactic to pursue, when Conseil told me: + +“If master will authorize me, I’ll tell the whole business in German.” + +“What! You know German?” I exclaimed. + +“Like most Flemish people, with all due respect to master.” + +“On the contrary, my respect is due you. Go to it, my boy.” + +And Conseil, in his serene voice, described for the third time the +various vicissitudes of our story. But despite our narrator’s fine +accent and stylish turns of phrase, the German language met with no +success. + +Finally, as a last resort, I hauled out everything I could remember +from my early schooldays, and I tried to narrate our adventures in +Latin. Cicero would have plugged his ears and sent me to the scullery, +but somehow I managed to pull through. With the same negative result. + +This last attempt ultimately misfiring, the two strangers exchanged a +few words in their incomprehensible language and withdrew, not even +favoring us with one of those encouraging gestures that are used in +every country in the world. The door closed again. + +“This is outrageous!” Ned Land shouted, exploding for the twentieth +time. “I ask you! We speak French, English, German, and Latin to these +rogues, and neither of them has the decency to even answer back!” + +“Calm down, Ned,” I told the seething harpooner. “Anger won’t get us +anywhere.” + +“But professor,” our irascible companion went on, “can’t you see that +we could die of hunger in this iron cage?” + +“Bah!” Conseil put in philosophically. “We can hold out a good while +yet!” + +“My friends,” I said, “we mustn’t despair. We’ve gotten out of tighter +spots. So please do me the favor of waiting a bit before you form your +views on the commander and crew of this boat.” + +“My views are fully formed,” Ned Land shot back. “They’re rogues!” + +“Oh good! And from what country?” + +“Roguedom!” + +“My gallant Ned, as yet that country isn’t clearly marked on maps of +the world, but I admit that the nationality of these two strangers is +hard to make out! Neither English, French, nor German, that’s all we +can say. But I’m tempted to think that the commander and his chief +officer were born in the low latitudes. There must be southern blood +in them. But as to whether they’re Spaniards, Turks, Arabs, or East +Indians, their physical characteristics don’t give me enough to go +on. And as for their speech, it’s utterly incomprehensible.” + +“That’s the nuisance in not knowing every language,” Conseil replied, +“or the drawback in not having one universal language!” + +“Which would all go out the window!” Ned Land replied. “Don’t you see, +these people have a language all to themselves, a language they’ve +invented just to cause despair in decent people who ask for a little +dinner! Why, in every country on earth, when you open your mouth, snap +your jaws, smack your lips and teeth, isn’t that the world’s most +understandable message? From Quebec to the Tuamotu Islands, from Paris +to the Antipodes, doesn’t it mean: I’m hungry, give me a bite to eat!” + +“Oh,” Conseil put in, “there are some people so unintelligent by +nature . . .” + +As he was saying these words, the door opened. A steward entered.* He +brought us some clothes, jackets and sailor’s pants, made out of a +fabric whose nature I didn’t recognize. I hurried to change into them, +and my companions followed suit. + +*Author’s Note: A steward is a waiter on board a steamer. + +Meanwhile our silent steward, perhaps a deaf-mute, set the table and +laid three place settings. + +“There’s something serious afoot,” Conseil said, “and it bodes well.” + +“Bah!” replied the rancorous harpooner. “What the devil do you suppose +they eat around here? Turtle livers, loin of shark, dogfish steaks?” + +“We’ll soon find out!” Conseil said. + +Overlaid with silver dish covers, various platters had been neatly +positioned on the table cloth, and we sat down to eat. Assuredly, we +were dealing with civilized people, and if it hadn’t been for this +electric light flooding over us, I would have thought we were in the +dining room of the Hotel Adelphi in Liverpool, or the Grand Hotel in +Paris. However, I feel compelled to mention that bread and wine were +totally absent. The water was fresh and clear, but it was still +water—which wasn’t what Ned Land had in mind. Among the foods we were +served, I was able to identify various daintily dressed fish; but I +couldn’t make up my mind about certain otherwise excellent dishes, and +I couldn’t even tell whether their contents belonged to the vegetable +or the animal kingdom. As for the tableware, it was elegant and in +perfect taste. Each utensil, spoon, fork, knife, and plate, bore on +its reverse a letter encircled by a Latin motto, and here is its exact +duplicate: + + MOBILIS IN MOBILI + N + +Moving within the moving element! It was a highly appropriate motto +for this underwater machine, so long as the preposition in is +translated as within and not upon. The letter N was no doubt the +initial of the name of that mystifying individual in command beneath +the seas! + +Ned and Conseil had no time for such musings. They were wolfing down +their food, and without further ado I did the same. By now I felt +reassured about our fate, and it seemed obvious that our hosts didn’t +intend to let us die of starvation. + +But all earthly things come to an end, all things must pass, even the +hunger of people who haven’t eaten for fifteen hours. Our appetites +appeased, we felt an urgent need for sleep. A natural reaction after +that interminable night of fighting for our lives. + +“Ye gods, I’ll sleep soundly,” Conseil said. + +“Me, I’m out like a light!” Ned Land replied. + +My two companions lay down on the cabin’s carpeting and were soon deep +in slumber. + +As for me, I gave in less readily to this intense need for sleep. Too +many thoughts had piled up in my mind, too many insoluble questions +had arisen, too many images were keeping my eyelids open! Where were +we? What strange power was carrying us along? I felt—or at least I +thought I did—the submersible sinking toward the sea’s lower +strata. Intense nightmares besieged me. In these mysterious marine +sanctuaries, I envisioned hosts of unknown animals, and this +underwater boat seemed to be a blood relation of theirs: living, +breathing, just as fearsome . . . ! Then my mind grew calmer, my +imagination melted into hazy drowsiness, and I soon fell into an +uneasy slumber. + + +CHAPTER 9 + +The Tantrums of Ned Land + + +I HAVE NO IDEA how long this slumber lasted; but it must have been a +good while, since we were completely over our exhaustion. I was the +first one to wake up. My companions weren’t yet stirring and still lay +in their corners like inanimate objects. + +I had barely gotten up from my passably hard mattress when I felt my +mind clear, my brain go on the alert. So I began a careful +reexamination of our cell. + +Nothing had changed in its interior arrangements. The prison was still +a prison and its prisoners still prisoners. But, taking advantage of +our slumber, the steward had cleared the table. Consequently, nothing +indicated any forthcoming improvement in our situation, and I +seriously wondered if we were doomed to spend the rest of our lives in +this cage. + +This prospect seemed increasingly painful to me because, even though +my brain was clear of its obsessions from the night before, I was +feeling an odd short-windedness in my chest. It was becoming hard for +me to breathe. The heavy air was no longer sufficient for the full +play of my lungs. Although our cell was large, we obviously had used +up most of the oxygen it contained. In essence, over an hour’s time a +single human being consumes all the oxygen found in 100 liters of air, +at which point that air has become charged with a nearly equal amount +of carbon dioxide and is no longer fit for breathing. + +So it was now urgent to renew the air in our prison, and no doubt the +air in this whole underwater boat as well. + +Here a question popped into my head. How did the commander of this +aquatic residence go about it? Did he obtain air using chemical +methods, releasing the oxygen contained in potassium chlorate by +heating it, meanwhile absorbing the carbon dioxide with potassium +hydroxide? If so, he would have to keep up some kind of relationship +with the shore, to come by the materials needed for such an +operation. Did he simply limit himself to storing the air in +high-pressure tanks and then dispense it according to his crew’s +needs? Perhaps. Or, proceeding in a more convenient, more economical, +and consequently more probable fashion, was he satisfied with merely +returning to breathe at the surface of the water like a cetacean, +renewing his oxygen supply every twenty-four hours? In any event, +whatever his method was, it seemed prudent to me that he use this +method without delay. + +In fact, I had already resorted to speeding up my inhalations in order +to extract from the cell what little oxygen it contained, when +suddenly I was refreshed by a current of clean air, scented with a +salty aroma. It had to be a sea breeze, life-giving and charged with +iodine! I opened my mouth wide, and my lungs glutted themselves on the +fresh particles. At the same time, I felt a swaying, a rolling of +moderate magnitude but definitely noticeable. This boat, this +sheet-iron monster, had obviously just risen to the surface of the +ocean, there to breathe in good whale fashion. So the ship’s mode of +ventilation was finally established. + +When I had absorbed a chestful of this clean air, I looked for the +conduit—the “air carrier,” if you prefer—that allowed this beneficial +influx to reach us, and I soon found it. Above the door opened an air +vent that let in a fresh current of oxygen, renewing the thin air in +our cell. + +I had gotten to this point in my observations when Ned and Conseil +woke up almost simultaneously, under the influence of this reviving +air purification. They rubbed their eyes, stretched their arms, and +sprang to their feet. + +“Did master sleep well?” Conseil asked me with his perennial good +manners. + +“Extremely well, my gallant lad,” I replied. “And how about you, +Mr. Ned Land?” + +“Like a log, professor. But I must be imagining things, because it +seems like I’m breathing a sea breeze!” + +A seaman couldn’t be wrong on this topic, and I told the Canadian what +had gone on while he slept. + +“Good!” he said. “That explains perfectly all that bellowing we heard, +when our so-called narwhale lay in sight of the Abraham Lincoln.” + +“Perfectly, Mr. Land. It was catching its breath!” + +“Only I’ve no idea what time it is, Professor Aronnax, unless maybe +it’s dinnertime?” + +“Dinnertime, my fine harpooner? I’d say at least breakfast time, +because we’ve certainly woken up to a new day.” + +“Which indicates,” Conseil replied, “that we’ve spent twenty-four +hours in slumber.” + +“That’s my assessment,” I replied. + +“I won’t argue with you,” Ned Land answered. “But dinner or breakfast, +that steward will be plenty welcome whether he brings the one or the +other.” + +“The one and the other,” Conseil said. + +“Well put,” the Canadian replied. “We deserve two meals, and speaking +for myself, I’ll do justice to them both.” + +“All right, Ned, let’s wait and see!” I replied. “It’s clear that +these strangers don’t intend to let us die of hunger, otherwise last +evening’s dinner wouldn’t make any sense.” + +“Unless they’re fattening us up!” Ned shot back. + +“I object,” I replied. “We have not fallen into the hands of +cannibals.” + +“Just because they don’t make a habit of it,” the Canadian replied in +all seriousness, “doesn’t mean they don’t indulge from time to +time. Who knows? Maybe these people have gone without fresh meat for a +long while, and in that case three healthy, well-built specimens like +the professor, his manservant, and me——” + +“Get rid of those ideas, Mr. Land,” I answered the harpooner. “And +above all, don’t let them lead you to flare up against our hosts, +which would only make our situation worse.” + +“Anyhow,” the harpooner said, “I’m as hungry as all Hades, and dinner +or breakfast, not one puny meal has arrived!” + +“Mr. Land,” I answered, “we have to adapt to the schedule on board, +and I imagine our stomachs are running ahead of the chief cook’s +dinner bell.” + +“Well then, we’ll adjust our stomachs to the chef’s timetable!” +Conseil replied serenely. + +“There you go again, Conseil my friend!” the impatient Canadian shot +back. “You never allow yourself any displays of bile or attacks of +nerves! You’re everlastingly calm! You’d say your after-meal grace +even if you didn’t get any food for your before-meal blessing—and +you’d starve to death rather than complain!” + +“What good would it do?” Conseil asked. + +“Complaining doesn’t have to do good, it just feels good! And if these +pirates—I say pirates out of consideration for the professor’s +feelings, since he doesn’t want us to call them cannibals—if these +pirates think they’re going to smother me in this cage without hearing +what cusswords spice up my outbursts, they’ve got another think +coming! Look here, Professor Aronnax, speak frankly. How long do you +figure they’ll keep us in this iron box?” + +“To tell the truth, friend Land, I know little more about it than you +do.” + +“But in a nutshell, what do you suppose is going on?” + +“My supposition is that sheer chance has made us privy to an important +secret. Now then, if the crew of this underwater boat have a personal +interest in keeping that secret, and if their personal interest is +more important than the lives of three men, I believe that our very +existence is in jeopardy. If such is not the case, then at the first +available opportunity, this monster that has swallowed us will return +us to the world inhabited by our own kind.” + +“Unless they recruit us to serve on the crew,” Conseil said, “and keep +us here—” + +“Till the moment,” Ned Land answered, “when some frigate that’s faster +or smarter than the Abraham Lincoln captures this den of buccaneers, +then hangs all of us by the neck from the tip of a mainmast yardarm!” + +“Well thought out, Mr. Land,” I replied. “But as yet, I don’t believe +we’ve been tendered any enlistment offers. Consequently, it’s +pointless to argue about what tactics we should pursue in such a +case. I repeat: let’s wait, let’s be guided by events, and let’s do +nothing, since right now there’s nothing we can do.” + +“On the contrary, professor,” the harpooner replied, not wanting to +give in. “There is something we can do.” + +“Oh? And what, Mr. Land?” + +“Break out of here!” + +“Breaking out of a prison on shore is difficult enough, but with an +underwater prison, it strikes me as completely unworkable.” + +“Come now, Ned my friend,” Conseil asked, “how would you answer +master’s objection? I refuse to believe that an American is at the end +of his tether.” + +Visibly baffled, the harpooner said nothing. Under the conditions in +which fate had left us, it was absolutely impossible to escape. But a +Canadian’s wit is half French, and Mr. Ned Land made this clear in his +reply. + +“So, Professor Aronnax,” he went on after thinking for a few moments, +“you haven’t figured out what people do when they can’t escape from +their prison?” + +“No, my friend.” + +“Easy. They fix things so they stay there.” + +“Of course!” Conseil put in. “Since we’re deep in the ocean, being +inside this boat is vastly preferable to being above it or below it!” + +“But we fix things by kicking out all the jailers, guards, and +wardens,” Ned Land added. + +“What’s this, Ned?” I asked. “You’d seriously consider taking over +this craft?” + +“Very seriously,” the Canadian replied. + +“It’s impossible.” + +“And why is that, sir? Some promising opportunity might come up, and I +don’t see what could stop us from taking advantage of it. If there are +only about twenty men on board this machine, I don’t think they can +stave off two Frenchmen and a Canadian!” + +It seemed wiser to accept the harpooner’s proposition than to debate +it. Accordingly, I was content to reply: + +“Let such circumstances come, Mr. Land, and we’ll see. But until then, +I beg you to control your impatience. We need to act shrewdly, and +your flare-ups won’t give rise to any promising opportunities. So +swear to me that you’ll accept our situation without throwing a +tantrum over it.” + +“I give you my word, professor,” Ned Land replied in an unenthusiastic +tone. “No vehement phrases will leave my mouth, no vicious gestures +will give my feelings away, not even when they don’t feed us on time.” + +“I have your word, Ned,” I answered the Canadian. + +Then our conversation petered out, and each of us withdrew into his +own thoughts. For my part, despite the harpooner’s confident talk, I +admit that I entertained no illusions. I had no faith in those +promising opportunities that Ned Land mentioned. To operate with such +efficiency, this underwater boat had to have a sizeable crew, so if it +came to a physical contest, we would be facing an overwhelming +opponent. Besides, before we could do anything, we had to be free, and +that we definitely were not. I didn’t see any way out of this +sheet-iron, hermetically sealed cell. And if the strange commander of +this boat did have a secret to keep—which seemed rather likely—he +would never give us freedom of movement aboard his vessel. Now then, +would he resort to violence in order to be rid of us, or would he drop +us off one day on some remote coast? There lay the unknown. All these +hypotheses seemed extremely plausible to me, and to hope for freedom +through use of force, you had to be a harpooner. + +I realized, moreover, that Ned Land’s brooding was getting him madder +by the minute. Little by little, I heard those aforesaid cusswords +welling up in the depths of his gullet, and I saw his movements turn +threatening again. He stood up, pacing in circles like a wild beast in +a cage, striking the walls with his foot and fist. Meanwhile the hours +passed, our hunger nagged unmercifully, and this time the steward did +not appear. Which amounted to forgetting our castaway status for much +too long, if they really had good intentions toward us. + +Tortured by the growling of his well-built stomach, Ned Land was +getting more and more riled, and despite his word of honor, I was in +real dread of an explosion when he stood in the presence of one of the +men on board. + +For two more hours Ned Land’s rage increased. The Canadian shouted and +pleaded, but to no avail. The sheet-iron walls were deaf. I didn’t +hear a single sound inside this dead-seeming boat. The vessel hadn’t +stirred, because I obviously would have felt its hull vibrating under +the influence of the propeller. It had undoubtedly sunk into the +watery deep and no longer belonged to the outside world. All this +dismal silence was terrifying. + +As for our neglect, our isolation in the depths of this cell, I was +afraid to guess at how long it might last. Little by little, hopes I +had entertained after our interview with the ship’s commander were +fading away. The gentleness of the man’s gaze, the generosity +expressed in his facial features, the nobility of his bearing, all +vanished from my memory. I saw this mystifying individual anew for +what he inevitably must be: cruel and merciless. I viewed him as +outside humanity, beyond all feelings of compassion, the implacable +foe of his fellow man, toward whom he must have sworn an undying hate! + +But even so, was the man going to let us die of starvation, locked up +in this cramped prison, exposed to those horrible temptations to which +people are driven by extreme hunger? This grim possibility took on a +dreadful intensity in my mind, and fired by my imagination, I felt an +unreasoning terror run through me. Conseil stayed calm. Ned Land +bellowed. + +Just then a noise was audible outside. Footsteps rang on the metal +tiling. The locks were turned, the door opened, the steward appeared. + +Before I could make a single movement to prevent him, the Canadian +rushed at the poor man, threw him down, held him by the throat. The +steward was choking in the grip of those powerful hands. + +Conseil was already trying to loosen the harpooner’s hands from his +half-suffocated victim, and I had gone to join in the rescue, when I +was abruptly nailed to the spot by these words pronounced in French: + +“Calm down, Mr. Land! And you, professor, kindly listen to me!” + + +CHAPTER 10 + +The Man of the Waters + + +IT WAS THE ship’s commander who had just spoken. + +At these words Ned Land stood up quickly. Nearly strangled, the +steward staggered out at a signal from his superior; but such was the +commander’s authority aboard his vessel, not one gesture gave away the +resentment that this man must have felt toward the Canadian. In +silence we waited for the outcome of this scene; Conseil, in spite of +himself, seemed almost fascinated, I was stunned. + +Arms crossed, leaning against a corner of the table, the commander +studied us with great care. Was he reluctant to speak further? Did he +regret those words he had just pronounced in French? You would have +thought so. + +After a few moments of silence, which none of us would have dreamed of +interrupting: + +“Gentlemen,” he said in a calm, penetrating voice, “I speak French, +English, German, and Latin with equal fluency. Hence I could have +answered you as early as our initial interview, but first I wanted to +make your acquaintance and then think things over. Your four versions +of the same narrative, perfectly consistent by and large, established +your personal identities for me. I now know that sheer chance has +placed in my presence Professor Pierre Aronnax, specialist in natural +history at the Paris Museum and entrusted with a scientific mission +abroad, his manservant Conseil, and Ned Land, a harpooner of Canadian +origin aboard the Abraham Lincoln, a frigate in the national navy of +the United States of America.” + +I bowed in agreement. The commander hadn’t put a question to me. So no +answer was called for. This man expressed himself with perfect ease +and without a trace of an accent. His phrasing was clear, his words +well chosen, his facility in elocution remarkable. And yet, to me, he +didn’t have “the feel” of a fellow countryman. + +He went on with the conversation as follows: + +“No doubt, sir, you’ve felt that I waited rather too long before +paying you this second visit. After discovering your identities, I +wanted to weigh carefully what policy to pursue toward you. I had +great difficulty deciding. Some extremely inconvenient circumstances +have brought you into the presence of a man who has cut himself off +from humanity. Your coming has disrupted my whole existence.” + +“Unintentionally,” I said. + +“Unintentionally?” the stranger replied, raising his voice a +little. “Was it unintentionally that the Abraham Lincoln hunted me on +every sea? Was it unintentionally that you traveled aboard that +frigate? Was it unintentionally that your shells bounced off my ship’s +hull? Was it unintentionally that Mr. Ned Land hit me with his +harpoon?” + +I detected a controlled irritation in these words. But there was a +perfectly natural reply to these charges, and I made it. + +“Sir,” I said, “you’re surely unaware of the discussions that have +taken place in Europe and America with yourself as the subject. You +don’t realize that various accidents, caused by collisions with your +underwater machine, have aroused public passions on those two +continents. I’ll spare you the innumerable hypotheses with which we’ve +tried to explain this inexplicable phenomenon, whose secret is yours +alone. But please understand that the Abraham Lincoln chased you over +the Pacific high seas in the belief it was hunting some powerful +marine monster, which had to be purged from the ocean at all cost.” + +A half smile curled the commander’s lips; then, in a calmer tone: + +“Professor Aronnax,” he replied, “do you dare claim that your frigate +wouldn’t have chased and cannonaded an underwater boat as readily as a +monster?” + +This question baffled me, since Commander Farragut would certainly +have shown no such hesitation. He would have seen it as his sworn duty +to destroy a contrivance of this kind just as promptly as a gigantic +narwhale. + +“So you understand, sir,” the stranger went on, “that I have a right +to treat you as my enemy.” + +I kept quiet, with good reason. What was the use of debating such a +proposition, when superior force can wipe out the best arguments? + +“It took me a good while to decide,” the commander went on. “Nothing +obliged me to grant you hospitality. If I were to part company with +you, I’d have no personal interest in ever seeing you again. I could +put you back on the platform of this ship that has served as your +refuge. I could sink under the sea, and I could forget you ever +existed. Wouldn’t that be my right?” + +“Perhaps it would be the right of a savage,” I replied. “But not that +of a civilized man.” + +“Professor,” the commander replied swiftly, “I’m not what you term a +civilized man! I’ve severed all ties with society, for reasons that I +alone have the right to appreciate. Therefore I obey none of its +regulations, and I insist that you never invoke them in front of me!” + +This was plain speaking. A flash of anger and scorn lit up the +stranger’s eyes, and I glimpsed a fearsome past in this man’s +life. Not only had he placed himself beyond human laws, he had +rendered himself independent, out of all reach, free in the strictest +sense of the word! For who would dare chase him to the depths of the +sea when he thwarted all attacks on the surface? What ship could +withstand a collision with his underwater Monitor? What armor plate, +no matter how heavy, could bear the thrusts of his spur? No man among +men could call him to account for his actions. God, if he believed in +Him, his conscience if he had one—these were the only judges to whom +he was answerable. + +These thoughts swiftly crossed my mind while this strange individual +fell silent, like someone completely self-absorbed. I regarded him +with a mixture of fear and fascination, in the same way, no doubt, +that Oedipus regarded the Sphinx. + +After a fairly long silence, the commander went on with our +conversation. + +“So I had difficulty deciding,” he said. “But I concluded that my +personal interests could be reconciled with that natural compassion to +which every human being has a right. Since fate has brought you here, +you’ll stay aboard my vessel. You’ll be free here, and in exchange for +that freedom, moreover totally related to it, I’ll lay on you just one +condition. Your word that you’ll submit to it will be sufficient.” + +“Go on, sir,” I replied. “I assume this condition is one an honest man +can accept?” + +“Yes, sir. Just this. It’s possible that certain unforeseen events may +force me to confine you to your cabins for some hours, or even for +some days as the case may be. Since I prefer never to use violence, I +expect from you in such a case, even more than in any other, your +unquestioning obedience. By acting in this way, I shield you from +complicity, I absolve you of all responsibility, since I myself make +it impossible for you to see what you aren’t meant to see. Do you +accept this condition?” + +So things happened on board that were quite odd to say the least, +things never to be seen by people not placing themselves beyond +society’s laws! Among all the surprises the future had in store for +me, this would not be the mildest. + +“We accept,” I replied. “Only, I’ll ask your permission, sir, to +address a question to you, just one.” + +“Go ahead, sir.” + +“You said we’d be free aboard your vessel?” + +“Completely.” + +“Then I would ask what you mean by this freedom.” + +“Why, the freedom to come, go, see, and even closely observe +everything happening here—except under certain rare circumstances—in +short, the freedom we ourselves enjoy, my companions and I.” + +It was obvious that we did not understand each other. + +“Pardon me, sir,” I went on, “but that’s merely the freedom that every +prisoner has, the freedom to pace his cell! That’s not enough for us.” + +“Nevertheless, it will have to do!” + +“What! We must give up seeing our homeland, friends, and relatives +ever again?” + +“Yes, sir. But giving up that intolerable earthly yoke that some men +call freedom is perhaps less painful than you think!” + +“By thunder!” Ned Land shouted. “I’ll never promise I won’t try +getting out of here!” + +“I didn’t ask for such a promise, Mr. Land,” the commander replied +coldly. + +“Sir,” I replied, flaring up in spite of myself, “you’re taking unfair +advantage of us! This is sheer cruelty!” + +“No, sir, it’s an act of mercy! You’re my prisoners of war! I’ve cared +for you when, with a single word, I could plunge you back into the +ocean depths! You attacked me! You’ve just stumbled on a secret no +living man must probe, the secret of my entire existence! Do you think +I’ll send you back to a world that must know nothing more of me? +Never! By keeping you on board, it isn’t you whom I care for, it’s +me!” + +These words indicated that the commander pursued a policy impervious +to arguments. + +“Then, sir,” I went on, “you give us, quite simply, a choice between +life and death?” + +“Quite simply.” + +“My friends,” I said, “to a question couched in these terms, our +answer can be taken for granted. But no solemn promises bind us to the +commander of this vessel.” + +“None, sir,” the stranger replied. + +Then, in a gentler voice, he went on: + +“Now, allow me to finish what I have to tell you. I’ve heard of you, +Professor Aronnax. You, if not your companions, won’t perhaps complain +too much about the stroke of fate that has brought us together. Among +the books that make up my favorite reading, you’ll find the work +you’ve published on the great ocean depths. I’ve pored over it. You’ve +taken your studies as far as terrestrial science can go. But you don’t +know everything because you haven’t seen everything. Let me tell you, +professor, you won’t regret the time you spend aboard my +vessel. You’re going to voyage through a land of wonders. Stunned +amazement will probably be your habitual state of mind. It will be a +long while before you tire of the sights constantly before your +eyes. I’m going to make another underwater tour of the world—perhaps +my last, who knows?—and I’ll review everything I’ve studied in the +depths of these seas that I’ve crossed so often, and you can be my +fellow student. Starting this very day, you’ll enter a new element, +you’ll see what no human being has ever seen before—since my men and I +no longer count—and thanks to me, you’re going to learn the ultimate +secrets of our planet.” + +I can’t deny it; the commander’s words had a tremendous effect on +me. He had caught me on my weak side, and I momentarily forgot that +not even this sublime experience was worth the loss of my +freedom. Besides, I counted on the future to resolve this important +question. So I was content to reply: + +“Sir, even though you’ve cut yourself off from humanity, I can see +that you haven’t disowned all human feeling. We’re castaways whom +you’ve charitably taken aboard, we’ll never forget that. Speaking for +myself, I don’t rule out that the interests of science could override +even the need for freedom, which promises me that, in exchange, our +encounter will provide great rewards.” + +I thought the commander would offer me his hand, to seal our +agreement. He did nothing of the sort. I regretted that. + +“One last question,” I said, just as this inexplicable being seemed +ready to withdraw. + +“Ask it, professor.” + +“By what name am I to call you?” + +“Sir,” the commander replied, “to you, I’m simply Captain Nemo;* to +me, you and your companions are simply passengers on the Nautilus.” + +*Latin: nemo means “no one.” Ed. + +Captain Nemo called out. A steward appeared. The captain gave him his +orders in that strange language I couldn’t even identify. Then, +turning to the Canadian and Conseil: + +“A meal is waiting for you in your cabin,” he told them. “Kindly +follow this man.” + +“That’s an offer I can’t refuse!” the harpooner replied. + +After being confined for over thirty hours, he and Conseil were +finally out of this cell. + +“And now, Professor Aronnax, our own breakfast is ready. Allow me to +lead the way.” + +“Yours to command, captain.” + +I followed Captain Nemo, and as soon as I passed through the doorway, +I went down a kind of electrically lit passageway that resembled a +gangway on a ship. After a stretch of some ten meters, a second door +opened before me. + +I then entered a dining room, decorated and furnished in austere good +taste. Inlaid with ebony trim, tall oaken sideboards stood at both +ends of this room, and sparkling on their shelves were staggered rows +of earthenware, porcelain, and glass of incalculable value. There +silver-plated dinnerware gleamed under rays pouring from light +fixtures in the ceiling, whose glare was softened and tempered by +delicately painted designs. + +In the center of this room stood a table, richly spread. Captain Nemo +indicated the place I was to occupy. + +“Be seated,” he told me, “and eat like the famished man you must be.” + +Our breakfast consisted of several dishes whose contents were all +supplied by the sea, and some foods whose nature and derivation were +unknown to me. They were good, I admit, but with a peculiar flavor to +which I would soon grow accustomed. These various food items seemed to +be rich in phosphorous, and I thought that they, too, must have been +of marine origin. + +Captain Nemo stared at me. I had asked him nothing, but he read my +thoughts, and on his own he answered the questions I was itching to +address him. + +“Most of these dishes are new to you,” he told me. “But you can +consume them without fear. They’re healthy and nourishing. I renounced +terrestrial foods long ago, and I’m none the worse for it. My crew are +strong and full of energy, and they eat what I eat.” + +“So,” I said, “all these foods are products of the sea?” + +“Yes, professor, the sea supplies all my needs. Sometimes I cast my +nets in our wake, and I pull them up ready to burst. Sometimes I go +hunting right in the midst of this element that has long seemed so far +out of man’s reach, and I corner the game that dwells in my underwater +forests. Like the flocks of old Proteus, King Neptune’s shepherd, my +herds graze without fear on the ocean’s immense prairies. There I own +vast properties that I harvest myself, and which are forever sown by +the hand of the Creator of All Things.” + +I stared at Captain Nemo in definite astonishment, and I answered him: + +“Sir, I understand perfectly how your nets can furnish excellent fish +for your table; I understand less how you can chase aquatic game in +your underwater forests; but how a piece of red meat, no matter how +small, can figure in your menu, that I don’t understand at all.” + +“Nor I, sir,” Captain Nemo answered me. “I never touch the flesh of +land animals.” + +“Nevertheless, this . . . ,” I went on, pointing to a dish where some +slices of loin were still left. + +“What you believe to be red meat, professor, is nothing other than +loin of sea turtle. Similarly, here are some dolphin livers you might +mistake for stewed pork. My chef is a skillful food processor who +excels at pickling and preserving these various exhibits from the +ocean. Feel free to sample all of these foods. Here are some preserves +of sea cucumber that a Malaysian would declare to be unrivaled in the +entire world, here’s cream from milk furnished by the udders of +cetaceans, and sugar from the huge fucus plants in the North Sea; and +finally, allow me to offer you some marmalade of sea anemone, equal to +that from the tastiest fruits.” + +So I sampled away, more as a curiosity seeker than an epicure, while +Captain Nemo delighted me with his incredible anecdotes. + +“But this sea, Professor Aronnax,” he told me, “this prodigious, +inexhaustible wet nurse of a sea not only feeds me, she dresses me as +well. That fabric covering you was woven from the masses of filaments +that anchor certain seashells; as the ancients were wont to do, it was +dyed with purple ink from the murex snail and shaded with violet tints +that I extract from a marine slug, the Mediterranean sea hare. The +perfumes you’ll find on the washstand in your cabin were produced from +the oozings of marine plants. Your mattress was made from the ocean’s +softest eelgrass. Your quill pen will be whalebone, your ink a juice +secreted by cuttlefish or squid. Everything comes to me from the sea, +just as someday everything will return to it!” + +“You love the sea, captain.” + +“Yes, I love it! The sea is the be all and end all! It covers +seven-tenths of the planet earth. Its breath is clean and +healthy. It’s an immense wilderness where a man is never lonely, +because he feels life astir on every side. The sea is simply the +vehicle for a prodigious, unearthly mode of existence; it’s simply +movement and love; it’s living infinity, as one of your poets put +it. And in essence, professor, nature is here made manifest by all +three of her kingdoms, mineral, vegetable, and animal. The last of +these is amply represented by the four zoophyte groups, three classes +of articulates, five classes of mollusks, and three vertebrate +classes: mammals, reptiles, and those countless legions of fish, an +infinite order of animals totaling more than 13,000 species, of which +only one-tenth belong to fresh water. The sea is a vast pool of +nature. Our globe began with the sea, so to speak, and who can say we +won’t end with it! Here lies supreme tranquility. The sea doesn’t +belong to tyrants. On its surface they can still exercise their +iniquitous claims, battle each other, devour each other, haul every +earthly horror. But thirty feet below sea level, their dominion +ceases, their influence fades, their power vanishes! Ah, sir, live! +Live in the heart of the seas! Here alone lies independence! Here I +recognize no superiors! Here I’m free!” + +Captain Nemo suddenly fell silent in the midst of this enthusiastic +outpouring. Had he let himself get carried away, past the bounds of +his habitual reserve? Had he said too much? For a few moments he +strolled up and down, all aquiver. Then his nerves grew calmer, his +facial features recovered their usual icy composure, and turning to +me: + +“Now, professor,” he said, “if you’d like to inspect the Nautilus, I’m +yours to command.” + + +CHAPTER 11 + +The Nautilus + + +CAPTAIN NEMO stood up. I followed him. Contrived at the rear of the +dining room, a double door opened, and I entered a room whose +dimensions equaled the one I had just left. + +It was a library. Tall, black-rosewood bookcases, inlaid with +copperwork, held on their wide shelves a large number of uniformly +bound books. These furnishings followed the contours of the room, +their lower parts leading to huge couches upholstered in maroon +leather and curved for maximum comfort. Light, movable reading stands, +which could be pushed away or pulled near as desired, allowed books to +be positioned on them for easy study. In the center stood a huge table +covered with pamphlets, among which some newspapers, long out of date, +were visible. Electric light flooded this whole harmonious totality, +falling from four frosted half globes set in the scrollwork of the +ceiling. I stared in genuine wonderment at this room so ingeniously +laid out, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. + +“Captain Nemo,” I told my host, who had just stretched out on a couch, +“this is a library that would do credit to more than one continental +palace, and I truly marvel to think it can go with you into the +deepest seas.” + +“Where could one find greater silence or solitude, professor?” Captain +Nemo replied. “Did your study at the museum afford you such a perfect +retreat?” + +“No, sir, and I might add that it’s quite a humble one next to +yours. You own 6,000 or 7,000 volumes here . . .” + +“12,000, Professor Aronnax. They’re my sole remaining ties with dry +land. But I was done with the shore the day my Nautilus submerged for +the first time under the waters. That day I purchased my last volumes, +my last pamphlets, my last newspapers, and ever since I’ve chosen to +believe that humanity no longer thinks or writes. In any event, +professor, these books are at your disposal, and you may use them +freely.” + +I thanked Captain Nemo and approached the shelves of this +library. Written in every language, books on science, ethics, and +literature were there in abundance, but I didn’t see a single work on +economics—they seemed to be strictly banned on board. One odd detail: +all these books were shelved indiscriminately without regard to the +language in which they were written, and this jumble proved that the +Nautilus’s captain could read fluently whatever volumes he chanced to +pick up. + +Among these books I noted masterpieces by the greats of ancient and +modern times, in other words, all of humanity’s finest achievements in +history, poetry, fiction, and science, from Homer to Victor Hugo, from +Xenophon to Michelet, from Rabelais to Madame George Sand. But +science, in particular, represented the major investment of this +library: books on mechanics, ballistics, hydrography, meteorology, +geography, geology, etc., held a place there no less important than +works on natural history, and I realized that they made up the +captain’s chief reading. There I saw the complete works of Humboldt, +the complete Arago, as well as works by Foucault, Henri Sainte-Claire +Deville, Chasles, Milne-Edwards, Quatrefages, John Tyndall, Faraday, +Berthelot, Father Secchi, Petermann, Commander Maury, Louis Agassiz, +etc., plus the transactions of France’s Academy of Sciences, bulletins +from the various geographical societies, etc., and in a prime +location, those two volumes on the great ocean depths that had perhaps +earned me this comparatively charitable welcome from Captain +Nemo. Among the works of Joseph Bertrand, his book entitled The +Founders of Astronomy even gave me a definite date; and since I knew +it had appeared in the course of 1865, I concluded that the fitting +out of the Nautilus hadn’t taken place before then. Accordingly, three +years ago at the most, Captain Nemo had begun his underwater +existence. Moreover, I hoped some books even more recent would permit +me to pinpoint the date precisely; but I had plenty of time to look +for them, and I didn’t want to put off any longer our stroll through +the wonders of the Nautilus. + +“Sir,” I told the captain, “thank you for placing this library at my +disposal. There are scientific treasures here, and I’ll take advantage +of them.” + +“This room isn’t only a library,” Captain Nemo said, “it’s also a +smoking room.” + +“A smoking room?” I exclaimed. “Then one may smoke on board?” + +“Surely.” + +“In that case, sir, I’m forced to believe that you’ve kept up +relations with Havana.” + +“None whatever,” the captain replied. “Try this cigar, Professor +Aronnax, and even though it doesn’t come from Havana, it will satisfy +you if you’re a connoisseur.” + +I took the cigar offered me, whose shape recalled those from Cuba; but +it seemed to be made of gold leaf. I lit it at a small brazier +supported by an elegant bronze stand, and I inhaled my first whiffs +with the relish of a smoker who hasn’t had a puff in days. + +“It’s excellent,” I said, “but it’s not from the tobacco plant.” + +“Right,” the captain replied, “this tobacco comes from neither Havana +nor the Orient. It’s a kind of nicotine-rich seaweed that the ocean +supplies me, albeit sparingly. Do you still miss your Cubans, sir?” + +“Captain, I scorn them from this day forward.” + +“Then smoke these cigars whenever you like, without debating their +origin. They bear no government seal of approval, but I imagine +they’re none the worse for it.” + +“On the contrary.” + +Just then Captain Nemo opened a door facing the one by which I had +entered the library, and I passed into an immense, splendidly lit +lounge. + +It was a huge quadrilateral with canted corners, ten meters long, six +wide, five high. A luminous ceiling, decorated with delicate +arabesques, distributed a soft, clear daylight over all the wonders +gathered in this museum. For a museum it truly was, in which clever +hands had spared no expense to amass every natural and artistic +treasure, displaying them with the helter-skelter picturesqueness that +distinguishes a painter’s studio. + +Some thirty pictures by the masters, uniformly framed and separated by +gleaming panoplies of arms, adorned walls on which were stretched +tapestries of austere design. There I saw canvases of the highest +value, the likes of which I had marveled at in private European +collections and art exhibitions. The various schools of the old +masters were represented by a Raphael Madonna, a Virgin by Leonardo da +Vinci, a nymph by Correggio, a woman by Titian, an adoration of the +Magi by Veronese, an assumption of the Virgin by Murillo, a Holbein +portrait, a monk by Velazquez, a martyr by Ribera, a village fair by +Rubens, two Flemish landscapes by Teniers, three little genre +paintings by Gerard Dow, Metsu, and Paul Potter, two canvases by +Gericault and Prud’hon, plus seascapes by Backhuysen and Vernet. Among +the works of modern art were pictures signed by Delacroix, Ingres, +Decamps, Troyon, Meissonier, Daubigny, etc., and some wonderful +miniature statues in marble or bronze, modeled after antiquity’s +finest originals, stood on their pedestals in the corners of this +magnificent museum. As the Nautilus’s commander had predicted, my mind +was already starting to fall into that promised state of stunned +amazement. + +“Professor,” this strange man then said, “you must excuse the +informality with which I receive you, and the disorder reigning in +this lounge.” + +“Sir,” I replied, “without prying into who you are, might I venture to +identify you as an artist?” + +“A collector, sir, nothing more. Formerly I loved acquiring these +beautiful works created by the hand of man. I sought them greedily, +ferreted them out tirelessly, and I’ve been able to gather some +objects of great value. They’re my last mementos of those shores that +are now dead for me. In my eyes, your modern artists are already as +old as the ancients. They’ve existed for 2,000 or 3,000 years, and I +mix them up in my mind. The masters are ageless.” + +“What about these composers?” I said, pointing to sheet music by +Weber, Rossini, Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn, Meyerbeer, Hérold, Wagner, +Auber, Gounod, Victor Massé, and a number of others scattered over a +full size piano-organ, which occupied one of the wall panels in this +lounge. + +“These composers,” Captain Nemo answered me, “are the contemporaries +of Orpheus, because in the annals of the dead, all chronological +differences fade; and I’m dead, professor, quite as dead as those +friends of yours sleeping six feet under!” + +Captain Nemo fell silent and seemed lost in reverie. I regarded him +with intense excitement, silently analyzing his strange facial +expression. Leaning his elbow on the corner of a valuable mosaic +table, he no longer saw me, he had forgotten my very presence. + +I didn’t disturb his meditations but continued to pass in review the +curiosities that enriched this lounge. + +After the works of art, natural rarities predominated. They consisted +chiefly of plants, shells, and other exhibits from the ocean that must +have been Captain Nemo’s own personal finds. In the middle of the +lounge, a jet of water, electrically lit, fell back into a basin made +from a single giant clam. The delicately festooned rim of this shell, +supplied by the biggest mollusk in the class Acephala, measured about +six meters in circumference; so it was even bigger than those fine +giant clams given to King François I by the Republic of Venice, and +which the Church of Saint-Sulpice in Paris has made into two gigantic +holy-water fonts. + +Around this basin, inside elegant glass cases fastened with copper +bands, there were classified and labeled the most valuable marine +exhibits ever put before the eyes of a naturalist. My professorial +glee may easily be imagined. + +The zoophyte branch offered some very unusual specimens from its two +groups, the polyps and the echinoderms. In the first group: organ-pipe +coral, gorgonian coral arranged into fan shapes, soft sponges from +Syria, isis coral from the Molucca Islands, sea-pen coral, wonderful +coral of the genus Virgularia from the waters of Norway, various coral +of the genus Umbellularia, alcyonarian coral, then a whole series of +those madrepores that my mentor Professor Milne-Edwards has so +shrewdly classified into divisions and among which I noted the +wonderful genus Flabellina as well as the genus Oculina from Réunion +Island, plus a “Neptune’s chariot” from the Caribbean Sea—every superb +variety of coral, and in short, every species of these unusual +polyparies that congregate to form entire islands that will one day +turn into continents. Among the echinoderms, notable for being covered +with spines: starfish, feather stars, sea lilies, free-swimming +crinoids, brittle stars, sea urchins, sea cucumbers, etc., represented +a complete collection of the individuals in this group. + +An excitable conchologist would surely have fainted dead away before +other, more numerous glass cases in which were classified specimens +from the mollusk branch. There I saw a collection of incalculable +value that I haven’t time to describe completely. Among these exhibits +I’ll mention, just for the record: an elegant royal hammer shell from +the Indian Ocean, whose evenly spaced white spots stood out sharply +against a base of red and brown; an imperial spiny oyster, brightly +colored, bristling with thorns, a specimen rare to European museums, +whose value I estimated at 20,000 francs; a common hammer shell from +the seas near Queensland, very hard to come by; exotic cockles from +Senegal, fragile white bivalve shells that a single breath could pop +like a soap bubble; several varieties of watering-pot shell from Java, +a sort of limestone tube fringed with leafy folds and much fought over +by collectors; a whole series of top-shell snails—greenish yellow ones +fished up from American seas, others colored reddish brown that +patronize the waters off Queensland, the former coming from the Gulf +of Mexico and notable for their overlapping shells, the latter some +sun-carrier shells found in the southernmost seas, finally and rarest +of all, the magnificent spurred-star shell from New Zealand; then some +wonderful peppery-furrow shells; several valuable species of cythera +clams and venus clams; the trellis wentletrap snail from Tranquebar on +India’s eastern shore; a marbled turban snail gleaming with +mother-of-pearl; green parrot shells from the seas of China; the +virtually unknown cone snail from the genus Coenodullus; every variety +of cowry used as money in India and Africa; a “glory-of-the-seas,” the +most valuable shell in the East Indies; finally, common periwinkles, +delphinula snails, turret snails, violet snails, European cowries, +volute snails, olive shells, miter shells, helmet shells, murex +snails, whelks, harp shells, spiky periwinkles, triton snails, horn +shells, spindle shells, conch shells, spider conchs, limpets, glass +snails, sea butterflies—every kind of delicate, fragile seashell that +science has baptized with its most delightful names. + +Aside and in special compartments, strings of supremely beautiful +pearls were spread out, the electric light flecking them with little +fiery sparks: pink pearls pulled from saltwater fan shells in the Red +Sea; green pearls from the rainbow abalone; yellow, blue, and black +pearls, the unusual handiwork of various mollusks from every ocean and +of certain mussels from rivers up north; in short, several specimens +of incalculable worth that had been oozed by the rarest of +shellfish. Some of these pearls were bigger than a pigeon egg; they +more than equaled the one that the explorer Tavernier sold the Shah of +Persia for 3,000,000 francs, and they surpassed that other pearl owned +by the Imam of Muscat, which I had believed to be unrivaled in the +entire world. + +Consequently, to calculate the value of this collection was, I should +say, impossible. Captain Nemo must have spent millions in acquiring +these different specimens, and I was wondering what financial +resources he tapped to satisfy his collector’s fancies, when these +words interrupted me: + +“You’re examining my shells, professor? They’re indeed able to +fascinate a naturalist; but for me they have an added charm, since +I’ve collected every one of them with my own two hands, and not a sea +on the globe has escaped my investigations.” + +“I understand, captain, I understand your delight at strolling in the +midst of this wealth. You’re a man who gathers his treasure in +person. No museum in Europe owns such a collection of exhibits from +the ocean. But if I exhaust all my wonderment on them, I’ll have +nothing left for the ship that carries them! I have absolutely no wish +to probe those secrets of yours! But I confess that my curiosity is +aroused to the limit by this Nautilus, the motor power it contains, +the equipment enabling it to operate, the ultra powerful force that +brings it to life. I see some instruments hanging on the walls of this +lounge whose purposes are unknown to me. May I learn—” + +“Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo answered me, “I’ve said you’d be +free aboard my vessel, so no part of the Nautilus is off-limits to +you. You may inspect it in detail, and I’ll be delighted to act as +your guide.” + +“I don’t know how to thank you, sir, but I won’t abuse your good +nature. I would only ask you about the uses intended for these +instruments of physical measure—” + +“Professor, these same instruments are found in my stateroom, where +I’ll have the pleasure of explaining their functions to you. But +beforehand, come inspect the cabin set aside for you. You need to +learn how you’ll be lodged aboard the Nautilus.” + +I followed Captain Nemo, who, via one of the doors cut into the +lounge’s canted corners, led me back down the ship’s gangways. He took +me to the bow, and there I found not just a cabin but an elegant +stateroom with a bed, a washstand, and various other furnishings. + +I could only thank my host. + +“Your stateroom adjoins mine,” he told me, opening a door, “and mine +leads into that lounge we’ve just left.” + +I entered the captain’s stateroom. It had an austere, almost monastic +appearance. An iron bedstead, a worktable, some washstand +fixtures. Subdued lighting. No luxuries. Just the bare necessities. + +Captain Nemo showed me to a bench. + +“Kindly be seated,” he told me. + +I sat, and he began speaking as follows: + + +CHAPTER 12 + +Everything through Electricity + + +“SIR,” CAPTAIN NEMO SAID, showing me the instruments hanging on the +walls of his stateroom, “these are the devices needed to navigate the +Nautilus. Here, as in the lounge, I always have them before my eyes, +and they indicate my position and exact heading in the midst of the +ocean. You’re familiar with some of them, such as the thermometer, +which gives the temperature inside the Nautilus; the barometer, which +measures the heaviness of the outside air and forecasts changes in the +weather; the humidistat, which indicates the degree of dryness in the +atmosphere; the storm glass, whose mixture decomposes to foretell the +arrival of tempests; the compass, which steers my course; the sextant, +which takes the sun’s altitude and tells me my latitude; chronometers, +which allow me to calculate my longitude; and finally, spyglasses for +both day and night, enabling me to scrutinize every point of the +horizon once the Nautilus has risen to the surface of the waves.” + +“These are the normal navigational instruments,” I replied, “and I’m +familiar with their uses. But no doubt these others answer pressing +needs unique to the Nautilus. That dial I see there, with the needle +moving across it—isn’t it a pressure gauge?” + +“It is indeed a pressure gauge. It’s placed in contact with the water, +and it indicates the outside pressure on our hull, which in turn gives +me the depth at which my submersible is sitting.” + +“And these are some new breed of sounding line?” + +“They’re thermometric sounding lines that report water temperatures in +the different strata.” + +“And these other instruments, whose functions I can’t even guess?” + +“Here, professor, I need to give you some background information,” +Captain Nemo said. “So kindly hear me out.” + +He fell silent for some moments, then he said: + +“There’s a powerful, obedient, swift, and effortless force that can be +bent to any use and which reigns supreme aboard my vessel. It does +everything. It lights me, it warms me, it’s the soul of my mechanical +equipment. This force is electricity.” + +“Electricity!” I exclaimed in some surprise. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“But, captain, you have a tremendous speed of movement that doesn’t +square with the strength of electricity. Until now, its dynamic +potential has remained quite limited, capable of producing only small +amounts of power!” + +“Professor,” Captain Nemo replied, “my electricity isn’t the +run-of-the-mill variety, and with your permission, I’ll leave it at +that.” + +“I won’t insist, sir, and I’ll rest content with simply being +flabbergasted at your results. I would ask one question, however, +which you needn’t answer if it’s indiscreet. The electric cells you +use to generate this marvelous force must be depleted very +quickly. Their zinc component, for example: how do you replace it, +since you no longer stay in contact with the shore?” + +“That question deserves an answer,” Captain Nemo replied. “First off, +I’ll mention that at the bottom of the sea there exist veins of zinc, +iron, silver, and gold whose mining would quite certainly be +feasible. But I’ve tapped none of these land-based metals, and I +wanted to make demands only on the sea itself for the sources of my +electricity.” + +“The sea itself?” + +“Yes, professor, and there was no shortage of such sources. In fact, +by establishing a circuit between two wires immersed to different +depths, I’d be able to obtain electricity through the diverging +temperatures they experience; but I preferred to use a more practical +procedure.” + +“And that is?” + +“You’re familiar with the composition of salt water. In 1,000 grams +one finds 96.5% water and about 2.66% sodium chloride; then small +quantities of magnesium chloride, potassium chloride, magnesium +bromide, sulfate of magnesia, calcium sulfate, and calcium +carbonate. Hence you observe that sodium chloride is encountered there +in significant proportions. Now then, it’s this sodium that I extract +from salt water and with which I compose my electric cells.” + +“Sodium?” + +“Yes, sir. Mixed with mercury, it forms an amalgam that takes the +place of zinc in Bunsen cells. The mercury is never depleted. Only the +sodium is consumed, and the sea itself gives me that. Beyond this, +I’ll mention that sodium batteries have been found to generate the +greater energy, and their electro-motor strength is twice that of zinc +batteries.” + +“Captain, I fully understand the excellence of sodium under the +conditions in which you’re placed. The sea contains it. Fine. But it +still has to be produced, in short, extracted. And how do you +accomplish this? Obviously your batteries could do the extracting; but +if I’m not mistaken, the consumption of sodium needed by your electric +equipment would be greater than the quantity you’d extract. It would +come about, then, that in the process of producing your sodium, you’d +use up more than you’d make!” + +“Accordingly, professor, I don’t extract it with batteries; quite +simply, I utilize the heat of coal from the earth.” + +“From the earth?” I said, my voice going up on the word. + +“We’ll say coal from the seafloor, if you prefer,” Captain Nemo +replied. + +“And you can mine these veins of underwater coal?” + +“You’ll watch me work them, Professor Aronnax. I ask only a little +patience of you, since you’ll have ample time to be patient. Just +remember one thing: I owe everything to the ocean; it generates +electricity, and electricity gives the Nautilus heat, light, motion, +and, in a word, life itself.” + +“But not the air you breathe?” + +“Oh, I could produce the air needed on board, but it would be +pointless, since I can rise to the surface of the sea whenever I +like. However, even though electricity doesn’t supply me with +breathable air, it at least operates the powerful pumps that store it +under pressure in special tanks; which, if need be, allows me to +extend my stay in the lower strata for as long as I want.” + +“Captain,” I replied, “I’ll rest content with marveling. You’ve +obviously found what all mankind will surely find one day, the true +dynamic power of electricity.” + +“I’m not so certain they’ll find it,” Captain Nemo replied icily. “But +be that as it may, you’re already familiar with the first use I’ve +found for this valuable force. It lights us, and with a uniformity and +continuity not even possessed by sunlight. Now, look at that clock: +it’s electric, it runs with an accuracy rivaling the finest +chronometers. I’ve had it divided into twenty-four hours like Italian +clocks, since neither day nor night, sun nor moon, exist for me, but +only this artificial light that I import into the depths of the seas! +See, right now it’s ten o’clock in the morning.” + +“That’s perfect.” + +“Another use for electricity: that dial hanging before our eyes +indicates how fast the Nautilus is going. An electric wire puts it in +contact with the patent log; this needle shows me the actual speed of +my submersible. And . . . hold on . . . just now we’re proceeding at +the moderate pace of fifteen miles per hour.” + +“It’s marvelous,” I replied, “and I truly see, captain, how right you +are to use this force; it’s sure to take the place of wind, water, and +steam.” + +“But that’s not all, Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo said, standing +up. “And if you’d care to follow me, we’ll inspect the Nautilus’s +stern.” + +In essence, I was already familiar with the whole forward part of this +underwater boat, and here are its exact subdivisions going from +amidships to its spur: the dining room, 5 meters long and separated +from the library by a watertight bulkhead, in other words, it couldn’t +be penetrated by the sea; the library, 5 meters long; the main lounge, +10 meters long, separated from the captain’s stateroom by a second +watertight bulkhead; the aforesaid stateroom, 5 meters long; mine, 2.5 +meters long; and finally, air tanks 7.5 meters long and extending to +the stempost. Total: a length of 35 meters. Doors were cut into the +watertight bulkheads and were shut hermetically by means of +india-rubber seals, which insured complete safety aboard the Nautilus +in the event of a leak in any one section. + +I followed Captain Nemo down gangways located for easy transit, and I +arrived amidships. There I found a sort of shaft heading upward +between two watertight bulkheads. An iron ladder, clamped to the wall, +led to the shaft’s upper end. I asked the captain what this ladder was +for. + +“It goes to the skiff,” he replied. + +“What! You have a skiff?” I replied in some astonishment. + +“Surely. An excellent longboat, light and unsinkable, which is used +for excursions and fishing trips.” + +“But when you want to set out, don’t you have to return to the surface +of the sea?” + +“By no means. The skiff is attached to the topside of the Nautilus’s +hull and is set in a cavity expressly designed to receive it. It’s +completely decked over, absolutely watertight, and held solidly in +place by bolts. This ladder leads to a manhole cut into the Nautilus’s +hull and corresponding to a comparable hole cut into the side of the +skiff. I insert myself through this double opening into the +longboat. My crew close up the hole belonging to the Nautilus; I close +up the one belonging to the skiff, simply by screwing it into place. I +undo the bolts holding the skiff to the submersible, and the longboat +rises with prodigious speed to the surface of the sea. I then open the +deck paneling, carefully closed until that point; I up mast and hoist +sail—or I take out my oars—and I go for a spin.” + +“But how do you return to the ship?” + +“I don’t, Professor Aronnax; the Nautilus returns to me.” + +“At your command?” + +“At my command. An electric wire connects me to the ship. I fire off a +telegram, and that’s that.” + +“Right,” I said, tipsy from all these wonders, “nothing to it!” + +After passing the well of the companionway that led to the platform, I +saw a cabin 2 meters long in which Conseil and Ned Land, enraptured +with their meal, were busy devouring it to the last crumb. Then a door +opened into the galley, 3 meters long and located between the vessel’s +huge storage lockers. + +There, even more powerful and obedient than gas, electricity did most +of the cooking. Arriving under the stoves, wires transmitted to +platinum griddles a heat that was distributed and sustained with +perfect consistency. It also heated a distilling mechanism that, via +evaporation, supplied excellent drinking water. Next to this galley +was a bathroom, conveniently laid out, with faucets supplying hot or +cold water at will. + +After the galley came the crew’s quarters, 5 meters long. But the door +was closed and I couldn’t see its accommodations, which might have +told me the number of men it took to operate the Nautilus. + +At the far end stood a fourth watertight bulkhead, separating the +crew’s quarters from the engine room. A door opened, and I stood in +the compartment where Captain Nemo, indisputably a world-class +engineer, had set up his locomotive equipment. + +Brightly lit, the engine room measured at least 20 meters in +length. It was divided, by function, into two parts: the first +contained the cells for generating electricity, the second that +mechanism transmitting movement to the propeller. + +Right off, I detected an odor permeating the compartment that was sui +generis.* Captain Nemo noticed the negative impression it made on me. + +*Latin: “in a class by itself.” Ed. + +“That,” he told me, “is a gaseous discharge caused by our use of +sodium, but it’s only a mild inconvenience. In any event, every +morning we sanitize the ship by ventilating it in the open air.” + +Meanwhile I examined the Nautilus’s engine with a fascination easy to +imagine. + +“You observe,” Captain Nemo told me, “that I use Bunsen cells, not +Ruhmkorff cells. The latter would be ineffectual. One uses fewer +Bunsen cells, but they’re big and strong, and experience has proven +their superiority. The electricity generated here makes its way to the +stern, where electromagnets of huge size activate a special system of +levers and gears that transmit movement to the propeller’s shaft. The +latter has a diameter of 6 meters, a pitch of 7.5 meters, and can do +up to 120 revolutions per minute.” + +“And that gives you?” + +“A speed of fifty miles per hour.” + +There lay a mystery, but I didn’t insist on exploring it. How could +electricity work with such power? Where did this nearly unlimited +energy originate? Was it in the extraordinary voltage obtained from +some new kind of induction coil? Could its transmission have been +immeasurably increased by some unknown system of levers?** This was +the point I couldn’t grasp. + +**Author’s Note: And sure enough, there’s now talk of such a + discovery, in which a new set of levers generates considerable + power. Did its inventor meet up with Captain Nemo? + +“Captain Nemo,” I said, “I’ll vouch for the results and not try to +explain them. I’ve seen the Nautilus at work out in front of the +Abraham Lincoln, and I know where I stand on its speed. But it isn’t +enough just to move, we have to see where we’re going! We must be able +to steer right or left, up or down! How do you reach the lower depths, +where you meet an increasing resistance that’s assessed in hundreds of +atmospheres? How do you rise back to the surface of the ocean? +Finally, how do you keep your ship at whatever level suits you? Am I +indiscreet in asking you all these things?” + +“Not at all, professor,” the captain answered me after a slight +hesitation, “since you’ll never leave this underwater boat. Come into +the lounge. It’s actually our work room, and there you’ll learn the +full story about the Nautilus!” + + +CHAPTER 13 + +Some Figures + + +A MOMENT LATER we were seated on a couch in the lounge, cigars between +our lips. The captain placed before my eyes a working drawing that +gave the ground plan, cross section, and side view of the +Nautilus. Then he began his description as follows: + +“Here, Professor Aronnax, are the different dimensions of this boat +now transporting you. It’s a very long cylinder with conical ends. It +noticeably takes the shape of a cigar, a shape already adopted in +London for several projects of the same kind. The length of this +cylinder from end to end is exactly seventy meters, and its maximum +breadth of beam is eight meters. So it isn’t quite built on the +ten-to-one ratio of your high-speed steamers; but its lines are +sufficiently long, and their tapering gradual enough, so that the +displaced water easily slips past and poses no obstacle to the ship’s +movements. + +“These two dimensions allow you to obtain, via a simple calculation, +the surface area and volume of the Nautilus. Its surface area totals +1,011.45 square meters, its volume 1,507.2 cubic meters—which is +tantamount to saying that when it’s completely submerged, it displaces +1,500 cubic meters of water, or weighs 1,500 metric tons. + +“In drawing up plans for a ship meant to navigate underwater, I wanted +it, when floating on the waves, to lie nine-tenths below the surface +and to emerge only one-tenth. Consequently, under these conditions it +needed to displace only nine-tenths of its volume, hence 1,356.48 +cubic meters; in other words, it was to weigh only that same number of +metric tons. So I was obliged not to exceed this weight while building +it to the aforesaid dimensions. + +“The Nautilus is made up of two hulls, one inside the other; between +them, joining them together, are iron T-bars that give this ship the +utmost rigidity. In fact, thanks to this cellular arrangement, it has +the resistance of a stone block, as if it were completely solid. Its +plating can’t give way; it’s self-adhering and not dependent on the +tightness of its rivets; and due to the perfect union of its +materials, the solidarity of its construction allows it to defy the +most violent seas. + +“The two hulls are manufactured from boilerplate steel, whose relative +density is 7.8 times that of water. The first hull has a thickness of +no less than five centimeters and weighs 394.96 metric tons. My second +hull, the outer cover, includes a keel fifty centimeters high by +twenty-five wide, which by itself weighs 62 metric tons; this hull, +the engine, the ballast, the various accessories and accommodations, +plus the bulkheads and interior braces, have a combined weight of +961.52 metric tons, which when added to 394.96 metric tons, gives us +the desired total of 1,356.48 metric tons. Clear?” + +“Clear,” I replied. + +“So,” the captain went on, “when the Nautilus lies on the waves under +these conditions, one-tenth of it does emerge above water. Now then, +if I provide some ballast tanks equal in capacity to that one-tenth, +hence able to hold 150.72 metric tons, and if I fill them with water, +the boat then displaces 1,507.2 metric tons—or it weighs that much—and +it would be completely submerged. That’s what comes about, +professor. These ballast tanks exist within easy access in the lower +reaches of the Nautilus. I open some stopcocks, the tanks fill, the +boat sinks, and it’s exactly flush with the surface of the water.” + +“Fine, captain, but now we come to a genuine difficulty. You’re able +to lie flush with the surface of the ocean, that I understand. But +lower down, while diving beneath that surface, isn’t your submersible +going to encounter a pressure, and consequently undergo an upward +thrust, that must be assessed at one atmosphere per every thirty feet +of water, hence at about one kilogram per each square centimeter?” + +“Precisely, sir.” + +“Then unless you fill up the whole Nautilus, I don’t see how you can +force it down into the heart of these liquid masses.” + +“Professor,” Captain Nemo replied, “static objects mustn’t be confused +with dynamic ones, or we’ll be open to serious error. Comparatively +little effort is spent in reaching the ocean’s lower regions, because +all objects have a tendency to become ‘sinkers.’ Follow my logic +here.” + +“I’m all ears, captain.” + +“When I wanted to determine what increase in weight the Nautilus +needed to be given in order to submerge, I had only to take note of +the proportionate reduction in volume that salt water experiences in +deeper and deeper strata.” + +“That’s obvious,” I replied. + +“Now then, if water isn’t absolutely incompressible, at least it +compresses very little. In fact, according to the most recent +calculations, this reduction is only .0000436 per atmosphere, or per +every thirty feet of depth. For instance, to go 1,000 meters down, I +must take into account the reduction in volume that occurs under a +pressure equivalent to that from a 1,000-meter column of water, in +other words, under a pressure of 100 atmospheres. In this instance the +reduction would be .00436. Consequently, I’d have to increase my +weight from 1,507.2 metric tons to 1,513.77. So the added weight would +only be 6.57 metric tons.” + +“That’s all?” + +“That’s all, Professor Aronnax, and the calculation is easy to +check. Now then, I have supplementary ballast tanks capable of +shipping 100 metric tons of water. So I can descend to considerable +depths. When I want to rise again and lie flush with the surface, all +I have to do is expel that water; and if I desire that the Nautilus +emerge above the waves to one-tenth of its total capacity, I empty all +the ballast tanks completely.” + +This logic, backed up by figures, left me without a single objection. + +“I accept your calculations, captain,” I replied, “and I’d be +ill-mannered to dispute them, since your daily experience bears them +out. But at this juncture, I have a hunch that we’re still left with +one real difficulty.” + +“What’s that, sir?” + +“When you’re at a depth of 1,000 meters, the Nautilus’s plating bears +a pressure of 100 atmospheres. If at this point you want to empty the +supplementary ballast tanks in order to lighten your boat and rise to +the surface, your pumps must overcome that pressure of 100 +atmospheres, which is 100 kilograms per each square centimeter. This +demands a strength—” + +“That electricity alone can give me,” Captain Nemo said swiftly. “Sir, +I repeat: the dynamic power of my engines is nearly infinite. The +Nautilus’s pumps have prodigious strength, as you must have noticed +when their waterspouts swept like a torrent over the Abraham +Lincoln. Besides, I use my supplementary ballast tanks only to reach +an average depth of 1,500 to 2,000 meters, and that with a view to +conserving my machinery. Accordingly, when I have a mind to visit the +ocean depths two or three vertical leagues beneath the surface, I use +maneuvers that are more time-consuming but no less infallible.” + +“What are they, captain?” I asked. + +“Here I’m naturally led into telling you how the Nautilus is +maneuvered.” + +“I can’t wait to find out.” + +“In order to steer this boat to port or starboard, in short, to make +turns on a horizontal plane, I use an ordinary, wide-bladed rudder +that’s fastened to the rear of the sternpost and worked by a wheel and +tackle. But I can also move the Nautilus upward and downward on a +vertical plane by the simple method of slanting its two fins, which +are attached to its sides at its center of flotation; these fins are +flexible, able to assume any position, and can be operated from inside +by means of powerful levers. If these fins stay parallel with the +boat, the latter moves horizontally. If they slant, the Nautilus +follows the angle of that slant and, under its propeller’s thrust, +either sinks on a diagonal as steep as it suits me, or rises on that +diagonal. And similarly, if I want to return more swiftly to the +surface, I throw the propeller in gear, and the water’s pressure makes +the Nautilus rise vertically, as an air balloon inflated with hydrogen +lifts swiftly into the skies.” + +“Bravo, captain!” I exclaimed. “But in the midst of the waters, how +can your helmsman follow the course you’ve given him?” + +“My helmsman is stationed behind the windows of a pilothouse, which +protrudes from the topside of the Nautilus’s hull and is fitted with +biconvex glass.” + +“Is glass capable of resisting such pressures?” + +“Perfectly capable. Though fragile on impact, crystal can still offer +considerable resistance. In 1864, during experiments on fishing by +electric light in the middle of the North Sea, glass panes less than +seven millimeters thick were seen to resist a pressure of sixteen +atmospheres, all the while letting through strong, heat-generating +rays whose warmth was unevenly distributed. Now then, I use glass +windows measuring no less than twenty-one centimeters at their +centers; in other words, they’ve thirty times the thickness.” + +“Fair enough, captain, but if we’re going to see, we need light to +drive away the dark, and in the midst of the murky waters, I wonder +how your helmsman can—” + +“Set astern of the pilothouse is a powerful electric reflector whose +rays light up the sea for a distance of half a mile.” + +“Oh, bravo! Bravo three times over, captain! That explains the +phosphorescent glow from this so-called narwhale that so puzzled us +scientists! Pertinent to this, I’ll ask you if the Nautilus’s running +afoul of the Scotia, which caused such a great uproar, was the result +of an accidental encounter?” + +“Entirely accidental, sir. I was navigating two meters beneath the +surface of the water when the collision occurred. However, I could see +that it had no dire consequences.” + +“None, sir. But as for your encounter with the Abraham Lincoln +. . . ?” + +“Professor, that troubled me, because it’s one of the best ships in +the gallant American navy, but they attacked me and I had to defend +myself! All the same, I was content simply to put the frigate in a +condition where it could do me no harm; it won’t have any difficulty +getting repairs at the nearest port.” + +“Ah, commander,” I exclaimed with conviction, “your Nautilus is truly +a marvelous boat!” + +“Yes, professor,” Captain Nemo replied with genuine excitement, “and I +love it as if it were my own flesh and blood! Aboard a conventional +ship, facing the ocean’s perils, danger lurks everywhere; on the +surface of the sea, your chief sensation is the constant feeling of an +underlying chasm, as the Dutchman Jansen so aptly put it; but below +the waves aboard the Nautilus, your heart never fails you! There are +no structural deformities to worry about, because the double hull of +this boat has the rigidity of iron; no rigging to be worn out by +rolling and pitching on the waves; no sails for the wind to carry off; +no boilers for steam to burst open; no fires to fear, because this +submersible is made of sheet iron not wood; no coal to run out of, +since electricity is its mechanical force; no collisions to fear, +because it navigates the watery deep all by itself; no storms to +brave, because just a few meters beneath the waves, it finds absolute +tranquility! There, sir. There’s the ideal ship! And if it’s true that +the engineer has more confidence in a craft than the builder, and the +builder more than the captain himself, you can understand the utter +abandon with which I place my trust in this Nautilus, since I’m its +captain, builder, and engineer all in one!” + +Captain Nemo spoke with winning eloquence. The fire in his eyes and +the passion in his gestures transfigured him. Yes, he loved his ship +the same way a father loves his child! + +But one question, perhaps indiscreet, naturally popped up, and I +couldn’t resist asking it. + +“You’re an engineer, then, Captain Nemo?” + +“Yes, professor,” he answered me. “I studied in London, Paris, and New +York back in the days when I was a resident of the earth’s +continents.” + +“But how were you able to build this wonderful Nautilus in secret?” + +“Each part of it, Professor Aronnax, came from a different spot on the +globe and reached me at a cover address. Its keel was forged by +Creusot in France, its propeller shaft by Pen & Co. in London, the +sheet-iron plates for its hull by Laird’s in Liverpool, its propeller +by Scott’s in Glasgow. Its tanks were manufactured by Cail & Co. in +Paris, its engine by Krupp in Prussia, its spur by the Motala +workshops in Sweden, its precision instruments by Hart Bros. in New +York, etc.; and each of these suppliers received my specifications +under a different name.” + +“But,” I went on, “once these parts were manufactured, didn’t they +have to be mounted and adjusted?” + +“Professor, I set up my workshops on a deserted islet in +midocean. There our Nautilus was completed by me and my workmen, in +other words, by my gallant companions whom I’ve molded and +educated. Then, when the operation was over, we burned every trace of +our stay on that islet, which if I could have, I’d have blown up.” + +“From all this, may I assume that such a boat costs a fortune?” + +“An iron ship, Professor Aronnax, runs 1,125 francs per metric +ton. Now then, the Nautilus has a burden of 1,500 metric +tons. Consequently, it cost 1,687,000 francs, hence 2,000,000 francs +including its accommodations, and 4,000,000 or 5,000,000 with all the +collections and works of art it contains.” + +“One last question, Captain Nemo.” + +“Ask, professor.” + +“You’re rich, then?” + +“Infinitely rich, sir, and without any trouble, I could pay off the +ten-billion-franc French national debt!” + +I gaped at the bizarre individual who had just spoken these words. Was +he playing on my credulity? Time would tell. + + +CHAPTER 14 + +The Black Current + + +THE PART OF THE planet earth that the seas occupy has been assessed at +3,832,558 square myriameters, hence more than 38,000,000,000 +hectares. This liquid mass totals 2,250,000,000 cubic miles and could +form a sphere with a diameter of sixty leagues, whose weight would be +three quintillion metric tons. To appreciate such a number, we should +remember that a quintillion is to a billion what a billion is to one, +in other words, there are as many billions in a quintillion as ones in +a billion! Now then, this liquid mass nearly equals the total amount +of water that has poured through all the earth’s rivers for the past +40,000 years! + +During prehistoric times, an era of fire was followed by an era of +water. At first there was ocean everywhere. Then, during the Silurian +period, the tops of mountains gradually appeared above the waves, +islands emerged, disappeared beneath temporary floods, rose again, +were fused to form continents, and finally the earth’s geography +settled into what we have today. Solid matter had wrested from liquid +matter some 37,657,000 square miles, hence 12,916,000,000 hectares. + +The outlines of the continents allow the seas to be divided into five +major parts: the frozen Arctic and Antarctic oceans, the Indian Ocean, +the Atlantic Ocean, and the Pacific Ocean. + +The Pacific Ocean extends north to south between the two polar circles +and east to west between America and Asia over an expanse of 145 +degrees of longitude. It’s the most tranquil of the seas; its currents +are wide and slow-moving, its tides moderate, its rainfall +abundant. And this was the ocean that I was first destined to cross +under these strangest of auspices. + +“If you don’t mind, professor,” Captain Nemo told me, “we’ll determine +our exact position and fix the starting point of our voyage. It’s +fifteen minutes before noon. I’m going to rise to the surface of the +water.” + +The captain pressed an electric bell three times. The pumps began to +expel water from the ballast tanks; on the pressure gauge, a needle +marked the decreasing pressures that indicated the Nautilus’s upward +progress; then the needle stopped. + +“Here we are,” the captain said. + +I made my way to the central companionway, which led to the +platform. I climbed its metal steps, passed through the open hatches, +and arrived topside on the Nautilus. + +The platform emerged only eighty centimeters above the waves. The +Nautilus’s bow and stern boasted that spindle-shaped outline that had +caused the ship to be compared appropriately to a long cigar. I noted +the slight overlap of its sheet-iron plates, which resembled the +scales covering the bodies of our big land reptiles. So I had a +perfectly natural explanation for why, despite the best spyglasses, +this boat had always been mistaken for a marine animal. + +Near the middle of the platform, the skiff was half set in the ship’s +hull, making a slight bulge. Fore and aft stood two cupolas of +moderate height, their sides slanting and partly inset with heavy +biconvex glass, one reserved for the helmsman steering the Nautilus, +the other for the brilliance of the powerful electric beacon lighting +his way. + +The sea was magnificent, the skies clear. This long aquatic vehicle +could barely feel the broad undulations of the ocean. A mild breeze +out of the east rippled the surface of the water. Free of all mist, +the horizon was ideal for taking sights. + +There was nothing to be seen. Not a reef, not an islet. No more +Abraham Lincoln. A deserted immenseness. + +Raising his sextant, Captain Nemo took the altitude of the sun, which +would give him his latitude. He waited for a few minutes until the orb +touched the rim of the horizon. While he was taking his sights, he +didn’t move a muscle, and the instrument couldn’t have been steadier +in hands made out of marble. + +“Noon,” he said. “Professor, whenever you’re ready. . . .” + +I took one last look at the sea, a little yellowish near the landing +places of Japan, and I went below again to the main lounge. + +There the captain fixed his position and used a chronometer to +calculate his longitude, which he double-checked against his previous +observations of hour angles. Then he told me: + +“Professor Aronnax, we’re in longitude 137 degrees 15’ west—” + +“West of which meridian?” I asked quickly, hoping the captain’s reply +might give me a clue to his nationality. + +“Sir,” he answered me, “I have chronometers variously set to the +meridians of Paris, Greenwich, and Washington, D.C. But in your honor, +I’ll use the one for Paris.” + +This reply told me nothing. I bowed, and the commander went on: + +“We’re in longitude 137 degrees 15’ west of the meridian of Paris, and +latitude 30 degrees 7’ north, in other words, about 300 miles from the +shores of Japan. At noon on this day of November 8, we hereby begin +our voyage of exploration under the waters.” + +“May God be with us!” I replied. + +“And now, professor,” the captain added, “I’ll leave you to your +intellectual pursuits. I’ve set our course east-northeast at a depth +of fifty meters. Here are some large-scale charts on which you’ll be +able to follow that course. The lounge is at your disposal, and with +your permission, I’ll take my leave.” + +Captain Nemo bowed. I was left to myself, lost in my thoughts. They +all centered on the Nautilus’s commander. Would I ever learn the +nationality of this eccentric man who had boasted of having none? His +sworn hate for humanity, a hate that perhaps was bent on some dreadful +revenge—what had provoked it? Was he one of those unappreciated +scholars, one of those geniuses “embittered by the world,” as Conseil +expressed it, a latter-day Galileo, or maybe one of those men of +science, like America’s Commander Maury, whose careers were ruined by +political revolutions? I couldn’t say yet. As for me, whom fate had +just brought aboard his vessel, whose life he had held in the balance: +he had received me coolly but hospitably. Only, he never took the hand +I extended to him. He never extended his own. + +For an entire hour I was deep in these musings, trying to probe this +mystery that fascinated me so. Then my eyes focused on a huge world +map displayed on the table, and I put my finger on the very spot where +our just-determined longitude and latitude intersected. + +Like the continents, the sea has its rivers. These are exclusive +currents that can be identified by their temperature and color, the +most remarkable being the one called the Gulf Stream. Science has +defined the global paths of five chief currents: one in the north +Atlantic, a second in the south Atlantic, a third in the north +Pacific, a fourth in the south Pacific, and a fifth in the southern +Indian Ocean. Also it’s likely that a sixth current used to exist in +the northern Indian Ocean, when the Caspian and Aral Seas joined up +with certain large Asian lakes to form a single uniform expanse of +water. + +Now then, at the spot indicated on the world map, one of these +seagoing rivers was rolling by, the Kuroshio of the Japanese, the +Black Current: heated by perpendicular rays from the tropical sun, it +leaves the Bay of Bengal, crosses the Strait of Malacca, goes up the +shores of Asia, and curves into the north Pacific as far as the +Aleutian Islands, carrying along trunks of camphor trees and other +local items, the pure indigo of its warm waters sharply contrasting +with the ocean’s waves. It was this current the Nautilus was about to +cross. I watched it on the map with my eyes, I saw it lose itself in +the immenseness of the Pacific, and I felt myself swept along with it, +when Ned Land and Conseil appeared in the lounge doorway. + +My two gallant companions stood petrified at the sight of the wonders +on display. + +“Where are we?” the Canadian exclaimed. “In the Quebec Museum?” + +“Begging master’s pardon,” Conseil answered, “but this seems more like +the Sommerard artifacts exhibition!” + +“My friends,” I replied, signaling them to enter, “you’re in neither +Canada nor France, but securely aboard the Nautilus, fifty meters +below sea level.” + +“If master says so, then so be it,” Conseil answered. “But in all +honesty, this lounge is enough to astonish even someone Flemish like +myself.” + +“Indulge your astonishment, my friend, and have a look, because +there’s plenty of work here for a classifier of your talents.” + +Conseil needed no encouraging. Bending over the glass cases, the +gallant lad was already muttering choice words from the naturalist’s +vocabulary: class Gastropoda, family Buccinoidea, genus cowry, species +Cypraea madagascariensis, etc. + +Meanwhile Ned Land, less dedicated to conchology, questioned me about +my interview with Captain Nemo. Had I discovered who he was, where he +came from, where he was heading, how deep he was taking us? In short, +a thousand questions I had no time to answer. + +I told him everything I knew—or, rather, everything I didn’t know—and +I asked him what he had seen or heard on his part. + +“Haven’t seen or heard a thing!” the Canadian replied. “I haven’t even +spotted the crew of this boat. By any chance, could they be electric +too?” + +“Electric?” + +“Oh ye gods, I’m half tempted to believe it! But back to you, +Professor Aronnax,” Ned Land said, still hanging on to his +ideas. “Can’t you tell me how many men are on board? Ten, twenty, +fifty, a hundred?” + +“I’m unable to answer you, Mr. Land. And trust me on this: for the +time being, get rid of these notions of taking over the Nautilus or +escaping from it. This boat is a masterpiece of modern technology, and +I’d be sorry to have missed it! Many people would welcome the +circumstances that have been handed us, just to walk in the midst of +these wonders. So keep calm, and let’s see what’s happening around +us.” + +“See!” the harpooner exclaimed. “There’s nothing to see, nothing we’ll +ever see from this sheet-iron prison! We’re simply running around +blindfolded—” + +Ned Land was just pronouncing these last words when we were suddenly +plunged into darkness, utter darkness. The ceiling lights went out so +quickly, my eyes literally ached, just as if we had experienced the +opposite sensation of going from the deepest gloom to the brightest +sunlight. + +We stood stock-still, not knowing what surprise was waiting for us, +whether pleasant or unpleasant. But a sliding sound became +audible. You could tell that some panels were shifting over the +Nautilus’s sides. + +“It’s the beginning of the end!” Ned Land said. + +“. . . order Hydromedusa,” Conseil muttered. + +Suddenly, through two oblong openings, daylight appeared on both sides +of the lounge. The liquid masses came into view, brightly lit by the +ship’s electric outpourings. We were separated from the sea by two +panes of glass. Initially I shuddered at the thought that these +fragile partitions could break; but strong copper bands secured them, +giving them nearly infinite resistance. + +The sea was clearly visible for a one-mile radius around the +Nautilus. What a sight! What pen could describe it? Who could portray +the effects of this light through these translucent sheets of water, +the subtlety of its progressive shadings into the ocean’s upper and +lower strata? + +The transparency of salt water has long been recognized. Its clarity +is believed to exceed that of spring water. The mineral and organic +substances it holds in suspension actually increase its +translucency. In certain parts of the Caribbean Sea, you can see the +sandy bottom with startling distinctness as deep as 145 meters down, +and the penetrating power of the sun’s rays seems to give out only at +a depth of 300 meters. But in this fluid setting traveled by the +Nautilus, our electric glow was being generated in the very heart of +the waves. It was no longer illuminated water, it was liquid light. + +If we accept the hypotheses of the microbiologist Ehrenberg—who +believes that these underwater depths are lit up by phosphorescent +organisms—nature has certainly saved one of her most prodigious sights +for residents of the sea, and I could judge for myself from the +thousandfold play of the light. On both sides I had windows opening +over these unexplored depths. The darkness in the lounge enhanced the +brightness outside, and we stared as if this clear glass were the +window of an immense aquarium. + +The Nautilus seemed to be standing still. This was due to the lack of +landmarks. But streaks of water, parted by the ship’s spur, sometimes +threaded before our eyes with extraordinary speed. + +In wonderment, we leaned on our elbows before these show windows, and +our stunned silence remained unbroken until Conseil said: + +“You wanted to see something, Ned my friend; well, now you have +something to see!” + +“How unusual!” the Canadian put in, setting aside his tantrums and +getaway schemes while submitting to this irresistible allure. “A man +would go an even greater distance just to stare at such a sight!” + +“Ah!” I exclaimed. “I see our captain’s way of life! He’s found +himself a separate world that saves its most astonishing wonders just +for him!” + +“But where are the fish?” the Canadian ventured to observe. “I don’t +see any fish!” + +“Why would you care, Ned my friend?” Conseil replied. “Since you have +no knowledge of them.” + +“Me? A fisherman!” Ned Land exclaimed. + +And on this subject a dispute arose between the two friends, since +both were knowledgeable about fish, but from totally different +standpoints. + +Everyone knows that fish make up the fourth and last class in the +vertebrate branch. They have been quite aptly defined as: +“cold-blooded vertebrates with a double circulatory system, breathing +through gills, and designed to live in water.” They consist of two +distinct series: the series of bony fish, in other words, those whose +spines have vertebrae made of bone; and cartilaginous fish, in other +words, those whose spines have vertebrae made of cartilage. + +Possibly the Canadian was familiar with this distinction, but Conseil +knew far more about it; and since he and Ned were now fast friends, he +just had to show off. So he told the harpooner: + +“Ned my friend, you’re a slayer of fish, a highly skilled +fisherman. You’ve caught a large number of these fascinating +animals. But I’ll bet you don’t know how they’re classified.” + +“Sure I do,” the harpooner replied in all seriousness. “They’re +classified into fish we eat and fish we don’t eat!” + +“Spoken like a true glutton,” Conseil replied. “But tell me, are you +familiar with the differences between bony fish and cartilaginous +fish?” + +“Just maybe, Conseil.” + +“And how about the subdivisions of these two large classes?” + +“I haven’t the foggiest notion,” the Canadian replied. + +“All right, listen and learn, Ned my friend! Bony fish are subdivided +into six orders. Primo, the acanthopterygians, whose upper jaw is +fully formed and free-moving, and whose gills take the shape of a +comb. This order consists of fifteen families, in other words, +three-quarters of all known fish. Example: the common perch.” + +“Pretty fair eating,” Ned Land replied. + +“Secundo,” Conseil went on, “the abdominals, whose pelvic fins hang +under the abdomen to the rear of the pectorals but aren’t attached to +the shoulder bone, an order that’s divided into five families and +makes up the great majority of freshwater fish. Examples: carp, pike.” + +“Ugh!” the Canadian put in with distinct scorn. “You can keep the +freshwater fish!” + +“Tertio,” Conseil said, “the subbrachians, whose pelvic fins are +attached under the pectorals and hang directly from the shoulder +bone. This order contains four families. Examples: flatfish such as +sole, turbot, dab, plaice, brill, etc.” + +“Excellent, really excellent!” the harpooner exclaimed, interested in +fish only from an edible viewpoint. + +“Quarto,” Conseil went on, unabashed, “the apods, with long bodies +that lack pelvic fins and are covered by a heavy, often glutinous +skin, an order consisting of only one family. Examples: common eels +and electric eels.” + +“So-so, just so-so!” Ned Land replied. + +“Quinto,” Conseil said, “the lophobranchians, which have fully formed, +free-moving jaws but whose gills consist of little tufts arranged in +pairs along their gill arches. This order includes only one +family. Examples: seahorses and dragonfish.” + +“Bad, very bad!” the harpooner replied. + +“Sexto and last,” Conseil said, “the plectognaths, whose maxillary +bone is firmly attached to the side of the intermaxillary that forms +the jaw, and whose palate arch is locked to the skull by sutures that +render the jaw immovable, an order lacking true pelvic fins and which +consists of two families. Examples: puffers and moonfish.” + +“They’re an insult to a frying pan!” the Canadian exclaimed. + +“Are you grasping all this, Ned my friend?” asked the scholarly +Conseil. + +“Not a lick of it, Conseil my friend,” the harpooner replied. “But +keep going, because you fill me with fascination.” + +“As for cartilaginous fish,” Conseil went on unflappably, “they +consist of only three orders.” + +“Good news,” Ned put in. + +“Primo, the cyclostomes, whose jaws are fused into a flexible ring and +whose gill openings are simply a large number of holes, an order +consisting of only one family. Example: the lamprey.” + +“An acquired taste,” Ned Land replied. + +“Secundo, the selacians, with gills resembling those of the +cyclostomes but whose lower jaw is free-moving. This order, which is +the most important in the class, consists of two families. Examples: +the ray and the shark.” + +“What!” Ned Land exclaimed. “Rays and man-eaters in the same order? +Well, Conseil my friend, on behalf of the rays, I wouldn’t advise you +to put them in the same fish tank!” + +“Tertio,” Conseil replied, “The sturionians, whose gill opening is the +usual single slit adorned with a gill cover, an order consisting of +four genera. Example: the sturgeon.” + +“Ah, Conseil my friend, you saved the best for last, in my opinion +anyhow! And that’s all of ’em?” + +“Yes, my gallant Ned,” Conseil replied. “And note well, even when one +has grasped all this, one still knows next to nothing, because these +families are subdivided into genera, subgenera, species, varieties—” + +“All right, Conseil my friend,” the harpooner said, leaning toward the +glass panel, “here come a couple of your varieties now!” + +“Yes! Fish!” Conseil exclaimed. “One would think he was in front of an +aquarium!” + +“No,” I replied, “because an aquarium is nothing more than a cage, and +these fish are as free as birds in the air!” + +“Well, Conseil my friend, identify them! Start naming them!” Ned Land +exclaimed. + +“Me?” Conseil replied. “I’m unable to! That’s my employer’s +bailiwick!” + +And in truth, although the fine lad was a classifying maniac, he was +no naturalist, and I doubt that he could tell a bonito from a tuna. In +short, he was the exact opposite of the Canadian, who knew nothing +about classification but could instantly put a name to any fish. + +“A triggerfish,” I said. + +“It’s a Chinese triggerfish,” Ned Land replied. + +“Genus Balistes, family Scleroderma, order Plectognatha,” Conseil +muttered. + +Assuredly, Ned and Conseil in combination added up to one outstanding +naturalist. + +The Canadian was not mistaken. Cavorting around the Nautilus was a +school of triggerfish with flat bodies, grainy skins, armed with +stings on their dorsal fins, and with four prickly rows of quills +quivering on both sides of their tails. Nothing could have been more +wonderful than the skin covering them: white underneath, gray above, +with spots of gold sparkling in the dark eddies of the waves. Around +them, rays were undulating like sheets flapping in the wind, and among +these I spotted, much to my glee, a Chinese ray, yellowish on its +topside, a dainty pink on its belly, and armed with three stings +behind its eyes; a rare species whose very existence was still doubted +in Lacépède’s day, since that pioneering classifier of fish had seen +one only in a portfolio of Japanese drawings. + +For two hours a whole aquatic army escorted the Nautilus. In the midst +of their leaping and cavorting, while they competed with each other in +beauty, radiance, and speed, I could distinguish some green wrasse, +bewhiskered mullet marked with pairs of black lines, white gobies from +the genus Eleotris with curved caudal fins and violet spots on the +back, wonderful Japanese mackerel from the genus Scomber with blue +bodies and silver heads, glittering azure goldfish whose name by +itself gives their full description, several varieties of porgy or +gilthead (some banded gilthead with fins variously blue and yellow, +some with horizontal heraldic bars and enhanced by a black strip +around their caudal area, some with color zones and elegantly corseted +in their six waistbands), trumpetfish with flutelike beaks that looked +like genuine seafaring woodcocks and were sometimes a meter long, +Japanese salamanders, serpentine moray eels from the genus Echidna +that were six feet long with sharp little eyes and a huge mouth +bristling with teeth; etc. + +Our wonderment stayed at an all-time fever pitch. Our exclamations +were endless. Ned identified the fish, Conseil classified them, and as +for me, I was in ecstasy over the verve of their movements and the +beauty of their forms. Never before had I been given the chance to +glimpse these animals alive and at large in their native element. + +Given such a complete collection from the seas of Japan and China, I +won’t mention every variety that passed before our dazzled eyes. More +numerous than birds in the air, these fish raced right up to us, no +doubt attracted by the brilliant glow of our electric beacon. + +Suddenly daylight appeared in the lounge. The sheet-iron panels slid +shut. The magical vision disappeared. But for a good while I kept +dreaming away, until the moment my eyes focused on the instruments +hanging on the wall. The compass still showed our heading as +east-northeast, the pressure gauge indicated a pressure of five +atmospheres (corresponding to a depth of fifty meters), and the +electric log gave our speed as fifteen miles per hour. + +I waited for Captain Nemo. But he didn’t appear. The clock marked the +hour of five. + +Ned Land and Conseil returned to their cabin. As for me, I repaired to +my stateroom. There I found dinner ready for me. It consisted of +turtle soup made from the daintiest hawksbill, a red mullet with +white, slightly flaky flesh, whose liver, when separately prepared, +makes delicious eating, plus loin of imperial angelfish, whose flavor +struck me as even better than salmon. + +I spent the evening in reading, writing, and thinking. Then drowsiness +overtook me, I stretched out on my eelgrass mattress, and I fell into +a deep slumber, while the Nautilus glided through the swiftly flowing +Black Current. + + +CHAPTER 15 + +An Invitation in Writing + + +THE NEXT DAY, November 9, I woke up only after a long, twelve-hour +slumber. Conseil, a creature of habit, came to ask “how master’s night +went,” and to offer his services. He had left his Canadian friend +sleeping like a man who had never done anything else. + +I let the gallant lad babble as he pleased, without giving him much in +the way of a reply. I was concerned about Captain Nemo’s absence +during our session the previous afternoon, and I hoped to see him +again today. + +Soon I had put on my clothes, which were woven from strands of +seashell tissue. More than once their composition provoked comments +from Conseil. I informed him that they were made from the smooth, +silken filaments with which the fan mussel, a type of seashell quite +abundant along Mediterranean beaches, attaches itself to rocks. In +olden times, fine fabrics, stockings, and gloves were made from such +filaments, because they were both very soft and very warm. So the +Nautilus’s crew could dress themselves at little cost, without needing +a thing from cotton growers, sheep, or silkworms on shore. + +As soon as I was dressed, I made my way to the main lounge. It was +deserted. + +I dove into studying the conchological treasures amassed inside the +glass cases. I also investigated the huge plant albums that were +filled with the rarest marine herbs, which, although they were pressed +and dried, still kept their wonderful colors. Among these valuable +water plants, I noted various seaweed: some Cladostephus +verticillatus, peacock’s tails, fig-leafed caulerpa, grain-bearing +beauty bushes, delicate rosetangle tinted scarlet, sea colander +arranged into fan shapes, mermaid’s cups that looked like the caps of +squat mushrooms and for years had been classified among the zoophytes; +in short, a complete series of algae. + +The entire day passed without my being honored by a visit from Captain +Nemo. The panels in the lounge didn’t open. Perhaps they didn’t want +us to get tired of these beautiful things. + +The Nautilus kept to an east-northeasterly heading, a speed of twelve +miles per hour, and a depth between fifty and sixty meters. + +Next day, November 10: the same neglect, the same solitude. I didn’t +see a soul from the crew. Ned and Conseil spent the better part of the +day with me. They were astonished at the captain’s inexplicable +absence. Was this eccentric man ill? Did he want to change his plans +concerning us? + +But after all, as Conseil noted, we enjoyed complete freedom, we were +daintily and abundantly fed. Our host had kept to the terms of his +agreement. We couldn’t complain, and moreover the very uniqueness of +our situation had such generous rewards in store for us, we had no +grounds for criticism. + +That day I started my diary of these adventures, which has enabled me +to narrate them with the most scrupulous accuracy; and one odd detail: +I wrote it on paper manufactured from marine eelgrass. + +Early in the morning on November 11, fresh air poured through the +Nautilus’s interior, informing me that we had returned to the surface +of the ocean to renew our oxygen supply. I headed for the central +companionway and climbed onto the platform. + +It was six o’clock. I found the weather overcast, the sea gray but +calm. Hardly a billow. I hoped to encounter Captain Nemo there—would +he come? I saw only the helmsman imprisoned in his glass-windowed +pilothouse. Seated on the ledge furnished by the hull of the skiff, I +inhaled the sea’s salty aroma with great pleasure. + +Little by little, the mists were dispersed under the action of the +sun’s rays. The radiant orb cleared the eastern horizon. Under its +gaze, the sea caught on fire like a trail of gunpowder. Scattered on +high, the clouds were colored in bright, wonderfully shaded hues, and +numerous “ladyfingers” warned of daylong winds.* + +*Author’s Note: “Ladyfingers” are small, thin, white clouds with + ragged edges. + +But what were mere winds to this Nautilus, which no storms could +intimidate! + +So I was marveling at this delightful sunrise, so life-giving and +cheerful, when I heard someone climbing onto the platform. + +I was prepared to greet Captain Nemo, but it was his chief officer who +appeared—whom I had already met during our first visit with the +captain. He advanced over the platform, not seeming to notice my +presence. A powerful spyglass to his eye, he scrutinized every point +of the horizon with the utmost care. Then, his examination over, he +approached the hatch and pronounced a phrase whose exact wording +follows below. I remember it because, every morning, it was repeated +under the same circumstances. It ran like this: + +“Nautron respoc lorni virch.” + +What it meant I was unable to say. + +These words pronounced, the chief officer went below again. I thought +the Nautilus was about to resume its underwater navigating. So I went +down the hatch and back through the gangways to my stateroom. + +Five days passed in this way with no change in our situation. Every +morning I climbed onto the platform. The same phrase was pronounced by +the same individual. Captain Nemo did not appear. + +I was pursuing the policy that we had seen the last of him, when on +November 16, while reentering my stateroom with Ned and Conseil, I +found a note addressed to me on the table. + +I opened it impatiently. It was written in a script that was clear and +neat but a bit “Old English” in style, its characters reminding me of +German calligraphy. + +The note was worded as follows: + + Professor Aronnax + Aboard the Nautilus + November 16, 1867 + + Captain Nemo invites Professor Aronnax on a hunting trip that will + take place tomorrow morning in his Crespo Island forests. He hopes + nothing will prevent the professor from attending, and he looks + forward with pleasure to the professor’s companions joining him. + + CAPTAIN NEMO, + Commander of the Nautilus. + +“A hunting trip!” Ned exclaimed. + +“And in his forests on Crespo Island!” Conseil added. + +“But does this mean the old boy goes ashore?” Ned Land went on. + +“That seems to be the gist of it,” I said, rereading the letter. + +“Well, we’ve got to accept!” the Canadian answered. “Once we’re on +solid ground, we’ll figure out a course of action. Besides, it +wouldn’t pain me to eat a couple slices of fresh venison!” + +Without trying to reconcile the contradictions between Captain Nemo’s +professed horror of continents or islands and his invitation to go +hunting in a forest, I was content to reply: + +“First let’s look into this Crespo Island.” + +I consulted the world map; and in latitude 32 degrees 40’ north and +longitude 167 degrees 50’ west, I found an islet that had been +discovered in 1801 by Captain Crespo, which old Spanish charts called +Rocca de la Plata, in other words, “Silver Rock.” So we were about +1,800 miles from our starting point, and by a slight change of +heading, the Nautilus was bringing us back toward the southeast. + +I showed my companions this small, stray rock in the middle of the +north Pacific. + +“If Captain Nemo does sometimes go ashore,” I told them, “at least he +only picks desert islands!” + +Ned Land shook his head without replying; then he and Conseil left +me. After supper was served me by the mute and emotionless steward, I +fell asleep; but not without some anxieties. + +When I woke up the next day, November 17, I sensed that the Nautilus +was completely motionless. I dressed hurriedly and entered the main +lounge. + +Captain Nemo was there waiting for me. He stood up, bowed, and asked +if it suited me to come along. + +Since he made no allusion to his absence the past eight days, I also +refrained from mentioning it, and I simply answered that my companions +and I were ready to go with him. + +“Only, sir,” I added, “I’ll take the liberty of addressing a question +to you.” + +“Address away, Professor Aronnax, and if I’m able to answer, I will.” + +“Well then, captain, how is it that you’ve severed all ties with the +shore, yet you own forests on Crespo Island?” + +“Professor,” the captain answered me, “these forests of mine don’t +bask in the heat and light of the sun. They aren’t frequented by +lions, tigers, panthers, or other quadrupeds. They’re known only to +me. They grow only for me. These forests aren’t on land, they’re +actual underwater forests.” + +“Underwater forests!” I exclaimed. + +“Yes, professor.” + +“And you’re offering to take me to them?” + +“Precisely.” + +“On foot?” + +“Without getting your feet wet.” + +“While hunting?” + +“While hunting.” + +“Rifles in hand?” + +“Rifles in hand.” + +I stared at the Nautilus’s commander with an air anything but +flattering to the man. + +“Assuredly,” I said to myself, “he’s contracted some mental +illness. He’s had a fit that’s lasted eight days and isn’t over even +yet. What a shame! I liked him better eccentric than insane!” + +These thoughts were clearly readable on my face; but Captain Nemo +remained content with inviting me to follow him, and I did so like a +man resigned to the worst. + +We arrived at the dining room, where we found breakfast served. + +“Professor Aronnax,” the captain told me, “I beg you to share my +breakfast without formality. We can chat while we eat. Because, +although I promised you a stroll in my forests, I made no pledge to +arrange for your encountering a restaurant there. Accordingly, eat +your breakfast like a man who’ll probably eat dinner only when it’s +extremely late.” + +I did justice to this meal. It was made up of various fish and some +slices of sea cucumber, that praiseworthy zoophyte, all garnished with +such highly appetizing seaweed as the Porphyra laciniata and the +Laurencia primafetida. Our beverage consisted of clear water to which, +following the captain’s example, I added some drops of a fermented +liquor extracted by the Kamchatka process from the seaweed known by +name as Rhodymenia palmata. + +At first Captain Nemo ate without pronouncing a single word. Then he +told me: + +“Professor, when I proposed that you go hunting in my Crespo forests, +you thought I was contradicting myself. When I informed you that it +was an issue of underwater forests, you thought I’d gone +insane. Professor, you must never make snap judgments about your +fellow man.” + +“But, captain, believe me—” + +“Kindly listen to me, and you’ll see if you have grounds for accusing +me of insanity or self-contradiction.” + +“I’m all attention.” + +“Professor, you know as well as I do that a man can live underwater so +long as he carries with him his own supply of breathable air. For +underwater work projects, the workman wears a waterproof suit with his +head imprisoned in a metal capsule, while he receives air from above +by means of force pumps and flow regulators.” + +“That’s the standard equipment for a diving suit,” I said. + +“Correct, but under such conditions the man has no freedom. He’s +attached to a pump that sends him air through an india-rubber hose; +it’s an actual chain that fetters him to the shore, and if we were to +be bound in this way to the Nautilus, we couldn’t go far either.” + +“Then how do you break free?” I asked. + +“We use the Rouquayrol-Denayrouze device, invented by two of your +fellow countrymen but refined by me for my own special uses, thereby +enabling you to risk these new physiological conditions without +suffering any organic disorders. It consists of a tank built from +heavy sheet iron in which I store air under a pressure of fifty +atmospheres. This tank is fastened to the back by means of straps, +like a soldier’s knapsack. Its top part forms a box where the air is +regulated by a bellows mechanism and can be released only at its +proper tension. In the Rouquayrol device that has been in general use, +two india-rubber hoses leave this box and feed to a kind of tent that +imprisons the operator’s nose and mouth; one hose is for the entrance +of air to be inhaled, the other for the exit of air to be exhaled, and +the tongue closes off the former or the latter depending on the +breather’s needs. But in my case, since I face considerable pressures +at the bottom of the sea, I needed to enclose my head in a copper +sphere, like those found on standard diving suits, and the two hoses +for inhalation and exhalation now feed to that sphere.” + +“That’s perfect, Captain Nemo, but the air you carry must be quickly +depleted; and once it contains no more than 15% oxygen, it becomes +unfit for breathing.” + +“Surely, but as I told you, Professor Aronnax, the Nautilus’s pumps +enable me to store air under considerable pressure, and given this +circumstance, the tank on my diving equipment can supply breathable +air for nine or ten hours.” + +“I’ve no more objections to raise,” I replied. “I’ll only ask you, +captain: how can you light your way at the bottom of the ocean?” + +“With the Ruhmkorff device, Professor Aronnax. If the first is carried +on the back, the second is fastened to the belt. It consists of a +Bunsen battery that I activate not with potassium dichromate but with +sodium. An induction coil gathers the electricity generated and +directs it to a specially designed lantern. In this lantern one finds +a glass spiral that contains only a residue of carbon dioxide +gas. When the device is operating, this gas becomes luminous and gives +off a continuous whitish light. Thus provided for, I breathe and I +see.” + +“Captain Nemo, to my every objection you give such crushing answers, +I’m afraid to entertain a single doubt. However, though I have no +choice but to accept both the Rouquayrol and Ruhmkorff devices, I’d +like to register some reservations about the rifle with which you’ll +equip me.” + +“But it isn’t a rifle that uses gunpowder,” the captain replied. + +“Then it’s an air gun?” + +“Surely. How can I make gunpowder on my ship when I have no saltpeter, +sulfur, or charcoal?” + +“Even so,” I replied, “to fire underwater in a medium that’s 855 times +denser than air, you’d have to overcome considerable resistance.” + +“That doesn’t necessarily follow. There are certain Fulton-style guns +perfected by the Englishmen Philippe-Coles and Burley, the Frenchman +Furcy, and the Italian Landi; they’re equipped with a special system +of airtight fastenings and can fire in underwater conditions. But I +repeat: having no gunpowder, I’ve replaced it with air at high +pressure, which is abundantly supplied me by the Nautilus’s pumps.” + +“But this air must be swiftly depleted.” + +“Well, in a pinch can’t my Rouquayrol tank supply me with more? All I +have to do is draw it from an ad hoc spigot.* Besides, Professor +Aronnax, you’ll see for yourself that during these underwater hunting +trips, we make no great expenditure of either air or bullets.” + +*Latin: a spigot “just for that purpose.” Ed. + +“But it seems to me that in this semidarkness, amid this liquid that’s +so dense in comparison to the atmosphere, a gunshot couldn’t carry far +and would prove fatal only with difficulty!” + +“On the contrary, sir, with this rifle every shot is fatal; and as +soon as the animal is hit, no matter how lightly, it falls as if +struck by lightning.” + +“Why?” + +“Because this rifle doesn’t shoot ordinary bullets but little glass +capsules invented by the Austrian chemist Leniebroek, and I have a +considerable supply of them. These glass capsules are covered with a +strip of steel and weighted with a lead base; they’re genuine little +Leyden jars charged with high-voltage electricity. They go off at the +slightest impact, and the animal, no matter how strong, drops dead. I +might add that these capsules are no bigger than number 4 shot, and +the chamber of any ordinary rifle could hold ten of them.” + +“I’ll quit debating,” I replied, getting up from the table. “And all +that’s left is for me to shoulder my rifle. So where you go, I’ll go.” + +Captain Nemo led me to the Nautilus’s stern, and passing by Ned and +Conseil’s cabin, I summoned my two companions, who instantly followed +us. + +Then we arrived at a cell located within easy access of the engine +room; in this cell we were to get dressed for our stroll. + + +CHAPTER 16 + +Strolling the Plains + + +THIS CELL, properly speaking, was the Nautilus’s arsenal and +wardrobe. Hanging from its walls, a dozen diving outfits were waiting +for anybody who wanted to take a stroll. + +After seeing these, Ned Land exhibited an obvious distaste for the +idea of putting one on. + +“But my gallant Ned,” I told him, “the forests of Crespo Island are +simply underwater forests!” + +“Oh great!” put in the disappointed harpooner, watching his dreams of +fresh meat fade away. “And you, Professor Aronnax, are you going to +stick yourself inside these clothes?” + +“It has to be, Mr. Ned.” + +“Have it your way, sir,” the harpooner replied, shrugging his +shoulders. “But speaking for myself, I’ll never get into those things +unless they force me!” + +“No one will force you, Mr. Land,” Captain Nemo said. + +“And is Conseil going to risk it?” Ned asked. + +“Where master goes, I go,” Conseil replied. + +At the captain’s summons, two crewmen came to help us put on these +heavy, waterproof clothes, made from seamless India rubber and +expressly designed to bear considerable pressures. They were like +suits of armor that were both yielding and resistant, you might +say. These clothes consisted of jacket and pants. The pants ended in +bulky footwear adorned with heavy lead soles. The fabric of the jacket +was reinforced with copper mail that shielded the chest, protected it +from the water’s pressure, and allowed the lungs to function freely; +the sleeves ended in supple gloves that didn’t impede hand movements. + +These perfected diving suits, it was easy to see, were a far cry from +such misshapen costumes as the cork breastplates, leather jumpers, +seagoing tunics, barrel helmets, etc., invented and acclaimed in the +18th century. + +Conseil and I were soon dressed in these diving suits, as were Captain +Nemo and one of his companions—a herculean type who must have been +prodigiously strong. All that remained was to encase one’s head in its +metal sphere. But before proceeding with this operation, I asked the +captain for permission to examine the rifles set aside for us. + +One of the Nautilus’s men presented me with a streamlined rifle whose +butt was boilerplate steel, hollow inside, and of fairly large +dimensions. This served as a tank for the compressed air, which a +trigger-operated valve could release into the metal chamber. In a +groove where the butt was heaviest, a cartridge clip held some twenty +electric bullets that, by means of a spring, automatically took their +places in the barrel of the rifle. As soon as one shot had been fired, +another was ready to go off. + +“Captain Nemo,” I said, “this is an ideal, easy-to-use weapon. I ask +only to put it to the test. But how will we reach the bottom of the +sea?” + +“Right now, professor, the Nautilus is aground in ten meters of water, +and we’ve only to depart.” + +“But how will we set out?” + +“You’ll see.” + +Captain Nemo inserted his cranium into its spherical headgear. Conseil +and I did the same, but not without hearing the Canadian toss us a +sarcastic “happy hunting.” On top, the suit ended in a collar of +threaded copper onto which the metal helmet was screwed. Three holes, +protected by heavy glass, allowed us to see in any direction with +simply a turn of the head inside the sphere. Placed on our backs, the +Rouquayrol device went into operation as soon as it was in position, +and for my part, I could breathe with ease. + +The Ruhmkorff lamp hanging from my belt, my rifle in hand, I was ready +to go forth. But in all honesty, while imprisoned in these heavy +clothes and nailed to the deck by my lead soles, it was impossible for +me to take a single step. + +But this circumstance had been foreseen, because I felt myself +propelled into a little room adjoining the wardrobe. Towed in the same +way, my companions went with me. I heard a door with watertight seals +close after us, and we were surrounded by profound darkness. + +After some minutes a sharp hissing reached my ears. I felt a distinct +sensation of cold rising from my feet to my chest. Apparently a +stopcock inside the boat was letting in water from outside, which +overran us and soon filled up the room. Contrived in the Nautilus’s +side, a second door then opened. We were lit by a subdued light. An +instant later our feet were treading the bottom of the sea. + +And now, how can I convey the impressions left on me by this stroll +under the waters. Words are powerless to describe such wonders! When +even the painter’s brush can’t depict the effects unique to the liquid +element, how can the writer’s pen hope to reproduce them? + +Captain Nemo walked in front, and his companion followed us a few +steps to the rear. Conseil and I stayed next to each other, as if +daydreaming that through our metal carapaces, a little polite +conversation might still be possible! Already I no longer felt the +bulkiness of my clothes, footwear, and air tank, nor the weight of the +heavy sphere inside which my head was rattling like an almond in its +shell. Once immersed in water, all these objects lost a part of their +weight equal to the weight of the liquid they displaced, and thanks to +this law of physics discovered by Archimedes, I did just fine. I was +no longer an inert mass, and I had, comparatively speaking, great +freedom of movement. + +Lighting up the seafloor even thirty feet beneath the surface of the +ocean, the sun astonished me with its power. The solar rays easily +crossed this aqueous mass and dispersed its dark colors. I could +easily distinguish objects 100 meters away. Farther on, the bottom was +tinted with fine shades of ultramarine; then, off in the distance, it +turned blue and faded in the midst of a hazy darkness. Truly, this +water surrounding me was just a kind of air, denser than the +atmosphere on land but almost as transparent. Above me I could see the +calm surface of the ocean. + +We were walking on sand that was fine-grained and smooth, not wrinkled +like beach sand, which preserves the impressions left by the +waves. This dazzling carpet was a real mirror, throwing back the sun’s +rays with startling intensity. The outcome: an immense vista of +reflections that penetrated every liquid molecule. Will anyone believe +me if I assert that at this thirty-foot depth, I could see as if it +was broad daylight? + +For a quarter of an hour, I trod this blazing sand, which was strewn +with tiny crumbs of seashell. Looming like a long reef, the Nautilus’s +hull disappeared little by little, but when night fell in the midst of +the waters, the ship’s beacon would surely facilitate our return on +board, since its rays carried with perfect distinctness. This effect +is difficult to understand for anyone who has never seen light beams +so sharply defined on shore. There the dust that saturates the air +gives such rays the appearance of a luminous fog; but above water as +well as underwater, shafts of electric light are transmitted with +incomparable clarity. + +Meanwhile we went ever onward, and these vast plains of sand seemed +endless. My hands parted liquid curtains that closed again behind me, +and my footprints faded swiftly under the water’s pressure. + +Soon, scarcely blurred by their distance from us, the forms of some +objects took shape before my eyes. I recognized the lower slopes of +some magnificent rocks carpeted by the finest zoophyte specimens, and +right off, I was struck by an effect unique to this medium. + +By then it was ten o’clock in the morning. The sun’s rays hit the +surface of the waves at a fairly oblique angle, decomposing by +refraction as though passing through a prism; and when this light came +in contact with flowers, rocks, buds, seashells, and polyps, the edges +of these objects were shaded with all seven hues of the solar +spectrum. This riot of rainbow tints was a wonder, a feast for the +eyes: a genuine kaleidoscope of red, green, yellow, orange, violet, +indigo, and blue; in short, the whole palette of a color-happy +painter! If only I had been able to share with Conseil the intense +sensations rising in my brain, competing with him in exclamations of +wonderment! If only I had known, like Captain Nemo and his companion, +how to exchange thoughts by means of prearranged signals! So, for lack +of anything better, I talked to myself: I declaimed inside this copper +box that topped my head, spending more air on empty words than was +perhaps advisable. + +Conseil, like me, had stopped before this splendid sight. Obviously, +in the presence of these zoophyte and mollusk specimens, the fine lad +was classifying his head off. Polyps and echinoderms abounded on the +seafloor: various isis coral, cornularian coral living in isolation, +tufts of virginal genus Oculina formerly known by the name “white +coral,” prickly fungus coral in the shape of mushrooms, sea anemone +holding on by their muscular disks, providing a literal flowerbed +adorned by jellyfish from the genus Porpita wearing collars of azure +tentacles, and starfish that spangled the sand, including veinlike +feather stars from the genus Asterophyton that were like fine lace +embroidered by the hands of water nymphs, their festoons swaying to +the faint undulations caused by our walking. It filled me with real +chagrin to crush underfoot the gleaming mollusk samples that littered +the seafloor by the thousands: concentric comb shells, hammer shells, +coquina (seashells that actually hop around), top-shell snails, red +helmet shells, angel-wing conchs, sea hares, and so many other +exhibits from this inexhaustible ocean. But we had to keep walking, +and we went forward while overhead there scudded schools of Portuguese +men-of-war that let their ultramarine tentacles drift in their wakes, +medusas whose milky white or dainty pink parasols were festooned with +azure tassels and shaded us from the sun’s rays, plus jellyfish of the +species Pelagia panopyra that, in the dark, would have strewn our path +with phosphorescent glimmers! + +All these wonders I glimpsed in the space of a quarter of a mile, +barely pausing, following Captain Nemo whose gestures kept beckoning +me onward. Soon the nature of the seafloor changed. The plains of sand +were followed by a bed of that viscous slime Americans call “ooze,” +which is composed exclusively of seashells rich in limestone or +silica. Then we crossed a prairie of algae, open-sea plants that the +waters hadn’t yet torn loose, whose vegetation grew in wild +profusion. Soft to the foot, these densely textured lawns would have +rivaled the most luxuriant carpets woven by the hand of man. But while +this greenery was sprawling under our steps, it didn’t neglect us +overhead. The surface of the water was crisscrossed by a floating +arbor of marine plants belonging to that superabundant algae family +that numbers more than 2,000 known species. I saw long ribbons of +fucus drifting above me, some globular, others tubular: Laurencia, +Cladostephus with the slenderest foliage, Rhodymenia palmata +resembling the fan shapes of cactus. I observed that green-colored +plants kept closer to the surface of the sea, while reds occupied a +medium depth, which left blacks and browns in charge of designing +gardens and flowerbeds in the ocean’s lower strata. + +These algae are a genuine prodigy of creation, one of the wonders of +world flora. This family produces both the biggest and smallest +vegetables in the world. Because, just as 40,000 near-invisible buds +have been counted in one five-square-millimeter space, so also have +fucus plants been gathered that were over 500 meters long! + +We had been gone from the Nautilus for about an hour and a half. It +was almost noon. I spotted this fact in the perpendicularity of the +sun’s rays, which were no longer refracted. The magic of these solar +colors disappeared little by little, with emerald and sapphire shades +vanishing from our surroundings altogether. We walked with steady +steps that rang on the seafloor with astonishing intensity. The +tiniest sounds were transmitted with a speed to which the ear is +unaccustomed on shore. In fact, water is a better conductor of sound +than air, and under the waves noises carry four times as fast. + +Just then the seafloor began to slope sharply downward. The light took +on a uniform hue. We reached a depth of 100 meters, by which point we +were undergoing a pressure of ten atmospheres. But my diving clothes +were built along such lines that I never suffered from this +pressure. I felt only a certain tightness in the joints of my fingers, +and even this discomfort soon disappeared. As for the exhaustion bound +to accompany a two-hour stroll in such unfamiliar trappings—it was +nil. Helped by the water, my movements were executed with startling +ease. + +Arriving at this 300-foot depth, I still detected the sun’s rays, but +just barely. Their intense brilliance had been followed by a reddish +twilight, a midpoint between day and night. But we could see well +enough to find our way, and it still wasn’t necessary to activate the +Ruhmkorff device. + +Just then Captain Nemo stopped. He waited until I joined him, then he +pointed a finger at some dark masses outlined in the shadows a short +distance away. + +“It’s the forest of Crespo Island,” I thought; and I was not mistaken. + + +CHAPTER 17 + +An Underwater Forest + + +WE HAD FINALLY arrived on the outskirts of this forest, surely one of +the finest in Captain Nemo’s immense domains. He regarded it as his +own and had laid the same claim to it that, in the first days of the +world, the first men had to their forests on land. Besides, who else +could dispute his ownership of this underwater property? What other, +bolder pioneer would come, ax in hand, to clear away its dark +underbrush? + +This forest was made up of big treelike plants, and when we entered +beneath their huge arches, my eyes were instantly struck by the unique +arrangement of their branches—an arrangement that I had never before +encountered. + +None of the weeds carpeting the seafloor, none of the branches +bristling from the shrubbery, crept, or leaned, or stretched on a +horizontal plane. They all rose right up toward the surface of the +ocean. Every filament or ribbon, no matter how thin, stood ramrod +straight. Fucus plants and creepers were growing in stiff +perpendicular lines, governed by the density of the element that +generated them. After I parted them with my hands, these otherwise +motionless plants would shoot right back to their original +positions. It was the regime of verticality. + +I soon grew accustomed to this bizarre arrangement, likewise to the +comparative darkness surrounding us. The seafloor in this forest was +strewn with sharp chunks of stone that were hard to avoid. Here the +range of underwater flora seemed pretty comprehensive to me, as well +as more abundant than it might have been in the arctic or tropical +zones, where such exhibits are less common. But for a few minutes I +kept accidentally confusing the two kingdoms, mistaking zoophytes for +water plants, animals for vegetables. And who hasn’t made the same +blunder? Flora and fauna are so closely associated in the underwater +world! + +I observed that all these exhibits from the vegetable kingdom were +attached to the seafloor by only the most makeshift methods. They had +no roots and didn’t care which solid objects secured them, sand, +shells, husks, or pebbles; they didn’t ask their hosts for sustenance, +just a point of purchase. These plants are entirely self-propagating, +and the principle of their existence lies in the water that sustains +and nourishes them. In place of leaves, most of them sprouted blades +of unpredictable shape, which were confined to a narrow gamut of +colors consisting only of pink, crimson, green, olive, tan, and +brown. There I saw again, but not yet pressed and dried like the +Nautilus’s specimens, some peacock’s tails spread open like fans to +stir up a cooling breeze, scarlet rosetangle, sea tangle stretching +out their young and edible shoots, twisting strings of kelp from the +genus Nereocystis that bloomed to a height of fifteen meters, bouquets +of mermaid’s cups whose stems grew wider at the top, and a number of +other open-sea plants, all without flowers. “It’s an odd anomaly in +this bizarre element!” as one witty naturalist puts it. “The animal +kingdom blossoms, and the vegetable kingdom doesn’t!” + +These various types of shrubbery were as big as trees in the temperate +zones; in the damp shade between them, there were clustered actual +bushes of moving flowers, hedges of zoophytes in which there grew +stony coral striped with twisting furrows, yellowish sea anemone from +the genus Caryophylia with translucent tentacles, plus anemone with +grassy tufts from the genus Zoantharia; and to complete the illusion, +minnows flitted from branch to branch like a swarm of hummingbirds, +while there rose underfoot, like a covey of snipe, yellow fish from +the genus Lepisocanthus with bristling jaws and sharp scales, flying +gurnards, and pinecone fish. + +Near one o’clock, Captain Nemo gave the signal to halt. Speaking for +myself, I was glad to oblige, and we stretched out beneath an arbor of +winged kelp, whose long thin tendrils stood up like arrows. + +This short break was a delight. It lacked only the charm of +conversation. But it was impossible to speak, impossible to reply. I +simply nudged my big copper headpiece against Conseil’s headpiece. I +saw a happy gleam in the gallant lad’s eyes, and to communicate his +pleasure, he jiggled around inside his carapace in the world’s +silliest way. + +After four hours of strolling, I was quite astonished not to feel any +intense hunger. What kept my stomach in such a good mood I’m unable to +say. But, in exchange, I experienced that irresistible desire for +sleep that comes over every diver. Accordingly, my eyes soon closed +behind their heavy glass windows and I fell into an uncontrollable +doze, which until then I had been able to fight off only through the +movements of our walking. Captain Nemo and his muscular companion were +already stretched out in this clear crystal, setting us a fine naptime +example. + +How long I was sunk in this torpor I cannot estimate; but when I +awoke, it seemed as if the sun were settling toward the +horizon. Captain Nemo was already up, and I had started to stretch my +limbs, when an unexpected apparition brought me sharply to my feet. + +A few paces away, a monstrous, meter-high sea spider was staring at me +with beady eyes, poised to spring at me. Although my diving suit was +heavy enough to protect me from this animal’s bites, I couldn’t keep +back a shudder of horror. Just then Conseil woke up, together with the +Nautilus’s sailor. Captain Nemo alerted his companion to this hideous +crustacean, which a swing of the rifle butt quickly brought down, and +I watched the monster’s horrible legs writhing in dreadful +convulsions. + +This encounter reminded me that other, more daunting animals must be +lurking in these dark reaches, and my diving suit might not be +adequate protection against their attacks. Such thoughts hadn’t +previously crossed my mind, and I was determined to keep on my +guard. Meanwhile I had assumed this rest period would be the turning +point in our stroll, but I was mistaken; and instead of heading back +to the Nautilus, Captain Nemo continued his daring excursion. + +The seafloor kept sinking, and its significantly steeper slope took us +to greater depths. It must have been nearly three o’clock when we +reached a narrow valley gouged between high, vertical walls and +located 150 meters down. Thanks to the perfection of our equipment, we +had thus gone ninety meters below the limit that nature had, until +then, set on man’s underwater excursions. + +I say 150 meters, although I had no instruments for estimating this +distance. But I knew that the sun’s rays, even in the clearest seas, +could reach no deeper. So at precisely this point the darkness became +profound. Not a single object was visible past ten +paces. Consequently, I had begun to grope my way when suddenly I saw +the glow of an intense white light. Captain Nemo had just activated +his electric device. His companion did likewise. Conseil and I +followed suit. By turning a switch, I established contact between the +induction coil and the glass spiral, and the sea, lit up by our four +lanterns, was illuminated for a radius of twenty-five meters. + +Captain Nemo continued to plummet into the dark depths of this forest, +whose shrubbery grew ever more sparse. I observed that vegetable life +was disappearing more quickly than animal life. The open-sea plants +had already left behind the increasingly arid seafloor, where a +prodigious number of animals were still swarming: zoophytes, +articulates, mollusks, and fish. + +While we were walking, I thought the lights of our Ruhmkorff devices +would automatically attract some inhabitants of these dark strata. But +if they did approach us, at least they kept at a distance regrettable +from the hunter’s standpoint. Several times I saw Captain Nemo stop +and take aim with his rifle; then, after sighting down its barrel for +a few seconds, he would straighten up and resume his walk. + +Finally, at around four o’clock, this marvelous excursion came to an +end. A wall of superb rocks stood before us, imposing in its sheer +mass: a pile of gigantic stone blocks, an enormous granite cliffside +pitted with dark caves but not offering a single gradient we could +climb up. This was the underpinning of Crespo Island. This was land. + +The captain stopped suddenly. A gesture from him brought us to a halt, +and however much I wanted to clear this wall, I had to stop. Here +ended the domains of Captain Nemo. He had no desire to pass beyond +them. Farther on lay a part of the globe he would no longer tread +underfoot. + +Our return journey began. Captain Nemo resumed the lead in our little +band, always heading forward without hesitation. I noted that we +didn’t follow the same path in returning to the Nautilus. This new +route, very steep and hence very arduous, quickly took us close to the +surface of the sea. But this return to the upper strata wasn’t so +sudden that decompression took place too quickly, which could have led +to serious organic disorders and given us those internal injuries so +fatal to divers. With great promptness, the light reappeared and grew +stronger; and the refraction of the sun, already low on the horizon, +again ringed the edges of various objects with the entire color +spectrum. + +At a depth of ten meters, we walked amid a swarm of small fish from +every species, more numerous than birds in the air, more agile too; +but no aquatic game worthy of a gunshot had yet been offered to our +eyes. + +Just then I saw the captain’s weapon spring to his shoulder and track +a moving object through the bushes. A shot went off, I heard a faint +hissing, and an animal dropped a few paces away, literally struck by +lightning. + +It was a magnificent sea otter from the genus Enhydra, the only +exclusively marine quadruped. One and a half meters long, this otter +had to be worth a good high price. Its coat, chestnut brown above and +silver below, would have made one of those wonderful fur pieces so +much in demand in the Russian and Chinese markets; the fineness and +luster of its pelt guaranteed that it would go for at least 2,000 +francs. I was full of wonderment at this unusual mammal, with its +circular head adorned by short ears, its round eyes, its white +whiskers like those on a cat, its webbed and clawed feet, its bushy +tail. Hunted and trapped by fishermen, this valuable carnivore has +become extremely rare, and it takes refuge chiefly in the northernmost +parts of the Pacific, where in all likelihood its species will soon be +facing extinction. + +Captain Nemo’s companion picked up the animal, loaded it on his +shoulder, and we took to the trail again. + +For an hour plains of sand unrolled before our steps. Often the +seafloor rose to within two meters of the surface of the water. I +could then see our images clearly mirrored on the underside of the +waves, but reflected upside down: above us there appeared an identical +band that duplicated our every movement and gesture; in short, a +perfect likeness of the quartet near which it walked, but with heads +down and feet in the air. + +Another unusual effect. Heavy clouds passed above us, forming and +fading swiftly. But after thinking it over, I realized that these +so-called clouds were caused simply by the changing densities of the +long ground swells, and I even spotted the foaming “white caps” that +their breaking crests were proliferating over the surface of the +water. Lastly, I couldn’t help seeing the actual shadows of large +birds passing over our heads, swiftly skimming the surface of the sea. + +On this occasion I witnessed one of the finest gunshots ever to thrill +the marrow of a hunter. A large bird with a wide wingspan, quite +clearly visible, approached and hovered over us. When it was just a +few meters above the waves, Captain Nemo’s companion took aim and +fired. The animal dropped, electrocuted, and its descent brought it +within reach of our adroit hunter, who promptly took possession of +it. It was an albatross of the finest species, a wonderful specimen of +these open-sea fowl. + +This incident did not interrupt our walk. For two hours we were +sometimes led over plains of sand, sometimes over prairies of seaweed +that were quite arduous to cross. In all honesty, I was dead tired by +the time I spotted a hazy glow half a mile away, cutting through the +darkness of the waters. It was the Nautilus’s beacon. Within twenty +minutes we would be on board, and there I could breathe easy +again—because my tank’s current air supply seemed to be quite low in +oxygen. But I was reckoning without an encounter that slightly delayed +our arrival. + +I was lagging behind some twenty paces when I saw Captain Nemo +suddenly come back toward me. With his powerful hands he sent me +buckling to the ground, while his companion did the same to +Conseil. At first I didn’t know what to make of this sudden assault, +but I was reassured to observe the captain lying motionless beside me. + +I was stretched out on the seafloor directly beneath some bushes of +algae, when I raised my head and spied two enormous masses hurtling +by, throwing off phosphorescent glimmers. + +My blood turned cold in my veins! I saw that we were under threat from +a fearsome pair of sharks. They were blue sharks, dreadful man-eaters +with enormous tails, dull, glassy stares, and phosphorescent matter +oozing from holes around their snouts. They were like monstrous +fireflies that could thoroughly pulverize a man in their iron jaws! I +don’t know if Conseil was busy with their classification, but as for +me, I looked at their silver bellies, their fearsome mouths bristling +with teeth, from a viewpoint less than scientific—more as a victim +than as a professor of natural history. + +Luckily these voracious animals have poor eyesight. They went by +without noticing us, grazing us with their brownish fins; and +miraculously, we escaped a danger greater than encountering a tiger +deep in the jungle. + +Half an hour later, guided by its electric trail, we reached the +Nautilus. The outside door had been left open, and Captain Nemo closed +it after we reentered the first cell. Then he pressed a button. I +heard pumps operating within the ship, I felt the water lowering +around me, and in a few moments the cell was completely empty. The +inside door opened, and we passed into the wardrobe. + +There our diving suits were removed, not without difficulty; and +utterly exhausted, faint from lack of food and rest, I repaired to my +stateroom, full of wonder at this startling excursion on the bottom of +the sea. + + +CHAPTER 18 + +Four Thousand Leagues Under the Pacific + + +BY THE NEXT MORNING, November 18, I was fully recovered from my +exhaustion of the day before, and I climbed onto the platform just as +the Nautilus’s chief officer was pronouncing his daily phrase. It then +occurred to me that these words either referred to the state of the +sea, or that they meant: “There’s nothing in sight.” + +And in truth, the ocean was deserted. Not a sail on the horizon. The +tips of Crespo Island had disappeared during the night. The sea, +absorbing every color of the prism except its blue rays, reflected the +latter in every direction and sported a wonderful indigo tint. The +undulating waves regularly took on the appearance of watered silk with +wide stripes. + +I was marveling at this magnificent ocean view when Captain Nemo +appeared. He didn’t seem to notice my presence and began a series of +astronomical observations. Then, his operations finished, he went and +leaned his elbows on the beacon housing, his eyes straying over the +surface of the ocean. + +Meanwhile some twenty of the Nautilus’s sailors—all energetic, +well-built fellows—climbed onto the platform. They had come to pull up +the nets left in our wake during the night. These seamen obviously +belonged to different nationalities, although indications of European +physical traits could be seen in them all. If I’m not mistaken, I +recognized some Irishmen, some Frenchmen, a few Slavs, and a native of +either Greece or Crete. Even so, these men were frugal of speech and +used among themselves only that bizarre dialect whose origin I +couldn’t even guess. So I had to give up any notions of questioning +them. + +The nets were hauled on board. They were a breed of trawl resembling +those used off the Normandy coast, huge pouches held half open by a +floating pole and a chain laced through the lower meshes. Trailing in +this way from these iron glove makers, the resulting receptacles +scoured the ocean floor and collected every marine exhibit in their +path. That day they gathered up some unusual specimens from these +fish-filled waterways: anglerfish whose comical movements qualify them +for the epithet “clowns,” black Commerson anglers equipped with their +antennas, undulating triggerfish encircled by little red bands, +bloated puffers whose venom is extremely insidious, some olive-hued +lampreys, snipefish covered with silver scales, cutlass fish whose +electrocuting power equals that of the electric eel and the electric +ray, scaly featherbacks with brown crosswise bands, greenish codfish, +several varieties of goby, etc.; finally, some fish of larger +proportions: a one-meter jack with a prominent head, several fine +bonito from the genus Scomber decked out in the colors blue and +silver, and three magnificent tuna whose high speeds couldn’t save +them from our trawl. + +I estimate that this cast of the net brought in more than 1,000 pounds +of fish. It was a fine catch but not surprising. In essence, these +nets stayed in our wake for several hours, incarcerating an entire +aquatic world in prisons made of thread. So we were never lacking in +provisions of the highest quality, which the Nautilus’s speed and the +allure of its electric light could continually replenish. + +These various exhibits from the sea were immediately lowered down the +hatch in the direction of the storage lockers, some to be eaten fresh, +others to be preserved. + +After its fishing was finished and its air supply renewed, I thought +the Nautilus would resume its underwater excursion, and I was getting +ready to return to my stateroom, when Captain Nemo turned to me and +said without further preamble: + +“Look at this ocean, professor! Doesn’t it have the actual gift of +life? Doesn’t it experience both anger and affection? Last evening it +went to sleep just as we did, and there it is, waking up after a +peaceful night!” + +No hellos or good mornings for this gent! You would have thought this +eccentric individual was simply continuing a conversation we’d already +started! + +“See!” he went on. “It’s waking up under the sun’s caresses! It’s +going to relive its daily existence! What a fascinating field of study +lies in watching the play of its organism. It owns a pulse and +arteries, it has spasms, and I side with the scholarly Commander +Maury, who discovered that it has a circulation as real as the +circulation of blood in animals.” + +I’m sure that Captain Nemo expected no replies from me, and it seemed +pointless to pitch in with “Ah yes,” “Exactly,” or “How right you +are!” Rather, he was simply talking to himself, with long pauses +between sentences. He was meditating out loud. + +“Yes,” he said, “the ocean owns a genuine circulation, and to start it +going, the Creator of All Things has only to increase its heat, salt, +and microscopic animal life. In essence, heat creates the different +densities that lead to currents and countercurrents. Evaporation, +which is nil in the High Arctic regions and very active in equatorial +zones, brings about a constant interchange of tropical and polar +waters. What’s more, I’ve detected those falling and rising currents +that make up the ocean’s true breathing. I’ve seen a molecule of salt +water heat up at the surface, sink into the depths, reach maximum +density at -2 degrees centigrade, then cool off, grow lighter, and +rise again. At the poles you’ll see the consequences of this +phenomenon, and through this law of farseeing nature, you’ll +understand why water can freeze only at the surface!” + +As the captain was finishing his sentence, I said to myself: “The +pole! Is this brazen individual claiming he’ll take us even to that +location?” + +Meanwhile the captain fell silent and stared at the element he had +studied so thoroughly and unceasingly. Then, going on: + +“Salts,” he said, “fill the sea in considerable quantities, professor, +and if you removed all its dissolved saline content, you’d create a +mass measuring 4,500,000 cubic leagues, which if it were spread all +over the globe, would form a layer more than ten meters high. And +don’t think that the presence of these salts is due merely to some +whim of nature. No. They make ocean water less open to evaporation and +prevent winds from carrying off excessive amounts of steam, which, +when condensing, would submerge the temperate zones. Salts play a +leading role, the role of stabilizer for the general ecology of the +globe!” + +Captain Nemo stopped, straightened up, took a few steps along the +platform, and returned to me: + +“As for those billions of tiny animals,” he went on, “those infusoria +that live by the millions in one droplet of water, 800,000 of which +are needed to weigh one milligram, their role is no less +important. They absorb the marine salts, they assimilate the solid +elements in the water, and since they create coral and madrepores, +they’re the true builders of limestone continents! And so, after +they’ve finished depriving our water drop of its mineral nutrients, +the droplet gets lighter, rises to the surface, there absorbs more +salts left behind through evaporation, gets heavier, sinks again, and +brings those tiny animals new elements to absorb. The outcome: a +double current, rising and falling, constant movement, constant life! +More intense than on land, more abundant, more infinite, such life +blooms in every part of this ocean, an element fatal to man, they say, +but vital to myriads of animals—and to me!” + +When Captain Nemo spoke in this way, he was transfigured, and he +filled me with extraordinary excitement. + +“There,” he added, “out there lies true existence! And I can imagine +the founding of nautical towns, clusters of underwater households +that, like the Nautilus, would return to the surface of the sea to +breathe each morning, free towns if ever there were, independent +cities! Then again, who knows whether some tyrant . . .” + +Captain Nemo finished his sentence with a vehement gesture. Then, +addressing me directly, as if to drive away an ugly thought: + +“Professor Aronnax,” he asked me, “do you know the depth of the ocean +floor?” + +“At least, captain, I know what the major soundings tell us.” + +“Could you quote them to me, so I can double-check them as the need +arises?” + +“Here,” I replied, “are a few of them that stick in my memory. If I’m +not mistaken, an average depth of 8,200 meters was found in the north +Atlantic, and 2,500 meters in the Mediterranean. The most remarkable +soundings were taken in the south Atlantic near the 35th parallel, and +they gave 12,000 meters, 14,091 meters, and 15,149 meters. All in all, +it’s estimated that if the sea bottom were made level, its average +depth would be about seven kilometers.” + +“Well, professor,” Captain Nemo replied, “we’ll show you better than +that, I hope. As for the average depth of this part of the Pacific, +I’ll inform you that it’s a mere 4,000 meters.” + +This said, Captain Nemo headed to the hatch and disappeared down the +ladder. I followed him and went back to the main lounge. The propeller +was instantly set in motion, and the log gave our speed as twenty +miles per hour. + +Over the ensuing days and weeks, Captain Nemo was very frugal with his +visits. I saw him only at rare intervals. His chief officer regularly +fixed the positions I found reported on the chart, and in such a way +that I could exactly plot the Nautilus’s course. + +Conseil and Land spent the long hours with me. Conseil had told his +friend about the wonders of our undersea stroll, and the Canadian was +sorry he hadn’t gone along. But I hoped an opportunity would arise for +a visit to the forests of Oceania. + +Almost every day the panels in the lounge were open for some hours, +and our eyes never tired of probing the mysteries of the underwater +world. + +The Nautilus’s general heading was southeast, and it stayed at a depth +between 100 and 150 meters. However, from lord-knows-what whim, one +day it did a diagonal dive by means of its slanting fins, reaching +strata located 2,000 meters underwater. The thermometer indicated a +temperature of 4.25 degrees centigrade, which at this depth seemed to +be a temperature common to all latitudes. + +On November 26, at three o’clock in the morning, the Nautilus cleared +the Tropic of Cancer at longitude 172 degrees. On the 27th it passed +in sight of the Hawaiian Islands, where the famous Captain Cook met +his death on February 14, 1779. By then we had fared 4,860 leagues +from our starting point. When I arrived on the platform that morning, +I saw the Island of Hawaii two miles to leeward, the largest of the +seven islands making up this group. I could clearly distinguish the +tilled soil on its outskirts, the various mountain chains running +parallel with its coastline, and its volcanoes, crowned by Mauna Kea, +whose elevation is 5,000 meters above sea level. Among other specimens +from these waterways, our nets brought up some peacock-tailed +flabellarian coral, polyps flattened into stylish shapes and unique to +this part of the ocean. + +The Nautilus kept to its southeasterly heading. On December 1 it cut +the equator at longitude 142 degrees, and on the 4th of the same +month, after a quick crossing marked by no incident, we raised the +Marquesas Islands. Three miles off, in latitude 8 degrees 57’ south +and longitude 139 degrees 32’ west, I spotted Martin Point on Nuku +Hiva, chief member of this island group that belongs to France. I +could make out only its wooded mountains on the horizon, because +Captain Nemo hated to hug shore. There our nets brought up some fine +fish samples: dolphinfish with azure fins, gold tails, and flesh +that’s unrivaled in the entire world, wrasse from the genus +Hologymnosus that were nearly denuded of scales but exquisite in +flavor, knifejaws with bony beaks, yellowish albacore that were as +tasty as bonito, all fish worth classifying in the ship’s pantry. + +After leaving these delightful islands to the protection of the French +flag, the Nautilus covered about 2,000 miles from December 4 to the +11th. Its navigating was marked by an encounter with an immense school +of squid, unusual mollusks that are near neighbors of the +cuttlefish. French fishermen give them the name “cuckoldfish,” and +they belong to the class Cephalopoda, family Dibranchiata, consisting +of themselves together with cuttlefish and argonauts. The naturalists +of antiquity made a special study of them, and these animals furnished +many ribald figures of speech for soapbox orators in the Greek +marketplace, as well as excellent dishes for the tables of rich +citizens, if we’re to believe Athenaeus, a Greek physician predating +Galen. + +It was during the night of December 9-10 that the Nautilus encountered +this army of distinctly nocturnal mollusks. They numbered in the +millions. They were migrating from the temperate zones toward zones +still warmer, following the itineraries of herring and sardines. We +stared at them through our thick glass windows: they swam backward +with tremendous speed, moving by means of their locomotive tubes, +chasing fish and mollusks, eating the little ones, eaten by the big +ones, and tossing in indescribable confusion the ten feet that nature +has rooted in their heads like a hairpiece of pneumatic +snakes. Despite its speed, the Nautilus navigated for several hours in +the midst of this school of animals, and its nets brought up an +incalculable number, among which I recognized all nine species that +Professor Orbigny has classified as native to the Pacific Ocean. + +During this crossing, the sea continually lavished us with the most +marvelous sights. Its variety was infinite. It changed its setting and +decor for the mere pleasure of our eyes, and we were called upon not +simply to contemplate the works of our Creator in the midst of the +liquid element, but also to probe the ocean’s most daunting mysteries. + +During the day of December 11, I was busy reading in the main +lounge. Ned Land and Conseil were observing the luminous waters +through the gaping panels. The Nautilus was motionless. Its ballast +tanks full, it was sitting at a depth of 1,000 meters in a +comparatively unpopulated region of the ocean where only larger fish +put in occasional appearances. + +Just then I was studying a delightful book by Jean Macé, The Servants +of the Stomach, and savoring its ingenious teachings, when Conseil +interrupted my reading. + +“Would master kindly come here for an instant?” he said to me in an +odd voice. + +“What is it, Conseil?” + +“It’s something that master should see.” + +I stood up, went, leaned on my elbows before the window, and I saw it. + +In the broad electric daylight, an enormous black mass, quite +motionless, hung suspended in the midst of the waters. I observed it +carefully, trying to find out the nature of this gigantic +cetacean. Then a sudden thought crossed my mind. + +“A ship!” I exclaimed. + +“Yes,” the Canadian replied, “a disabled craft that’s sinking straight +down!” + +Ned Land was not mistaken. We were in the presence of a ship whose +severed shrouds still hung from their clasps. Its hull looked in good +condition, and it must have gone under only a few hours before. The +stumps of three masts, chopped off two feet above the deck, indicated +a flooding ship that had been forced to sacrifice its masting. But it +had heeled sideways, filling completely, and it was listing to port +even yet. A sorry sight, this carcass lost under the waves, but +sorrier still was the sight on its deck, where, lashed with ropes to +prevent their being washed overboard, some human corpses still lay! I +counted four of them—four men, one still standing at the helm—then a +woman, halfway out of a skylight on the afterdeck, holding a child in +her arms. This woman was young. Under the brilliant lighting of the +Nautilus’s rays, I could make out her features, which the water hadn’t +yet decomposed. With a supreme effort, she had lifted her child above +her head, and the poor little creature’s arms were still twined around +its mother’s neck! The postures of the four seamen seemed ghastly to +me, twisted from convulsive movements, as if making a last effort to +break loose from the ropes that bound them to their ship. And the +helmsman, standing alone, calmer, his face smooth and serious, his +grizzled hair plastered to his brow, his hands clutching the wheel, +seemed even yet to be guiding his wrecked three-master through the +ocean depths! + +What a scene! We stood dumbstruck, hearts pounding, before this +shipwreck caught in the act, as if it had been photographed in its +final moments, so to speak! And already I could see enormous sharks +moving in, eyes ablaze, drawn by the lure of human flesh! + +Meanwhile, turning, the Nautilus made a circle around the sinking +ship, and for an instant I could read the board on its stern: + +The Florida Sunderland, England + + +CHAPTER 19 + +Vanikoro + + +THIS DREADFUL SIGHT was the first of a whole series of maritime +catastrophes that the Nautilus would encounter on its run. When it +plied more heavily traveled seas, we often saw wrecked hulls rotting +in midwater, and farther down, cannons, shells, anchors, chains, and a +thousand other iron objects rusting away. + +Meanwhile, continuously swept along by the Nautilus, where we lived in +near isolation, we raised the Tuamotu Islands on December 11, that old +“dangerous group” associated with the French global navigator +Commander Bougainville; it stretches from Ducie Island to Lazareff +Island over an area of 500 leagues from the east-southeast to the +west-northwest, between latitude 13 degrees 30’ and 23 degrees 50’ +south, and between longitude 125 degrees 30’ and 151 degrees 30’ +west. This island group covers a surface area of 370 square leagues, +and it’s made up of some sixty subgroups, among which we noted the +Gambier group, which is a French protectorate. These islands are coral +formations. Thanks to the work of polyps, a slow but steady upheaval +will someday connect these islands to each other. Later on, this new +island will be fused to its neighboring island groups, and a fifth +continent will stretch from New Zealand and New Caledonia as far as +the Marquesas Islands. + +The day I expounded this theory to Captain Nemo, he answered me +coldly: + +“The earth doesn’t need new continents, but new men!” + +Sailors’ luck led the Nautilus straight to Reao Island, one of the +most unusual in this group, which was discovered in 1822 by Captain +Bell aboard the Minerva. So I was able to study the madreporic process +that has created the islands in this ocean. + +Madrepores, which one must guard against confusing with precious +coral, clothe their tissue in a limestone crust, and their variations +in structure have led my famous mentor Professor Milne-Edwards to +classify them into five divisions. The tiny microscopic animals that +secrete this polypary live by the billions in the depths of their +cells. Their limestone deposits build up into rocks, reefs, islets, +islands. In some places, they form atolls, a circular ring surrounding +a lagoon or small inner lake that gaps place in contact with the +sea. Elsewhere, they take the shape of barrier reefs, such as those +that exist along the coasts of New Caledonia and several of the +Tuamotu Islands. In still other localities, such as Réunion Island and +the island of Mauritius, they build fringing reefs, high, straight +walls next to which the ocean’s depth is considerable. + +While cruising along only a few cable lengths from the underpinning of +Reao Island, I marveled at the gigantic piece of work accomplished by +these microscopic laborers. These walls were the express achievements +of madrepores known by the names fire coral, finger coral, star coral, +and stony coral. These polyps grow exclusively in the agitated strata +at the surface of the sea, and so it’s in the upper reaches that they +begin these substructures, which sink little by little together with +the secreted rubble binding them. This, at least, is the theory of +Mr. Charles Darwin, who thus explains the formation of atolls—a theory +superior, in my view, to the one that says these madreporic edifices +sit on the summits of mountains or volcanoes submerged a few feet +below sea level. + +I could observe these strange walls quite closely: our sounding lines +indicated that they dropped perpendicularly for more than 300 meters, +and our electric beams made the bright limestone positively sparkle. + +In reply to a question Conseil asked me about the growth rate of these +colossal barriers, I thoroughly amazed him by saying that scientists +put it at an eighth of an inch per biennium. + +“Therefore,” he said to me, “to build these walls, it took . . . ?” + +“192,000 years, my gallant Conseil, which significantly extends the +biblical Days of Creation. What’s more, the formation of coal—in other +words, the petrification of forests swallowed by floods—and the +cooling of basaltic rocks likewise call for a much longer period of +time. I might add that those ‘days’ in the Bible must represent whole +epochs and not literally the lapse of time between two sunrises, +because according to the Bible itself, the sun doesn’t date from the +first day of Creation.” + +When the Nautilus returned to the surface of the ocean, I could take +in Reao Island over its whole flat, wooded expanse. Obviously its +madreporic rocks had been made fertile by tornadoes and +thunderstorms. One day, carried off by a hurricane from neighboring +shores, some seed fell onto these limestone beds, mixing with +decomposed particles of fish and marine plants to form vegetable +humus. Propelled by the waves, a coconut arrived on this new +coast. Its germ took root. Its tree grew tall, catching steam off the +water. A brook was born. Little by little, vegetation spread. Tiny +animals—worms, insects—rode ashore on tree trunks snatched from +islands to windward. Turtles came to lay their eggs. Birds nested in +the young trees. In this way animal life developed, and drawn by the +greenery and fertile soil, man appeared. And that’s how these islands +were formed, the immense achievement of microscopic animals. + +Near evening Reao Island melted into the distance, and the Nautilus +noticeably changed course. After touching the Tropic of Capricorn at +longitude 135 degrees, it headed west-northwest, going back up the +whole intertropical zone. Although the summer sun lavished its rays on +us, we never suffered from the heat, because thirty or forty meters +underwater, the temperature didn’t go over 10 degrees to 12 degrees +centigrade. + +By December 15 we had left the alluring Society Islands in the west, +likewise elegant Tahiti, queen of the Pacific. In the morning I +spotted this island’s lofty summits a few miles to leeward. Its waters +supplied excellent fish for the tables on board: mackerel, bonito, +albacore, and a few varieties of that sea serpent named the moray eel. + +The Nautilus had cleared 8,100 miles. We logged 9,720 miles when we +passed between the Tonga Islands, where crews from the Argo, +Port-au-Prince, and Duke of Portland had perished, and the island +group of Samoa, scene of the slaying of Captain de Langle, friend of +that long-lost navigator, the Count de La Pérouse. Then we raised the +Fiji Islands, where savages slaughtered sailors from the Union, as +well as Captain Bureau, commander of the Darling Josephine out of +Nantes, France. + +Extending over an expanse of 100 leagues north to south, and over 90 +leagues east to west, this island group lies between latitude 2 +degrees and 6 degrees south, and between longitude 174 degrees and 179 +degrees west. It consists of a number of islands, islets, and reefs, +among which we noted the islands of Viti Levu, Vanua Levu, and Kadavu. + +It was the Dutch navigator Tasman who discovered this group in 1643, +the same year the Italian physicist Torricelli invented the barometer +and King Louis XIV ascended the French throne. I’ll let the reader +decide which of these deeds was more beneficial to humanity. Coming +later, Captain Cook in 1774, Rear Admiral d’Entrecasteaux in 1793, and +finally Captain Dumont d’Urville in 1827, untangled the whole chaotic +geography of this island group. The Nautilus drew near Wailea Bay, an +unlucky place for England’s Captain Dillon, who was the first to shed +light on the longstanding mystery surrounding the disappearance of +ships under the Count de La Pérouse. + +This bay, repeatedly dredged, furnished a huge supply of excellent +oysters. As the Roman playwright Seneca recommended, we opened them +right at our table, then stuffed ourselves. These mollusks belonged to +the species known by name as Ostrea lamellosa, whose members are quite +common off Corsica. This Wailea oysterbank must have been extensive, +and for certain, if they hadn’t been controlled by numerous natural +checks, these clusters of shellfish would have ended up jam-packing +the bay, since as many as 2,000,000 eggs have been counted in a single +individual. + +And if Mr. Ned Land did not repent of his gluttony at our oyster fest, +it’s because oysters are the only dish that never causes +indigestion. In fact, it takes no less than sixteen dozen of these +headless mollusks to supply the 315 grams that satisfy one man’s +minimum daily requirement for nitrogen. + +On December 25 the Nautilus navigated amid the island group of the New +Hebrides, which the Portuguese seafarer Queirós discovered in 1606, +which Commander Bougainville explored in 1768, and to which Captain +Cook gave its current name in 1773. This group is chiefly made up of +nine large islands and forms a 120-league strip from the +north-northwest to the south-southeast, lying between latitude 2 +degrees and 15 degrees south, and between longitude 164 degrees and +168 degrees. At the moment of our noon sights, we passed fairly close +to the island of Aurou, which looked to me like a mass of green woods +crowned by a peak of great height. + +That day it was yuletide, and it struck me that Ned Land badly missed +celebrating “Christmas,” that genuine family holiday where Protestants +are such zealots. + +I hadn’t seen Captain Nemo for over a week, when, on the morning of +the 27th, he entered the main lounge, as usual acting as if he’d been +gone for just five minutes. I was busy tracing the Nautilus’s course +on the world map. The captain approached, placed a finger over a +position on the chart, and pronounced just one word: + +“Vanikoro.” + +This name was magic! It was the name of those islets where vessels +under the Count de La Pérouse had miscarried. I straightened suddenly. + +“The Nautilus is bringing us to Vanikoro?” I asked. + +“Yes, professor,” the captain replied. + +“And I’ll be able to visit those famous islands where the Compass and +the Astrolabe came to grief?” + +“If you like, professor.” + +“When will we reach Vanikoro?” + +“We already have, professor.” + +Followed by Captain Nemo, I climbed onto the platform, and from there +my eyes eagerly scanned the horizon. + +In the northeast there emerged two volcanic islands of unequal size, +surrounded by a coral reef whose circuit measured forty miles. We were +facing the island of Vanikoro proper, to which Captain Dumont +d’Urville had given the name “Island of the Search”; we lay right in +front of the little harbor of Vana, located in latitude 16 degrees 4’ +south and longitude 164 degrees 32’ east. Its shores seemed covered +with greenery from its beaches to its summits inland, crowned by +Mt. Kapogo, which is 476 fathoms high. + +After clearing the outer belt of rocks via a narrow passageway, the +Nautilus lay inside the breakers where the sea had a depth of thirty +to forty fathoms. Under the green shade of some tropical evergreens, I +spotted a few savages who looked extremely startled at our +approach. In this long, blackish object advancing flush with the +water, didn’t they see some fearsome cetacean that they were obliged +to view with distrust? + +Just then Captain Nemo asked me what I knew about the shipwreck of the +Count de La Pérouse. + +“What everybody knows, captain,” I answered him. + +“And could you kindly tell me what everybody knows?” he asked me in a +gently ironic tone. + +“Very easily.” + +I related to him what the final deeds of Captain Dumont d’Urville had +brought to light, deeds described here in this heavily condensed +summary of the whole matter. + +In 1785 the Count de La Pérouse and his subordinate, Captain de +Langle, were sent by King Louis XVI of France on a voyage to +circumnavigate the globe. They boarded two sloops of war, the Compass +and the Astrolabe, which were never seen again. + +In 1791, justly concerned about the fate of these two sloops of war, +the French government fitted out two large cargo boats, the Search and +the Hope, which left Brest on September 28 under orders from Rear +Admiral Bruni d’Entrecasteaux. Two months later, testimony from a +certain Commander Bowen, aboard the Albemarle, alleged that rubble +from shipwrecked vessels had been seen on the coast of New +Georgia. But d’Entrecasteaux was unaware of this news—which seemed a +bit dubious anyhow—and headed toward the Admiralty Islands, which had +been named in a report by one Captain Hunter as the site of the Count +de La Pérouse’s shipwreck. + +They looked in vain. The Hope and the Search passed right by Vanikoro +without stopping there; and overall, this voyage was plagued by +misfortune, ultimately costing the lives of Rear Admiral +d’Entrecasteaux, two of his subordinate officers, and several seamen +from his crew. + +It was an old hand at the Pacific, the English adventurer Captain +Peter Dillon, who was the first to pick up the trail left by castaways +from the wrecked vessels. On May 15, 1824, his ship, the St. Patrick, +passed by Tikopia Island, one of the New Hebrides. There a native +boatman pulled alongside in a dugout canoe and sold Dillon a silver +sword hilt bearing the imprint of characters engraved with a cutting +tool known as a burin. Furthermore, this native boatman claimed that +during a stay in Vanikoro six years earlier, he had seen two Europeans +belonging to ships that had run aground on the island’s reefs many +years before. + +Dillon guessed that the ships at issue were those under the Count de +La Pérouse, ships whose disappearance had shaken the entire world. He +tried to reach Vanikoro, where, according to the native boatman, a +good deal of rubble from the shipwreck could still be found, but winds +and currents prevented his doing so. + +Dillon returned to Calcutta. There he was able to interest the Asiatic +Society and the East India Company in his discovery. A ship named +after the Search was placed at his disposal, and he departed on +January 23, 1827, accompanied by a French deputy. + +This new Search, after putting in at several stops over the Pacific, +dropped anchor before Vanikoro on July 7, 1827, in the same harbor of +Vana where the Nautilus was currently floating. + +There Dillon collected many relics of the shipwreck: iron utensils, +anchors, eyelets from pulleys, swivel guns, an eighteen-pound shell, +the remains of some astronomical instruments, a piece of sternrail, +and a bronze bell bearing the inscription “Made by Bazin,” the foundry +mark at Brest Arsenal around 1785. There could no longer be any doubt. + +Finishing his investigations, Dillon stayed at the site of the +casualty until the month of October. Then he left Vanikoro, headed +toward New Zealand, dropped anchor at Calcutta on April 7, 1828, and +returned to France, where he received a very cordial welcome from King +Charles X. + +But just then the renowned French explorer Captain Dumont d’Urville, +unaware of Dillon’s activities, had already set sail to search +elsewhere for the site of the shipwreck. In essence, a whaling vessel +had reported that some medals and a Cross of St. Louis had been found +in the hands of savages in the Louisiade Islands and New Caledonia. + +So Captain Dumont d’Urville had put to sea in command of a vessel +named after the Astrolabe, and just two months after Dillon had left +Vanikoro, Dumont d’Urville dropped anchor before Hobart. There he +heard about Dillon’s findings, and he further learned that a certain +James Hobbs, chief officer on the Union out of Calcutta, had put to +shore on an island located in latitude 8 degrees 18’ south and +longitude 156 degrees 30’ east, and had noted the natives of those +waterways making use of iron bars and red fabrics. + +Pretty perplexed, Dumont d’Urville didn’t know if he should give +credence to these reports, which had been carried in some of the less +reliable newspapers; nevertheless, he decided to start on Dillon’s +trail. + +On February 10, 1828, the new Astrolabe hove before Tikopia Island, +took on a guide and interpreter in the person of a deserter who had +settled there, plied a course toward Vanikoro, raised it on February +12, sailed along its reefs until the 14th, and only on the 20th +dropped anchor inside its barrier in the harbor of Vana. + +On the 23rd, several officers circled the island and brought back some +rubble of little importance. The natives, adopting a system of denial +and evasion, refused to guide them to the site of the casualty. This +rather shady conduct aroused the suspicion that the natives had +mistreated the castaways; and in truth, the natives seemed afraid that +Dumont d’Urville had come to avenge the Count de La Pérouse and his +unfortunate companions. + +But on the 26th, appeased with gifts and seeing that they didn’t need +to fear any reprisals, the natives led the chief officer, +Mr. Jacquinot, to the site of the shipwreck. + +At this location, in three or four fathoms of water between the Paeu +and Vana reefs, there lay some anchors, cannons, and ingots of iron +and lead, all caked with limestone concretions. A launch and whaleboat +from the new Astrolabe were steered to this locality, and after going +to exhausting lengths, their crews managed to dredge up an anchor +weighing 1,800 pounds, a cast-iron eight-pounder cannon, a lead ingot, +and two copper swivel guns. + +Questioning the natives, Captain Dumont d’Urville also learned that +after La Pérouse’s two ships had miscarried on the island’s reefs, the +count had built a smaller craft, only to go off and miscarry a second +time. Where? Nobody knew. + +The commander of the new Astrolabe then had a monument erected under a +tuft of mangrove, in memory of the famous navigator and his +companions. It was a simple quadrangular pyramid, set on a coral base, +with no ironwork to tempt the natives’ avarice. + +Then Dumont d’Urville tried to depart; but his crews were run down +from the fevers raging on these unsanitary shores, and quite ill +himself, he was unable to weigh anchor until March 17. + +Meanwhile, fearing that Dumont d’Urville wasn’t abreast of Dillon’s +activities, the French government sent a sloop of war to Vanikoro, the +Bayonnaise under Commander Legoarant de Tromelin, who had been +stationed on the American west coast. Dropping anchor before Vanikoro +a few months after the new Astrolabe’s departure, the Bayonnaise +didn’t find any additional evidence but verified that the savages +hadn’t disturbed the memorial honoring the Count de La Pérouse. + +This is the substance of the account I gave Captain Nemo. + +“So,” he said to me, “the castaways built a third ship on Vanikoro +Island, and to this day, nobody knows where it went and perished?” + +“Nobody knows.” + +Captain Nemo didn’t reply but signaled me to follow him to the main +lounge. The Nautilus sank a few meters beneath the waves, and the +panels opened. + +I rushed to the window and saw crusts of coral: fungus coral, +siphonula coral, alcyon coral, sea anemone from the genus Caryophylia, +plus myriads of charming fish including greenfish, damselfish, +sweepers, snappers, and squirrelfish; underneath this coral covering I +detected some rubble the old dredges hadn’t been able to tear +free—iron stirrups, anchors, cannons, shells, tackle from a capstan, a +stempost, all objects hailing from the wrecked ships and now carpeted +in moving flowers. + +And as I stared at this desolate wreckage, Captain Nemo told me in a +solemn voice: + +“Commander La Pérouse set out on December 7, 1785, with his ships, the +Compass and the Astrolabe. He dropped anchor first at Botany Bay, +visited the Tonga Islands and New Caledonia, headed toward the Santa +Cruz Islands, and put in at Nomuka, one of the islands in the Ha’apai +group. Then his ships arrived at the unknown reefs of +Vanikoro. Traveling in the lead, the Compass ran afoul of breakers on +the southerly coast. The Astrolabe went to its rescue and also ran +aground. The first ship was destroyed almost immediately. The second, +stranded to leeward, held up for some days. The natives gave the +castaways a fair enough welcome. The latter took up residence on the +island and built a smaller craft with rubble from the two large +ones. A few seamen stayed voluntarily in Vanikoro. The others, weak +and ailing, set sail with the Count de La Pérouse. They headed to the +Solomon Islands, and they perished with all hands on the westerly +coast of the chief island in that group, between Cape Deception and +Cape Satisfaction!” + +“And how do you know all this?” I exclaimed. + +“Here’s what I found at the very site of that final shipwreck!” + +Captain Nemo showed me a tin box, stamped with the coat of arms of +France and all corroded by salt water. He opened it and I saw a bundle +of papers, yellowed but still legible. + +They were the actual military orders given by France’s Minister of the +Navy to Commander La Pérouse, with notes along the margin in the +handwriting of King Louis XVI! + +“Ah, what a splendid death for a seaman!” Captain Nemo then said. “A +coral grave is a tranquil grave, and may Heaven grant that my +companions and I rest in no other!” + + +CHAPTER 20 + +The Torres Strait + + +DURING THE NIGHT of December 27-28, the Nautilus left the waterways of +Vanikoro behind with extraordinary speed. Its heading was +southwesterly, and in three days it had cleared the 750 leagues that +separated La Pérouse’s islands from the southeastern tip of Papua. + +On January 1, 1868, bright and early, Conseil joined me on the +platform. + +“Will master,” the gallant lad said to me, “allow me to wish him a +happy new year?” + +“Good heavens, Conseil, it’s just like old times in my office at the +Botanical Gardens in Paris! I accept your kind wishes and I thank you +for them. Only, I’d like to know what you mean by a ‘happy year’ under +the circumstances in which we’re placed. Is it a year that will bring +our imprisonment to an end, or a year that will see this strange +voyage continue?” + +“Ye gods,” Conseil replied, “I hardly know what to tell master. We’re +certainly seeing some unusual things, and for two months we’ve had no +time for boredom. The latest wonder is always the most astonishing, +and if this progression keeps up, I can’t imagine what its climax will +be. In my opinion, we’ll never again have such an opportunity.” + +“Never, Conseil.” + +“Besides, Mr. Nemo really lives up to his Latin name, since he +couldn’t be less in the way if he didn’t exist.” + +“True enough, Conseil.” + +“Therefore, with all due respect to master, I think a ‘happy year’ +would be a year that lets us see everything—” + +“Everything, Conseil? No year could be that long. But what does Ned +Land think about all this?” + +“Ned Land’s thoughts are exactly the opposite of mine,” Conseil +replied. “He has a practical mind and a demanding stomach. He’s tired +of staring at fish and eating them day in and day out. This shortage +of wine, bread, and meat isn’t suitable for an upstanding Anglo-Saxon, +a man accustomed to beefsteak and unfazed by regular doses of brandy +or gin!” + +“For my part, Conseil, that doesn’t bother me in the least, and I’ve +adjusted very nicely to the diet on board.” + +“So have I,” Conseil replied. “Accordingly, I think as much about +staying as Mr. Land about making his escape. Thus, if this new year +isn’t a happy one for me, it will be for him, and vice versa. No +matter what happens, one of us will be pleased. So, in conclusion, I +wish master to have whatever his heart desires.” + +“Thank you, Conseil. Only I must ask you to postpone the question of +new year’s gifts, and temporarily accept a hearty handshake in their +place. That’s all I have on me.” + +“Master has never been more generous,” Conseil replied. + +And with that, the gallant lad went away. + +By January 2 we had fared 11,340 miles, hence 5,250 leagues, from our +starting point in the seas of Japan. Before the Nautilus’s spur there +stretched the dangerous waterways of the Coral Sea, off the northeast +coast of Australia. Our boat cruised along a few miles away from that +daunting shoal where Captain Cook’s ships wellnigh miscarried on June +10, 1770. The craft that Cook was aboard charged into some coral rock, +and if his vessel didn’t go down, it was thanks to the circumstance +that a piece of coral broke off in the collision and plugged the very +hole it had made in the hull. + +I would have been deeply interested in visiting this long, 360-league +reef, against which the ever-surging sea broke with the fearsome +intensity of thunderclaps. But just then the Nautilus’s slanting fins +took us to great depths, and I could see nothing of those high coral +walls. I had to rest content with the various specimens of fish +brought up by our nets. Among others I noted some long-finned +albacore, a species in the genus Scomber, as big as tuna, bluish on +the flanks, and streaked with crosswise stripes that disappear when +the animal dies. These fish followed us in schools and supplied our +table with very dainty flesh. We also caught a large number of +yellow-green gilthead, half a decimeter long and tasting like dorado, +plus some flying gurnards, authentic underwater swallows that, on dark +nights, alternately streak air and water with their phosphorescent +glimmers. Among mollusks and zoophytes, I found in our trawl’s meshes +various species of alcyonarian coral, sea urchins, hammer shells, +spurred-star shells, wentletrap snails, horn shells, glass snails. The +local flora was represented by fine floating algae: sea tangle, and +kelp from the genus Macrocystis, saturated with the mucilage their +pores perspire, from which I selected a wonderful Nemastoma +geliniaroidea, classifying it with the natural curiosities in the +museum. + +On January 4, two days after crossing the Coral Sea, we raised the +coast of Papua. On this occasion Captain Nemo told me that he intended +to reach the Indian Ocean via the Torres Strait. This was the extent +of his remarks. Ned saw with pleasure that this course would bring us, +once again, closer to European seas. + +The Torres Strait is regarded as no less dangerous for its bristling +reefs than for the savage inhabitants of its coasts. It separates +Queensland from the huge island of Papua, also called New Guinea. + +Papua is 400 leagues long by 130 leagues wide, with a surface area of +40,000 geographic leagues. It’s located between latitude 0 degrees 19’ +and 10 degrees 2’ south, and between longitude 128 degrees 23’ and 146 +degrees 15’. At noon, while the chief officer was taking the sun’s +altitude, I spotted the summits of the Arfak Mountains, rising in +terraces and ending in sharp peaks. + +Discovered in 1511 by the Portuguese Francisco Serrano, these shores +were successively visited by Don Jorge de Meneses in 1526, by Juan de +Grijalva in 1527, by the Spanish general Alvaro de Saavedra in 1528, +by Inigo Ortiz in 1545, by the Dutchman Schouten in 1616, by Nicolas +Sruick in 1753, by Tasman, Dampier, Fumel, Carteret, Edwards, +Bougainville, Cook, McClure, and Thomas Forrest, by Rear Admiral +d’Entrecasteaux in 1792, by Louis-Isidore Duperrey in 1823, and by +Captain Dumont d’Urville in 1827. “It’s the heartland of the blacks +who occupy all Malaysia,” Mr. de Rienzi has said; and I hadn’t the +foggiest inkling that sailors’ luck was about to bring me face to face +with these daunting Andaman aborigines. + +So the Nautilus hove before the entrance to the world’s most dangerous +strait, a passageway that even the boldest navigators hesitated to +clear: the strait that Luis Vaez de Torres faced on returning from the +South Seas in Melanesia, the strait in which sloops of war under +Captain Dumont d’Urville ran aground in 1840 and nearly miscarried +with all hands. And even the Nautilus, rising superior to every danger +in the sea, was about to become intimate with its coral reefs. + +The Torres Strait is about thirty-four leagues wide, but it’s +obstructed by an incalculable number of islands, islets, breakers, and +rocks that make it nearly impossible to navigate. Consequently, +Captain Nemo took every desired precaution in crossing it. Floating +flush with the water, the Nautilus moved ahead at a moderate +pace. Like a cetacean’s tail, its propeller churned the waves slowly. + +Taking advantage of this situation, my two companions and I found +seats on the ever-deserted platform. In front of us stood the +pilothouse, and unless I’m extremely mistaken, Captain Nemo must have +been inside, steering his Nautilus himself. + +Under my eyes I had the excellent charts of the Torres Strait that had +been surveyed and drawn up by the hydrographic engineer Vincendon +Dumoulin and Sublieutenant (now Admiral) Coupvent-Desbois, who were +part of Dumont d’Urville’s general staff during his final voyage to +circumnavigate the globe. These, along with the efforts of Captain +King, are the best charts for untangling the snarl of this narrow +passageway, and I consulted them with scrupulous care. + +Around the Nautilus the sea was boiling furiously. A stream of waves, +bearing from southeast to northwest at a speed of two and a half miles +per hour, broke over heads of coral emerging here and there. + +“That’s one rough sea!” Ned Land told me. + +“Abominable indeed,” I replied, “and hardly suitable for a craft like +the Nautilus.” + +“That damned captain,” the Canadian went on, “must really be sure of +his course, because if these clumps of coral so much as brush us, +they’ll rip our hull into a thousand pieces!” + +The situation was indeed dangerous, but as if by magic, the Nautilus +seemed to glide right down the middle of these rampaging reefs. It +didn’t follow the exact course of the Zealous and the new Astrolabe, +which had proved so ill-fated for Captain Dumont d’Urville. It went +more to the north, hugged the Murray Islands, and returned to the +southwest near Cumberland Passage. I thought it was about to charge +wholeheartedly into this opening, but it went up to the northwest, +through a large number of little-known islands and islets, and steered +toward Tound Island and the Bad Channel. + +I was already wondering if Captain Nemo, rash to the point of sheer +insanity, wanted his ship to tackle the narrows where Dumont +d’Urville’s two sloops of war had gone aground, when he changed +direction a second time and cut straight to the west, heading toward +Gueboroa Island. + +By then it was three o’clock in the afternoon. The current was +slacking off, it was almost full tide. The Nautilus drew near this +island, which I can see to this day with its remarkable fringe of +screw pines. We hugged it from less than two miles out. + +A sudden jolt threw me down. The Nautilus had just struck a reef, and +it remained motionless, listing slightly to port. + +When I stood up, I saw Captain Nemo and his chief officer on the +platform. They were examining the ship’s circumstances, exchanging a +few words in their incomprehensible dialect. + +Here is what those circumstances entailed. Two miles to starboard lay +Gueboroa Island, its coastline curving north to west like an immense +arm. To the south and east, heads of coral were already on display, +left uncovered by the ebbing waters. We had run aground at full tide +and in one of those seas whose tides are moderate, an inconvenient +state of affairs for floating the Nautilus off. However, the ship +hadn’t suffered in any way, so solidly joined was its hull. But +although it could neither sink nor split open, it was in serious +danger of being permanently attached to these reefs, and that would +have been the finish of Captain Nemo’s submersible. + +I was mulling this over when the captain approached, cool and calm, +forever in control of himself, looking neither alarmed nor annoyed. + +“An accident?” I said to him. + +“No, an incident,” he answered me. + +“But an incident,” I replied, “that may oblige you to become a +resident again of these shores you avoid!” + +Captain Nemo gave me an odd look and gestured no. Which told me pretty +clearly that nothing would ever force him to set foot on a land mass +again. Then he said: + +“No, Professor Aronnax, the Nautilus isn’t consigned to perdition. It +will still carry you through the midst of the ocean’s wonders. Our +voyage is just beginning, and I’ve no desire to deprive myself so soon +of the pleasure of your company.” + +“Even so, Captain Nemo,” I went on, ignoring his ironic turn of +phrase, “the Nautilus has run aground at a moment when the sea is +full. Now then, the tides aren’t strong in the Pacific, and if you +can’t unballast the Nautilus, which seems impossible to me, I don’t +see how it will float off.” + +“You’re right, professor, the Pacific tides aren’t strong,” Captain +Nemo replied. “But in the Torres Strait, one still finds a +meter-and-a-half difference in level between high and low seas. Today +is January 4, and in five days the moon will be full. Now then, I’ll +be quite astonished if that good-natured satellite doesn’t +sufficiently raise these masses of water and do me a favor for which +I’ll be forever grateful.” + +This said, Captain Nemo went below again to the Nautilus’s interior, +followed by his chief officer. As for our craft, it no longer stirred, +staying as motionless as if these coral polyps had already walled it +in with their indestructible cement. + +“Well, sir?” Ned Land said to me, coming up after the captain’s +departure. + +“Well, Ned my friend, we’ll serenely wait for the tide on the 9th, +because it seems the moon will have the good nature to float us away!” + +“As simple as that?” + +“As simple as that.” + +“So our captain isn’t going to drop his anchors, put his engines on +the chains, and do anything to haul us off?” + +“Since the tide will be sufficient,” Conseil replied simply. + +The Canadian stared at Conseil, then he shrugged his shoulders. The +seaman in him was talking now. + +“Sir,” he answered, “you can trust me when I say this hunk of iron +will never navigate again, on the seas or under them. It’s only fit to +be sold for its weight. So I think it’s time we gave Captain Nemo the +slip.” + +“Ned my friend,” I replied, “unlike you, I haven’t given up on our +valiant Nautilus, and in four days we’ll know where we stand on these +Pacific tides. Besides, an escape attempt might be timely if we were +in sight of the coasts of England or Provence, but in the waterways of +Papua it’s another story. And we’ll always have that as a last resort +if the Nautilus doesn’t right itself, which I’d regard as a real +calamity.” + +“But couldn’t we at least get the lay of the land?” Ned went +on. “Here’s an island. On this island there are trees. Under those +trees land animals loaded with cutlets and roast beef, which I’d be +happy to sink my teeth into.” + +“In this instance our friend Ned is right,” Conseil said, “and I side +with his views. Couldn’t master persuade his friend Captain Nemo to +send the three of us ashore, if only so our feet don’t lose the knack +of treading on the solid parts of our planet?” + +“I can ask him,” I replied, “but he’ll refuse.” + +“Let master take the risk,” Conseil said, “and we’ll know where we +stand on the captain’s affability.” + +Much to my surprise, Captain Nemo gave me the permission I asked for, +and he did so with grace and alacrity, not even exacting my promise to +return on board. But fleeing across the New Guinea territories would +be extremely dangerous, and I wouldn’t have advised Ned Land to try +it. Better to be prisoners aboard the Nautilus than to fall into the +hands of Papuan natives. + +The skiff was put at our disposal for the next morning. I hardly +needed to ask whether Captain Nemo would be coming along. I likewise +assumed that no crewmen would be assigned to us, that Ned Land would +be in sole charge of piloting the longboat. Besides, the shore lay no +more than two miles off, and it would be child’s play for the Canadian +to guide that nimble skiff through those rows of reefs so ill-fated +for big ships. + +The next day, January 5, after its deck paneling was opened, the skiff +was wrenched from its socket and launched to sea from the top of the +platform. Two men were sufficient for this operation. The oars were +inside the longboat and we had only to take our seats. + +At eight o’clock, armed with rifles and axes, we pulled clear of the +Nautilus. The sea was fairly calm. A mild breeze blew from shore. In +place by the oars, Conseil and I rowed vigorously, and Ned steered us +into the narrow lanes between the breakers. The skiff handled easily +and sped swiftly. + +Ned Land couldn’t conceal his glee. He was a prisoner escaping from +prison and never dreaming he would need to reenter it. + +“Meat!” he kept repeating. “Now we’ll eat red meat! Actual game! A +real mess call, by thunder! I’m not saying fish aren’t good for you, +but we mustn’t overdo ’em, and a slice of fresh venison grilled over +live coals will be a nice change from our standard fare.” + +“You glutton,” Conseil replied, “you’re making my mouth water!” + +“It remains to be seen,” I said, “whether these forests do contain +game, and if the types of game aren’t of such size that they can hunt +the hunter.” + +“Fine, Professor Aronnax!” replied the Canadian, whose teeth seemed to +be as honed as the edge of an ax. “But if there’s no other quadruped +on this island, I’ll eat tiger—tiger sirloin.” + +“Our friend Ned grows disturbing,” Conseil replied. + +“Whatever it is,” Ned Land went on, “any animal having four feet +without feathers, or two feet with feathers, will be greeted by my +very own one-gun salute.” + +“Oh good!” I replied. “The reckless Mr. Land is at it again!” + +“Don’t worry, Professor Aronnax, just keep rowing!” the Canadian +replied. “I only need twenty-five minutes to serve you one of my own +special creations.” + +By 8:30 the Nautilus’s skiff had just run gently aground on a sandy +strand, after successfully clearing the ring of coral that surrounds +Gueboroa Island. + + +CHAPTER 21 + +Some Days Ashore + + +STEPPING ASHORE had an exhilarating effect on me. Ned Land tested the +soil with his foot, as if he were laying claim to it. Yet it had been +only two months since we had become, as Captain Nemo expressed it, +“passengers on the Nautilus,” in other words, the literal prisoners of +its commander. + +In a few minutes we were a gunshot away from the coast. The soil was +almost entirely madreporic, but certain dry stream beds were strewn +with granite rubble, proving that this island was of primordial +origin. The entire horizon was hidden behind a curtain of wonderful +forests. Enormous trees, sometimes as high as 200 feet, were linked to +each other by garlands of tropical creepers, genuine natural hammocks +that swayed in a mild breeze. There were mimosas, banyan trees, +beefwood, teakwood, hibiscus, screw pines, palm trees, all mingling in +wild profusion; and beneath the shade of their green canopies, at the +feet of their gigantic trunks, there grew orchids, leguminous plants, +and ferns. + +Meanwhile, ignoring all these fine specimens of Papuan flora, the +Canadian passed up the decorative in favor of the functional. He +spotted a coconut palm, beat down some of its fruit, broke them open, +and we drank their milk and ate their meat with a pleasure that was a +protest against our standard fare on the Nautilus. + +“Excellent!” Ned Land said. + + + +“Exquisite!” Conseil replied. + +“And I don’t think,” the Canadian said, “that your Nemo would object +to us stashing a cargo of coconuts aboard his vessel?” + +“I imagine not,” I replied, “but he won’t want to sample them.” + +“Too bad for him!” Conseil said. + +“And plenty good for us!” Ned Land shot back. “There’ll be more left +over!” + +“A word of caution, Mr. Land,” I told the harpooner, who was about to +ravage another coconut palm. “Coconuts are admirable things, but +before we stuff the skiff with them, it would be wise to find out +whether this island offers other substances just as useful. Some fresh +vegetables would be well received in the Nautilus’s pantry.” + +“Master is right,” Conseil replied, “and I propose that we set aside +three places in our longboat: one for fruit, another for vegetables, +and a third for venison, of which I still haven’t glimpsed the tiniest +specimen.” + +“Don’t give up so easily, Conseil,” the Canadian replied. + +“So let’s continue our excursion,” I went on, “but keep a sharp +lookout. This island seems uninhabited, but it still might harbor +certain individuals who aren’t so finicky about the sort of game they +eat!” + +“Hee hee!” Ned put in, with a meaningful movement of his jaws. + +“Ned! Oh horrors!” Conseil exclaimed. + +“Ye gods,” the Canadian shot back, “I’m starting to appreciate the +charms of cannibalism!” + +“Ned, Ned! Don’t say that!” Conseil answered. “You a cannibal? Why, +I’ll no longer be safe next to you, I who share your cabin! Does this +mean I’ll wake up half devoured one fine day?” + +“I’m awfully fond of you, Conseil my friend, but not enough to eat you +when there’s better food around.” + +“Then I daren’t delay,” Conseil replied. “The hunt is on! We +absolutely must bag some game to placate this man-eater, or one of +these mornings master won’t find enough pieces of his manservant to +serve him.” + +While exchanging this chitchat, we entered beneath the dark canopies +of the forest, and for two hours we explored it in every direction. + +We couldn’t have been luckier in our search for edible vegetation, and +some of the most useful produce in the tropical zones supplied us with +a valuable foodstuff missing on board. + +I mean the breadfruit tree, which is quite abundant on Gueboroa +Island, and there I chiefly noted the seedless variety that in +Malaysia is called “rima.” + +This tree is distinguished from other trees by a straight trunk forty +feet high. To the naturalist’s eye, its gracefully rounded crown, +formed of big multilobed leaves, was enough to denote the artocarpus +that has been so successfully transplanted to the Mascarene Islands +east of + +Madagascar. From its mass of greenery, huge globular fruit stood out, +a decimeter wide and furnished on the outside with creases that +assumed a hexangular pattern. It’s a handy plant that nature gives to +regions lacking in wheat; without needing to be cultivated, it bears +fruit eight months out of the year. + +Ned Land was on familiar terms with this fruit. He had already eaten +it on his many voyages and knew how to cook its edible substance. So +the very sight of it aroused his appetite, and he couldn’t control +himself. + +“Sir,” he told me, “I’ll die if I don’t sample a little breadfruit +pasta!” + +“Sample some, Ned my friend, sample all you like. We’re here to +conduct experiments, let’s conduct them.” + +“It won’t take a minute,” the Canadian replied. + +Equipped with a magnifying glass, he lit a fire of deadwood that was +soon crackling merrily. Meanwhile Conseil and I selected the finest +artocarpus fruit. Some still weren’t ripe enough, and their thick +skins covered white, slightly fibrous pulps. But a great many others +were yellowish and gelatinous, just begging to be picked. + +This fruit contained no pits. Conseil brought a dozen of them to Ned +Land, who cut them into thick slices and placed them over a fire of +live coals, all the while repeating: + +“You’ll see, sir, how tasty this bread is!” + +“Especially since we’ve gone without baked goods for so long,” Conseil +said. + +“It’s more than just bread,” the Canadian added. “It’s a dainty +pastry. You’ve never eaten any, sir?” + +“No, Ned.” + +“All right, get ready for something downright delectable! If you don’t +come back for seconds, I’m no longer the King of Harpooners!” + +After a few minutes, the parts of the fruit exposed to the fire were +completely toasted. On the inside there appeared some white pasta, a +sort of soft bread center whose flavor reminded me of artichoke. + +This bread was excellent, I must admit, and I ate it with great +pleasure. + +“Unfortunately,” I said, “this pasta won’t stay fresh, so it seems +pointless to make a supply for on board.” + +“By thunder, sir!” Ned Land exclaimed. “There you go, talking like a +naturalist, but meantime I’ll be acting like a baker! Conseil, harvest +some of this fruit to take with us when we go back.” + +“And how will you prepare it?” I asked the Canadian. + +“I’ll make a fermented batter from its pulp that’ll keep indefinitely +without spoiling. When I want some, I’ll just cook it in the galley on +board—it’ll have a slightly tart flavor, but you’ll find it +excellent.” + +“So, Mr. Ned, I see that this bread is all we need—” + +“Not quite, professor,” the Canadian replied. “We need some fruit to +go with it, or at least some vegetables.” + +“Then let’s look for fruit and vegetables.” + +When our breadfruit harvesting was done, we took to the trail to +complete this “dry-land dinner.” + +We didn’t search in vain, and near noontime we had an ample supply of +bananas. This delicious produce from the Torrid Zones ripens all year +round, and Malaysians, who give them the name “pisang,” eat them +without bothering to cook them. In addition to bananas, we gathered +some enormous jackfruit with a very tangy flavor, some tasty mangoes, +and some pineapples of unbelievable size. But this foraging took up a +good deal of our time, which, even so, we had no cause to regret. + +Conseil kept Ned under observation. The harpooner walked in the lead, +and during his stroll through this forest, he gathered with sure hands +some excellent fruit that should have completed his provisions. + +“So,” Conseil asked, “you have everything you need, Ned my friend?” + +“Humph!” the Canadian put in. + +“What! You’re complaining?” + +“All this vegetation doesn’t make a meal,” Ned replied. “Just side +dishes, dessert. But where’s the soup course? Where’s the roast?” + +“Right,” I said. “Ned promised us cutlets, which seems highly +questionable to me.” + +“Sir,” the Canadian replied, “our hunting not only isn’t over, it +hasn’t even started. Patience! We’re sure to end up bumping into some +animal with either feathers or fur, if not in this locality, then in +another.” + +“And if not today, then tomorrow, because we mustn’t wander too far +off,” Conseil added. “That’s why I propose that we return to the +skiff.” + +“What! Already!” Ned exclaimed. + +“We ought to be back before nightfall,” I said. + +“But what hour is it, then?” the Canadian asked. + +“Two o’clock at least,” Conseil replied. + +“How time flies on solid ground!” exclaimed Mr. Ned Land with a sigh +of regret. + +“Off we go!” Conseil replied. + +So we returned through the forest, and we completed our harvest by +making a clean sweep of some palm cabbages that had to be picked from +the crowns of their trees, some small beans that I recognized as the +“abrou” of the Malaysians, and some high-quality yams. + +We were overloaded when we arrived at the skiff. However, Ned Land +still found these provisions inadequate. But fortune smiled on +him. Just as we were boarding, he spotted several trees twenty-five to +thirty feet high, belonging to the palm species. As valuable as the +artocarpus, these trees are justly ranked among the most useful +produce in Malaysia. + +They were sago palms, vegetation that grows without being cultivated; +like mulberry trees, they reproduce by means of shoots and seeds. + +Ned Land knew how to handle these trees. Taking his ax and wielding it +with great vigor, he soon stretched out on the ground two or three +sago palms, whose maturity was revealed by the white dust sprinkled +over their palm fronds. + +I watched him more as a naturalist than as a man in hunger. He began +by removing from each trunk an inch-thick strip of bark that covered a +network of long, hopelessly tangled fibers that were puttied with a +sort of gummy flour. This flour was the starch-like sago, an edible +substance chiefly consumed by the Melanesian peoples. + +For the time being, Ned Land was content to chop these trunks into +pieces, as if he were making firewood; later he would extract the +flour by sifting it through cloth to separate it from its fibrous +ligaments, let it dry out in the sun, and leave it to harden inside +molds. + +Finally, at five o’clock in the afternoon, laden with all our +treasures, we left the island beach and half an hour later pulled +alongside the Nautilus. Nobody appeared on our arrival. The enormous +sheet-iron cylinder seemed deserted. Our provisions loaded on board, I +went below to my stateroom. There I found my supper ready. I ate and +then fell asleep. + +The next day, January 6: nothing new on board. Not a sound inside, not +a sign of life. The skiff stayed alongside in the same place we had +left it. We decided to return to Gueboroa Island. Ned Land hoped for +better luck in his hunting than on the day before, and he wanted to +visit a different part of the forest. + +By sunrise we were off. Carried by an inbound current, the longboat +reached the island in a matter of moments. + +We disembarked, and thinking it best to abide by the Canadian’s +instincts, we followed Ned Land, whose long legs threatened to outpace +us. + +Ned Land went westward up the coast; then, fording some stream beds, +he reached open plains that were bordered by wonderful forests. Some +kingfishers lurked along the watercourses, but they didn’t let us +approach. Their cautious behavior proved to me that these winged +creatures knew where they stood on bipeds of our species, and I +concluded that if this island wasn’t inhabited, at least human beings +paid it frequent visits. + +After crossing a pretty lush prairie, we arrived on the outskirts of a +small wood, enlivened by the singing and soaring of a large number of +birds. + +“Still, they’re merely birds,” Conseil said. + +“But some are edible,” the harpooner replied. + +“Wrong, Ned my friend,” Conseil answered, “because I see only ordinary +parrots here.” + +“Conseil my friend,” Ned replied in all seriousness, “parrots are like +pheasant to people with nothing else on their plates.” + +“And I might add,” I said, “that when these birds are properly cooked, +they’re at least worth a stab of the fork.” + +Indeed, under the dense foliage of this wood, a whole host of parrots +fluttered from branch to branch, needing only the proper upbringing to +speak human dialects. At present they were cackling in chorus with +parakeets of every color, with solemn cockatoos that seemed to be +pondering some philosophical problem, while bright red lories passed +by like pieces of bunting borne on the breeze, in the midst of kalao +parrots raucously on the wing, Papuan lories painted the subtlest +shades of azure, and a whole variety of delightful winged creatures, +none terribly edible. + +However, one bird unique to these shores, which never passes beyond +the boundaries of the Aru and Papuan Islands, was missing from this +collection. But I was given a chance to marvel at it soon enough. + +After crossing through a moderately dense thicket, we again found some +plains obstructed by bushes. There I saw some magnificent birds +soaring aloft, the arrangement of their long feathers causing them to +head into the wind. Their undulating flight, the grace of their aerial +curves, and the play of their colors allured and delighted the eye. I +had no trouble identifying them. + +“Birds of paradise!” I exclaimed. + +“Order Passeriforma, division Clystomora,” Conseil replied. + +“Partridge family?” Ned Land asked. + +“I doubt it, Mr. Land. Nevertheless, I’m counting on your dexterity to +catch me one of these delightful representatives of tropical nature!” + +“I’ll give it a try, professor, though I’m handier with a harpoon than +a rifle.” + +Malaysians, who do a booming business in these birds with the Chinese, +have various methods for catching them that we couldn’t use. Sometimes +they set snares on the tops of the tall trees that the bird of +paradise prefers to inhabit. At other times they capture it with a +tenacious glue that paralyzes its movements. They will even go so far +as to poison the springs where these fowl habitually drink. But in our +case, all we could do was fire at them on the wing, which left us +little chance of getting one. And in truth, we used up a good part of +our ammunition in vain. + +Near eleven o’clock in the morning, we cleared the lower slopes of the +mountains that form the island’s center, and we still hadn’t bagged a +thing. Hunger spurred us on. The hunters had counted on consuming the +proceeds of their hunting, and they had miscalculated. Luckily, and +much to his surprise, Conseil pulled off a right-and-left shot and +insured our breakfast. He brought down a white pigeon and a ringdove, +which were briskly plucked, hung from a spit, and roasted over a +blazing fire of deadwood. While these fascinating animals were +cooking, Ned prepared some bread from the artocarpus. Then the pigeon +and ringdove were devoured to the bones and declared +excellent. Nutmeg, on which these birds habitually gorge themselves, +sweetens their flesh and makes it delicious eating. + +“They taste like chicken stuffed with truffles,” Conseil said. + +“All right, Ned,” I asked the Canadian, “now what do you need?” + +“Game with four paws, Professor Aronnax,” Ned Land replied. “All these +pigeons are only appetizers, snacks. So till I’ve bagged an animal +with cutlets, I won’t be happy!” + +“Nor I, Ned, until I’ve caught a bird of paradise.” + +“Then let’s keep hunting,” Conseil replied, “but while heading back to +the sea. We’ve arrived at the foothills of these mountains, and I +think we’ll do better if we return to the forest regions.” + +It was good advice and we took it. After an hour’s walk we reached a +genuine sago palm forest. A few harmless snakes fled underfoot. Birds +of paradise stole off at our approach, and I was in real despair of +catching one when Conseil, walking in the lead, stooped suddenly, gave +a triumphant shout, and came back to me, carrying a magnificent bird +of paradise. + +“Oh bravo, Conseil!” I exclaimed. + +“Master is too kind,” Conseil replied. + +“Not at all, my boy. That was a stroke of genius, catching one of +these live birds with your bare hands!” + +“If master will examine it closely, he’ll see that I deserve no great +praise.” + +“And why not, Conseil?” + +“Because this bird is as drunk as a lord.” + +“Drunk?” + +“Yes, master, drunk from the nutmegs it was devouring under that +nutmeg tree where I caught it. See, Ned my friend, see the monstrous +results of intemperance!” + +“Damnation!” the Canadian shot back. “Considering the amount of gin +I’ve had these past two months, you’ve got nothing to complain about!” + +Meanwhile I was examining this unusual bird. Conseil was not +mistaken. Tipsy from that potent juice, our bird of paradise had been +reduced to helplessness. It was unable to fly. It was barely able to +walk. But this didn’t alarm me, and I just let it sleep off its +nutmeg. + +This bird belonged to the finest of the eight species credited to +Papua and its neighboring islands. It was a “great emerald,” one of +the rarest birds of paradise. It measured three decimeters long. Its +head was comparatively small, and its eyes, placed near the opening of +its beak, were also small. But it offered a wonderful mixture of hues: +a yellow beak, brown feet and claws, hazel wings with purple tips, +pale yellow head and scruff of the neck, emerald throat, the belly and +chest maroon to brown. Two strands, made of a horn substance covered +with down, rose over its tail, which was lengthened by long, very +light feathers of wonderful fineness, and they completed the costume +of this marvelous bird that the islanders have poetically named “the +sun bird.” + +How I wished I could take this superb bird of paradise back to Paris, +to make a gift of it to the zoo at the Botanical Gardens, which +doesn’t own a single live specimen. + +“So it must be a rarity or something?” the Canadian asked, in the tone +of a hunter who, from the viewpoint of his art, gives the game a +pretty low rating. + +“A great rarity, my gallant comrade, and above all very hard to +capture alive. And even after they’re dead, there’s still a major +market for these birds. So the natives have figured out how to create +fake ones, like people create fake pearls or diamonds.” + +“What!” Conseil exclaimed. “They make counterfeit birds of paradise?” + +“Yes, Conseil.” + +“And is master familiar with how the islanders go about it?” + +“Perfectly familiar. During the easterly monsoon season, birds of +paradise lose the magnificent feathers around their tails that +naturalists call ‘below-the-wing’ feathers. These feathers are +gathered by the fowl forgers and skillfully fitted onto some poor +previously mutilated parakeet. Then they paint over the suture, +varnish the bird, and ship the fruits of their unique labors to +museums and collectors in Europe.” + +“Good enough!” Ned Land put in. “If it isn’t the right bird, it’s +still the right feathers, and so long as the merchandise isn’t meant +to be eaten, I see no great harm!” + +But if my desires were fulfilled by the capture of this bird of +paradise, those of our Canadian huntsman remained +unsatisfied. Luckily, near two o’clock Ned Land brought down a +magnificent wild pig of the type the natives call “bari-outang.” This +animal came in the nick of time for us to bag some real quadruped +meat, and it was warmly welcomed. Ned Land proved himself quite +gloriously with his gunshot. Hit by an electric bullet, the pig +dropped dead on the spot. + +The Canadian properly skinned and cleaned it, after removing half a +dozen cutlets destined to serve as the grilled meat course of our +evening meal. Then the hunt was on again, and once more would be +marked by the exploits of Ned and Conseil. + +In essence, beating the bushes, the two friends flushed a herd of +kangaroos that fled by bounding away on their elastic paws. But these +animals didn’t flee so swiftly that our electric capsules couldn’t +catch up with them. + +“Oh, professor!” shouted Ned Land, whose hunting fever had gone to his +brain. “What excellent game, especially in a stew! What a supply for +the Nautilus! Two, three, five down! And just think how we’ll devour +all this meat ourselves, while those numbskulls on board won’t get a +shred!” + +In his uncontrollable glee, I think the Canadian might have +slaughtered the whole horde, if he hadn’t been so busy talking! But he +was content with a dozen of these fascinating marsupials, which make +up the first order of aplacental mammals, as Conseil just had to tell +us. + +These animals were small in stature. They were a species of those +“rabbit kangaroos” that usually dwell in the hollows of trees and are +tremendously fast; but although of moderate dimensions, they at least +furnish a meat that’s highly prized. + +We were thoroughly satisfied with the results of our hunting. A +gleeful Ned proposed that we return the next day to this magic island, +which he planned to depopulate of its every edible quadruped. But he +was reckoning without events. + +By six o’clock in the evening, we were back on the beach. The skiff +was aground in its usual place. The Nautilus, looking like a long +reef, emerged from the waves two miles offshore. + +Without further ado, Ned Land got down to the important business of +dinner. He came wonderfully to terms with its entire cooking. Grilling +over the coals, those cutlets from the “bari-outang” soon gave off a +succulent aroma that perfumed the air. + +But I catch myself following in the Canadian’s footsteps. Look at +me—in ecstasy over freshly grilled pork! Please grant me a pardon as +I’ve already granted one to Mr. Land, and on the same grounds! + +In short, dinner was excellent. Two ringdoves rounded out this +extraordinary menu. Sago pasta, bread from the artocarpus, mangoes, +half a dozen pineapples, and the fermented liquor from certain +coconuts heightened our glee. I suspect that my two fine companions +weren’t quite as clearheaded as one could wish. + +“What if we don’t return to the Nautilus this evening?” Conseil said. + +“What if we never return to it?” Ned Land added. + +Just then a stone whizzed toward us, landed at our feet, and cut short +the harpooner’s proposition. + + +CHAPTER 22 + +The Lightning Bolts of Captain Nemo + + +WITHOUT STANDING UP, we stared in the direction of the forest, my hand +stopping halfway to my mouth, Ned Land’s completing its assignment. + +“Stones don’t fall from the sky,” Conseil said, “or else they deserve +to be called meteorites.” + +A second well-polished stone removed a tasty ringdove leg from +Conseil’s hand, giving still greater relevance to his observation. + +We all three stood up, rifles to our shoulders, ready to answer any +attack. + +“Apes maybe?” Ned Land exclaimed. + +“Nearly,” Conseil replied. “Savages.” + +“Head for the skiff!” I said, moving toward the sea. + +Indeed, it was essential to beat a retreat because some twenty +natives, armed with bows and slings, appeared barely a hundred paces +off, on the outskirts of a thicket that masked the horizon to our +right. + +The skiff was aground ten fathoms away from us. + +The savages approached without running, but they favored us with a +show of the greatest hostility. It was raining stones and arrows. + +Ned Land was unwilling to leave his provisions behind, and despite the +impending danger, he clutched his pig on one side, his kangaroos on +the other, and scampered off with respectable speed. + +In two minutes we were on the strand. Loading provisions and weapons +into the skiff, pushing it to sea, and positioning its two oars were +the work of an instant. We hadn’t gone two cable lengths when a +hundred savages, howling and gesticulating, entered the water up to +their waists. I looked to see if their appearance might draw some of +the Nautilus’s men onto the platform. But no. Lying well out, that +enormous machine still seemed completely deserted. + +Twenty minutes later we boarded ship. The hatches were open. After +mooring the skiff, we reentered the Nautilus’s interior. + +I went below to the lounge, from which some chords were +wafting. Captain Nemo was there, leaning over the organ, deep in a +musical trance. + +“Captain!” I said to him. + +He didn’t hear me. + +“Captain!” I went on, touching him with my hand. + +He trembled, and turning around: + +“Ah, it’s you, professor!” he said to me. “Well, did you have a happy +hunt? Was your herb gathering a success?” + +“Yes, captain,” I replied, “but unfortunately we’ve brought back a +horde of bipeds whose proximity worries me.” + +“What sort of bipeds?” + +“Savages.” + +“Savages!” Captain Nemo replied in an ironic tone. “You set foot on +one of the shores of this globe, professor, and you’re surprised to +find savages there? Where aren’t there savages? And besides, are they +any worse than men elsewhere, these people you call savages?” + +“But captain—” + +“Speaking for myself, sir, I’ve encountered them everywhere.” + +“Well then,” I replied, “if you don’t want to welcome them aboard the +Nautilus, you’d better take some precautions!” + +“Easy, professor, no cause for alarm.” + +“But there are a large number of these natives.” + +“What’s your count?” + +“At least a hundred.” + +“Professor Aronnax,” replied Captain Nemo, whose fingers took their +places again on the organ keys, “if every islander in Papua were to +gather on that beach, the Nautilus would still have nothing to fear +from their attacks!” + +The captain’s fingers then ran over the instrument’s keyboard, and I +noticed that he touched only its black keys, which gave his melodies a +basically Scottish color. Soon he had forgotten my presence and was +lost in a reverie that I no longer tried to dispel. + +I climbed onto the platform. Night had already fallen, because in this +low latitude the sun sets quickly, without any twilight. I could see +Gueboroa Island only dimly. But numerous fires had been kindled on the +beach, attesting that the natives had no thoughts of leaving it. + +For several hours I was left to myself, sometimes musing on the +islanders—but no longer fearing them because the captain’s unflappable +confidence had won me over—and sometimes forgetting them to marvel at +the splendors of this tropical night. My memories took wing toward +France, in the wake of those zodiacal stars due to twinkle over it in +a few hours. The moon shone in the midst of the constellations at +their zenith. I then remembered that this loyal, good-natured +satellite would return to this same place the day after tomorrow, to +raise the tide and tear the Nautilus from its coral bed. Near +midnight, seeing that all was quiet over the darkened waves as well as +under the waterside trees, I repaired to my cabin and fell into a +peaceful sleep. + +The night passed without mishap. No doubt the Papuans had been +frightened off by the mere sight of this monster aground in the bay, +because our hatches stayed open, offering easy access to the +Nautilus’s interior. + +At six o’clock in the morning, January 8, I climbed onto the +platform. The morning shadows were lifting. The island was soon on +view through the dissolving mists, first its beaches, then its +summits. + +The islanders were still there, in greater numbers than on the day +before, perhaps 500 or 600 of them. Taking advantage of the low tide, +some of them had moved forward over the heads of coral to within two +cable lengths of the Nautilus. I could easily distinguish them. They +obviously were true Papuans, men of fine stock, athletic in build, +forehead high and broad, nose large but not flat, teeth white. Their +woolly, red-tinted hair was in sharp contrast to their bodies, which +were black and glistening like those of Nubians. Beneath their +pierced, distended earlobes there dangled strings of beads made from +bone. Generally these savages were naked. I noted some women among +them, dressed from hip to knee in grass skirts held up by belts made +of vegetation. Some of the chieftains adorned their necks with +crescents and with necklaces made from beads of red and white +glass. Armed with bows, arrows, and shields, nearly all of them +carried from their shoulders a sort of net, which held those polished +stones their slings hurl with such dexterity. + +One of these chieftains came fairly close to the Nautilus, examining +it with care. He must have been a “mado” of high rank, because he +paraded in a mat of banana leaves that had ragged edges and was +accented with bright colors. + +I could easily have picked off this islander, he stood at such close +range; but I thought it best to wait for an actual show of +hostility. Between Europeans and savages, it’s acceptable for +Europeans to shoot back but not to attack first. + +During this whole time of low tide, the islanders lurked near the +Nautilus, but they weren’t boisterous. I often heard them repeat the +word “assai,” and from their gestures I understood they were inviting +me to go ashore, an invitation I felt obliged to decline. + +So the skiff didn’t leave shipside that day, much to the displeasure +of Mr. Land who couldn’t complete his provisions. The adroit Canadian +spent his time preparing the meat and flour products he had brought +from Gueboroa Island. As for the savages, they went back to shore near +eleven o’clock in the morning, when the heads of coral began to +disappear under the waves of the rising tide. But I saw their numbers +swell considerably on the beach. It was likely that they had come from +neighboring islands or from the mainland of Papua proper. However, I +didn’t see one local dugout canoe. + +Having nothing better to do, I decided to dredge these beautiful, +clear waters, which exhibited a profusion of shells, zoophytes, and +open-sea plants. Besides, it was the last day the Nautilus would spend +in these waterways, if, tomorrow, it still floated off to the open sea +as Captain Nemo had promised. + +So I summoned Conseil, who brought me a small, light dragnet similar +to those used in oyster fishing. + +“What about these savages?” Conseil asked me. “With all due respect to +master, they don’t strike me as very wicked!” + +“They’re cannibals even so, my boy.” + +“A person can be both a cannibal and a decent man,” Conseil replied, +“just as a person can be both gluttonous and honorable. The one +doesn’t exclude the other.” + +“Fine, Conseil! And I agree that there are honorable cannibals who +decently devour their prisoners. However, I’m opposed to being +devoured, even in all decency, so I’ll keep on my guard, especially +since the Nautilus’s commander seems to be taking no precautions. And +now let’s get to work!” + +For two hours our fishing proceeded energetically but without bringing +up any rarities. Our dragnet was filled with Midas abalone, harp +shells, obelisk snails, and especially the finest hammer shells I had +seen to that day. We also gathered in a few sea cucumbers, some pearl +oysters, and a dozen small turtles that we saved for the ship’s +pantry. + +But just when I least expected it, I laid my hands on a wonder, a +natural deformity I’d have to call it, something very seldom +encountered. Conseil had just made a cast of the dragnet, and his gear +had come back up loaded with a variety of fairly ordinary seashells, +when suddenly he saw me plunge my arms swiftly into the net, pull out +a shelled animal, and give a conchological yell, in other words, the +most piercing yell a human throat can produce. + +“Eh? What happened to master?” Conseil asked, very startled. “Did +master get bitten?” + +“No, my boy, but I’d gladly have sacrificed a finger for such a find!” + +“What find?” + +“This shell,” I said, displaying the subject of my triumph. + +“But that’s simply an olive shell of the ‘tent olive’ species, genus +Oliva, order Pectinibranchia, class Gastropoda, branch Mollusca—” + +“Yes, yes, Conseil! But instead of coiling from right to left, this +olive shell rolls from left to right!” + +“It can’t be!” Conseil exclaimed. + +“Yes, my boy, it’s a left-handed shell!” + +“A left-handed shell!” Conseil repeated, his heart pounding. + +“Look at its spiral!” + +“Oh, master can trust me on this,” Conseil said, taking the valuable +shell in trembling hands, “but never have I felt such excitement!” + +And there was good reason to be excited! In fact, as naturalists have +ventured to observe, “dextrality” is a well-known law of nature. In +their rotational and orbital movements, stars and their satellites go +from right to left. Man uses his right hand more often than his left, +and consequently his various instruments and equipment (staircases, +locks, watch springs, etc.) are designed to be used in a right-to-left +manner. Now then, nature has generally obeyed this law in coiling her +shells. They’re right-handed with only rare exceptions, and when by +chance a shell’s spiral is left-handed, collectors will pay its weight +in gold for it. + +So Conseil and I were deep in the contemplation of our treasure, and I +was solemnly promising myself to enrich the Paris Museum with it, when +an ill-timed stone, hurled by one of the islanders, whizzed over and +shattered the valuable object in Conseil’s hands. + +I gave a yell of despair! Conseil pounced on his rifle and aimed at a +savage swinging a sling just ten meters away from him. I tried to stop +him, but his shot went off and shattered a bracelet of amulets +dangling from the islander’s arm. + +“Conseil!” I shouted. “Conseil!” + +“Eh? What? Didn’t master see that this man-eater initiated the +attack?” + +“A shell isn’t worth a human life!” I told him. + +“Oh, the rascal!” Conseil exclaimed. “I’d rather he cracked my +shoulder!” + +Conseil was in dead earnest, but I didn’t subscribe to his +views. However, the situation had changed in only a short time and we +hadn’t noticed. Now some twenty dugout canoes were surrounding the +Nautilus. Hollowed from tree trunks, these dugouts were long, narrow, +and well designed for speed, keeping their balance by means of two +bamboo poles that floated on the surface of the water. They were +maneuvered by skillful, half-naked paddlers, and I viewed their +advance with definite alarm. + +It was obvious these Papuans had already entered into relations with +Europeans and knew their ships. But this long, iron cylinder lying in +the bay, with no masts or funnels—what were they to make of it? +Nothing good, because at first they kept it at a respectful +distance. However, seeing that it stayed motionless, they regained +confidence little by little and tried to become more familiar with +it. Now then, it was precisely this familiarity that we needed to +prevent. Since our weapons made no sound when they went off, they +would have only a moderate effect on these islanders, who reputedly +respect nothing but noisy mechanisms. Without thunderclaps, lightning +bolts would be much less frightening, although the danger lies in the +flash, not the noise. + +Just then the dugout canoes drew nearer to the Nautilus, and a cloud +of arrows burst over us. + +“Fire and brimstone, it’s hailing!” Conseil said. “And poisoned hail +perhaps!” + +“We’ve got to alert Captain Nemo,” I said, reentering the hatch. + +I went below to the lounge. I found no one there. I ventured a knock +at the door opening into the captain’s stateroom. + +The word “Enter!” answered me. I did so and found Captain Nemo busy +with calculations in which there was no shortage of X and other +algebraic signs. + +“Am I disturbing you?” I said out of politeness. + +“Correct, Professor Aronnax,” the captain answered me. “But I imagine +you have pressing reasons for looking me up?” + +“Very pressing. Native dugout canoes are surrounding us, and in a few +minutes we’re sure to be assaulted by several hundred savages.” + +“Ah!” Captain Nemo put in serenely. “They’ve come in their dugouts?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Well, sir, closing the hatches should do the trick.” + +“Precisely, and that’s what I came to tell you—” + +“Nothing easier,” Captain Nemo said. + +And he pressed an electric button, transmitting an order to the crew’s +quarters. + +“There, sir, all under control!” he told me after a few moments. “The +skiff is in place and the hatches are closed. I don’t imagine you’re +worried that these gentlemen will stave in walls that shells from your +frigate couldn’t breach?” + +“No, captain, but one danger still remains.” + +“What’s that, sir?” + +“Tomorrow at about this time, we’ll need to reopen the hatches to +renew the Nautilus’s air.” + +“No argument, sir, since our craft breathes in the manner favored by +cetaceans.” + +“But if these Papuans are occupying the platform at that moment, I +don’t see how you can prevent them from entering.” + +“Then, sir, you assume they’ll board the ship?” + +“I’m certain of it.” + +“Well, sir, let them come aboard. I see no reason to prevent +them. Deep down they’re just poor devils, these Papuans, and I don’t +want my visit to Gueboroa Island to cost the life of a single one of +these unfortunate people!” + +On this note I was about to withdraw; but Captain Nemo detained me and +invited me to take a seat next to him. He questioned me with interest +on our excursions ashore and on our hunting, but seemed not to +understand the Canadian’s passionate craving for red meat. Then our +conversation skimmed various subjects, and without being more +forthcoming, Captain Nemo proved more affable. + +Among other things, we came to talk of the Nautilus’s circumstances, +aground in the same strait where Captain Dumont d’Urville had nearly +miscarried. Then, pertinent to this: + +“He was one of your great seamen,” the captain told me, “one of your +shrewdest navigators, that d’Urville! He was the Frenchman’s Captain +Cook. A man wise but unlucky! Braving the ice banks of the South Pole, +the coral of Oceania, the cannibals of the Pacific, only to perish +wretchedly in a train wreck! If that energetic man was able to think +about his life in its last seconds, imagine what his final thoughts +must have been!” + +As he spoke, Captain Nemo seemed deeply moved, an emotion I felt was +to his credit. + +Then, chart in hand, we returned to the deeds of the French navigator: +his voyages to circumnavigate the globe, his double attempt at the +South Pole, which led to his discovery of the Adélie Coast and the +Louis-Philippe Peninsula, finally his hydrographic surveys of the +chief islands in Oceania. + +“What your d’Urville did on the surface of the sea,” Captain Nemo told +me, “I’ve done in the ocean’s interior, but more easily, more +completely than he. Constantly tossed about by hurricanes, the Zealous +and the new Astrolabe couldn’t compare with the Nautilus, a quiet work +room truly at rest in the midst of the waters!” + +“Even so, captain,” I said, “there is one major similarity between +Dumont d’Urville’s sloops of war and the Nautilus.” + +“What’s that, sir?” + +“Like them, the Nautilus has run aground!” + +“The Nautilus is not aground, sir,” Captain Nemo replied icily. “The +Nautilus was built to rest on the ocean floor, and I don’t need to +undertake the arduous labors, the maneuvers d’Urville had to attempt +in order to float off his sloops of war. The Zealous and the new +Astrolabe wellnigh perished, but my Nautilus is in no +danger. Tomorrow, on the day stated and at the hour stated, the tide +will peacefully lift it off, and it will resume its navigating through +the seas.” + +“Captain,” I said, “I don’t doubt—” + +“Tomorrow,” Captain Nemo added, standing up, “tomorrow at 2:40 in the +afternoon, the Nautilus will float off and exit the Torres Strait +undamaged.” + +Pronouncing these words in an extremely sharp tone, Captain Nemo gave +me a curt bow. This was my dismissal, and I reentered my stateroom. + +There I found Conseil, who wanted to know the upshot of my interview +with the captain. + +“My boy,” I replied, “when I expressed the belief that these Papuan +natives were a threat to his Nautilus, the captain answered me with +great irony. So I’ve just one thing to say to you: have faith in him +and sleep in peace.” + +“Master has no need for my services?” + +“No, my friend. What’s Ned Land up to?” + +“Begging master’s indulgence,” Conseil replied, “but our friend Ned is +concocting a kangaroo pie that will be the eighth wonder!” + +I was left to myself; I went to bed but slept pretty poorly. I kept +hearing noises from the savages, who were stamping on the platform and +letting out deafening yells. The night passed in this way, without the +crew ever emerging from their usual inertia. They were no more +disturbed by the presence of these man-eaters than soldiers in an +armored fortress are troubled by ants running over the armor plate. + +I got up at six o’clock in the morning. The hatches weren’t open. So +the air inside hadn’t been renewed; but the air tanks were kept full +for any eventuality and would function appropriately to shoot a few +cubic meters of oxygen into the Nautilus’s thin atmosphere. + +I worked in my stateroom until noon without seeing Captain Nemo even +for an instant. Nobody on board seemed to be making any preparations +for departure. + +I still waited for a while, then I made my way to the main lounge. Its +timepiece marked 2:30. In ten minutes the tide would reach its maximum +elevation, and if Captain Nemo hadn’t made a rash promise, the +Nautilus would immediately break free. If not, many months might pass +before it could leave its coral bed. + +But some preliminary vibrations could soon be felt over the boat’s +hull. I heard its plating grind against the limestone roughness of +that coral base. + +At 2:35 Captain Nemo appeared in the lounge. + +“We’re about to depart,” he said. + +“Ah!” I put in. + +“I’ve given orders to open the hatches.” + +“What about the Papuans?” + +“What about them?” Captain Nemo replied, with a light shrug of his +shoulders. + +“Won’t they come inside the Nautilus?” + +“How will they manage that?” + +“By jumping down the hatches you’re about to open.” + +“Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo replied serenely, “the Nautilus’s +hatches aren’t to be entered in that fashion even when they’re open.” + +I gaped at the captain. + +“You don’t understand?” he said to me. + +“Not in the least.” + +“Well, come along and you’ll see!” + +I headed to the central companionway. There, very puzzled, Ned Land +and Conseil watched the crewmen opening the hatches, while a frightful +clamor and furious shouts resounded outside. + +The hatch lids fell back onto the outer plating. Twenty horrible faces +appeared. But when the first islander laid hands on the companionway +railing, he was flung backward by some invisible power, lord knows +what! He ran off, howling in terror and wildly prancing around. + +Ten of his companions followed him. All ten met the same fate. + +Conseil was in ecstasy. Carried away by his violent instincts, Ned +Land leaped up the companionway. But as soon as his hands seized the +railing, he was thrown backward in his turn. + +“Damnation!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been struck by a lightning bolt!” + +These words explained everything to me. It wasn’t just a railing that +led to the platform, it was a metal cable fully charged with the +ship’s electricity. Anyone who touched it got a fearsome shock—and +such a shock would have been fatal if Captain Nemo had thrown the full +current from his equipment into this conducting cable! It could +honestly be said that he had stretched between himself and his +assailants a network of electricity no one could clear with impunity. + +Meanwhile, crazed with terror, the unhinged Papuans beat a retreat. As +for us, half laughing, we massaged and comforted poor Ned Land, who +was swearing like one possessed. + +But just then, lifted off by the tide’s final undulations, the +Nautilus left its coral bed at exactly that fortieth minute pinpointed +by the captain. Its propeller churned the waves with lazy +majesty. Gathering speed little by little, the ship navigated on the +surface of the ocean, and safe and sound, it left behind the dangerous +narrows of the Torres Strait. + + +CHAPTER 23 + +“Aegri Somnia”* + + +*Latin: “troubled dreams.” Ed. + +THE FOLLOWING DAY, January 10, the Nautilus resumed its travels in +midwater but at a remarkable speed that I estimated to be at least +thirty-five miles per hour. The propeller was going so fast I could +neither follow nor count its revolutions. + +I thought about how this marvelous electric force not only gave +motion, heat, and light to the Nautilus but even protected it against +outside attack, transforming it into a sacred ark no profane hand +could touch without being blasted; my wonderment was boundless, and it +went from the submersible itself to the engineer who had created it. + +We were traveling due west and on January 11 we doubled Cape Wessel, +located in longitude 135 degrees and latitude 10 degrees north, the +western tip of the Gulf of Carpentaria. Reefs were still numerous but +more widely scattered and were fixed on the chart with the greatest +accuracy. The Nautilus easily avoided the Money breakers to port and +the Victoria reefs to starboard, positioned at longitude 130 degrees +on the tenth parallel, which we went along rigorously. + +On January 13, arriving in the Timor Sea, Captain Nemo raised the +island of that name at longitude 122 degrees. This island, whose +surface area measures 1,625 square leagues, is governed by +rajahs. These aristocrats deem themselves the sons of crocodiles, in +other words, descendants with the most exalted origins to which a +human being can lay claim. Accordingly, their scaly ancestors infest +the island’s rivers and are the subjects of special veneration. They +are sheltered, nurtured, flattered, pampered, and offered a ritual +diet of nubile maidens; and woe to the foreigner who lifts a finger +against these sacred saurians. + +But the Nautilus wanted nothing to do with these nasty animals. Timor +Island was visible for barely an instant at noon while the chief +officer determined his position. I also caught only a glimpse of +little Roti Island, part of this same group, whose women have a +well-established reputation for beauty in the Malaysian marketplace. + +After our position fix, the Nautilus’s latitude bearings were +modulated to the southwest. Our prow pointed to the Indian +Ocean. Where would Captain Nemo’s fancies take us? Would he head up to +the shores of Asia? Would he pull nearer to the beaches of Europe? +Unlikely choices for a man who avoided populated areas! So would he go +down south? Would he double the Cape of Good Hope, then Cape Horn, and +push on to the Antarctic pole? Finally, would he return to the seas of +the Pacific, where his Nautilus could navigate freely and easily? Time +would tell. + +After cruising along the Cartier, Hibernia, Seringapatam, and Scott +reefs, the solid element’s last exertions against the liquid element, +we were beyond all sight of shore by January 14. The Nautilus slowed +down in an odd manner, and very unpredictable in its ways, it +sometimes swam in the midst of the waters, sometimes drifted on their +surface. + +During this phase of our voyage, Captain Nemo conducted interesting +experiments on the different temperatures in various strata of the +sea. Under ordinary conditions, such readings are obtained using some +pretty complicated instruments whose findings are dubious to say the +least, whether they’re thermometric sounding lines, whose glass often +shatters under the water’s pressure, or those devices based on the +varying resistance of metals to electric currents. The results so +obtained can’t be adequately double-checked. By contrast, Captain Nemo +would seek the sea’s temperature by going himself into its depths, and +when he placed his thermometer in contact with the various layers of +liquid, he found the sought-for degree immediately and with certainty. + +And so, by loading up its ballast tanks, or by sinking obliquely with +its slanting fins, the Nautilus successively reached depths of 3,000, +4,000, 5,000, 7,000, 9,000, and 10,000 meters, and the ultimate +conclusion from these experiments was that, in all latitudes, the sea +had a permanent temperature of 4.5 degrees centigrade at a depth of +1,000 meters. + +I watched these experiments with the most intense fascination. Captain +Nemo brought a real passion to them. I often wondered why he took +these observations. Were they for the benefit of his fellow man? It +was unlikely, because sooner or later his work would perish with him +in some unknown sea! Unless he intended the results of his experiments +for me. But that meant this strange voyage of mine would come to an +end, and no such end was in sight. + +Be that as it may, Captain Nemo also introduced me to the different +data he had obtained on the relative densities of the water in our +globe’s chief seas. From this news I derived some personal +enlightenment having nothing to do with science. + +It happened the morning of January 15. The captain, with whom I was +strolling on the platform, asked me if I knew how salt water differs +in density from sea to sea. I said no, adding that there was a lack of +rigorous scientific observations on this subject. + +“I’ve taken such observations,” he told me, “and I can vouch for their +reliability.” + +“Fine,” I replied, “but the Nautilus lives in a separate world, and +the secrets of its scientists don’t make their way ashore.” + +“You’re right, professor,” he told me after a few moments of +silence. “This is a separate world. It’s as alien to the earth as the +planets accompanying our globe around the sun, and we’ll never become +familiar with the work of scientists on Saturn or Jupiter. But since +fate has linked our two lives, I can reveal the results of my +observations to you.” + +“I’m all attention, captain.” + +“You’re aware, professor, that salt water is denser than fresh water, +but this density isn’t uniform. In essence, if I represent the density +of fresh water by 1.000, then I find 1.028 for the waters of the +Atlantic, 1.026 for the waters of the Pacific, 1.030 for the waters of +the Mediterranean—” + +Aha, I thought, so he ventures into the Mediterranean? + +“—1.018 for the waters of the Ionian Sea, and 1.029 for the waters of +the Adriatic.” + +Assuredly, the Nautilus didn’t avoid the heavily traveled seas of +Europe, and from this insight I concluded that the ship would take us +back—perhaps very soon—to more civilized shores. I expected Ned Land +to greet this news with unfeigned satisfaction. + +For several days our work hours were spent in all sorts of +experiments, on the degree of salinity in waters of different depths, +or on their electric properties, coloration, and transparency, and in +every instance Captain Nemo displayed an ingenuity equaled only by his +graciousness toward me. Then I saw no more of him for some days and +again lived on board in seclusion. + +On January 16 the Nautilus seemed to have fallen asleep just a few +meters beneath the surface of the water. Its electric equipment had +been turned off, and the motionless propeller let it ride with the +waves. I assumed that the crew were busy with interior repairs, +required by the engine’s strenuous mechanical action. + +My companions and I then witnessed an unusual sight. The panels in the +lounge were open, and since the Nautilus’s beacon was off, a hazy +darkness reigned in the midst of the waters. Covered with heavy +clouds, the stormy sky gave only the faintest light to the ocean’s +upper strata. + +I was observing the state of the sea under these conditions, and even +the largest fish were nothing more than ill-defined shadows, when the +Nautilus was suddenly transferred into broad daylight. At first I +thought the beacon had gone back on and was casting its electric light +into the liquid mass. I was mistaken, and after a hasty examination I +discovered my error. + +The Nautilus had drifted into the midst of some phosphorescent strata, +which, in this darkness, came off as positively dazzling. This effect +was caused by myriads of tiny, luminous animals whose brightness +increased when they glided over the metal hull of our submersible. In +the midst of these luminous sheets of water, I then glimpsed flashes +of light, like those seen inside a blazing furnace from streams of +molten lead or from masses of metal brought to a white heat—flashes so +intense that certain areas of the light became shadows by comparison, +in a fiery setting from which every shadow should seemingly have been +banished. No, this was no longer the calm emission of our usual +lighting! This light throbbed with unprecedented vigor and activity! +You sensed that it was alive! + +In essence, it was a cluster of countless open-sea infusoria, of +noctiluca an eighth of an inch wide, actual globules of transparent +jelly equipped with a threadlike tentacle, up to 25,000 of which have +been counted in thirty cubic centimeters of water. And the power of +their light was increased by those glimmers unique to medusas, +starfish, common jellyfish, angel-wing clams, and other phosphorescent +zoophytes, which were saturated with grease from organic matter +decomposed by the sea, and perhaps with mucus secreted by fish. + +For several hours the Nautilus drifted in this brilliant tide, and our +wonderment grew when we saw huge marine animals cavorting in it, like +the fire-dwelling salamanders of myth. In the midst of these flames +that didn’t burn, I could see swift, elegant porpoises, the tireless +pranksters of the seas, and sailfish three meters long, those shrewd +heralds of hurricanes, whose fearsome broadswords sometimes banged +against the lounge window. Then smaller fish appeared: miscellaneous +triggerfish, leather jacks, unicornfish, and a hundred others that +left stripes on this luminous atmosphere in their course. + +Some magic lay behind this dazzling sight! Perhaps some atmospheric +condition had intensified this phenomenon? Perhaps a storm had been +unleashed on the surface of the waves? But only a few meters down, the +Nautilus felt no tempest’s fury, and the ship rocked peacefully in the +midst of the calm waters. + +And so it went, some new wonder constantly delighting us. Conseil +observed and classified his zoophytes, articulates, mollusks, and +fish. The days passed quickly, and I no longer kept track of +them. Ned, as usual, kept looking for changes of pace from our +standard fare. Like actual snails, we were at home in our shell, and I +can vouch that it’s easy to turn into a full-fledged snail. + +So this way of living began to seem simple and natural to us, and we +no longer envisioned a different lifestyle on the surface of the +planet earth, when something happened to remind us of our strange +circumstances. + +On January 18 the Nautilus lay in longitude 105 degrees and latitude +15 degrees south. The weather was threatening, the sea rough and +billowy. The wind was blowing a strong gust from the east. The +barometer, which had been falling for some days, forecast an +approaching struggle of the elements. + +I had climbed onto the platform just as the chief officer was taking +his readings of hour angles. Out of habit I waited for him to +pronounce his daily phrase. But that day it was replaced by a +different phrase, just as incomprehensible. Almost at once I saw +Captain Nemo appear, lift his spyglass, and inspect the horizon. + +For some minutes the captain stood motionless, rooted to the spot +contained within the field of his lens. Then he lowered his spyglass +and exchanged about ten words with his chief officer. The latter +seemed to be in the grip of an excitement he tried in vain to +control. More in command of himself, Captain Nemo remained +cool. Furthermore, he seemed to be raising certain objections that his +chief officer kept answering with flat assurances. At least that’s +what I gathered from their differences in tone and gesture. + +As for me, I stared industriously in the direction under observation +but without spotting a thing. Sky and water merged into a perfectly +clean horizon line. + +Meanwhile Captain Nemo strolled from one end of the platform to the +other, not glancing at me, perhaps not even seeing me. His step was +firm but less regular than usual. Sometimes he would stop, cross his +arms over his chest, and observe the sea. What could he be looking for +over that immense expanse? By then the Nautilus lay hundreds of miles +from the nearest coast! + +The chief officer kept lifting his spyglass and stubbornly examining +the horizon, walking up and down, stamping his foot, in his nervous +agitation a sharp contrast to his superior. + +But this mystery would inevitably be cleared up, and soon, because +Captain Nemo gave orders to increase speed; at once the engine stepped +up its drive power, setting the propeller in swifter rotation. + +Just then the chief officer drew the captain’s attention anew. The +latter interrupted his strolling and aimed his spyglass at the point +indicated. He observed it a good while. As for me, deeply puzzled, I +went below to the lounge and brought back an excellent long-range +telescope I habitually used. Leaning my elbows on the beacon housing, +which jutted from the stern of the platform, I got set to scour that +whole stretch of sky and sea. + +But no sooner had I peered into the eyepiece than the instrument was +snatched from my hands. + +I spun around. Captain Nemo was standing before me, but I almost +didn’t recognize him. His facial features were transfigured. Gleaming +with dark fire, his eyes had shrunk beneath his frowning brow. His +teeth were half bared. His rigid body, clenched fists, and head drawn +between his shoulders, all attested to a fierce hate breathing from +every pore. He didn’t move. My spyglass fell from his hand and rolled +at his feet. + +Had I accidentally caused these symptoms of anger? Did this +incomprehensible individual think I had detected some secret forbidden +to guests on the Nautilus? + +No! I wasn’t the subject of his hate because he wasn’t even looking at +me; his eyes stayed stubbornly focused on that inscrutable point of +the horizon. + +Finally Captain Nemo regained his self-control. His facial appearance, +so profoundly changed, now resumed its usual calm. He addressed a few +words to his chief officer in their strange language, then he turned +to me: + +“Professor Aronnax,” he told me in a tone of some urgency, “I ask that +you now honor one of the binding agreements between us.” + +“Which one, captain?” + +“You and your companions must be placed in confinement until I see fit +to set you free.” + +“You’re in command,” I answered, gaping at him. “But may I address a +question to you?” + +“You may not, sir.” + +After that, I stopped objecting and started obeying, since resistance +was useless. + +I went below to the cabin occupied by Ned Land and Conseil, and I +informed them of the captain’s decision. I’ll let the reader decide +how this news was received by the Canadian. In any case, there was no +time for explanations. Four crewmen were waiting at the door, and they +led us to the cell where we had spent our first night aboard the +Nautilus. + +Ned Land tried to lodge a complaint, but the only answer he got was a +door shut in his face. + +“Will master tell me what this means?” Conseil asked me. + +I told my companions what had happened. They were as astonished as I +was, but no wiser. + +Then I sank into deep speculation, and Captain Nemo’s strange facial +seizure kept haunting me. I was incapable of connecting two ideas in +logical order, and I had strayed into the most absurd hypotheses, when +I was snapped out of my mental struggles by these words from Ned Land: + +“Well, look here! Lunch is served!” + +Indeed, the table had been laid. Apparently Captain Nemo had given +this order at the same time he commanded the Nautilus to pick up +speed. + +“Will master allow me to make him a recommendation?” Conseil asked me. + +“Yes, my boy,” I replied. + +“Well, master needs to eat his lunch! It’s prudent, because we have no +idea what the future holds.” + +“You’re right, Conseil.” + +“Unfortunately,” Ned Land said, “they’ve only given us the standard +menu.” + +“Ned my friend,” Conseil answered, “what would you say if they’d given +us no lunch at all?” + +This dose of sanity cut the harpooner’s complaints clean off. + +We sat down at the table. Our meal proceeded pretty much in silence. I +ate very little. Conseil, everlastingly prudent, “force-fed” himself; +and despite the menu, Ned Land didn’t waste a bite. Then, lunch over, +each of us propped himself in a corner. + +Just then the luminous globe lighting our cell went out, leaving us in +profound darkness. Ned Land soon dozed off, and to my astonishment, +Conseil also fell into a heavy slumber. I was wondering what could +have caused this urgent need for sleep, when I felt a dense torpor +saturate my brain. I tried to keep my eyes open, but they closed in +spite of me. I was in the grip of anguished hallucinations. Obviously +some sleep-inducing substance had been laced into the food we’d just +eaten! So imprisonment wasn’t enough to conceal Captain Nemo’s plans +from us—sleep was needed as well! + +Then I heard the hatches close. The sea’s undulations, which had been +creating a gentle rocking motion, now ceased. Had the Nautilus left +the surface of the ocean? Was it reentering the motionless strata deep +in the sea? + +I tried to fight off this drowsiness. It was impossible. My breathing +grew weaker. I felt a mortal chill freeze my dull, nearly paralyzed +limbs. Like little domes of lead, my lids fell over my eyes. I +couldn’t raise them. A morbid sleep, full of hallucinations, seized my +whole being. Then the visions disappeared and left me in utter +oblivion. + + +CHAPTER 24 + +The Coral Realm + + +THE NEXT DAY I woke up with my head unusually clear. Much to my +surprise, I was in my stateroom. No doubt my companions had been put +back in their cabin without noticing it any more than I had. Like me, +they would have no idea what took place during the night, and to +unravel this mystery I could count only on some future happenstance. + +I then considered leaving my stateroom. Was I free or still a +prisoner? Perfectly free. I opened my door, headed down the gangways, +and climbed the central companionway. Hatches that had been closed the +day before were now open. I arrived on the platform. + +Ned Land and Conseil were there waiting for me. I questioned +them. They knew nothing. Lost in a heavy sleep of which they had no +memory, they were quite startled to be back in their cabin. + +As for the Nautilus, it seemed as tranquil and mysterious as ever. It +was cruising on the surface of the waves at a moderate speed. Nothing +seemed to have changed on board. + +Ned Land observed the sea with his penetrating eyes. It was +deserted. The Canadian sighted nothing new on the horizon, neither +sail nor shore. A breeze was blowing noisily from the west, and +disheveled by the wind, long billows made the submersible roll very +noticeably. + +After renewing its air, the Nautilus stayed at an average depth of +fifteen meters, enabling it to return quickly to the surface of the +waves. And, contrary to custom, it executed such a maneuver several +times during that day of January 19. The chief officer would then +climb onto the platform, and his usual phrase would ring through the +ship’s interior. + +As for Captain Nemo, he didn’t appear. Of the other men on board, I +saw only my emotionless steward, who served me with his usual mute +efficiency. + +Near two o’clock I was busy organizing my notes in the lounge, when +the captain opened the door and appeared. I bowed to him. He gave me +an almost imperceptible bow in return, without saying a word to me. I +resumed my work, hoping he might give me some explanation of the +previous afternoon’s events. He did nothing of the sort. I stared at +him. His face looked exhausted; his reddened eyes hadn’t been +refreshed by sleep; his facial features expressed profound sadness, +real chagrin. He walked up and down, sat and stood, picked up a book +at random, discarded it immediately, consulted his instruments without +taking his customary notes, and seemed unable to rest easy for an +instant. + +Finally he came over to me and said: + +“Are you a physician, Professor Aronnax?” + +This inquiry was so unexpected that I stared at him a good while +without replying. + +“Are you a physician?” he repeated. “Several of your scientific +colleagues took their degrees in medicine, such as Gratiolet, +Moquin-Tandon, and others.” + +“That’s right,” I said, “I am a doctor, I used to be on call at the +hospitals. I was in practice for several years before joining the +museum.” + +“Excellent, sir.” + +My reply obviously pleased Captain Nemo. But not knowing what he was +driving at, I waited for further questions, ready to reply as +circumstances dictated. + +“Professor Aronnax,” the captain said to me, “would you consent to +give your medical attentions to one of my men?” + +“Someone is sick?” + +“Yes.” + +“I’m ready to go with you.” + +“Come.” + +I admit that my heart was pounding. Lord knows why, but I saw a +definite connection between this sick crewman and yesterday’s +happenings, and the mystery of those events concerned me at least as +much as the man’s sickness. + +Captain Nemo led me to the Nautilus’s stern and invited me into a +cabin located next to the sailors’ quarters. + +On a bed there lay a man some forty years old, with strongly molded +features, the very image of an Anglo-Saxon. + +I bent over him. Not only was he sick, he was wounded. Swathed in +blood-soaked linen, his head was resting on a folded pillow. I undid +the linen bandages, while the wounded man gazed with great staring +eyes and let me proceed without making a single complaint. + +It was a horrible wound. The cranium had been smashed open by some +blunt instrument, leaving the naked brains exposed, and the cerebral +matter had suffered deep abrasions. Blood clots had formed in this +dissolving mass, taking on the color of wine dregs. Both contusion and +concussion of the brain had occurred. The sick man’s breathing was +labored, and muscle spasms quivered in his face. Cerebral inflammation +was complete and had brought on a paralysis of movement and sensation. + +I took the wounded man’s pulse. It was intermittent. The body’s +extremities were already growing cold, and I saw that death was +approaching without any possibility of my holding it in check. After +dressing the poor man’s wound, I redid the linen bandages around his +head, and I turned to Captain Nemo. + +“How did he get this wound?” I asked him. + +“That’s not important,” the captain replied evasively. “The Nautilus +suffered a collision that cracked one of the engine levers, and it +struck this man. My chief officer was standing beside him. This man +leaped forward to intercept the blow. A brother lays down his life for +his brother, a friend for his friend, what could be simpler? That’s +the law for everyone on board the Nautilus. But what’s your diagnosis +of his condition?” + +I hesitated to speak my mind. + +“You may talk freely,” the captain told me. “This man doesn’t +understand French.” + +I took a last look at the wounded man, then I replied: + +“This man will be dead in two hours.” + +“Nothing can save him?” + +“Nothing.” + +Captain Nemo clenched his fists, and tears slid from his eyes, which I +had thought incapable of weeping. + +For a few moments more I observed the dying man, whose life was ebbing +little by little. He grew still more pale under the electric light +that bathed his deathbed. I looked at his intelligent head, furrowed +with premature wrinkles that misfortune, perhaps misery, had etched +long before. I was hoping to detect the secret of his life in the last +words that might escape from his lips! + +“You may go, Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo told me. + +I left the captain in the dying man’s cabin and I repaired to my +stateroom, very moved by this scene. All day long I was aquiver with +gruesome forebodings. That night I slept poorly, and between my fitful +dreams, I thought I heard a distant moaning, like a funeral dirge. Was +it a prayer for the dead, murmured in that language I couldn’t +understand? + +The next morning I climbed on deck. Captain Nemo was already there. As +soon as he saw me, he came over. + +“Professor,” he said to me, “would it be convenient for you to make an +underwater excursion today?” + +“With my companions?” I asked. + +“If they’re agreeable.” + +“We’re yours to command, captain.” + +“Then kindly put on your diving suits.” + +As for the dead or dying man, he hadn’t come into the picture. I +rejoined Ned Land and Conseil. I informed them of Captain Nemo’s +proposition. Conseil was eager to accept, and this time the Canadian +proved perfectly amenable to going with us. + +It was eight o’clock in the morning. By 8:30 we were suited up for +this new stroll and equipped with our two devices for lighting and +breathing. The double door opened, and accompanied by Captain Nemo +with a dozen crewmen following, we set foot on the firm seafloor where +the Nautilus was resting, ten meters down. + +A gentle slope gravitated to an uneven bottom whose depth was about +fifteen fathoms. This bottom was completely different from the one I +had visited during my first excursion under the waters of the Pacific +Ocean. Here I saw no fine-grained sand, no underwater prairies, not +one open-sea forest. I immediately recognized the wondrous region in +which Captain Nemo did the honors that day. It was the coral realm. + +In the zoophyte branch, class Alcyonaria, one finds the order +Gorgonaria, which contains three groups: sea fans, isidian polyps, and +coral polyps. It’s in this last that precious coral belongs, an +unusual substance that, at different times, has been classified in the +mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms. Medicine to the ancients, +jewelry to the moderns, it wasn’t decisively placed in the animal +kingdom until 1694, by Peysonnel of Marseilles. + +A coral is a unit of tiny animals assembled over a polypary that’s +brittle and stony in nature. These polyps have a unique generating +mechanism that reproduces them via the budding process, and they have +an individual existence while also participating in a communal +life. Hence they embody a sort of natural socialism. I was familiar +with the latest research on this bizarre zoophyte—which turns to stone +while taking on a tree form, as some naturalists have very aptly +observed—and nothing could have been more fascinating to me than to +visit one of these petrified forests that nature has planted on the +bottom of the sea. + +We turned on our Ruhmkorff devices and went along a coral shoal in the +process of forming, which, given time, will someday close off this +whole part of the Indian Ocean. Our path was bordered by hopelessly +tangled bushes, formed from snarls of shrubs all covered with little +star-shaped, white-streaked flowers. Only, contrary to plants on +shore, these tree forms become attached to rocks on the seafloor by +heading from top to bottom. + +Our lights produced a thousand delightful effects while playing over +these brightly colored boughs. I fancied I saw these cylindrical, +membrane-filled tubes trembling beneath the water’s undulations. I was +tempted to gather their fresh petals, which were adorned with delicate +tentacles, some newly in bloom, others barely opened, while nimble +fish with fluttering fins brushed past them like flocks of birds. But +if my hands came near the moving flowers of these sensitive, lively +creatures, an alarm would instantly sound throughout the colony. The +white petals retracted into their red sheaths, the flowers vanished +before my eyes, and the bush changed into a chunk of stony nipples. + +Sheer chance had placed me in the presence of the most valuable +specimens of this zoophyte. This coral was the equal of those fished +up from the Mediterranean off the Barbary Coast or the shores of +France and Italy. With its bright colors, it lived up to those poetic +names of blood flower and blood foam that the industry confers on its +finest exhibits. Coral sells for as much as 500 francs per kilogram, +and in this locality the liquid strata hid enough to make the fortunes +of a whole host of coral fishermen. This valuable substance often +merges with other polyparies, forming compact, hopelessly tangled +units known as “macciota,” and I noted some wonderful pink samples of +this coral. + +But as the bushes shrank, the tree forms magnified. Actual petrified +thickets and long alcoves from some fantastic school of architecture +kept opening up before our steps. Captain Nemo entered beneath a dark +gallery whose gentle slope took us to a depth of 100 meters. The light +from our glass coils produced magical effects at times, lingering on +the wrinkled roughness of some natural arch, or some overhang +suspended like a chandelier, which our lamps flecked with fiery +sparks. Amid these shrubs of precious coral, I observed other polyps +no less unusual: melita coral, rainbow coral with jointed outgrowths, +then a few tufts of genus Corallina, some green and others red, +actually a type of seaweed encrusted with limestone salts, which, +after long disputes, naturalists have finally placed in the vegetable +kingdom. But as one intellectual has remarked, “Here, perhaps, is the +actual point where life rises humbly out of slumbering stone, but +without breaking away from its crude starting point.” + +Finally, after two hours of walking, we reached a depth of about 300 +meters, in other words, the lowermost limit at which coral can begin +to form. But here it was no longer some isolated bush or a modest +grove of low timber. It was an immense forest, huge mineral +vegetation, enormous petrified trees linked by garlands of elegant +hydras from the genus Plumularia, those tropical creepers of the sea, +all decked out in shades and gleams. We passed freely under their +lofty boughs, lost up in the shadows of the waves, while at our feet +organ-pipe coral, stony coral, star coral, fungus coral, and sea +anemone from the genus Caryophylia formed a carpet of flowers all +strewn with dazzling gems. + +What an indescribable sight! Oh, if only we could share our feelings! +Why were we imprisoned behind these masks of metal and glass! Why were +we forbidden to talk with each other! At least let us lead the lives +of the fish that populate this liquid element, or better yet, the +lives of amphibians, which can spend long hours either at sea or on +shore, traveling through their double domain as their whims dictate! + +Meanwhile Captain Nemo had called a halt. My companions and I stopped +walking, and turning around, I saw the crewmen form a semicircle +around their leader. Looking with greater care, I observed that four +of them were carrying on their shoulders an object that was oblong in +shape. + +At this locality we stood in the center of a huge clearing surrounded +by the tall tree forms of this underwater forest. Our lamps cast a +sort of brilliant twilight over the area, making inordinately long +shadows on the seafloor. Past the boundaries of the clearing, the +darkness deepened again, relieved only by little sparkles given off by +the sharp crests of coral. + +Ned Land and Conseil stood next to me. We stared, and it dawned on me +that I was about to witness a strange scene. Observing the seafloor, I +saw that it swelled at certain points from low bulges that were +encrusted with limestone deposits and arranged with a symmetry that +betrayed the hand of man. + +In the middle of the clearing, on a pedestal of roughly piled rocks, +there stood a cross of coral, extending long arms you would have +thought were made of petrified blood. + +At a signal from Captain Nemo, one of his men stepped forward and, a +few feet from this cross, detached a mattock from his belt and began +to dig a hole. + +I finally understood! This clearing was a cemetery, this hole a grave, +that oblong object the body of the man who must have died during the +night! Captain Nemo and his men had come to bury their companion in +this communal resting place on the inaccessible ocean floor! + +No! My mind was reeling as never before! Never had ideas of such +impact raced through my brain! I didn’t want to see what my eyes saw! + +Meanwhile the grave digging went slowly. Fish fled here and there as +their retreat was disturbed. I heard the pick ringing on the limestone +soil, its iron tip sometimes giving off sparks when it hit a stray +piece of flint on the sea bottom. The hole grew longer, wider, and +soon was deep enough to receive the body. + +Then the pallbearers approached. Wrapped in white fabric made from +filaments of the fan mussel, the body was lowered into its watery +grave. Captain Nemo, arms crossed over his chest, knelt in a posture +of prayer, as did all the friends of him who had loved them. . . . My +two companions and I bowed reverently. + +The grave was then covered over with the rubble dug from the seafloor, +and it formed a low mound. + +When this was done, Captain Nemo and his men stood up; then they all +approached the grave, sank again on bended knee, and extended their +hands in a sign of final farewell. . . . + +Then the funeral party went back up the path to the Nautilus, +returning beneath the arches of the forest, through the thickets, +along the coral bushes, going steadily higher. + +Finally the ship’s rays appeared. Their luminous trail guided us to +the Nautilus. By one o’clock we had returned. + +After changing clothes, I climbed onto the platform, and in the grip +of dreadfully obsessive thoughts, I sat next to the beacon. + +Captain Nemo rejoined me. I stood up and said to him: + +“So, as I predicted, that man died during the night?” + +“Yes, Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo replied. + +“And now he rests beside his companions in that coral cemetery?” + +“Yes, forgotten by the world but not by us! We dig the graves, then +entrust the polyps with sealing away our dead for eternity!” + +And with a sudden gesture, the captain hid his face in his clenched +fists, vainly trying to hold back a sob. Then he added: + +“There lies our peaceful cemetery, hundreds of feet beneath the +surface of the waves!” + +“At least, captain, your dead can sleep serenely there, out of the +reach of sharks!” + +“Yes, sir,” Captain Nemo replied solemnly, “of sharks and men!” + + +END OF THE FIRST PART + + + +SECOND PART + + +CHAPTER 1 + +The Indian Ocean + + +NOW WE BEGIN the second part of this voyage under the seas. The first +ended in that moving scene at the coral cemetery, which left a +profound impression on my mind. And so Captain Nemo would live out his +life entirely in the heart of this immense sea, and even his grave lay +ready in its impenetrable depths. There the last sleep of the +Nautilus’s occupants, friends bound together in death as in life, +would be disturbed by no monster of the deep! “No man either!” the +captain had added. + +Always that same fierce, implacable defiance of human society! + +As for me, I was no longer content with the hypotheses that satisfied +Conseil. That fine lad persisted in seeing the Nautilus’s commander as +merely one of those unappreciated scientists who repay humanity’s +indifference with contempt. For Conseil, the captain was still a +misunderstood genius who, tired of the world’s deceptions, had been +driven to take refuge in this inaccessible environment where he was +free to follow his instincts. But to my mind, this hypothesis +explained only one side of Captain Nemo. + +In fact, the mystery of that last afternoon when we were locked in +prison and put to sleep, the captain’s violent precaution of snatching +from my grasp a spyglass poised to scour the horizon, and the fatal +wound given that man during some unexplained collision suffered by the +Nautilus, all led me down a plain trail. No! Captain Nemo wasn’t +content simply to avoid humanity! His fearsome submersible served not +only his quest for freedom, but also, perhaps, it was used in +lord-knows-what schemes of dreadful revenge. + +Right now, nothing is clear to me, I still glimpse only glimmers in +the dark, and I must limit my pen, as it were, to taking dictation +from events. + +But nothing binds us to Captain Nemo. He believes that escaping from +the Nautilus is impossible. We are not even constrained by our word of +honor. No promises fetter us. We’re simply captives, prisoners +masquerading under the name “guests” for the sake of everyday +courtesy. Even so, Ned Land hasn’t given up all hope of recovering his +freedom. He’s sure to take advantage of the first chance that comes +his way. No doubt I will do likewise. And yet I will feel some regret +at making off with the Nautilus’s secrets, so generously unveiled for +us by Captain Nemo! Because, ultimately, should we detest or admire +this man? Is he the persecutor or the persecuted? And in all honesty, +before I leave him forever, I want to finish this underwater tour of +the world, whose first stages have been so magnificent. I want to +observe the full series of these wonders gathered under the seas of +our globe. I want to see what no man has seen yet, even if I must pay +for this insatiable curiosity with my life! What are my discoveries to +date? Nothing, relatively speaking—since so far we’ve covered only +6,000 leagues across the Pacific! + +Nevertheless, I’m well aware that the Nautilus is drawing near to +populated shores, and if some chance for salvation becomes available +to us, it would be sheer cruelty to sacrifice my companions to my +passion for the unknown. I must go with them, perhaps even guide +them. But will this opportunity ever arise? The human being, robbed of +his free will, craves such an opportunity; but the scientist, forever +inquisitive, dreads it. + +That day, January 21, 1868, the chief officer went at noon to take the +sun’s altitude. I climbed onto the platform, lit a cigar, and watched +him at work. It seemed obvious to me that this man didn’t understand +French, because I made several remarks in a loud voice that were bound +to provoke him to some involuntary show of interest had he understood +them; but he remained mute and emotionless. + +While he took his sights with his sextant, one of the Nautilus’s +sailors—that muscular man who had gone with us to Crespo Island during +our first underwater excursion—came up to clean the glass panes of the +beacon. I then examined the fittings of this mechanism, whose power +was increased a hundredfold by biconvex lenses that were designed like +those in a lighthouse and kept its rays productively focused. This +electric lamp was so constructed as to yield its maximum illuminating +power. In essence, its light was generated in a vacuum, insuring both +its steadiness and intensity. Such a vacuum also reduced wear on the +graphite points between which the luminous arc expanded. This was an +important savings for Captain Nemo, who couldn’t easily renew +them. But under these conditions, wear and tear were almost +nonexistent. + +When the Nautilus was ready to resume its underwater travels, I went +below again to the lounge. The hatches closed once more, and our +course was set due west. + +We then plowed the waves of the Indian Ocean, vast liquid plains with +an area of 550,000,000 hectares, whose waters are so transparent it +makes you dizzy to lean over their surface. There the Nautilus +generally drifted at a depth between 100 and 200 meters. It behaved in +this way for some days. To anyone without my grand passion for the +sea, these hours would surely have seemed long and monotonous; but my +daily strolls on the platform where I was revived by the life-giving +ocean air, the sights in the rich waters beyond the lounge windows, +the books to be read in the library, and the composition of my +memoirs, took up all my time and left me without a moment of weariness +or boredom. + +All in all, we enjoyed a highly satisfactory state of health. The diet +on board agreed with us perfectly, and for my part, I could easily +have gone without those changes of pace that Ned Land, in a spirit of +protest, kept taxing his ingenuity to supply us. What’s more, in this +constant temperature we didn’t even have to worry about catching +colds. Besides, the ship had a good stock of the madrepore +Dendrophylia, known in Provence by the name sea fennel, and a poultice +made from the dissolved flesh of its polyps will furnish an excellent +cough medicine. + +For some days we saw a large number of aquatic birds with webbed feet, +known as gulls or sea mews. Some were skillfully slain, and when +cooked in a certain fashion, they make a very acceptable platter of +water game. Among the great wind riders—carried over long distances +from every shore and resting on the waves from their exhausting +flights—I spotted some magnificent albatross, birds belonging to the +Longipennes (long-winged) family, whose discordant calls sound like +the braying of an ass. The Totipalmes (fully webbed) family was +represented by swift frigate birds, nimbly catching fish at the +surface, and by numerous tropic birds of the genus Phaeton, among +others the red-tailed tropic bird, the size of a pigeon, its white +plumage shaded with pink tints that contrasted with its dark-hued +wings. + +The Nautilus’s nets hauled up several types of sea turtle from the +hawksbill genus with arching backs whose scales are highly +prized. Diving easily, these reptiles can remain a good while +underwater by closing the fleshy valves located at the external +openings of their nasal passages. When they were captured, some +hawksbills were still asleep inside their carapaces, a refuge from +other marine animals. The flesh of these turtles was nothing +memorable, but their eggs made an excellent feast. + +As for fish, they always filled us with wonderment when, staring +through the open panels, we could unveil the secrets of their aquatic +lives. I noted several species I hadn’t previously been able to +observe. + +I’ll mention chiefly some trunkfish unique to the Red Sea, the sea of +the East Indies, and that part of the ocean washing the coasts of +equinoctial America. Like turtles, armadillos, sea urchins, and +crustaceans, these fish are protected by armor plate that’s neither +chalky nor stony but actual bone. Sometimes this armor takes the shape +of a solid triangle, sometimes that of a solid quadrangle. Among the +triangular type, I noticed some half a decimeter long, with brown +tails, yellow fins, and wholesome, exquisitely tasty flesh; I even +recommend that they be acclimatized to fresh water, a change, +incidentally, that a number of saltwater fish can make with ease. I’ll +also mention some quadrangular trunkfish topped by four large +protuberances along the back; trunkfish sprinkled with white spots on +the underside of the body, which make good house pets like certain +birds; boxfish armed with stings formed by extensions of their bony +crusts, and whose odd grunting has earned them the nickname “sea +pigs”; then some trunkfish known as dromedaries, with tough, leathery +flesh and big conical humps. + +From the daily notes kept by Mr. Conseil, I also retrieve certain fish +from the genus Tetradon unique to these seas: southern puffers with +red backs and white chests distinguished by three lengthwise rows of +filaments, and jugfish, seven inches long, decked out in the brightest +colors. Then, as specimens of other genera, blowfish resembling a dark +brown egg, furrowed with white bands, and lacking tails; globefish, +genuine porcupines of the sea, armed with stings and able to inflate +themselves until they look like a pin cushion bristling with needles; +seahorses common to every ocean; flying dragonfish with long snouts +and highly distended pectoral fins shaped like wings, which enable +them, if not to fly, at least to spring into the air; spatula-shaped +paddlefish whose tails are covered with many scaly rings; snipefish +with long jaws, excellent animals twenty-five centimeters long and +gleaming with the most cheerful colors; bluish gray dragonets with +wrinkled heads; myriads of leaping blennies with black stripes and +long pectoral fins, gliding over the surface of the water with +prodigious speed; delicious sailfish that can hoist their fins in a +favorable current like so many unfurled sails; splendid nurseryfish on +which nature has lavished yellow, azure, silver, and gold; yellow +mackerel with wings made of filaments; bullheads forever spattered +with mud, which make distinct hissing sounds; sea robins whose livers +are thought to be poisonous; ladyfish that can flutter their eyelids; +finally, archerfish with long, tubular snouts, real oceangoing +flycatchers, armed with a rifle unforeseen by either Remington or +Chassepot: it slays insects by shooting them with a simple drop of +water. + +From the eighty-ninth fish genus in Lacépède’s system of +classification, belonging to his second subclass of bony fish +(characterized by gill covers and a bronchial membrane), I noted some +scorpionfish whose heads are adorned with stings and which have only +one dorsal fin; these animals are covered with small scales, or have +none at all, depending on the subgenus to which they belong. The +second subgenus gave us some Didactylus specimens three to four +decimeters long, streaked with yellow, their heads having a +phantasmagoric appearance. As for the first subgenus, it furnished +several specimens of that bizarre fish aptly nicknamed “toadfish,” +whose big head is sometimes gouged with deep cavities, sometimes +swollen with protuberances; bristling with stings and strewn with +nodules, it sports hideously irregular horns; its body and tail are +adorned with callosities; its stings can inflict dangerous injuries; +it’s repulsive and horrible. + +From January 21 to the 23rd, the Nautilus traveled at the rate of 250 +leagues in twenty-four hours, hence 540 miles at twenty-two miles per +hour. If, during our trip, we were able to identify these different +varieties of fish, it’s because they were attracted by our electric +light and tried to follow alongside; but most of them were +outdistanced by our speed and soon fell behind; temporarily, however, +a few managed to keep pace in the Nautilus’s waters. + +On the morning of the 24th, in latitude 12 degrees 5’ south and +longitude 94 degrees 33’, we raised Keeling Island, a madreporic +upheaving planted with magnificent coconut trees, which had been +visited by Mr. Darwin and Captain Fitzroy. The Nautilus cruised along +a short distance off the shore of this desert island. Our dragnets +brought up many specimens of polyps and echinoderms plus some unusual +shells from the branch Mollusca. Captain Nemo’s treasures were +enhanced by some valuable exhibits from the delphinula snail species, +to which I joined some pointed star coral, a sort of parasitic +polypary that often attaches itself to seashells. + +Soon Keeling Island disappeared below the horizon, and our course was +set to the northwest, toward the tip of the Indian peninsula. + +“Civilization!” Ned Land told me that day. “Much better than those +Papuan Islands where we ran into more savages than venison! On this +Indian shore, professor, there are roads and railways, English, +French, and Hindu villages. We wouldn’t go five miles without bumping +into a fellow countryman. Come on now, isn’t it time for our sudden +departure from Captain Nemo?” + +“No, no, Ned,” I replied in a very firm tone. “Let’s ride it out, as +you seafaring fellows say. The Nautilus is approaching populated +areas. It’s going back toward Europe, let it take us there. After we +arrive in home waters, we can do as we see fit. Besides, I don’t +imagine Captain Nemo will let us go hunting on the coasts of Malabar +or Coromandel as he did in the forests of New Guinea.” + +“Well, sir, can’t we manage without his permission?” + +I didn’t answer the Canadian. I wanted no arguments. Deep down, I was +determined to fully exploit the good fortune that had put me on board +the Nautilus. + +After leaving Keeling Island, our pace got generally slower. It also +got more unpredictable, often taking us to great depths. Several times +we used our slanting fins, which internal levers could set at an +oblique angle to our waterline. Thus we went as deep as two or three +kilometers down but without ever verifying the lowest depths of this +sea near India, which soundings of 13,000 meters have been unable to +reach. As for the temperature in these lower strata, the thermometer +always and invariably indicated 4 degrees centigrade. I merely +observed that in the upper layers, the water was always colder over +shallows than in the open sea. + +On January 25, the ocean being completely deserted, the Nautilus spent +the day on the surface, churning the waves with its powerful propeller +and making them spurt to great heights. Under these conditions, who +wouldn’t have mistaken it for a gigantic cetacean? I spent +three-quarters of the day on the platform. I stared at the +sea. Nothing on the horizon, except near four o’clock in the afternoon +a long steamer to the west, running on our opposite tack. Its masting +was visible for an instant, but it couldn’t have seen the Nautilus +because we were lying too low in the water. I imagine that steamboat +belonged to the Peninsular & Oriental line, which provides service +from the island of Ceylon to Sydney, also calling at King George Sound +and Melbourne. + +At five o’clock in the afternoon, just before that brief twilight that +links day with night in tropical zones, Conseil and I marveled at an +unusual sight. + +It was a delightful animal whose discovery, according to the ancients, +is a sign of good luck. Aristotle, Athenaeus, Pliny, and Oppian +studied its habits and lavished on its behalf all the scientific +poetry of Greece and Italy. They called it “nautilus” and “pompilius.” +But modern science has not endorsed these designations, and this +mollusk is now known by the name argonaut. + +Anyone consulting Conseil would soon learn from the gallant lad that +the branch Mollusca is divided into five classes; that the first class +features the Cephalopoda (whose members are sometimes naked, sometimes +covered with a shell), which consists of two families, the +Dibranchiata and the Tetrabranchiata, which are distinguished by their +number of gills; that the family Dibranchiata includes three genera, +the argonaut, the squid, and the cuttlefish, and that the family +Tetrabranchiata contains only one genus, the nautilus. After this +catalog, if some recalcitrant listener confuses the argonaut, which is +acetabuliferous (in other words, a bearer of suction tubes), with the +nautilus, which is tentaculiferous (a bearer of tentacles), it will be +simply unforgivable. + +Now, it was a school of argonauts then voyaging on the surface of the +ocean. We could count several hundred of them. They belonged to that +species of argonaut covered with protuberances and exclusive to the +seas near India. + +These graceful mollusks were swimming backward by means of their +locomotive tubes, sucking water into these tubes and then expelling +it. Six of their eight tentacles were long, thin, and floated on the +water, while the other two were rounded into palms and spread to the +wind like light sails. I could see perfectly their undulating, +spiral-shaped shells, which Cuvier aptly compared to an elegant +cockleboat. It’s an actual boat indeed. It transports the animal that +secretes it without the animal sticking to it. + +“The argonaut is free to leave its shell,” I told Conseil, “but it +never does.” + +“Not unlike Captain Nemo,” Conseil replied sagely. “Which is why he +should have christened his ship the Argonaut.” + +For about an hour the Nautilus cruised in the midst of this school of +mollusks. Then, lord knows why, they were gripped with a sudden +fear. As if at a signal, every sail was abruptly lowered; arms folded, +bodies contracted, shells turned over by changing their center of +gravity, and the whole flotilla disappeared under the waves. It was +instantaneous, and no squadron of ships ever maneuvered with greater +togetherness. + +Just then night fell suddenly, and the waves barely surged in the +breeze, spreading placidly around the Nautilus’s side plates. + +The next day, January 26, we cut the equator on the 82nd meridian and +we reentered the northern hemisphere. + +During that day a fearsome school of sharks provided us with an +escort. Dreadful animals that teem in these seas and make them +extremely dangerous. There were Port Jackson sharks with a brown back, +a whitish belly, and eleven rows of teeth, bigeye sharks with necks +marked by a large black spot encircled in white and resembling an eye, +and Isabella sharks whose rounded snouts were strewn with dark +speckles. Often these powerful animals rushed at the lounge window +with a violence less than comforting. By this point Ned Land had lost +all self-control. He wanted to rise to the surface of the waves and +harpoon the monsters, especially certain smooth-hound sharks whose +mouths were paved with teeth arranged like a mosaic, and some big +five-meter tiger sharks that insisted on personally provoking him. But +the Nautilus soon picked up speed and easily left astern the fastest +of these man-eaters. + +On January 27, at the entrance to the huge Bay of Bengal, we +repeatedly encountered a gruesome sight: human corpses floating on the +surface of the waves! Carried by the Ganges to the high seas, these +were deceased Indian villagers who hadn’t been fully devoured by +vultures, the only morticians in these parts. But there was no +shortage of sharks to assist them with their undertaking chores. + +Near seven o’clock in the evening, the Nautilus lay half submerged, +navigating in the midst of milky white waves. As far as the eye could +see, the ocean seemed lactified. Was it an effect of the moon’s rays? +No, because the new moon was barely two days old and was still lost +below the horizon in the sun’s rays. The entire sky, although lit up +by stellar radiation, seemed pitch-black in comparison with the +whiteness of these waters. + +Conseil couldn’t believe his eyes, and he questioned me about the +causes of this odd phenomenon. Luckily I was in a position to answer +him. + +“That’s called a milk sea,” I told him, “a vast expanse of white waves +often seen along the coasts of Amboina and in these waterways.” + +“But,” Conseil asked, “could master tell me the cause of this effect, +because I presume this water hasn’t really changed into milk!” + +“No, my boy, and this whiteness that amazes you is merely due to the +presence of myriads of tiny creatures called infusoria, a sort of +diminutive glowworm that’s colorless and gelatinous in appearance, as +thick as a strand of hair, and no longer than one-fifth of a +millimeter. Some of these tiny creatures stick together over an area +of several leagues.” + +“Several leagues!” Conseil exclaimed. + +“Yes, my boy, and don’t even try to compute the number of these +infusoria. You won’t pull it off, because if I’m not mistaken, certain +navigators have cruised through milk seas for more than forty miles.” + +I’m not sure that Conseil heeded my recommendation, because he seemed +to be deep in thought, no doubt trying to calculate how many +one-fifths of a millimeter are found in forty square miles. As for me, +I continued to observe this phenomenon. For several hours the +Nautilus’s spur sliced through these whitish waves, and I watched it +glide noiselessly over this soapy water, as if it were cruising +through those foaming eddies that a bay’s currents and countercurrents +sometimes leave between each other. + +Near midnight the sea suddenly resumed its usual hue, but behind us +all the way to the horizon, the skies kept mirroring the whiteness of +those waves and for a good while seemed imbued with the hazy glow of +an aurora borealis. + + +CHAPTER 2 + +A New Proposition from Captain Nemo + + +ON JANUARY 28, in latitude 9 degrees 4’ north, when the Nautilus +returned at noon to the surface of the sea, it lay in sight of land +some eight miles to the west. Right off, I observed a cluster of +mountains about 2,000 feet high, whose shapes were very whimsically +sculpted. After our position fix, I reentered the lounge, and when our +bearings were reported on the chart, I saw that we were off the island +of Ceylon, that pearl dangling from the lower lobe of the Indian +peninsula. + +I went looking in the library for a book about this island, one of the +most fertile in the world. Sure enough, I found a volume entitled +Ceylon and the Singhalese by H. C. Sirr, Esq. Reentering the lounge, I +first noted the bearings of Ceylon, on which antiquity lavished so +many different names. It was located between latitude 5 degrees 55’ +and 9 degrees 49’ north, and between longitude 79 degrees 42’ and 82 +degrees 4’ east of the meridian of Greenwich; its length is 275 miles; +its maximum width, 150 miles; its circumference, 900 miles; its +surface area, 24,448 square miles, in other words, a little smaller +than that of Ireland. + +Just then Captain Nemo and his chief officer appeared. + +The captain glanced at the chart. Then, turning to me: + +“The island of Ceylon,” he said, “is famous for its pearl +fisheries. Would you be interested, Professor Aronnax, in visiting one +of those fisheries?” + +“Certainly, captain.” + +“Fine. It’s easily done. Only, when we see the fisheries, we’ll see no +fishermen. The annual harvest hasn’t yet begun. No matter. I’ll give +orders to make for the Gulf of Mannar, and we’ll arrive there late +tonight.” + +The captain said a few words to his chief officer who went out +immediately. Soon the Nautilus reentered its liquid element, and the +pressure gauge indicated that it was staying at a depth of thirty +feet. + +With the chart under my eyes, I looked for the Gulf of Mannar. I found +it by the 9th parallel off the northwestern shores of Ceylon. It was +formed by the long curve of little Mannar Island. To reach it we had +to go all the way up Ceylon’s west coast. + +“Professor,” Captain Nemo then told me, “there are pearl fisheries in +the Bay of Bengal, the seas of the East Indies, the seas of China and +Japan, plus those seas south of the United States, the Gulf of Panama +and the Gulf of California; but it’s off Ceylon that such fishing +reaps its richest rewards. No doubt we’ll be arriving a little +early. Fishermen gather in the Gulf of Mannar only during the month of +March, and for thirty days some 300 boats concentrate on the lucrative +harvest of these treasures from the sea. Each boat is manned by ten +oarsmen and ten fishermen. The latter divide into two groups, dive in +rotation, and descend to a depth of twelve meters with the help of a +heavy stone clutched between their feet and attached by a rope to +their boat.” + +“You mean,” I said, “that such primitive methods are still all that +they use?” + +“All,” Captain Nemo answered me, “although these fisheries belong to +the most industrialized people in the world, the English, to whom the +Treaty of Amiens granted them in 1802.” + +“Yet it strikes me that diving suits like yours could perform yeoman +service in such work.” + +“Yes, since those poor fishermen can’t stay long underwater. On his +voyage to Ceylon, the Englishman Percival made much of a Kaffir who +stayed under five minutes without coming up to the surface, but I find +that hard to believe. I know that some divers can last up to +fifty-seven seconds, and highly skillful ones to eighty-seven; but +such men are rare, and when the poor fellows climb back on board, the +water coming out of their noses and ears is tinted with blood. I +believe the average time underwater that these fishermen can tolerate +is thirty seconds, during which they hastily stuff their little nets +with all the pearl oysters they can tear loose. But these fishermen +generally don’t live to advanced age: their vision weakens, ulcers +break out on their eyes, sores form on their bodies, and some are even +stricken with apoplexy on the ocean floor.” + +“Yes,” I said, “it’s a sad occupation, and one that exists only to +gratify the whims of fashion. But tell me, captain, how many oysters +can a boat fish up in a workday?” + +“About 40,000 to 50,000. It’s even said that in 1814, when the English +government went fishing on its own behalf, its divers worked just +twenty days and brought up 76,000,000 oysters.” + +“At least,” I asked, “the fishermen are well paid, aren’t they?” + +“Hardly, professor. In Panama they make just $1.00 per week. In most +places they earn only a penny for each oyster that has a pearl, and +they bring up so many that have none!” + +“Only one penny to those poor people who make their employers rich! +That’s atrocious!” + +“On that note, professor,” Captain Nemo told me, “you and your +companions will visit the Mannar oysterbank, and if by chance some +eager fisherman arrives early, well, we can watch him at work.” + +“That suits me, captain.” + +“By the way, Professor Aronnax, you aren’t afraid of sharks, are you?” + +“Sharks?” I exclaimed. + +This struck me as a pretty needless question, to say the least. + +“Well?” Captain Nemo went on. + +“I admit, captain, I’m not yet on very familiar terms with that genus +of fish.” + +“We’re used to them, the rest of us,” Captain Nemo answered. “And in +time you will be too. Anyhow, we’ll be armed, and on our way we might +hunt a man-eater or two. It’s a fascinating sport. So, professor, I’ll +see you tomorrow, bright and early.” + +This said in a carefree tone, Captain Nemo left the lounge. + +If you’re invited to hunt bears in the Swiss mountains, you might say: +“Oh good, I get to go bear hunting tomorrow!” If you’re invited to +hunt lions on the Atlas plains or tigers in the jungles of India, you +might say: “Ha! Now’s my chance to hunt lions and tigers!” But if +you’re invited to hunt sharks in their native element, you might want +to think it over before accepting. + +As for me, I passed a hand over my brow, where beads of cold sweat +were busy forming. + +“Let’s think this over,” I said to myself, “and let’s take our +time. Hunting otters in underwater forests, as we did in the forests +of Crespo Island, is an acceptable activity. But to roam the bottom of +the sea when you’re almost certain to meet man-eaters in the +neighborhood, that’s another story! I know that in certain countries, +particularly the Andaman Islands, Negroes don’t hesitate to attack +sharks, dagger in one hand and noose in the other; but I also know +that many who face those fearsome animals don’t come back +alive. Besides, I’m not a Negro, and even if I were a Negro, in this +instance I don’t think a little hesitation on my part would be out of +place.” + +And there I was, fantasizing about sharks, envisioning huge jaws armed +with multiple rows of teeth and capable of cutting a man in half. I +could already feel a definite pain around my pelvic girdle. And how I +resented the offhand manner in which the captain had extended his +deplorable invitation! You would have thought it was an issue of going +into the woods on some harmless fox hunt! + +“Thank heavens!” I said to myself. “Conseil will never want to come +along, and that’ll be my excuse for not going with the captain.” + +As for Ned Land, I admit I felt less confident of his wisdom. Danger, +however great, held a perennial attraction for his aggressive nature. + +I went back to reading Sirr’s book, but I leafed through it +mechanically. Between the lines I kept seeing fearsome, wide-open +jaws. + +Just then Conseil and the Canadian entered with a calm, even gleeful +air. Little did they know what was waiting for them. + +“Ye gods, sir!” Ned Land told me. “Your Captain Nemo—the devil take +him—has just made us a very pleasant proposition!” + +“Oh!” I said. “You know about—” + +“With all due respect to master,” Conseil replied, “the Nautilus’s +commander has invited us, together with master, for a visit tomorrow +to Ceylon’s magnificent pearl fisheries. He did so in the most cordial +terms and conducted himself like a true gentleman.” + +“He didn’t tell you anything else?” + +“Nothing, sir,” the Canadian replied. “He said you’d already discussed +this little stroll.” + +“Indeed,” I said. “But didn’t he give you any details on—” + +“Not a one, Mr. Naturalist. You will be going with us, right?” + +“Me? Why yes, certainly, of course! I can see that you like the idea, +Mr. Land.” + +“Yes! It will be a really unusual experience!” + +“And possibly dangerous!” I added in an insinuating tone. + +“Dangerous?” Ned Land replied. “A simple trip to an oysterbank?” + +Assuredly, Captain Nemo hadn’t seen fit to plant the idea of sharks in +the minds of my companions. For my part, I stared at them with anxious +eyes, as if they were already missing a limb or two. Should I alert +them? Yes, surely, but I hardly knew how to go about it. + +“Would master,” Conseil said to me, “give us some background on pearl +fishing?” + +“On the fishing itself?” I asked. “Or on the occupational hazards +that—” + +“On the fishing,” the Canadian replied. “Before we tackle the terrain, +it helps to be familiar with it.” + +“All right, sit down, my friends, and I’ll teach you everything I +myself have just been taught by the Englishman H. C. Sirr!” + +Ned and Conseil took seats on a couch, and right off the Canadian said +to me: + +“Sir, just what is a pearl exactly?” + +“My gallant Ned,” I replied, “for poets a pearl is a tear from the +sea; for Orientals it’s a drop of solidified dew; for the ladies it’s +a jewel they can wear on their fingers, necks, and ears that’s oblong +in shape, glassy in luster, and formed from mother-of-pearl; for +chemists it’s a mixture of calcium phosphate and calcium carbonate +with a little gelatin protein; and finally, for naturalists it’s a +simple festering secretion from the organ that produces +mother-of-pearl in certain bivalves.” + +“Branch Mollusca,” Conseil said, “class Acephala, order Testacea.” + +“Correct, my scholarly Conseil. Now then, those Testacea capable of +producing pearls include rainbow abalone, turbo snails, giant clams, +and saltwater scallops—briefly, all those that secrete +mother-of-pearl, in other words, that blue, azure, violet, or white +substance lining the insides of their valves.” + +“Are mussels included too?” the Canadian asked. + +“Yes! The mussels of certain streams in Scotland, Wales, Ireland, +Saxony, Bohemia, and France.” + +“Good!” the Canadian replied. “From now on we’ll pay closer attention +to ’em.” + +“But,” I went on, “for secreting pearls, the ideal mollusk is the +pearl oyster Meleagrina margaritifera, that valuable shellfish. Pearls +result simply from mother-of-pearl solidifying into a globular +shape. Either they stick to the oyster’s shell, or they become +embedded in the creature’s folds. On the valves a pearl sticks fast; +on the flesh it lies loose. But its nucleus is always some small, hard +object, say a sterile egg or a grain of sand, around which the +mother-of-pearl is deposited in thin, concentric layers over several +years in succession.” + +“Can one find several pearls in the same oyster?” Conseil asked. + +“Yes, my boy. There are some shellfish that turn into real jewel +coffers. They even mention one oyster, about which I remain dubious, +that supposedly contained at least 150 sharks.” + +“150 sharks!” Ned Land yelped. + +“Did I say sharks?” I exclaimed hastily. “I meant 150 pearls. Sharks +wouldn’t make sense.” + +“Indeed,” Conseil said. “But will master now tell us how one goes +about extracting these pearls?” + +“One proceeds in several ways, and often when pearls stick to the +valves, fishermen even pull them loose with pliers. But usually the +shellfish are spread out on mats made from the esparto grass that +covers the beaches. Thus they die in the open air, and by the end of +ten days they’ve rotted sufficiently. Next they’re immersed in huge +tanks of salt water, then they’re opened up and washed. At this point +the sorters begin their twofold task. First they remove the layers of +mother-of-pearl, which are known in the industry by the names +legitimate silver, bastard white, or bastard black, and these are +shipped out in cases weighing 125 to 150 kilograms. Then they remove +the oyster’s meaty tissue, boil it, and finally strain it, in order to +extract even the smallest pearls.” + +“Do the prices of these pearls differ depending on their size?” +Conseil asked. + +“Not only on their size,” I replied, “but also according to their +shape, their water—in other words, their color—and their orient—in +other words, that dappled, shimmering glow that makes them so +delightful to the eye. The finest pearls are called virgin pearls, or +paragons; they form in isolation within the mollusk’s tissue. They’re +white, often opaque but sometimes of opalescent transparency, and +usually spherical or pear-shaped. The spherical ones are made into +bracelets; the pear-shaped ones into earrings, and since they’re the +most valuable, they’re priced individually. The other pearls that +stick to the oyster’s shell are more erratically shaped and are priced +by weight. Finally, classed in the lowest order, the smallest pearls +are known by the name seed pearls; they’re priced by the measuring cup +and are used mainly in the creation of embroidery for church +vestments.” + +“But it must be a long, hard job, sorting out these pearls by size,” +the Canadian said. + +“No, my friend. That task is performed with eleven strainers, or +sieves, that are pierced with different numbers of holes. Those pearls +staying in the strainers with twenty to eighty holes are in the first +order. Those not slipping through the sieves pierced with 100 to 800 +holes are in the second order. Finally, those pearls for which one +uses strainers pierced with 900 to 1,000 holes make up the seed +pearls.” + +“How ingenious,” Conseil said, “to reduce dividing and classifying +pearls to a mechanical operation. And could master tell us the profits +brought in by harvesting these banks of pearl oysters?” + +“According to Sirr’s book,” I replied, “these Ceylon fisheries are +farmed annually for a total profit of 3,000,000 man-eaters.” + +“Francs!” Conseil rebuked. + +“Yes, francs! 3,000,000 francs!” I went on. “But I don’t think these +fisheries bring in the returns they once did. Similarly, the Central +American fisheries used to make an annual profit of 4,000,000 francs +during the reign of King Charles V, but now they bring in only +two-thirds of that amount. All in all, it’s estimated that 9,000,000 +francs is the current yearly return for the whole pearl-harvesting +industry.” + +“But,” Conseil asked, “haven’t certain famous pearls been quoted at +extremely high prices?” + +“Yes, my boy. They say Julius Caesar gave Servilia a pearl worth +120,000 francs in our currency.” + +“I’ve even heard stories,” the Canadian said, “about some lady in +ancient times who drank pearls in vinegar.” + +“Cleopatra,” Conseil shot back. + +“It must have tasted pretty bad,” Ned Land added. + +“Abominable, Ned my friend,” Conseil replied. “But when a little glass +of vinegar is worth 1,500,000 francs, its taste is a small price to +pay.” + +“I’m sorry I didn’t marry the gal,” the Canadian said, throwing up his +hands with an air of discouragement. + +“Ned Land married to Cleopatra?” Conseil exclaimed. + +“But I was all set to tie the knot, Conseil,” the Canadian replied in +all seriousness, “and it wasn’t my fault the whole business fell +through. I even bought a pearl necklace for my fiancée, Kate Tender, +but she married somebody else instead. Well, that necklace cost me +only $1.50, but you can absolutely trust me on this, professor, its +pearls were so big, they wouldn’t have gone through that strainer with +twenty holes.” + +“My gallant Ned,” I replied, laughing, “those were artificial pearls, +ordinary glass beads whose insides were coated with Essence of +Orient.” + +“Wow!” the Canadian replied. “That Essence of Orient must sell for +quite a large sum.” + +“As little as zero! It comes from the scales of a European carp, it’s +nothing more than a silver substance that collects in the water and is +preserved in ammonia. It’s worthless.” + +“Maybe that’s why Kate Tender married somebody else,” replied Mr. Land +philosophically. + +“But,” I said, “getting back to pearls of great value, I don’t think +any sovereign ever possessed one superior to the pearl owned by +Captain Nemo.” + +“This one?” Conseil said, pointing to a magnificent jewel in its glass +case. + +“Exactly. And I’m certainly not far off when I estimate its value at +2,000,000 . . . uh . . .” + +“Francs!” Conseil said quickly. + +“Yes,” I said, “2,000,000 francs, and no doubt all it cost our captain +was the effort to pick it up.” + +“Ha!” Ned Land exclaimed. “During our stroll tomorrow, who says we +won’t run into one just like it?” + +“Bah!” Conseil put in. + +“And why not?” + +“What good would a pearl worth millions do us here on the Nautilus?” + +“Here, no,” Ned Land said. “But elsewhere. . . .” + +“Oh! Elsewhere!” Conseil put in, shaking his head. + +“In fact,” I said, “Mr. Land is right. And if we ever brought back to +Europe or America a pearl worth millions, it would make the story of +our adventures more authentic—and much more rewarding.” + +“That’s how I see it,” the Canadian said. + +“But,” said Conseil, who perpetually returned to the didactic side of +things, “is this pearl fishing ever dangerous?” + +“No,” I replied quickly, “especially if one takes certain +precautions.” + +“What risks would you run in a job like that?” Ned Land +said. “Swallowing a few gulps of salt water?” + +“Whatever you say, Ned.” Then, trying to imitate Captain Nemo’s +carefree tone, I asked, “By the way, gallant Ned, are you afraid of +sharks?” + +“Me?” the Canadian replied. “I’m a professional harpooner! It’s my job +to make a mockery of them!” + +“It isn’t an issue,” I said, “of fishing for them with a swivel hook, +hoisting them onto the deck of a ship, chopping off the tail with a +sweep of the ax, opening the belly, ripping out the heart, and tossing +it into the sea.” + +“So it’s an issue of . . . ?” + +“Yes, precisely.” + +“In the water?” + +“In the water.” + +“Ye gods, just give me a good harpoon! You see, sir, these sharks are +badly designed. They have to roll their bellies over to snap you up, +and in the meantime . . .” + +Ned Land had a way of pronouncing the word “snap” that sent chills +down the spine. + +“Well, how about you, Conseil? What are your feelings about these +man-eaters?” + +“Me?” Conseil said. “I’m afraid I must be frank with master.” + +Good for you, I thought. + +“If master faces these sharks,” Conseil said, “I think his loyal +manservant should face them with him!” + + +CHAPTER 3 + +A Pearl Worth Ten Million + + +NIGHT FELL. I went to bed. I slept pretty poorly. Man-eaters played a +major role in my dreams. And I found it more or less appropriate that +the French word for shark, requin, has its linguistic roots in the +word requiem. + +The next day at four o’clock in the morning, I was awakened by the +steward whom Captain Nemo had placed expressly at my service. I got up +quickly, dressed, and went into the lounge. + +Captain Nemo was waiting for me. + +“Professor Aronnax,” he said to me, “are you ready to start?” + +“I’m ready.” + +“Kindly follow me.” + +“What about my companions, captain?” + +“They’ve been alerted and are waiting for us.” + +“Aren’t we going to put on our diving suits?” I asked. + +“Not yet. I haven’t let the Nautilus pull too near the coast, and +we’re fairly well out from the Mannar oysterbank. But I have the skiff +ready, and it will take us to the exact spot where we’ll disembark, +which will save us a pretty long trek. It’s carrying our diving +equipment, and we’ll suit up just before we begin our underwater +exploring.” + +Captain Nemo took me to the central companionway whose steps led to +the platform. Ned and Conseil were there, enraptured with the +“pleasure trip” getting under way. Oars in position, five of the +Nautilus’s sailors were waiting for us aboard the skiff, which was +moored alongside. The night was still dark. Layers of clouds cloaked +the sky and left only a few stars in view. My eyes flew to the side +where land lay, but I saw only a blurred line covering three-quarters +of the horizon from southwest to northwest. Going up Ceylon’s west +coast during the night, the Nautilus lay west of the bay, or rather +that gulf formed by the mainland and Mannar Island. Under these dark +waters there stretched the bank of shellfish, an inexhaustible field +of pearls more than twenty miles long. + +Captain Nemo, Conseil, Ned Land, and I found seats in the stern of the +skiff. The longboat’s coxswain took the tiller; his four companions +leaned into their oars; the moorings were cast off and we pulled +clear. + +The skiff headed southward. The oarsmen took their time. I watched +their strokes vigorously catch the water, and they always waited ten +seconds before rowing again, following the practice used in most +navies. While the longboat coasted, drops of liquid flicked from the +oars and hit the dark troughs of the waves, pitter-pattering like +splashes of molten lead. Coming from well out, a mild swell made the +skiff roll gently, and a few cresting billows lapped at its bow. + +We were silent. What was Captain Nemo thinking? Perhaps that this +approaching shore was too close for comfort, contrary to the +Canadian’s views in which it still seemed too far away. As for +Conseil, he had come along out of simple curiosity. + +Near 5:30 the first glimmers of light on the horizon defined the upper +lines of the coast with greater distinctness. Fairly flat to the east, +it swelled a little toward the south. Five miles still separated it +from us, and its beach merged with the misty waters. Between us and +the shore, the sea was deserted. Not a boat, not a diver. Profound +solitude reigned over this gathering place of pearl fishermen. As +Captain Nemo had commented, we were arriving in these waterways a +month too soon. + +At six o’clock the day broke suddenly, with that speed unique to +tropical regions, which experience no real dawn or dusk. The sun’s +rays pierced the cloud curtain gathered on the easterly horizon, and +the radiant orb rose swiftly. + +I could clearly see the shore, which featured a few sparse trees here +and there. + +The skiff advanced toward Mannar Island, which curved to the +south. Captain Nemo stood up from his thwart and studied the sea. + +At his signal the anchor was lowered, but its chain barely ran because +the bottom lay no more than a meter down, and this locality was one of +the shallowest spots near the bank of shellfish. Instantly the skiff +wheeled around under the ebb tide’s outbound thrust. + +“Here we are, Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo then said. “You observe +this confined bay? A month from now in this very place, the numerous +fishing boats of the harvesters will gather, and these are the waters +their divers will ransack so daringly. This bay is felicitously laid +out for their type of fishing. It’s sheltered from the strongest +winds, and the sea is never very turbulent here, highly favorable +conditions for diving work. Now let’s put on our underwater suits, and +we’ll begin our stroll.” + +I didn’t reply, and while staring at these suspicious waves, I began +to put on my heavy aquatic clothes, helped by the longboat’s +sailors. Captain Nemo and my two companions suited up as well. None of +the Nautilus’s men were to go with us on this new excursion. + +Soon we were imprisoned up to the neck in india-rubber clothing, and +straps fastened the air devices onto our backs. As for the Ruhmkorff +device, it didn’t seem to be in the picture. Before inserting my head +into its copper capsule, I commented on this to the captain. + +“Our lighting equipment would be useless to us,” the captain answered +me. “We won’t be going very deep, and the sun’s rays will be +sufficient to light our way. Besides, it’s unwise to carry electric +lanterns under these waves. Their brightness might unexpectedly +attract certain dangerous occupants of these waterways.” + +As Captain Nemo pronounced these words, I turned to Conseil and Ned +Land. But my two friends had already encased their craniums in their +metal headgear, and they could neither hear nor reply. + +I had one question left to address to Captain Nemo. + +“What about our weapons?” I asked him. “Our rifles?” + +“Rifles! What for? Don’t your mountaineers attack bears dagger in +hand? And isn’t steel surer than lead? Here’s a sturdy blade. Slip it +under your belt and let’s be off.” + +I stared at my companions. They were armed in the same fashion, and +Ned Land was also brandishing an enormous harpoon he had stowed in the +skiff before leaving the Nautilus. + +Then, following the captain’s example, I let myself be crowned with my +heavy copper sphere, and our air tanks immediately went into action. + +An instant later, the longboat’s sailors helped us overboard one after +the other, and we set foot on level sand in a meter and a half of +water. Captain Nemo gave us a hand signal. We followed him down a +gentle slope and disappeared under the waves. + +There the obsessive fears in my brain left me. I became surprisingly +calm again. The ease with which I could move increased my confidence, +and the many strange sights captivated my imagination. + +The sun was already sending sufficient light under these waves. The +tiniest objects remained visible. After ten minutes of walking, we +were in five meters of water, and the terrain had become almost flat. + +Like a covey of snipe over a marsh, there rose underfoot schools of +unusual fish from the genus Monopterus, whose members have no fin but +their tail. I recognized the Javanese eel, a genuine eight-decimeter +serpent with a bluish gray belly, which, without the gold lines over +its flanks, could easily be confused with the conger eel. From the +butterfish genus, whose oval bodies are very flat, I observed several +adorned in brilliant colors and sporting a dorsal fin like a sickle, +edible fish that, when dried and marinated, make an excellent dish +known by the name “karawade”; then some sea poachers, fish belonging +to the genus Aspidophoroides, whose bodies are covered with scaly +armor divided into eight lengthwise sections. + +Meanwhile, as the sun got progressively higher, it lit up the watery +mass more and more. The seafloor changed little by little. Its +fine-grained sand was followed by a genuine causeway of smooth crags +covered by a carpet of mollusks and zoophytes. Among other specimens +in these two branches, I noted some windowpane oysters with thin +valves of unequal size, a type of ostracod unique to the Red Sea and +the Indian Ocean, then orange-hued lucina with circular shells, +awl-shaped auger shells, some of those Persian murex snails that +supply the Nautilus with such wonderful dye, spiky periwinkles fifteen +centimeters long that rose under the waves like hands ready to grab +you, turban snails with shells made of horn and bristling all over +with spines, lamp shells, edible duck clams that feed the Hindu +marketplace, subtly luminous jellyfish of the species Pelagia +panopyra, and finally some wonderful Oculina flabelliforma, +magnificent sea fans that fashion one of the most luxuriant tree forms +in this ocean. + +In the midst of this moving vegetation, under arbors of water plants, +there raced legions of clumsy articulates, in particular some fanged +frog crabs whose carapaces form a slightly rounded triangle, robber +crabs exclusive to these waterways, and horrible parthenope crabs +whose appearance was repulsive to the eye. One animal no less hideous, +which I encountered several times, was the enormous crab that +Mr. Darwin observed, to which nature has given the instinct and +requisite strength to eat coconuts; it scrambles up trees on the beach +and sends the coconuts tumbling; they fracture in their fall and are +opened by its powerful pincers. Here, under these clear waves, this +crab raced around with matchless agility, while green turtles from the +species frequenting the Malabar coast moved sluggishly among the +crumbling rocks. + +Near seven o’clock we finally surveyed the bank of shellfish, where +pearl oysters reproduce by the millions. These valuable mollusks stick +to rocks, where they’re strongly attached by a mass of brown filaments +that forbids their moving about. In this respect oysters are inferior +even to mussels, to whom nature has not denied all talent for +locomotion. + +The shellfish Meleagrina, that womb for pearls whose valves are nearly +equal in size, has the shape of a round shell with thick walls and a +very rough exterior. Some of these shells were furrowed with flaky, +greenish bands that radiated down from the top. These were the young +oysters. The others had rugged black surfaces, measured up to fifteen +centimeters in width, and were ten or more years old. + +Captain Nemo pointed to this prodigious heap of shellfish, and I saw +that these mines were genuinely inexhaustible, since nature’s creative +powers are greater than man’s destructive instincts. True to those +instincts, Ned Land greedily stuffed the finest of these mollusks into +a net he carried at his side. + +But we couldn’t stop. We had to follow the captain, who headed down +trails seemingly known only to himself. The seafloor rose noticeably, +and when I lifted my arms, sometimes they would pass above the surface +of the sea. Then the level of the oysterbank would lower +unpredictably. Often we went around tall, pointed rocks rising like +pyramids. In their dark crevices huge crustaceans, aiming their long +legs like heavy artillery, watched us with unblinking eyes, while +underfoot there crept millipedes, bloodworms, aricia worms, and +annelid worms, whose antennas and tubular tentacles were incredibly +long. + +Just then a huge cave opened up in our path, hollowed from a +picturesque pile of rocks whose smooth heights were completely hung +with underwater flora. At first this cave looked pitch-black to +me. Inside, the sun’s rays seemed to diminish by degrees. Their hazy +transparency was nothing more than drowned light. + +Captain Nemo went in. We followed him. My eyes soon grew accustomed to +this comparative gloom. I distinguished the unpredictably contoured +springings of a vault, supported by natural pillars firmly based on a +granite foundation, like the weighty columns of Tuscan +architecture. Why had our incomprehensible guide taken us into the +depths of this underwater crypt? I would soon find out. + +After going down a fairly steep slope, our feet trod the floor of a +sort of circular pit. There Captain Nemo stopped, and his hand +indicated an object that I hadn’t yet noticed. + +It was an oyster of extraordinary dimensions, a titanic giant clam, a +holy-water font that could have held a whole lake, a basin more than +two meters wide, hence even bigger than the one adorning the +Nautilus’s lounge. + +I approached this phenomenal mollusk. Its mass of filaments attached +it to a table of granite, and there it grew by itself in the midst of +the cave’s calm waters. I estimated the weight of this giant clam at +300 kilograms. Hence such an oyster held fifteen kilos of meat, and +you’d need the stomach of King Gargantua to eat a couple dozen. + +Captain Nemo was obviously familiar with this bivalve’s +existence. This wasn’t the first time he’d paid it a visit, and I +thought his sole reason for leading us to this locality was to show us +a natural curiosity. I was mistaken. Captain Nemo had an explicit +personal interest in checking on the current condition of this giant +clam. + +The mollusk’s two valves were partly open. The captain approached and +stuck his dagger vertically between the shells to discourage any ideas +about closing; then with his hands he raised the fringed, +membrane-filled tunic that made up the animal’s mantle. + +There, between its leaflike folds, I saw a loose pearl as big as a +coconut. Its globular shape, perfect clarity, and wonderful orient +made it a jewel of incalculable value. Carried away by curiosity, I +stretched out my hand to take it, weigh it, fondle it! But the captain +stopped me, signaled no, removed his dagger in one swift motion, and +let the two valves snap shut. + +I then understood Captain Nemo’s intent. By leaving the pearl buried +beneath the giant clam’s mantle, he allowed it to grow +imperceptibly. With each passing year the mollusk’s secretions added +new concentric layers. The captain alone was familiar with the cave +where this wonderful fruit of nature was “ripening”; he alone reared +it, so to speak, in order to transfer it one day to his dearly beloved +museum. Perhaps, following the examples of oyster farmers in China and +India, he had even predetermined the creation of this pearl by +sticking under the mollusk’s folds some piece of glass or metal that +was gradually covered with mother-of-pearl. In any case, comparing +this pearl to others I already knew about, and to those shimmering in +the captain’s collection, I estimated that it was worth at least +10,000,000 francs. It was a superb natural curiosity rather than a +luxurious piece of jewelry, because I don’t know of any female ear +that could handle it. + +Our visit to this opulent giant clam came to an end. Captain Nemo left +the cave, and we climbed back up the bank of shellfish in the midst of +these clear waters not yet disturbed by divers at work. + +We walked by ourselves, genuine loiterers stopping or straying as our +fancies dictated. For my part, I was no longer worried about those +dangers my imagination had so ridiculously exaggerated. The shallows +drew noticeably closer to the surface of the sea, and soon, walking in +only a meter of water, my head passed well above the level of the +ocean. Conseil rejoined me, and gluing his huge copper capsule to +mine, his eyes gave me a friendly greeting. But this lofty plateau +measured only a few fathoms, and soon we reentered Our Element. I +think I’ve now earned the right to dub it that. + +Ten minutes later, Captain Nemo stopped suddenly. I thought he’d +called a halt so that we could turn and start back. No. With a gesture +he ordered us to crouch beside him at the foot of a wide crevice. His +hand motioned toward a spot within the liquid mass, and I looked +carefully. + +Five meters away a shadow appeared and dropped to the seafloor. The +alarming idea of sharks crossed my mind. But I was mistaken, and once +again we didn’t have to deal with monsters of the deep. + +It was a man, a living man, a black Indian fisherman, a poor devil who +no doubt had come to gather what he could before harvest time. I saw +the bottom of his dinghy, moored a few feet above his head. He would +dive and go back up in quick succession. A stone cut in the shape of a +sugar loaf, which he gripped between his feet while a rope connected +it to his boat, served to lower him more quickly to the ocean +floor. This was the extent of his equipment. Arriving on the seafloor +at a depth of about five meters, he fell to his knees and stuffed his +sack with shellfish gathered at random. Then he went back up, emptied +his sack, pulled up his stone, and started all over again, the whole +process lasting only thirty seconds. + +This diver didn’t see us. A shadow cast by our crag hid us from his +view. And besides, how could this poor Indian ever have guessed that +human beings, creatures like himself, were near him under the waters, +eavesdropping on his movements, not missing a single detail of his +fishing! + +So he went up and down several times. He gathered only about ten +shellfish per dive, because he had to tear them from the banks where +each clung with its tough mass of filaments. And how many of these +oysters for which he risked his life would have no pearl in them! + +I observed him with great care. His movements were systematically +executed, and for half an hour no danger seemed to threaten him. So I +had gotten used to the sight of this fascinating fishing when all at +once, just as the Indian was kneeling on the seafloor, I saw him make +a frightened gesture, stand, and gather himself to spring back to the +surface of the waves. + +I understood his fear. A gigantic shadow appeared above the poor +diver. It was a shark of huge size, moving in diagonally, eyes ablaze, +jaws wide open! + +I was speechless with horror, unable to make a single movement. + +With one vigorous stroke of its fins, the voracious animal shot toward +the Indian, who jumped aside and avoided the shark’s bite but not the +thrashing of its tail, because that tail struck him across the chest +and stretched him out on the seafloor. + +This scene lasted barely a few seconds. The shark returned, rolled +over on its back, and was getting ready to cut the Indian in half, +when Captain Nemo, who was stationed beside me, suddenly stood +up. Then he strode right toward the monster, dagger in hand, ready to +fight it at close quarters. + +Just as it was about to snap up the poor fisherman, the man-eater saw +its new adversary, repositioned itself on its belly, and headed +swiftly toward him. + +I can see Captain Nemo’s bearing to this day. Bracing himself, he +waited for the fearsome man-eater with wonderful composure, and when +the latter rushed at him, the captain leaped aside with prodigious +quickness, avoided a collision, and sank his dagger into its +belly. But that wasn’t the end of the story. A dreadful battle was +joined. + +The shark bellowed, so to speak. Blood was pouring into the waves from +its wounds. The sea was dyed red, and through this opaque liquid I +could see nothing else. + +Nothing else until the moment when, through a rift in the clouds, I +saw the daring captain clinging to one of the animal’s fins, fighting +the monster at close quarters, belaboring his enemy’s belly with stabs +of the dagger yet unable to deliver the deciding thrust, in other +words, a direct hit to the heart. In its struggles the man-eater +churned the watery mass so furiously, its eddies threatened to knock +me over. + +I wanted to run to the captain’s rescue. But I was transfixed with +horror, unable to move. + +I stared, wild-eyed. I saw the fight enter a new phase. The captain +fell to the seafloor, toppled by the enormous mass weighing him +down. Then the shark’s jaws opened astoundingly wide, like a pair of +industrial shears, and that would have been the finish of Captain Nemo +had not Ned Land, quick as thought, rushed forward with his harpoon +and driven its dreadful point into the shark’s underside. + +The waves were saturated with masses of blood. The waters shook with +the movements of the man-eater, which thrashed about with +indescribable fury. Ned Land hadn’t missed his target. This was the +monster’s death rattle. Pierced to the heart, it was struggling with +dreadful spasms whose aftershocks knocked Conseil off his feet. + +Meanwhile Ned Land pulled the captain clear. Uninjured, the latter +stood up, went right to the Indian, quickly cut the rope binding the +man to his stone, took the fellow in his arms, and with a vigorous +kick of the heel, rose to the surface of the sea. + +The three of us followed him, and a few moments later, miraculously +safe, we reached the fisherman’s longboat. + +Captain Nemo’s first concern was to revive this unfortunate man. I +wasn’t sure he would succeed. I hoped so, since the poor devil hadn’t +been under very long. But that stroke from the shark’s tail could have +been his deathblow. + +Fortunately, after vigorous massaging by Conseil and the captain, I +saw the nearly drowned man regain consciousness little by little. He +opened his eyes. How startled he must have felt, how frightened even, +at seeing four huge, copper craniums leaning over him! + +And above all, what must he have thought when Captain Nemo pulled a +bag of pearls from a pocket in his diving suit and placed it in the +fisherman’s hands? This magnificent benefaction from the Man of the +Waters to the poor Indian from Ceylon was accepted by the latter with +trembling hands. His bewildered eyes indicated that he didn’t know to +what superhuman creatures he owed both his life and his fortune. + +At the captain’s signal we returned to the bank of shellfish, and +retracing our steps, we walked for half an hour until we encountered +the anchor connecting the seafloor with the Nautilus’s skiff. + +Back on board, the sailors helped divest us of our heavy copper +carapaces. + +Captain Nemo’s first words were spoken to the Canadian. + +“Thank you, Mr. Land,” he told him. + +“Tit for tat, captain,” Ned Land replied. “I owed it to you.” + +The ghost of a smile glided across the captain’s lips, and that was +all. + +“To the Nautilus,” he said. + +The longboat flew over the waves. A few minutes later we encountered +the shark’s corpse again, floating. + +From the black markings on the tips of its fins, I recognized the +dreadful Squalus melanopterus from the seas of the East Indies, a +variety in the species of sharks proper. It was more than twenty-five +feet long; its enormous mouth occupied a third of its body. It was an +adult, as could be seen from the six rows of teeth forming an +isosceles triangle in its upper jaw. + +Conseil looked at it with purely scientific fascination, and I’m sure +he placed it, not without good reason, in the class of cartilaginous +fish, order Chondropterygia with fixed gills, family Selacia, genus +Squalus. + +While I was contemplating this inert mass, suddenly a dozen of these +voracious melanoptera appeared around our longboat; but, paying no +attention to us, they pounced on the corpse and quarreled over every +scrap of it. + +By 8:30 we were back on board the Nautilus. + +There I fell to thinking about the incidents that marked our excursion +over the Mannar oysterbank. Two impressions inevitably stood out. One +concerned Captain Nemo’s matchless bravery, the other his devotion to +a human being, a representative of that race from which he had fled +beneath the seas. In spite of everything, this strange man hadn’t yet +succeeded in completely stifling his heart. + +When I shared these impressions with him, he answered me in a tone +touched with emotion: + +“That Indian, professor, lives in the land of the oppressed, and I am +to this day, and will be until my last breath, a native of that same +land!” + + +CHAPTER 4 + +The Red Sea + + +DURING THE DAY of January 29, the island of Ceylon disappeared below +the horizon, and at a speed of twenty miles per hour, the Nautilus +glided into the labyrinthine channels that separate the Maldive and +Laccadive Islands. It likewise hugged Kiltan Island, a shore of +madreporic origin discovered by Vasco da Gama in 1499 and one of +nineteen chief islands in the island group of the Laccadives, located +between latitude 10 degrees and 14 degrees 30’ north, and between +longitude 50 degrees 72’ and 69 degrees east. + +By then we had fared 16,220 miles, or 7,500 leagues, from our starting +point in the seas of Japan. + +The next day, January 30, when the Nautilus rose to the surface of the +ocean, there was no more land in sight. Setting its course to the +north-northwest, the ship headed toward the Gulf of Oman, carved out +between Arabia and the Indian peninsula and providing access to the +Persian Gulf. + +This was obviously a blind alley with no possible outlet. So where was +Captain Nemo taking us? I was unable to say. Which didn’t satisfy the +Canadian, who that day asked me where we were going. + +“We’re going, Mr. Ned, where the captain’s fancy takes us.” + +“His fancy,” the Canadian replied, “won’t take us very far. The +Persian Gulf has no outlet, and if we enter those waters, it won’t be +long before we return in our tracks.” + +“All right, we’ll return, Mr. Land, and after the Persian Gulf, if the +Nautilus wants to visit the Red Sea, the Strait of Bab el Mandeb is +still there to let us in!” + +“I don’t have to tell you, sir,” Ned Land replied, “that the Red Sea +is just as landlocked as the gulf, since the Isthmus of Suez hasn’t +been cut all the way through yet; and even if it was, a boat as +secretive as ours wouldn’t risk a canal intersected with locks. So the +Red Sea won’t be our way back to Europe either.” + +“But I didn’t say we’d return to Europe.” + +“What do you figure, then?” + +“I figure that after visiting these unusual waterways of Arabia and +Egypt, the Nautilus will go back down to the Indian Ocean, perhaps +through Mozambique Channel, perhaps off the Mascarene Islands, and +then make for the Cape of Good Hope.” + +“And once we’re at the Cape of Good Hope?” the Canadian asked with +typical persistence. + +“Well then, we’ll enter that Atlantic Ocean with which we aren’t yet +familiar. What’s wrong, Ned my friend? Are you tired of this voyage +under the seas? Are you bored with the constantly changing sight of +these underwater wonders? Speaking for myself, I’ll be extremely +distressed to see the end of a voyage so few men will ever have a +chance to make.” + +“But don’t you realize, Professor Aronnax,” the Canadian replied, +“that soon we’ll have been imprisoned for three whole months aboard +this Nautilus?” + +“No, Ned, I didn’t realize it, I don’t want to realize it, and I don’t +keep track of every day and every hour.” + +“But when will it be over?” + +“In its appointed time. Meanwhile there’s nothing we can do about it, +and our discussions are futile. My gallant Ned, if you come and tell +me, ‘A chance to escape is available to us,’ then I’ll discuss it with +you. But that isn’t the case, and in all honesty, I don’t think +Captain Nemo ever ventures into European seas.” + +This short dialogue reveals that in my mania for the Nautilus, I was +turning into the spitting image of its commander. + +As for Ned Land, he ended our talk in his best speechifying style: +“That’s all fine and dandy. But in my humble opinion, a life in jail +is a life without joy.” + +For four days until February 3, the Nautilus inspected the Gulf of +Oman at various speeds and depths. It seemed to be traveling at +random, as if hesitating over which course to follow, but it never +crossed the Tropic of Cancer. + +After leaving this gulf we raised Muscat for an instant, the most +important town in the country of Oman. I marveled at its strange +appearance in the midst of the black rocks surrounding it, against +which the white of its houses and forts stood out sharply. I spotted +the rounded domes of its mosques, the elegant tips of its minarets, +and its fresh, leafy terraces. But it was only a fleeting vision, and +the Nautilus soon sank beneath the dark waves of these waterways. + +Then our ship went along at a distance of six miles from the Arabic +coasts of Mahra and Hadhramaut, their undulating lines of mountains +relieved by a few ancient ruins. On February 5 we finally put into the +Gulf of Aden, a genuine funnel stuck into the neck of Bab el Mandeb +and bottling these Indian waters in the Red Sea. + +On February 6 the Nautilus cruised in sight of the city of Aden, +perched on a promontory connected to the continent by a narrow +isthmus, a sort of inaccessible Gibraltar whose fortifications the +English rebuilt after capturing it in 1839. I glimpsed the octagonal +minarets of this town, which used to be one of the wealthiest, busiest +commercial centers along this coast, as the Arab historian Idrisi +tells it. + +I was convinced that when Captain Nemo reached this point, he would +back out again; but I was mistaken, and much to my surprise, he did +nothing of the sort. + +The next day, February 7, we entered the Strait of Bab el Mandeb, +whose name means “Gate of Tears” in the Arabic language. Twenty miles +wide, it’s only fifty-two kilometers long, and with the Nautilus +launched at full speed, clearing it was the work of barely an +hour. But I didn’t see a thing, not even Perim Island where the +British government built fortifications to strengthen Aden’s +position. There were many English and French steamers plowing this +narrow passageway, liners going from Suez to Bombay, Calcutta, +Melbourne, Réunion Island, and Mauritius; far too much traffic for the +Nautilus to make an appearance on the surface. So it wisely stayed in +midwater. + +Finally, at noon, we were plowing the waves of the Red Sea. + +The Red Sea: that great lake so famous in biblical traditions, seldom +replenished by rains, fed by no important rivers, continually drained +by a high rate of evaporation, its water level dropping a meter and a +half every year! If it were fully landlocked like a lake, this odd +gulf might dry up completely; on this score it’s inferior to its +neighbors, the Caspian Sea and the Dead Sea, whose levels lower only +to the point where their evaporation exactly equals the amounts of +water they take to their hearts. + +This Red Sea is 2,600 kilometers long with an average width of 240. In +the days of the + +Ptolemies and the Roman emperors, it was a great commercial artery for +the world, and when its isthmus has been cut through, it will +completely regain that bygone importance that the Suez railways have +already brought back in part. + +I would not even attempt to understand the whim that induced Captain +Nemo to take us into this gulf. But I wholeheartedly approved of the +Nautilus’s entering it. It adopted a medium pace, sometimes staying on +the surface, sometimes diving to avoid some ship, and so I could +observe both the inside and topside of this highly unusual sea. + +On February 8, as early as the first hours of daylight, Mocha appeared +before us: a town now in ruins, whose walls would collapse at the mere +sound of a cannon, and which shelters a few leafy date trees here and +there. This once-important city used to contain six public +marketplaces plus twenty-six mosques, and its walls, protected by +fourteen forts, fashioned a three-kilometer girdle around it. + +Then the Nautilus drew near the beaches of Africa, where the sea is +considerably deeper. There, through the open panels and in a midwater +of crystal clarity, our ship enabled us to study wonderful bushes of +shining coral and huge chunks of rock wrapped in splendid green furs +of algae and fucus. What an indescribable sight, and what a variety of +settings and scenery where these reefs and volcanic islands leveled +off by the Libyan coast! But soon the Nautilus hugged the eastern +shore where these tree forms appeared in all their glory. This was off +the coast of Tihama, and there such zoophyte displays not only +flourished below sea level but they also fashioned picturesque +networks that unreeled as high as ten fathoms above it; the latter +were more whimsical but less colorful than the former, which kept +their bloom thanks to the moist vitality of the waters. + +How many delightful hours I spent in this way at the lounge window! +How many new specimens of underwater flora and fauna I marveled at +beneath the light of our electric beacon! Mushroom-shaped fungus +coral, some slate-colored sea anemone including the species +Thalassianthus aster among others, organ-pipe coral arranged like +flutes and just begging for a puff from the god Pan, shells unique to +this sea that dwell in madreporic cavities and whose bases are twisted +into squat spirals, and finally a thousand samples of a polypary I +hadn’t observed until then: the common sponge. + +First division in the polyp group, the class Spongiaria has been +created by scientists precisely for this unusual exhibit whose +usefulness is beyond dispute. The sponge is definitely not a plant, as +some naturalists still believe, but an animal of the lowest order, a +polypary inferior even to coral. Its animal nature isn’t in doubt, and +we can’t accept even the views of the ancients, who regarded it as +halfway between plant and animal. But I must say that naturalists are +not in agreement on the structural mode of sponges. For some it’s a +polypary, and for others, such as Professor Milne-Edwards, it’s a +single, solitary individual. + +The class Spongiaria contains about 300 species that are encountered +in a large number of seas and even in certain streams, where they’ve +been given the name freshwater sponges. But their waters of choice are +the Red Sea and the Mediterranean near the Greek Islands or the coast +of Syria. These waters witness the reproduction and growth of soft, +delicate bath sponges whose prices run as high as 150 francs apiece: +the yellow sponge from Syria, the horn sponge from Barbary, etc. But +since I had no hope of studying these zoophytes in the seaports of the +Levant, from which we were separated by the insuperable Isthmus of +Suez, I had to be content with observing them in the waters of the Red +Sea. + +So I called Conseil to my side, while at an average depth of eight to +nine meters, the Nautilus slowly skimmed every beautiful rock on the +easterly coast. + +There sponges grew in every shape, globular, stalklike, leaflike, +fingerlike. With reasonable accuracy, they lived up to their nicknames +of basket sponges, chalice sponges, distaff sponges, elkhorn sponges, +lion’s paws, peacock’s tails, and Neptune’s gloves—designations +bestowed on them by fishermen, more poetically inclined than +scientists. A gelatinous, semifluid substance coated the fibrous +tissue of these sponges, and from this tissue there escaped a steady +trickle of water that, after carrying sustenance to each cell, was +being expelled by a contracting movement. This jellylike substance +disappears when the polyp dies, emitting ammonia as it rots. Finally +nothing remains but the fibers, either gelatinous or made of horn, +that constitute your household sponge, which takes on a russet hue and +is used for various tasks depending on its degree of elasticity, +permeability, or resistance to saturation. + +These polyparies were sticking to rocks, shells of mollusks, and even +the stalks of water plants. They adorned the smallest crevices, some +sprawling, others standing or hanging like coral outgrowths. I told +Conseil that sponges are fished up in two ways, either by dragnet or +by hand. The latter method calls for the services of a diver, but it’s +preferable because it spares the polypary’s tissue, leaving it with a +much higher market value. + +Other zoophytes swarming near the sponges consisted chiefly of a very +elegant species of jellyfish; mollusks were represented by varieties +of squid that, according to Professor Orbigny, are unique to the Red +Sea; and reptiles by virgata turtles belonging to the genus Chelonia, +which furnished our table with a dainty but wholesome dish. + +As for fish, they were numerous and often remarkable. Here are the +ones that the Nautilus’s nets most frequently hauled on board: rays, +including spotted rays that were oval in shape and brick red in color, +their bodies strewn with erratic blue speckles and identifiable by +their jagged double stings, silver-backed skates, common stingrays +with stippled tails, butterfly rays that looked like huge two-meter +cloaks flapping at middepth, toothless guitarfish that were a type of +cartilaginous fish closer to the shark, trunkfish known as dromedaries +that were one and a half feet long and had humps ending in +backward-curving stings, serpentine moray eels with silver tails and +bluish backs plus brown pectorals trimmed in gray piping, a species of +butterfish called the fiatola decked out in thin gold stripes and the +three colors of the French flag, Montague blennies four decimeters +long, superb jacks handsomely embellished by seven black crosswise +streaks with blue and yellow fins plus gold and silver scales, snooks, +standard mullet with yellow heads, parrotfish, wrasse, triggerfish, +gobies, etc., plus a thousand other fish common to the oceans we had +already crossed. + +On February 9 the Nautilus cruised in the widest part of the Red Sea, +measuring 190 miles straight across from Suakin on the west coast to +Qunfidha on the east coast. + +At noon that day after our position fix, Captain Nemo climbed onto the +platform, where I happened to be. I vowed not to let him go below +again without at least sounding him out on his future plans. As soon +as he saw me, he came over, graciously offered me a cigar, and said to +me: + +“Well, professor, are you pleased with this Red Sea? Have you seen +enough of its hidden wonders, its fish and zoophytes, its gardens of +sponges and forests of coral? Have you glimpsed the towns built on its +shores?” + +“Yes, Captain Nemo,” I replied, “and the Nautilus is wonderfully +suited to this whole survey. Ah, it’s a clever boat!” + +“Yes, sir, clever, daring, and invulnerable! It fears neither the Red +Sea’s dreadful storms nor its currents and reefs.” + +“Indeed,” I said, “this sea is mentioned as one of the worst, and in +the days of the ancients, if I’m not mistaken, it had an abominable +reputation.” + +“Thoroughly abominable, Professor Aronnax. The Greek and Latin +historians can find nothing to say in its favor, and the Greek +geographer Strabo adds that it’s especially rough during the rainy +season and the period of summer prevailing winds. The Arab Idrisi, +referring to it by the name Gulf of Colzoum, relates that ships +perished in large numbers on its sandbanks and that no one risked +navigating it by night. This, he claims, is a sea subject to fearful +hurricanes, strewn with inhospitable islands, and ‘with nothing good +to offer,’ either on its surface or in its depths. As a matter of +fact, the same views can also be found in Arrian, Agatharchides, and +Artemidorus.” + +“One can easily see,” I answered, “that those historians didn’t +navigate aboard the Nautilus.” + +“Indeed,” the captain replied with a smile, “and in this respect, the +moderns aren’t much farther along than the ancients. It took many +centuries to discover the mechanical power of steam! Who knows whether +we’ll see a second Nautilus within the next 100 years! Progress is +slow, Professor Aronnax.” + +“It’s true,” I replied. “Your ship is a century ahead of its time, +perhaps several centuries. It would be most unfortunate if such a +secret were to die with its inventor!” + +Captain Nemo did not reply. After some minutes of silence: + +“We were discussing,” he said, “the views of ancient historians on the +dangers of navigating this Red Sea?” + +“True,” I replied. “But weren’t their fears exaggerated?” + +“Yes and no, Professor Aronnax,” answered Captain Nemo, who seemed to +know “his Red Sea” by heart. “To a modern ship, well rigged, solidly +constructed, and in control of its course thanks to obedient steam, +some conditions are no longer hazardous that offered all sorts of +dangers to the vessels of the ancients. Picture those early navigators +venturing forth in sailboats built from planks lashed together with +palm-tree ropes, caulked with powdered resin, and coated with dogfish +grease. They didn’t even have instruments for taking their bearings, +they went by guesswork in the midst of currents they barely +knew. Under such conditions, shipwrecks had to be numerous. But +nowadays steamers providing service between Suez and the South Seas +have nothing to fear from the fury of this gulf, despite the contrary +winds of its monsoons. Their captains and passengers no longer prepare +for departure with sacrifices to placate the gods, and after +returning, they don’t traipse in wreaths and gold ribbons to say +thanks at the local temple.” + +“Agreed,” I said. “And steam seems to have killed off all gratitude in +seamen’s hearts. But since you seem to have made a special study of +this sea, captain, can you tell me how it got its name?” + +“Many explanations exist on the subject, Professor Aronnax. Would you +like to hear the views of one chronicler in the 14th century?” + +“Gladly.” + +“This fanciful fellow claims the sea was given its name after the +crossing of the Israelites, when the Pharaoh perished in those waves +that came together again at Moses’ command: + +To mark that miraculous sequel, the sea turned a red without equal. + +Thus no other course would do but to name it for its hue.” + +“An artistic explanation, Captain Nemo,” I replied, “but I’m unable to +rest content with it. So I’ll ask you for your own personal views.” + +“Here they come. To my thinking, Professor Aronnax, this ‘Red Sea’ +designation must be regarded as a translation of the Hebrew word +‘Edrom,’ and if the ancients gave it that name, it was because of the +unique color of its waters.” + +“Until now, however, I’ve seen only clear waves, without any unique +hue.” + +“Surely, but as we move ahead to the far end of this gulf, you’ll note +its odd appearance. I recall seeing the bay of El Tur completely red, +like a lake of blood.” + +“And you attribute this color to the presence of microscopic algae?” + +“Yes. It’s a purplish, mucilaginous substance produced by those tiny +buds known by the name trichodesmia, 40,000 of which are needed to +occupy the space of one square millimeter. Perhaps you’ll encounter +them when we reach El Tur.” + +“Hence, Captain Nemo, this isn’t the first time you’ve gone through +the Red Sea aboard the Nautilus?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Then, since you’ve already mentioned the crossing of the Israelites +and the catastrophe that befell the Egyptians, I would ask if you’ve +ever discovered any traces under the waters of that great historic +event?” + +“No, professor, and for an excellent reason.” + +“What’s that?” + +“It’s because that same locality where Moses crossed with all his +people is now so clogged with sand, camels can barely get their legs +wet. You can understand that my Nautilus wouldn’t have enough water +for itself.” + +“And that locality is . . . ?” I asked. + +“That locality lies a little above Suez in a sound that used to form a +deep estuary when the Red Sea stretched as far as the Bitter +Lakes. Now, whether or not their crossing was literally miraculous, +the Israelites did cross there in returning to the Promised Land, and +the Pharaoh’s army did perish at precisely that locality. So I think +that excavating those sands would bring to light a great many weapons +and tools of Egyptian origin.” + +“Obviously,” I replied. “And for the sake of archaeology, let’s hope +that sooner or later such excavations do take place, once new towns +are settled on the isthmus after the Suez Canal has been cut through—a +canal, by the way, of little use to a ship such as the Nautilus!” + +“Surely, but of great use to the world at large,” Captain Nemo +said. “The ancients well understood the usefulness to commerce of +connecting the Red Sea with the Mediterranean, but they never dreamed +of cutting a canal between the two, and instead they picked the Nile +as their link. If we can trust tradition, it was probably Egypt’s King +Sesostris who started digging the canal needed to join the Nile with +the Red Sea. What’s certain is that in 615 B.C. King Necho II was hard +at work on a canal that was fed by Nile water and ran through the +Egyptian plains opposite Arabia. This canal could be traveled in four +days, and it was so wide, two triple-tiered galleys could pass through +it abreast. Its construction was continued by Darius the Great, son of +Hystaspes, and probably completed by King Ptolemy II. Strabo saw it +used for shipping; but the weakness of its slope between its starting +point, near Bubastis, and the Red Sea left it navigable only a few +months out of the year. This canal served commerce until the century +of Rome’s Antonine emperors; it was then abandoned and covered with +sand, subsequently reinstated by Arabia’s Caliph Omar I, and finally +filled in for good in 761 or 762 A.D. by Caliph Al-Mansur, in an +effort to prevent supplies from reaching Mohammed ibn Abdullah, who +had rebelled against him. During his Egyptian campaign, your General +Napoleon Bonaparte discovered traces of this old canal in the Suez +desert, and when the tide caught him by surprise, he wellnigh perished +just a few hours before rejoining his regiment at Hadjaroth, the very +place where Moses had pitched camp 3,300 years before him.” + +“Well, captain, what the ancients hesitated to undertake, Mr. de +Lesseps is now finishing up; his joining of these two seas will +shorten the route from Cadiz to the East Indies by 9,000 kilometers, +and he’ll soon change Africa into an immense island.” + +“Yes, Professor Aronnax, and you have every right to be proud of your +fellow countryman. Such a man brings a nation more honor than the +greatest commanders! Like so many others, he began with difficulties +and setbacks, but he triumphed because he has the volunteer +spirit. And it’s sad to think that this deed, which should have been +an international deed, which would have insured that any +administration went down in history, will succeed only through the +efforts of one man. So all hail to Mr. de Lesseps!” + +“Yes, all hail to that great French citizen,” I replied, quite +startled by how emphatically Captain Nemo had just spoken. + +“Unfortunately,” he went on, “I can’t take you through that Suez +Canal, but the day after tomorrow, you’ll be able to see the long +jetties of Port Said when we’re in the Mediterranean.” + +“In the Mediterranean!” I exclaimed. + +“Yes, professor. Does that amaze you?” + +“What amazes me is thinking we’ll be there the day after tomorrow.” + +“Oh really?” + +“Yes, captain, although since I’ve been aboard your vessel, I should +have formed the habit of not being amazed by anything!” + +“But what is it that startles you?” + +“The thought of how hideously fast the Nautilus will need to go, if +it’s to double the Cape of Good Hope, circle around Africa, and lie in +the open Mediterranean by the day after tomorrow.” + +“And who says it will circle Africa, professor? What’s this talk about +doubling the Cape of Good Hope?” + +“But unless the Nautilus navigates on dry land and crosses over the +isthmus—” + +“Or under it, Professor Aronnax.” + +“Under it?” + +“Surely,” Captain Nemo replied serenely. “Under that tongue of land, +nature long ago made what man today is making on its surface.” + +“What! There’s a passageway?” + +“Yes, an underground passageway that I’ve named the Arabian Tunnel. It +starts below Suez and leads to the Bay of Pelusium.” + +“But isn’t that isthmus only composed of quicksand?” + +“To a certain depth. But at merely fifty meters, one encounters a firm +foundation of rock.” + +“And it’s by luck that you discovered this passageway?” I asked, more +and more startled. + +“Luck plus logic, professor, and logic even more than luck.” + +“Captain, I hear you, but I can’t believe my ears.” + +“Oh, sir! The old saying still holds good: Aures habent et non +audient!* Not only does this passageway exist, but I’ve taken +advantage of it on several occasions. Without it, I wouldn’t have +ventured today into such a blind alley as the Red Sea.” + +*Latin: “They have ears but hear not.” Ed. + +“Is it indiscreet to ask how you discovered this tunnel?” + +“Sir,” the captain answered me, “there can be no secrets between men +who will never leave each other.” + +I ignored this innuendo and waited for Captain Nemo’s explanation. + +“Professor,” he told me, “the simple logic of the naturalist led me to +discover this passageway, and I alone am familiar with it. I’d noted +that in the Red Sea and the Mediterranean there exist a number of +absolutely identical species of fish: eels, butterfish, greenfish, +bass, jewelfish, flying fish. Certain of this fact, I wondered if +there weren’t a connection between the two seas. If there were, its +underground current had to go from the Red Sea to the Mediterranean +simply because of their difference in level. So I caught a large +number of fish in the vicinity of Suez. I slipped copper rings around +their tails and tossed them back into the sea. A few months later off +the coast of Syria, I recaptured a few specimens of my fish, adorned +with their telltale rings. So this proved to me that some connection +existed between the two seas. I searched for it with my Nautilus, I +discovered it, I ventured into it; and soon, professor, you also will +have cleared my Arabic tunnel!” + + +CHAPTER 5 + +Arabian Tunnel + + +THE SAME DAY, I reported to Conseil and Ned Land that part of the +foregoing conversation directly concerning them. When I told them we +would be lying in Mediterranean waters within two days, Conseil +clapped his hands, but the Canadian shrugged his shoulders. + +“An underwater tunnel!” he exclaimed. “A connection between two seas! +Who ever heard of such malarkey!” + +“Ned my friend,” Conseil replied, “had you ever heard of the Nautilus? +No, yet here it is! So don’t shrug your shoulders so blithely, and +don’t discount something with the feeble excuse that you’ve never +heard of it.” + +“We’ll soon see!” Ned Land shot back, shaking his head. “After all, +I’d like nothing better than to believe in your captain’s little +passageway, and may Heaven grant it really does take us to the +Mediterranean.” + +The same evening, at latitude 21 degrees 30’ north, the Nautilus was +afloat on the surface of the sea and drawing nearer to the Arab +coast. I spotted Jidda, an important financial center for Egypt, +Syria, Turkey, and the East Indies. I could distinguish with +reasonable clarity the overall effect of its buildings, the ships made +fast along its wharves, and those bigger vessels whose draft of water +required them to drop anchor at the port’s offshore mooring. The sun, +fairly low on the horizon, struck full force on the houses in this +town, accenting their whiteness. Outside the city limits, some wood or +reed huts indicated the quarter where the bedouins lived. + +Soon Jidda faded into the shadows of evening, and the Nautilus went +back beneath the mildly phosphorescent waters. + +The next day, February 10, several ships appeared, running on our +opposite tack. The Nautilus resumed its underwater navigating; but at +the moment of our noon sights, the sea was deserted and the ship rose +again to its waterline. + +With Ned and Conseil, I went to sit on the platform. The coast to the +east looked like a slightly blurred mass in a damp fog. + +Leaning against the sides of the skiff, we were chatting of one thing +and another, when Ned Land stretched his hand toward a point in the +water, saying to me: + +“See anything out there, professor?” + +“No, Ned,” I replied, “but you know I don’t have your eyes.” + +“Take a good look,” Ned went on. “There, ahead to starboard, almost +level with the beacon! Don’t you see a mass that seems to be moving +around?” + +“Right,” I said after observing carefully, “I can make out something +like a long, blackish object on the surface of the water.” + +“A second Nautilus?” Conseil said. + +“No,” the Canadian replied, “unless I’m badly mistaken, that’s some +marine animal.” + +“Are there whales in the Red Sea?” Conseil asked. + +“Yes, my boy,” I replied, “they’re sometimes found here.” + +“That’s no whale,” continued Ned Land, whose eyes never strayed from +the object they had sighted. “We’re old chums, whales and I, and I +couldn’t mistake their little ways.” + +“Let’s wait and see,” Conseil said. “The Nautilus is heading that +direction, and we’ll soon know what we’re in for.” + +In fact, that blackish object was soon only a mile away from us. It +looked like a huge reef stranded in midocean. What was it? I still +couldn’t make up my mind. + +“Oh, it’s moving off! It’s diving!” Ned Land exclaimed. “Damnation! +What can that animal be? It doesn’t have a forked tail like baleen +whales or sperm whales, and its fins look like sawed-off limbs.” + +“But in that case—” I put in. + +“Good lord,” the Canadian went on, “it’s rolled over on its back, and +it’s raising its breasts in the air!” + +“It’s a siren!” Conseil exclaimed. “With all due respect to master, +it’s an actual mermaid!” + +That word “siren” put me back on track, and I realized that the animal +belonged to the order Sirenia: marine creatures that legends have +turned into mermaids, half woman, half fish. + +“No,” I told Conseil, “that’s no mermaid, it’s an unusual creature of +which only a few specimens are left in the Red Sea. That’s a dugong.” + +“Order Sirenia, group Pisciforma, subclass Monodelphia, class +Mammalia, branch Vertebrata,” Conseil replied. + +And when Conseil has spoken, there’s nothing else to be said. + +Meanwhile Ned Land kept staring. His eyes were gleaming with desire at +the sight of that animal. His hands were ready to hurl a harpoon. You +would have thought he was waiting for the right moment to jump +overboard and attack the creature in its own element. + +“Oh, sir,” he told me in a voice trembling with excitement, “I’ve +never killed anything like that!” + +His whole being was concentrated in this last word. + +Just then Captain Nemo appeared on the platform. He spotted the +dugong. He understood the Canadian’s frame of mind and addressed him +directly: + +“If you held a harpoon, Mr. Land, wouldn’t your hands be itching to +put it to work?” + +“Positively, sir.” + +“And just for one day, would it displease you to return to your +fisherman’s trade and add this cetacean to the list of those you’ve +already hunted down?” + +“It wouldn’t displease me one bit.” + +“All right, you can try your luck!” + +“Thank you, sir,” Ned Land replied, his eyes ablaze. + +“Only,” the captain went on, “I urge you to aim carefully at this +animal, in your own personal interest.” + +“Is the dugong dangerous to attack?” I asked, despite the Canadian’s +shrug of the shoulders. + +“Yes, sometimes,” the captain replied. “These animals have been known +to turn on their assailants and capsize their longboats. But with +Mr. Land that danger isn’t to be feared. His eye is sharp, his arm is +sure. If I recommend that he aim carefully at this dugong, it’s +because the animal is justly regarded as fine game, and I know +Mr. Land doesn’t despise a choice morsel.” + +“Aha!” the Canadian put in. “This beast offers the added luxury of +being good to eat?” + +“Yes, Mr. Land. Its flesh is actual red meat, highly prized, and set +aside throughout Malaysia for the tables of aristocrats. Accordingly, +this excellent animal has been hunted so bloodthirstily that, like its +manatee relatives, it has become more and more scarce.” + +“In that case, captain,” Conseil said in all seriousness, “on the +offchance that this creature might be the last of its line, wouldn’t +it be advisable to spare its life, in the interests of science?” + +“Maybe,” the Canadian answered, “it would be better to hunt it down, +in the interests of mealtime.” + +“Then proceed, Mr. Land,” Captain Nemo replied. + +Just then, as mute and emotionless as ever, seven crewmen climbed onto +the platform. One carried a harpoon and line similar to those used in +whale fishing. Its deck paneling opened, the skiff was wrenched from +its socket and launched to sea. Six rowers sat on the thwarts, and the +coxswain took the tiller. Ned, Conseil, and I found seats in the +stern. + +“Aren’t you coming, captain?” I asked. + +“No, sir, but I wish you happy hunting.” + +The skiff pulled clear, and carried off by its six oars, it headed +swiftly toward the dugong, which by then was floating two miles from +the Nautilus. + +Arriving within a few cable lengths of the cetacean, our longboat +slowed down, and the sculls dipped noiselessly into the tranquil +waters. Harpoon in hand, Ned Land went to take his stand in the +skiff’s bow. Harpoons used for hunting whales are usually attached to +a very long rope that pays out quickly when the wounded animal drags +it with him. But this rope measured no more than about ten fathoms, +and its end had simply been fastened to a small barrel that, while +floating, would indicate the dugong’s movements beneath the waters. + +I stood up and could clearly observe the Canadian’s adversary. This +dugong—which also boasts the name halicore—closely resembled a +manatee. Its oblong body ended in a very long caudal fin and its +lateral fins in actual fingers. It differs from the manatee in that +its upper jaw is armed with two long, pointed teeth that form +diverging tusks on either side. + +This dugong that Ned Land was preparing to attack was of colossal +dimensions, easily exceeding seven meters in length. It didn’t stir +and seemed to be sleeping on the surface of the waves, a circumstance +that should have made it easier to capture. + +The skiff approached cautiously to within three fathoms of the +animal. The oars hung suspended above their rowlocks. I was +crouching. His body leaning slightly back, Ned Land brandished his +harpoon with expert hands. + +Suddenly a hissing sound was audible, and the dugong +disappeared. Although the harpoon had been forcefully hurled, it +apparently had hit only water. + +“Damnation!” exclaimed the furious Canadian. “I missed it!” + +“No,” I said, “the animal’s wounded, there’s its blood; but your +weapon didn’t stick in its body.” + +“My harpoon! Get my harpoon!” Ned Land exclaimed. + +The sailors went back to their sculling, and the coxswain steered the +longboat toward the floating barrel. We fished up the harpoon, and the +skiff started off in pursuit of the animal. + +The latter returned from time to time to breathe at the surface of the +sea. Its wound hadn’t weakened it because it went with tremendous +speed. Driven by energetic arms, the longboat flew on its +trail. Several times we got within a few fathoms of it, and the +Canadian hovered in readiness to strike; but then the dugong would +steal away with a sudden dive, and it proved impossible to overtake +the beast. + +I’ll let you assess the degree of anger consuming our impatient Ned +Land. He hurled at the hapless animal the most potent swearwords in +the English language. For my part, I was simply distressed to see this +dugong outwit our every scheme. + +We chased it unflaggingly for a full hour, and I’d begun to think it +would prove too difficult to capture, when the animal got the untimely +idea of taking revenge on us, a notion it would soon have cause to +regret. It wheeled on the skiff, to assault us in its turn. + +This maneuver did not escape the Canadian. + +“Watch out!” he said. + +The coxswain pronounced a few words in his bizarre language, and no +doubt he alerted his men to keep on their guard. + +Arriving within twenty feet of the skiff, the dugong stopped, sharply +sniffing the air with its huge nostrils, pierced not at the tip of its +muzzle but on its topside. Then it gathered itself and sprang at us. + +The skiff couldn’t avoid the collision. Half overturned, it shipped a +ton or two of water that we had to bail out. But thanks to our +skillful coxswain, we were fouled on the bias rather than broadside, +so we didn’t capsize. Clinging to the stempost, Ned Land thrust his +harpoon again and again into the gigantic animal, which imbedded its +teeth in our gunwale and lifted the longboat out of the water as a +lion would lift a deer. We were thrown on top of each other, and I +have no idea how the venture would have ended had not the Canadian, +still thirsting for the beast’s blood, finally pierced it to the +heart. + +I heard its teeth grind on sheet iron, and the dugong disappeared, +taking our harpoon along with it. But the barrel soon popped up on the +surface, and a few moments later the animal’s body appeared and rolled +over on its back. Our skiff rejoined it, took it in tow, and headed to +the Nautilus. + +It took pulleys of great strength to hoist this dugong onto the +platform. The beast weighed 5,000 kilograms. It was carved up in sight +of the Canadian, who remained to watch every detail of the +operation. At dinner the same day, my steward served me some slices of +this flesh, skillfully dressed by the ship’s cook. I found it +excellent, even better than veal if not beef. + +The next morning, February 11, the Nautilus’s pantry was enriched by +more dainty game. A covey of terns alighted on the Nautilus. They were +a species of Sterna nilotica unique to Egypt: beak black, head gray +and stippled, eyes surrounded by white dots, back, wings, and tail +grayish, belly and throat white, feet red. Also caught were a couple +dozen Nile duck, superior-tasting wildfowl whose neck and crown of the +head are white speckled with black. + +By then the Nautilus had reduced speed. It moved ahead at a saunter, +so to speak. I observed that the Red Sea’s water was becoming less +salty the closer we got to Suez. + +Near five o’clock in the afternoon, we sighted Cape Ras Mohammed to +the north. This cape forms the tip of Arabia Petraea, which lies +between the Gulf of Suez and the Gulf of Aqaba. + +The Nautilus entered the Strait of Jubal, which leads to the Gulf of +Suez. I could clearly make out a high mountain crowning Ras Mohammed +between the two gulfs. It was Mt. Horeb, that biblical Mt. Sinai on +whose summit Moses met God face to face, that summit the mind’s eye +always pictures as wreathed in lightning. + +At six o’clock, sometimes afloat and sometimes submerged, the Nautilus +passed well out from El Tur, which sat at the far end of a bay whose +waters seemed to be dyed red, as Captain Nemo had already +mentioned. Then night fell in the midst of a heavy silence +occasionally broken by the calls of pelicans and nocturnal birds, by +the sound of surf chafing against rocks, or by the distant moan of a +steamer churning the waves of the gulf with noisy blades. + +From eight to nine o’clock, the Nautilus stayed a few meters beneath +the waters. According to my calculations, we had to be quite close to +Suez. Through the panels in the lounge, I spotted rocky bottoms +brightly lit by our electric rays. It seemed to me that the strait was +getting narrower and narrower. + +At 9:15 when our boat returned to the surface, I climbed onto the +platform. I was quite impatient to clear Captain Nemo’s tunnel, +couldn’t sit still, and wanted to breathe the fresh night air. + +Soon, in the shadows, I spotted a pale signal light glimmering a mile +away, half discolored by mist. + +“A floating lighthouse,” said someone next to me. + +I turned and discovered the captain. + +“That’s the floating signal light of Suez,” he went on. “It won’t be +long before we reach the entrance to the tunnel.” + +“It can’t be very easy to enter it.” + +“No, sir. Accordingly, I’m in the habit of staying in the pilothouse +and directing maneuvers myself. And now if you’ll kindly go below, +Professor Aronnax, the Nautilus is about to sink beneath the waves, +and it will only return to the surface after we’ve cleared the Arabian +Tunnel.” + +I followed Captain Nemo. The hatch closed, the ballast tanks filled +with water, and the submersible sank some ten meters down. + +Just as I was about to repair to my stateroom, the captain stopped me. + +“Professor,” he said to me, “would you like to go with me to the +wheelhouse?” + +“I was afraid to ask,” I replied. + +“Come along, then. This way, you’ll learn the full story about this +combination underwater and underground navigating.” + +Captain Nemo led me to the central companionway. In midstair he opened +a door, went along the upper gangways, and arrived at the wheelhouse, +which, as you know, stands at one end of the platform. + +It was a cabin measuring six feet square and closely resembling those +occupied by the helmsmen of steamboats on the Mississippi or Hudson +rivers. In the center stood an upright wheel geared to rudder cables +running to the Nautilus’s stern. Set in the cabin’s walls were four +deadlights, windows of biconvex glass that enabled the man at the helm +to see in every direction. + +The cabin was dark; but my eyes soon grew accustomed to its darkness +and I saw the pilot, a muscular man whose hands rested on the pegs of +the wheel. Outside, the sea was brightly lit by the beacon shining +behind the cabin at the other end of the platform. + +“Now,” Captain Nemo said, “let’s look for our passageway.” + +Electric wires linked the pilothouse with the engine room, and from +this cabin the captain could simultaneously signal heading and speed +to his Nautilus. He pressed a metal button and at once the propeller +slowed down significantly. + +I stared in silence at the high, sheer wall we were skirting just +then, the firm base of the sandy mountains on the coast. For an hour +we went along it in this fashion, staying only a few meters +away. Captain Nemo never took his eyes off the two concentric circles +of the compass hanging in the cabin. At a mere gesture from him, the +helmsman would instantly change the Nautilus’s heading. + +Standing by the port deadlight, I spotted magnificent coral +substructures, zoophytes, algae, and crustaceans with enormous +quivering claws that stretched forth from crevices in the rock. + +At 10:15 Captain Nemo himself took the helm. Dark and deep, a wide +gallery opened ahead of us. The Nautilus was brazenly swallowed +up. Strange rumblings were audible along our sides. It was the water +of the Red Sea, hurled toward the Mediterranean by the tunnel’s +slope. Our engines tried to offer resistance by churning the waves +with propeller in reverse, but the Nautilus went with the torrent, as +swift as an arrow. + +Along the narrow walls of this passageway, I saw only brilliant +streaks, hard lines, fiery furrows, all scrawled by our speeding +electric light. With my hand I tried to curb the pounding of my heart. + +At 10:35 Captain Nemo left the steering wheel and turned to me: + +“The Mediterranean,” he told me. + +In less than twenty minutes, swept along by the torrent, the Nautilus +had just cleared the Isthmus of Suez. + + +CHAPTER 6 + +The Greek Islands + + +AT SUNRISE the next morning, February 12, the Nautilus rose to the +surface of the waves. + +I rushed onto the platform. The hazy silhouette of Pelusium was +outlined three miles to the south. A torrent had carried us from one +sea to the other. But although that tunnel was easy to descend, going +back up must have been impossible. + +Near seven o’clock Ned and Conseil joined me. Those two inseparable +companions had slept serenely, utterly unaware of the Nautilus’s feat. + +“Well, Mr. Naturalist,” the Canadian asked in a gently mocking tone, +“and how about that Mediterranean?” + +“We’re floating on its surface, Ned my friend.” + +“What!” Conseil put in. “Last night . . . ?” + +“Yes, last night, in a matter of minutes, we cleared that insuperable +isthmus.” + +“I don’t believe a word of it,” the Canadian replied. + +“And you’re in the wrong, Mr. Land,” I went on. “That flat coastline +curving southward is the coast of Egypt.” + +“Tell it to the marines, sir,” answered the stubborn Canadian. + +“But if master says so,” Conseil told him, “then so be it.” + +“What’s more, Ned,” I said, “Captain Nemo himself did the honors in +his tunnel, and I stood beside him in the pilothouse while he steered +the Nautilus through that narrow passageway.” + +“You hear, Ned?” Conseil said. + +“And you, Ned, who have such good eyes,” I added, “you can spot the +jetties of Port Said stretching out to sea.” + +The Canadian looked carefully. + +“Correct,” he said. “You’re right, professor, and your captain’s a +superman. We’re in the Mediterranean. Fine. So now let’s have a chat +about our little doings, if you please, but in such a way that nobody +overhears.” + +I could easily see what the Canadian was driving at. In any event, I +thought it best to let him have his chat, and we all three went to sit +next to the beacon, where we were less exposed to the damp spray from +the billows. + +“Now, Ned, we’re all ears,” I said. “What have you to tell us?” + +“What I’ve got to tell you is very simple,” the Canadian +replied. “We’re in Europe, and before Captain Nemo’s whims take us +deep into the polar seas or back to Oceania, I say we should leave +this Nautilus.” + +I confess that such discussions with the Canadian always baffled me. I +didn’t want to restrict my companions’ freedom in any way, and yet I +had no desire to leave Captain Nemo. Thanks to him and his +submersible, I was finishing my undersea research by the day, and I +was rewriting my book on the great ocean depths in the midst of its +very element. Would I ever again have such an opportunity to observe +the ocean’s wonders? Absolutely not! So I couldn’t entertain this idea +of leaving the Nautilus before completing our course of inquiry. + +“Ned my friend,” I said, “answer me honestly. Are you bored with this +ship? Are you sorry that fate has cast you into Captain Nemo’s hands?” + +The Canadian paused for a short while before replying. Then, crossing +his arms: + +“Honestly,” he said, “I’m not sorry about this voyage under the +seas. I’ll be glad to have done it, but in order to have done it, it +has to finish. That’s my feeling.” + +“It will finish, Ned.” + +“Where and when?” + +“Where? I don’t know. When? I can’t say. Or, rather, I suppose it will +be over when these seas have nothing more to teach us. Everything that +begins in this world must inevitably come to an end.” + +“I think as master does,” Conseil replied, “and it’s extremely +possible that after crossing every sea on the globe, Captain Nemo will +bid the three of us a fond farewell.” + +“Bid us a fond farewell?” the Canadian exclaimed. “You mean beat us to +a fare-thee-well!” + +“Let’s not exaggerate, Mr. Land,” I went on. “We have nothing to fear +from the captain, but neither do I share Conseil’s views. We’re privy +to the Nautilus’s secrets, and I don’t expect that its commander, just +to set us free, will meekly stand by while we spread those secrets all +over the world.” + +“But in that case what do you expect?” the Canadian asked. + +“That we’ll encounter advantageous conditions for escaping just as +readily in six months as now.” + +“Great Scott!” Ned Land put in. “And where, if you please, will we be +in six months, Mr. Naturalist?” + +“Perhaps here, perhaps in China. You know how quickly the Nautilus +moves. It crosses oceans like swallows cross the air or express trains +continents. It doesn’t fear heavily traveled seas. Who can say it +won’t hug the coasts of France, England, or America, where an escape +attempt could be carried out just as effectively as here.” + +“Professor Aronnax,” the Canadian replied, “your arguments are rotten +to the core. You talk way off in the future: ‘We’ll be here, we’ll be +there!’ Me, I’m talking about right now: we are here, and we must take +advantage of it!” + +I was hard pressed by Ned Land’s common sense, and I felt myself +losing ground. I no longer knew what arguments to put forward on my +behalf. + +“Sir,” Ned went on, “let’s suppose that by some impossibility, Captain +Nemo offered your freedom to you this very day. Would you accept?” + +“I don’t know,” I replied. + +“And suppose he adds that this offer he’s making you today won’t ever +be repeated, then would you accept?” + +I did not reply. + +“And what thinks our friend Conseil?” Ned Land asked. + +“Your friend Conseil,” the fine lad replied serenely, “has nothing to +say for himself. He’s a completely disinterested party on this +question. Like his master, like his comrade Ned, he’s a +bachelor. Neither wife, parents, nor children are waiting for him back +home. He’s in master’s employ, he thinks like master, he speaks like +master, and much to his regret, he can’t be counted on to form a +majority. Only two persons face each other here: master on one side, +Ned Land on the other. That said, your friend Conseil is listening, +and he’s ready to keep score.” + +I couldn’t help smiling as Conseil wiped himself out of +existence. Deep down, the Canadian must have been overjoyed at not +having to contend with him. + +“Then, sir,” Ned Land said, “since Conseil is no more, we’ll have this +discussion between just the two of us. I’ve talked, you’ve +listened. What’s your reply?” + +It was obvious that the matter had to be settled, and evasions were +distasteful to me. + +“Ned my friend,” I said, “here’s my reply. You have right on your side +and my arguments can’t stand up to yours. It will never do to count on +Captain Nemo’s benevolence. The most ordinary good sense would forbid +him to set us free. On the other hand, good sense decrees that we take +advantage of our first opportunity to leave the Nautilus.” + +“Fine, Professor Aronnax, that’s wisely said.” + +“But one proviso,” I said, “just one. The opportunity must be the real +thing. Our first attempt to escape must succeed, because if it +misfires, we won’t get a second chance, and Captain Nemo will never +forgive us.” + +“That’s also well put,” the Canadian replied. “But your proviso +applies to any escape attempt, whether it happens in two years or two +days. So this is still the question: if a promising opportunity comes +up, we have to grab it.” + +“Agreed. And now, Ned, will you tell me what you mean by a promising +opportunity?” + +“One that leads the Nautilus on a cloudy night within a short distance +of some European coast.” + +“And you’ll try to get away by swimming?” + +“Yes, if we’re close enough to shore and the ship’s afloat on the +surface. No, if we’re well out and the ship’s navigating under the +waters.” + +“And in that event?” + +“In that event I’ll try to get hold of the skiff. I know how to handle +it. We’ll stick ourselves inside, undo the bolts, and rise to the +surface, without the helmsman in the bow seeing a thing.” + +“Fine, Ned. Stay on the lookout for such an opportunity, but don’t +forget, one slipup will finish us.” + +“I won’t forget, sir.” + +“And now, Ned, would you like to know my overall thinking on your +plan?” + +“Gladly, Professor Aronnax.” + +“Well then, I think—and I don’t mean ‘I hope’—that your promising +opportunity won’t ever arise.” + +“Why not?” + +“Because Captain Nemo recognizes that we haven’t given up all hope of +recovering our freedom, and he’ll keep on his guard, above all in seas +within sight of the coasts of Europe.” + +“I’m of master’s opinion,” Conseil said. + +“We’ll soon see,” Ned Land replied, shaking his head with a determined +expression. + +“And now, Ned Land,” I added, “let’s leave it at that. Not another +word on any of this. The day you’re ready, alert us and we’re with +you. I turn it all over to you.” + +That’s how we ended this conversation, which later was to have such +serious consequences. At first, I must say, events seemed to confirm +my forecasts, much to the Canadian’s despair. Did Captain Nemo view us +with distrust in these heavily traveled seas, or did he simply want to +hide from the sight of those ships of every nation that plowed the +Mediterranean? I have no idea, but usually he stayed in midwater and +well out from any coast. Either the Nautilus surfaced only enough to +let its pilothouse emerge, or it slipped away to the lower depths, +although, between the Greek Islands and Asia Minor, we didn’t find +bottom even at 2,000 meters down. + +Accordingly, I became aware of the isle of Karpathos, one of the +Sporades Islands, only when Captain Nemo placed his finger over a spot +on the world map and quoted me this verse from Virgil: + +Est in Carpathio Neptuni gurgite vates + +Caeruleus Proteus . . .* + +*Latin: “There in King Neptune’s domain by Karpathos, his spokesman / + is azure-hued Proteus . . . ” Ed. + +It was indeed that bygone abode of Proteus, the old shepherd of King +Neptune’s flocks: an island located between Rhodes and Crete, which +Greeks now call Karpathos, Italians Scarpanto. Through the lounge +window I could see only its granite bedrock. + +The next day, February 14, I decided to spend a few hours studying the +fish of this island group; but for whatever reason, the panels +remained hermetically sealed. After determining the Nautilus’s +heading, I noted that it was proceeding toward the ancient island of +Crete, also called Candia. At the time I had shipped aboard the +Abraham Lincoln, this whole island was in rebellion against its +tyrannical rulers, the Ottoman Empire of Turkey. But since then I had +absolutely no idea what happened to this revolution, and Captain Nemo, +deprived of all contact with the shore, was hardly the man to keep me +informed. + +So I didn’t allude to this event when, that evening, I chanced to be +alone with the captain in the lounge. Besides, he seemed silent and +preoccupied. Then, contrary to custom, he ordered that both panels in +the lounge be opened, and going from the one to the other, he +carefully observed the watery mass. For what purpose? I hadn’t a +guess, and for my part, I spent my time studying the fish that passed +before my eyes. + +Among others I noted that sand goby mentioned by Aristotle and +commonly known by the name sea loach, which is encountered exclusively +in the salty waters next to the Nile Delta. Near them some +semiphosphorescent red porgy rolled by, a variety of gilthead that the +Egyptians ranked among their sacred animals, lauding them in religious +ceremonies when their arrival in the river’s waters announced the +fertile flood season. I also noticed some wrasse known as the tapiro, +three decimeters long, bony fish with transparent scales whose bluish +gray color is mixed with red spots; they’re enthusiastic eaters of +marine vegetables, which gives them an exquisite flavor; hence these +tapiro were much in demand by the epicures of ancient Rome, and their +entrails were dressed with brains of peacock, tongue of flamingo, and +testes of moray to make that divine platter that so enraptured the +Roman emperor Vitellius. + +Another resident of these seas caught my attention and revived all my +memories of antiquity. This was the remora, which travels attached to +the bellies of sharks; as the ancients tell it, when these little fish +cling to the undersides of a ship, they can bring it to a halt, and by +so impeding + +Mark Antony’s vessel during the Battle of Actium, one of them +facilitated the victory of Augustus Caesar. From such slender threads +hang the destinies of nations! I also observed some wonderful snappers +belonging to the order Lutianida, sacred fish for the Greeks, who +claimed they could drive off sea monsters from the waters they +frequent; their Greek name anthias means “flower,” and they live up to +it in the play of their colors and in those fleeting reflections that +turn their dorsal fins into watered silk; their hues are confined to a +gamut of reds, from the pallor of pink to the glow of ruby. I couldn’t +take my eyes off these marine wonders, when I was suddenly jolted by +an unexpected apparition. + +In the midst of the waters, a man appeared, a diver carrying a little +leather bag at his belt. It was no corpse lost in the waves. It was a +living man, swimming vigorously, sometimes disappearing to breathe at +the surface, then instantly diving again. + +I turned to Captain Nemo, and in an agitated voice: + +“A man! A castaway!” I exclaimed. “We must rescue him at all cost!” + +The captain didn’t reply but went to lean against the window. + +The man drew near, and gluing his face to the panel, he stared at us. + +To my deep astonishment, Captain Nemo gave him a signal. The diver +answered with his hand, immediately swam up to the surface of the sea, +and didn’t reappear. + +“Don’t be alarmed,” the captain told me. “That’s Nicolas from Cape +Matapan, nicknamed ‘Il Pesce.’* He’s well known throughout the +Cyclades Islands. A bold diver! Water is his true element, and he +lives in the sea more than on shore, going constantly from one island +to another, even to Crete.” + +*Italian: “The Fish.” Ed. + +“You know him, captain?” + +“Why not, Professor Aronnax?” + +This said, Captain Nemo went to a cabinet standing near the lounge’s +left panel. Next to this cabinet I saw a chest bound with hoops of +iron, its lid bearing a copper plaque that displayed the Nautilus’s +monogram with its motto Mobilis in Mobili. + +Just then, ignoring my presence, the captain opened this cabinet, a +sort of safe that contained a large number of ingots. + +They were gold ingots. And they represented an enormous sum of +money. Where had this precious metal come from? How had the captain +amassed this gold, and what was he about to do with it? + +I didn’t pronounce a word. I gaped. Captain Nemo took out the ingots +one by one and arranged them methodically inside the chest, filling it +to the top. At which point I estimate that it held more than 1,000 +kilograms of gold, in other words, close to 5,000,000 francs. + +After securely fastening the chest, Captain Nemo wrote an address on +its lid in characters that must have been modern Greek. + +This done, the captain pressed a button whose wiring was in +communication with the crew’s quarters. Four men appeared and, not +without difficulty, pushed the chest out of the lounge. Then I heard +them hoist it up the iron companionway by means of pulleys. + +Just then Captain Nemo turned to me: + +“You were saying, professor?” he asked me. + +“I wasn’t saying a thing, captain.” + +“Then, sir, with your permission, I’ll bid you good evening.” + +And with that, Captain Nemo left the lounge. + +I reentered my stateroom, very puzzled, as you can imagine. I tried in +vain to fall asleep. I kept searching for a relationship between the +appearance of the diver and that chest filled with gold. Soon, from +certain rolling and pitching movements, I sensed that the Nautilus had +left the lower strata and was back on the surface of the water. + +Then I heard the sound of footsteps on the platform. I realized that +the skiff was being detached and launched to sea. For an instant it +bumped the Nautilus’s side, then all sounds ceased. + +Two hours later, the same noises, the same comings and goings, were +repeated. Hoisted on board, the longboat was readjusted into its +socket, and the Nautilus plunged back beneath the waves. + +So those millions had been delivered to their address. At what spot on +the continent? Who was the recipient of Captain Nemo’s gold? + +The next day I related the night’s events to Conseil and the Canadian, +events that had aroused my curiosity to a fever pitch. My companions +were as startled as I was. + +“But where does he get those millions?” Ned Land asked. + +To this no reply was possible. After breakfast I made my way to the +lounge and went about my work. I wrote up my notes until five o’clock +in the afternoon. Just then—was it due to some personal +indisposition?—I felt extremely hot and had to take off my jacket made +of fan mussel fabric. A perplexing circumstance because we weren’t in +the low latitudes, and besides, once the Nautilus was submerged, it +shouldn’t be subject to any rise in temperature. I looked at the +pressure gauge. It marked a depth of sixty feet, a depth beyond the +reach of atmospheric heat. + +I kept on working, but the temperature rose to the point of becoming +unbearable. + +“Could there be a fire on board?” I wondered. + +I was about to leave the lounge when Captain Nemo entered. He +approached the thermometer, consulted it, and turned to me: + +“42 degrees centigrade,” he said. + +“I’ve detected as much, captain,” I replied, “and if it gets even +slightly hotter, we won’t be able to stand it.” + +“Oh, professor, it won’t get any hotter unless we want it to!” + +“You mean you can control this heat?” + +“No, but I can back away from the fireplace producing it.” + +“So it’s outside?” + +“Surely. We’re cruising in a current of boiling water.” + +“It can’t be!” I exclaimed. + +“Look.” + +The panels had opened, and I could see a completely white sea around +the Nautilus. Steaming sulfurous fumes uncoiled in the midst of waves +bubbling like water in a boiler. I leaned my hand against one of the +windows, but the heat was so great, I had to snatch it back. + +“Where are we?” I asked. + +“Near the island of Santorini, professor,” the captain answered me, +“and right in the channel that separates the volcanic islets of Nea +Kameni and Palea Kameni. I wanted to offer you the unusual sight of an +underwater eruption.” + +“I thought,” I said, “that the formation of such new islands had come +to an end.” + +“Nothing ever comes to an end in these volcanic waterways,” Captain +Nemo replied, “and thanks to its underground fires, our globe is +continuously under construction in these regions. According to the +Latin historians Cassiodorus and Pliny, by the year 19 of the +Christian era, a new island, the divine Thera, had already appeared in +the very place these islets have more recently formed. Then Thera sank +under the waves, only to rise and sink once more in the year 69 +A.D. From that day to this, such plutonic construction work has been +in abeyance. But on February 3, 1866, a new islet named George Island +emerged in the midst of sulfurous steam near Nea Kameni and was fused +to it on the 6th of the same month. Seven days later, on February 13, +the islet of Aphroessa appeared, leaving a ten-meter channel between +itself and Nea Kameni. I was in these seas when that phenomenon +occurred and I was able to observe its every phase. The islet of +Aphroessa was circular in shape, measuring 300 feet in diameter and +thirty feet in height. It was made of black, glassy lava mixed with +bits of feldspar. Finally, on March 10, a smaller islet called Reka +appeared next to Nea Kameni, and since then, these three islets have +fused to form one single, selfsame island.” + +“What about this channel we’re in right now?” I asked. + +“Here it is,” Captain Nemo replied, showing me a chart of the Greek +Islands. “You observe that I’ve entered the new islets in their +place.” + +“But will this channel fill up one day?” + +“Very likely, Professor Aronnax, because since 1866 eight little lava +islets have surged up in front of the port of St. Nicolas on Palea +Kameni. So it’s obvious that Nea and Palea will join in days to +come. In the middle of the Pacific, tiny infusoria build continents, +but here they’re built by volcanic phenomena. Look, sir! Look at the +construction work going on under these waves.” + +I returned to the window. The Nautilus was no longer moving. The heat +had become unbearable. From the white it had recently been, the sea +was turning red, a coloration caused by the presence of iron +salts. Although the lounge was hermetically sealed, it was filling +with an intolerable stink of sulfur, and I could see scarlet flames of +such brightness, they overpowered our electric light. + +I was swimming in perspiration, I was stifling, I was about to be +cooked. Yes, I felt myself cooking in actual fact! + +“We can’t stay any longer in this boiling water,” I told the captain. + +“No, it wouldn’t be advisable,” replied Nemo the Emotionless. + +He gave an order. The Nautilus tacked about and retreated from this +furnace it couldn’t brave with impunity. A quarter of an hour later, +we were breathing fresh air on the surface of the waves. + +It then occurred to me that if Ned had chosen these waterways for our +escape attempt, we wouldn’t have come out alive from this sea of fire. + +The next day, February 16, we left this basin, which tallies depths of +3,000 meters between Rhodes and Alexandria, and passing well out from +Cerigo Island after doubling Cape Matapan, the Nautilus left the Greek +Islands behind. + + +CHAPTER 7 + +The Mediterranean in Forty-Eight Hours + + +THE MEDITERRANEAN, your ideal blue sea: to Greeks simply “the sea,” to +Hebrews “the great sea,” to Romans mare nostrum.* Bordered by orange +trees, aloes, cactus, and maritime pine trees, perfumed with the scent +of myrtle, framed by rugged mountains, saturated with clean, +transparent air but continuously under construction by fires in the +earth, this sea is a genuine battlefield where Neptune and Pluto still +struggle for world domination. Here on these beaches and waters, says +the French historian Michelet, a man is revived by one of the most +invigorating climates in the world. + +*Latin: “our sea.” Ed. + +But as beautiful as it was, I could get only a quick look at this +basin whose surface area comprises 2,000,000 square kilometers. Even +Captain Nemo’s personal insights were denied me, because that +mystifying individual didn’t appear one single time during our +high-speed crossing. I estimate that the Nautilus covered a track of +some 600 leagues under the waves of this sea, and this voyage was +accomplished in just twenty-four hours times two. Departing from the +waterways of Greece on the morning of February 16, we cleared the +Strait of Gibraltar by sunrise on the 18th. + +It was obvious to me that this Mediterranean, pinned in the middle of +those shores he wanted to avoid, gave Captain Nemo no pleasure. Its +waves and breezes brought back too many memories, if not too many +regrets. Here he no longer had the ease of movement and freedom of +maneuver that the oceans allowed him, and his Nautilus felt cramped so +close to the coasts of both Africa and Europe. + +Accordingly, our speed was twenty-five miles (that is, twelve +four-kilometer leagues) per hour. Needless to say, Ned Land had to +give up his escape plans, much to his distress. Swept along at the +rate of twelve to thirteen meters per second, he could hardly make use +of the skiff. Leaving the Nautilus under these conditions would have +been like jumping off a train racing at this speed, a rash move if +there ever was one. Moreover, to renew our air supply, the submersible +rose to the surface of the waves only at night, and relying solely on +compass and log, it steered by dead reckoning. + +Inside the Mediterranean, then, I could catch no more of its +fast-passing scenery than a traveler might see from an express train; +in other words, I could view only the distant horizons because the +foregrounds flashed by like lightning. But Conseil and I were able to +observe those Mediterranean fish whose powerful fins kept pace for a +while in the Nautilus’s waters. We stayed on watch before the lounge +windows, and our notes enable me to reconstruct, in a few words, the +ichthyology of this sea. + +Among the various fish inhabiting it, some I viewed, others I +glimpsed, and the rest I missed completely because of the Nautilus’s +speed. Kindly allow me to sort them out using this whimsical system of +classification. It will at least convey the quickness of my +observations. + +In the midst of the watery mass, brightly lit by our electric beams, +there snaked past those one-meter lampreys that are common to nearly +every clime. A type of ray from the genus Oxyrhynchus, five feet wide, +had a white belly with a spotted, ash-gray back and was carried along +by the currents like a huge, wide-open shawl. Other rays passed by so +quickly I couldn’t tell if they deserved that name “eagle ray” coined +by the ancient Greeks, or those designations of “rat ray,” “bat ray,” +and “toad ray” that modern fishermen have inflicted on them. Dogfish +known as topes, twelve feet long and especially feared by divers, were +racing with each other. Looking like big bluish shadows, thresher +sharks went by, eight feet long and gifted with an extremely acute +sense of smell. Dorados from the genus Sparus, some measuring up to +thirteen decimeters, appeared in silver and azure costumes encircled +with ribbons, which contrasted with the dark color of their fins; fish +sacred to the goddess Venus, their eyes set in brows of gold; a +valuable species that patronizes all waters fresh or salt, equally at +home in rivers, lakes, and oceans, living in every clime, tolerating +any temperature, their line dating back to prehistoric times on this +earth yet preserving all its beauty from those far-off +days. Magnificent sturgeons, nine to ten meters long and extremely +fast, banged their powerful tails against the glass of our panels, +showing bluish backs with small brown spots; they resemble sharks, +without equaling their strength, and are encountered in every sea; in +the spring they delight in swimming up the great rivers, fighting the +currents of the Volga, Danube, Po, Rhine, Loire, and Oder, while +feeding on herring, mackerel, salmon, and codfish; although they +belong to the class of cartilaginous fish, they rate as a delicacy; +they’re eaten fresh, dried, marinated, or salt-preserved, and in olden +times they were borne in triumph to the table of the Roman epicure +Lucullus. + +But whenever the Nautilus drew near the surface, those denizens of the +Mediterranean I could observe most productively belonged to the +sixty-third genus of bony fish. These were tuna from the genus +Scomber, blue-black on top, silver on the belly armor, their dorsal +stripes giving off a golden gleam. They are said to follow ships in +search of refreshing shade from the hot tropical sun, and they did +just that with the Nautilus, as they had once done with the vessels of +the Count de La Pérouse. For long hours they competed in speed with +our submersible. I couldn’t stop marveling at these animals so +perfectly cut out for racing, their heads small, their bodies sleek, +spindle-shaped, and in some cases over three meters long, their +pectoral fins gifted with remarkable strength, their caudal fins +forked. Like certain flocks of birds, whose speed they equal, these +tuna swim in triangle formation, which prompted the ancients to say +they’d boned up on geometry and military strategy. And yet they can’t +escape the Provençal fishermen, who prize them as highly as did the +ancient inhabitants of Turkey and Italy; and these valuable animals, +as oblivious as if they were deaf and blind, leap right into the +Marseilles tuna nets and perish by the thousands. + +Just for the record, I’ll mention those Mediterranean fish that +Conseil and I barely glimpsed. There were whitish eels of the species +Gymnotus fasciatus that passed like elusive wisps of steam, conger +eels three to four meters long that were tricked out in green, blue, +and yellow, three-foot hake with a liver that makes a dainty morsel, +wormfish drifting like thin seaweed, sea robins that poets call +lyrefish and seamen pipers and whose snouts have two jagged triangular +plates shaped like old Homer’s lyre, swallowfish swimming as fast as +the bird they’re named after, redheaded groupers whose dorsal fins are +trimmed with filaments, some shad (spotted with black, gray, brown, +blue, yellow, and green) that actually respond to tinkling handbells, +splendid diamond-shaped turbot that were like aquatic pheasants with +yellowish fins stippled in brown and the left topside mostly marbled +in brown and yellow, finally schools of wonderful red mullet, real +oceanic birds of paradise that ancient Romans bought for as much as +10,000 sesterces apiece, and which they killed at the table, so they +could heartlessly watch it change color from cinnabar red when alive +to pallid white when dead. + +And as for other fish common to the Atlantic and Mediterranean, I was +unable to observe miralets, triggerfish, puffers, seahorses, +jewelfish, trumpetfish, blennies, gray mullet, wrasse, smelt, flying +fish, anchovies, sea bream, porgies, garfish, or any of the chief +representatives of the order Pleuronecta, such as sole, flounder, +plaice, dab, and brill, simply because of the dizzying speed with +which the Nautilus hustled through these opulent waters. + +As for marine mammals, on passing by the mouth of the Adriatic Sea, I +thought I recognized two or three sperm whales equipped with the +single dorsal fin denoting the genus Physeter, some pilot whales from +the genus Globicephalus exclusive to the Mediterranean, the forepart +of the head striped with small distinct lines, and also a dozen seals +with white bellies and black coats, known by the name monk seals and +just as solemn as if they were three-meter Dominicans. + +For his part, Conseil thought he spotted a turtle six feet wide and +adorned with three protruding ridges that ran lengthwise. I was sorry +to miss this reptile, because from Conseil’s description, I believe I +recognized the leatherback turtle, a pretty rare species. For my part, +I noted only some loggerhead turtles with long carapaces. + +As for zoophytes, for a few moments I was able to marvel at a +wonderful, orange-hued hydra from the genus Galeolaria that clung to +the glass of our port panel; it consisted of a long, lean filament +that spread out into countless branches and ended in the most delicate +lace ever spun by the followers of Arachne. Unfortunately I couldn’t +fish up this wonderful specimen, and surely no other Mediterranean +zoophytes would have been offered to my gaze, if, on the evening of +the 16th, the Nautilus hadn’t slowed down in an odd fashion. This was +the situation. + +By then we were passing between Sicily and the coast of Tunisia. In +the cramped space between Cape Bon and the Strait of Messina, the sea +bottom rises almost all at once. It forms an actual ridge with only +seventeen meters of water remaining above it, while the depth on +either side is 170 meters. Consequently, the Nautilus had to maneuver +with caution so as not to bump into this underwater barrier. + +I showed Conseil the position of this long reef on our chart of the +Mediterranean. + +“But with all due respect to master,” Conseil ventured to observe, +“it’s like an actual isthmus connecting Europe to Africa.” + +“Yes, my boy,” I replied, “it cuts across the whole Strait of Sicily, +and Smith’s soundings prove that in the past, these two continents +were genuinely connected between Cape Boeo and Cape Farina.” + +“I can easily believe it,” Conseil said. + +“I might add,” I went on, “that there’s a similar barrier between +Gibraltar and Ceuta, and in prehistoric times it closed off the +Mediterranean completely.” + +“Gracious!” Conseil put in. “Suppose one day some volcanic upheaval +raises these two barriers back above the waves!” + +“That’s most unlikely, Conseil.” + +“If master will allow me to finish, I mean that if this phenomenon +occurs, it might prove distressing to Mr. de Lesseps, who has gone to +such pains to cut through his isthmus!” + +“Agreed, but I repeat, Conseil: such a phenomenon won’t occur. The +intensity of these underground forces continues to diminish. Volcanoes +were quite numerous in the world’s early days, but they’re going +extinct one by one; the heat inside the earth is growing weaker, the +temperature in the globe’s lower strata is cooling appreciably every +century, and to our globe’s detriment, because its heat is its life.” + +“But the sun—” + +“The sun isn’t enough, Conseil. Can it restore heat to a corpse?” + +“Not that I’ve heard.” + +“Well, my friend, someday the earth will be just such a cold +corpse. Like the moon, which long ago lost its vital heat, our globe +will become lifeless and unlivable.” + +“In how many centuries?” Conseil asked. + +“In hundreds of thousands of years, my boy.” + +“Then we have ample time to finish our voyage,” Conseil replied, “if +Ned Land doesn’t mess things up!” + +Thus reassured, Conseil went back to studying the shallows that the +Nautilus was skimming at moderate speed. + +On the rocky, volcanic seafloor, there bloomed quite a collection of +moving flora: sponges, sea cucumbers, jellyfish called sea +gooseberries that were adorned with reddish tendrils and gave off a +subtle phosphorescence, members of the genus Beroe that are commonly +known by the name melon jellyfish and are bathed in the shimmer of the +whole solar spectrum, free-swimming crinoids one meter wide that +reddened the waters with their crimson hue, treelike basket stars of +the greatest beauty, sea fans from the genus Pavonacea with long +stems, numerous edible sea urchins of various species, plus green sea +anemones with a grayish trunk and a brown disk lost beneath the +olive-colored tresses of their tentacles. + +Conseil kept especially busy observing mollusks and articulates, and +although his catalog is a little dry, I wouldn’t want to wrong the +gallant lad by leaving out his personal observations. + +From the branch Mollusca, he mentions numerous comb-shaped scallops, +hooflike spiny oysters piled on top of each other, triangular coquina, +three-pronged glass snails with yellow fins and transparent shells, +orange snails from the genus Pleurobranchus that looked like eggs +spotted or speckled with greenish dots, members of the genus Aplysia +also known by the name sea hares, other sea hares from the genus +Dolabella, plump paper-bubble shells, umbrella shells exclusive to the +Mediterranean, abalone whose shell produces a mother-of-pearl much in +demand, pilgrim scallops, saddle shells that diners in the French +province of Languedoc are said to like better than oysters, some of +those cockleshells so dear to the citizens of Marseilles, fat white +venus shells that are among the clams so abundant off the coasts of +North America and eaten in such quantities by New Yorkers, variously +colored comb shells with gill covers, burrowing date mussels with a +peppery flavor I relish, furrowed heart cockles whose shells have +riblike ridges on their arching summits, triton shells pocked with +scarlet bumps, carniaira snails with backward-curving tips that make +them resemble flimsy gondolas, crowned ferola snails, atlanta snails +with spiral shells, gray nudibranchs from the genus Tethys that were +spotted with white and covered by fringed mantles, nudibranchs from +the suborder Eolidea that looked like small slugs, sea butterflies +crawling on their backs, seashells from the genus Auricula including +the oval-shaped Auricula myosotis, tan wentletrap snails, common +periwinkles, violet snails, cineraira snails, rock borers, ear shells, +cabochon snails, pandora shells, etc. + +As for the articulates, in his notes Conseil has very appropriately +divided them into six classes, three of which belong to the marine +world. These classes are the Crustacea, Cirripedia, and Annelida. + +Crustaceans are subdivided into nine orders, and the first of these +consists of the decapods, in other words, animals whose head and +thorax are usually fused, whose cheek-and-mouth mechanism is made up +of several pairs of appendages, and whose thorax has four, five, or +six pairs of walking legs. Conseil used the methods of our mentor +Professor Milne-Edwards, who puts the decapods in three divisions: +Brachyura, Macrura, and Anomura. These names may look a tad fierce, +but they’re accurate and appropriate. Among the Brachyura, Conseil +mentions some amanthia crabs whose fronts were armed with two big +diverging tips, those inachus scorpions that—lord knows why—symbolized +wisdom to the ancient Greeks, spider crabs of the massena and +spinimane varieties that had probably gone astray in these shallows +because they usually live in the lower depths, xanthid crabs, pilumna +crabs, rhomboid crabs, granular box crabs (easy on the digestion, as +Conseil ventured to observe), toothless masked crabs, ebalia crabs, +cymopolia crabs, woolly-handed crabs, etc. Among the Macrura (which +are subdivided into five families: hardshells, burrowers, crayfish, +prawns, and ghost crabs) Conseil mentions some common spiny lobsters +whose females supply a meat highly prized, slipper lobsters or common +shrimp, waterside gebia shrimp, and all sorts of edible species, but +he says nothing of the crayfish subdivision that includes the true +lobster, because spiny lobsters are the only type in the +Mediterranean. Finally, among the Anomura, he saw common drocina crabs +dwelling inside whatever abandoned seashells they could take over, +homola crabs with spiny fronts, hermit crabs, hairy porcelain crabs, +etc. + +There Conseil’s work came to a halt. He didn’t have time to finish off +the class Crustacea through an examination of its stomatopods, +amphipods, homopods, isopods, trilobites, branchiopods, ostracods, and +entomostraceans. And in order to complete his study of marine +articulates, he needed to mention the class Cirripedia, which contains +water fleas and carp lice, plus the class Annelida, which he would +have divided without fail into tubifex worms and dorsibranchian +worms. But having gone past the shallows of the Strait of Sicily, the +Nautilus resumed its usual deep-water speed. From then on, no more +mollusks, no more zoophytes, no more articulates. Just a few large +fish sweeping by like shadows. + +During the night of February 16-17, we entered the second +Mediterranean basin, whose maximum depth we found at 3,000 meters. The +Nautilus, driven downward by its propeller and slanting fins, +descended to the lowest strata of this sea. + +There, in place of natural wonders, the watery mass offered some +thrilling and dreadful scenes to my eyes. In essence, we were then +crossing that part of the whole Mediterranean so fertile in +casualties. From the coast of Algiers to the beaches of Provence, how +many ships have wrecked, how many vessels have vanished! Compared to +the vast liquid plains of the Pacific, the Mediterranean is a mere +lake, but it’s an unpredictable lake with fickle waves, today kindly +and affectionate to those frail single-masters drifting between a +double ultramarine of sky and water, tomorrow bad-tempered and +turbulent, agitated by the winds, demolishing the strongest ships +beneath sudden waves that smash down with a headlong wallop. + +So, in our swift cruise through these deep strata, how many vessels I +saw lying on the seafloor, some already caked with coral, others clad +only in a layer of rust, plus anchors, cannons, shells, iron fittings, +propeller blades, parts of engines, cracked cylinders, staved-in +boilers, then hulls floating in midwater, here upright, there +overturned. + +Some of these wrecked ships had perished in collisions, others from +hitting granite reefs. I saw a few that had sunk straight down, their +masting still upright, their rigging stiffened by the water. They +looked like they were at anchor by some immense, open, offshore +mooring where they were waiting for their departure time. When the +Nautilus passed between them, covering them with sheets of +electricity, they seemed ready to salute us with their colors and send +us their serial numbers! But no, nothing but silence and death filled +this field of catastrophes! + +I observed that these Mediterranean depths became more and more +cluttered with such gruesome wreckage as the Nautilus drew nearer to +the Strait of Gibraltar. By then the shores of Africa and Europe were +converging, and in this narrow space collisions were +commonplace. There I saw numerous iron undersides, the phantasmagoric +ruins of steamers, some lying down, others rearing up like fearsome +animals. One of these boats made a dreadful first impression: sides +torn open, funnel bent, paddle wheels stripped to the mountings, +rudder separated from the sternpost and still hanging from an iron +chain, the board on its stern eaten away by marine salts! How many +lives were dashed in this shipwreck! How many victims were swept under +the waves! Had some sailor on board lived to tell the story of this +dreadful disaster, or do the waves still keep this casualty a secret? +It occurred to me, lord knows why, that this boat buried under the sea +might have been the Atlas, lost with all hands some twenty years ago +and never heard from again! Oh, what a gruesome tale these +Mediterranean depths could tell, this huge boneyard where so much +wealth has been lost, where so many victims have met their deaths! + +Meanwhile, briskly unconcerned, the Nautilus ran at full propeller +through the midst of these ruins. On February 18, near three o’clock +in the morning, it hove before the entrance to the Strait of +Gibraltar. + +There are two currents here: an upper current, long known to exist, +that carries the ocean’s waters into the Mediterranean basin; then a +lower countercurrent, the only present-day proof of its existence +being logic. In essence, the Mediterranean receives a continual influx +of water not only from the Atlantic but from rivers emptying into it; +since local evaporation isn’t enough to restore the balance, the total +amount of added water should make this sea’s level higher every +year. Yet this isn’t the case, and we’re naturally forced to believe +in the existence of some lower current that carries the +Mediterranean’s surplus through the Strait of Gibraltar and into the +Atlantic basin. + +And so it turned out. The Nautilus took full advantage of this +countercurrent. It advanced swiftly through this narrow +passageway. For an instant I could glimpse the wonderful ruins of the +Temple of Hercules, buried undersea, as Pliny and Avianus have +mentioned, together with the flat island they stand on; and a few +minutes later, we were floating on the waves of the Atlantic. + + +CHAPTER 8 + +The Bay of Vigo + + +THE ATLANTIC! A vast expanse of water whose surface area is 25,000,000 +square miles, with a length of 9,000 miles and an average width of +2,700. A major sea nearly unknown to the ancients, except perhaps the +Carthaginians, those Dutchmen of antiquity who went along the west +coasts of Europe and Africa on their commercial junkets! An ocean +whose parallel winding shores form an immense perimeter fed by the +world’s greatest rivers: the St. Lawrence, Mississippi, Amazon, Plata, +Orinoco, Niger, Senegal, Elbe, Loire, and Rhine, which bring it waters +from the most civilized countries as well as the most undeveloped +areas! A magnificent plain of waves plowed continuously by ships of +every nation, shaded by every flag in the world, and ending in those +two dreadful headlands so feared by navigators, Cape Horn and the Cape +of Tempests! + +The Nautilus broke these waters with the edge of its spur after doing +nearly 10,000 leagues in three and a half months, a track longer than +a great circle of the earth. Where were we heading now, and what did +the future have in store for us? + +Emerging from the Strait of Gibraltar, the Nautilus took to the high +seas. It returned to the surface of the waves, so our daily strolls on +the platform were restored to us. + +I climbed onto it instantly, Ned Land and Conseil along with +me. Twelve miles away, Cape St. Vincent was hazily visible, the +southwestern tip of the Hispanic peninsula. The wind was blowing a +pretty strong gust from the south. The sea was swelling and +surging. Its waves made the Nautilus roll and jerk violently. It was +nearly impossible to stand up on the platform, which was continuously +buffeted by this enormously heavy sea. After inhaling a few breaths of +air, we went below once more. + +I repaired to my stateroom. Conseil returned to his cabin; but the +Canadian, looking rather worried, followed me. Our quick trip through +the Mediterranean hadn’t allowed him to put his plans into execution, +and he could barely conceal his disappointment. + +After the door to my stateroom was closed, he sat and stared at me +silently. + +“Ned my friend,” I told him, “I know how you feel, but you mustn’t +blame yourself. Given the way the Nautilus was navigating, it would +have been sheer insanity to think of escaping!” + +Ned Land didn’t reply. His pursed lips and frowning brow indicated +that he was in the grip of his monomania. + +“Look here,” I went on, “as yet there’s no cause for despair. We’re +going up the coast of Portugal. France and England aren’t far off, and +there we’ll easily find refuge. Oh, I grant you, if the Nautilus had +emerged from the Strait of Gibraltar and made for that cape in the +south, if it were taking us toward those regions that have no +continents, then I’d share your alarm. But we now know that Captain +Nemo doesn’t avoid the seas of civilization, and in a few days I think +we can safely take action.” + +Ned Land stared at me still more intently and finally unpursed his +lips: + +“We’ll do it this evening,” he said. + +I straightened suddenly. I admit that I was less than ready for this +announcement. I wanted to reply to the Canadian, but words failed me. + +“We agreed to wait for the right circumstances,” Ned Land went +on. “Now we’ve got those circumstances. This evening we’ll be just a +few miles off the coast of Spain. It’ll be cloudy tonight. The wind’s +blowing toward shore. You gave me your promise, Professor Aronnax, and +I’m counting on you.” + +Since I didn’t say anything, the Canadian stood up and approached me: + +“We’ll do it this evening at nine o’clock,” he said. “I’ve alerted +Conseil. By that time Captain Nemo will be locked in his room and +probably in bed. Neither the mechanics or the crewmen will be able to +see us. Conseil and I will go to the central companionway. As for you, +Professor Aronnax, you’ll stay in the library two steps away and wait +for my signal. The oars, mast, and sail are in the skiff. I’ve even +managed to stow some provisions inside. I’ve gotten hold of a monkey +wrench to unscrew the nuts bolting the skiff to the Nautilus’s +hull. So everything’s ready. I’ll see you this evening.” + +“The sea is rough,” I said. + +“Admitted,” the Canadian replied, “but we’ve got to risk it. Freedom +is worth paying for. Besides, the longboat’s solidly built, and a few +miles with the wind behind us is no big deal. By tomorrow, who knows +if this ship won’t be 100 leagues out to sea? If circumstances are in +our favor, between ten and eleven this evening we’ll be landing on +some piece of solid ground, or we’ll be dead. So we’re in God’s hands, +and I’ll see you this evening!” + +This said, the Canadian withdrew, leaving me close to dumbfounded. I +had imagined that if it came to this, I would have time to think about +it, to talk it over. My stubborn companion hadn’t granted me this +courtesy. But after all, what would I have said to him? Ned Land was +right a hundred times over. These were near-ideal circumstances, and +he was taking full advantage of them. In my selfish personal +interests, could I go back on my word and be responsible for ruining +the future lives of my companions? Tomorrow, might not Captain Nemo +take us far away from any shore? + +Just then a fairly loud hissing told me that the ballast tanks were +filling, and the Nautilus sank beneath the waves of the Atlantic. + +I stayed in my stateroom. I wanted to avoid the captain, to hide from +his eyes the agitation overwhelming me. What an agonizing day I spent, +torn between my desire to regain my free will and my regret at +abandoning this marvelous Nautilus, leaving my underwater research +incomplete! How could I relinquish this ocean—“my own Atlantic,” as I +liked to call it—without observing its lower strata, without wresting +from it the kinds of secrets that had been revealed to me by the seas +of the East Indies and the Pacific! I was putting down my novel half +read, I was waking up as my dream neared its climax! How painfully the +hours passed, as I sometimes envisioned myself safe on shore with my +companions, or, despite my better judgment, as I sometimes wished that +some unforeseen circumstances would prevent Ned Land from carrying out +his plans. + +Twice I went to the lounge. I wanted to consult the compass. I wanted +to see if the Nautilus’s heading was actually taking us closer to the +coast or spiriting us farther away. But no. The Nautilus was still in +Portuguese waters. Heading north, it was cruising along the ocean’s +beaches. + +So I had to resign myself to my fate and get ready to escape. My +baggage wasn’t heavy. My notes, nothing more. + +As for Captain Nemo, I wondered what he would make of our escaping, +what concern or perhaps what distress it might cause him, and what he +would do in the twofold event of our attempt either failing or being +found out! Certainly I had no complaints to register with him, on the +contrary. Never was hospitality more wholehearted than his. Yet in +leaving him I couldn’t be accused of ingratitude. No solemn promises +bound us to him. In order to keep us captive, he had counted only on +the force of circumstances and not on our word of honor. But his +avowed intention to imprison us forever on his ship justified our +every effort. + +I hadn’t seen the captain since our visit to the island of +Santorini. Would fate bring me into his presence before our departure? +I both desired and dreaded it. I listened for footsteps in the +stateroom adjoining mine. Not a sound reached my ear. His stateroom +had to be deserted. + +Then I began to wonder if this eccentric individual was even on +board. Since that night when the skiff had left the Nautilus on some +mysterious mission, my ideas about him had subtly changed. In spite of +everything, I thought that Captain Nemo must have kept up some type of +relationship with the shore. Did he himself never leave the Nautilus? +Whole weeks had often gone by without my encountering him. What was he +doing all the while? During all those times I’d thought he was +convalescing in the grip of some misanthropic fit, was he instead far +away from the ship, involved in some secret activity whose nature +still eluded me? + +All these ideas and a thousand others assaulted me at the same +time. In these strange circumstances the scope for conjecture was +unlimited. I felt an unbearable queasiness. This day of waiting seemed +endless. The hours struck too slowly to keep up with my impatience. + +As usual, dinner was served me in my stateroom. Full of anxiety, I ate +little. I left the table at seven o’clock. 120 minutes—I was keeping +track of them—still separated me from the moment I was to rejoin Ned +Land. My agitation increased. My pulse was throbbing violently. I +couldn’t stand still. I walked up and down, hoping to calm my troubled +mind with movement. The possibility of perishing in our reckless +undertaking was the least of my worries; my heart was pounding at the +thought that our plans might be discovered before we had left the +Nautilus, at the thought of being hauled in front of Captain Nemo and +finding him angered, or worse, saddened by my deserting him. + +I wanted to see the lounge one last time. I went down the gangways and +arrived at the museum where I had spent so many pleasant and +productive hours. I stared at all its wealth, all its treasures, like +a man on the eve of his eternal exile, a man departing to return no +more. For so many days now, these natural wonders and artistic +masterworks had been central to my life, and I was about to leave them +behind forever. I wanted to plunge my eyes through the lounge window +and into these Atlantic waters; but the panels were hermetically +sealed, and a mantle of sheet iron separated me from this ocean with +which I was still unfamiliar. + +Crossing through the lounge, I arrived at the door, contrived in one +of the canted corners, that opened into the captain’s stateroom. Much +to my astonishment, this door was ajar. I instinctively recoiled. If +Captain Nemo was in his stateroom, he might see me. But, not hearing +any sounds, I approached. The stateroom was deserted. I pushed the +door open. I took a few steps inside. Still the same austere, monastic +appearance. + +Just then my eye was caught by some etchings hanging on the wall, +which I hadn’t noticed during my first visit. They were portraits of +great men of history who had spent their lives in perpetual devotion +to a great human ideal: Thaddeus Kosciusko, the hero whose dying words +had been Finis Poloniae;* Markos Botzaris, for modern Greece the +reincarnation of Sparta’s King Leonidas; Daniel O’Connell, Ireland’s +defender; George Washington, founder of the American Union; Daniele +Manin, the Italian patriot; Abraham Lincoln, dead from the bullet of a +believer in slavery; and finally, that martyr for the redemption of +the black race, John Brown, hanging from his gallows as Victor Hugo’s +pencil has so terrifyingly depicted. + +*Latin: “Save Poland’s borders.” Ed. + +What was the bond between these heroic souls and the soul of Captain +Nemo? From this collection of portraits could I finally unravel the +mystery of his existence? Was he a fighter for oppressed peoples, a +liberator of enslaved races? Had he figured in the recent political or +social upheavals of this century? Was he a hero of that dreadful civil +war in America, a war lamentable yet forever glorious . . . ? + +Suddenly the clock struck eight. The first stroke of its hammer on the +chime snapped me out of my musings. I shuddered as if some invisible +eye had plunged into my innermost thoughts, and I rushed outside the +stateroom. + +There my eyes fell on the compass. Our heading was still +northerly. The log indicated a moderate speed, the pressure gauge a +depth of about sixty feet. So circumstances were in favor of the +Canadian’s plans. + +I stayed in my stateroom. I dressed warmly: fishing boots, otter cap, +coat of fan-mussel fabric lined with sealskin. I was ready. I was +waiting. Only the propeller’s vibrations disturbed the deep silence +reigning on board. I cocked an ear and listened. Would a sudden +outburst of voices tell me that Ned Land’s escape plans had just been +detected? A ghastly uneasiness stole through me. I tried in vain to +recover my composure. + +A few minutes before nine o’clock, I glued my ear to the captain’s +door. Not a sound. I left my stateroom and returned to the lounge, +which was deserted and plunged in near darkness. + +I opened the door leading to the library. The same inadequate light, +the same solitude. I went to man my post near the door opening into +the well of the central companionway. I waited for Ned Land’s signal. + +At this point the propeller’s vibrations slowed down appreciably, then +they died out altogether. Why was the Nautilus stopping? Whether this +layover would help or hinder Ned Land’s schemes I couldn’t have said. + +The silence was further disturbed only by the pounding of my heart. + +Suddenly I felt a mild jolt. I realized the Nautilus had come to rest +on the ocean floor. My alarm increased. The Canadian’s signal hadn’t +reached me. I longed to rejoin Ned Land and urge him to postpone his +attempt. I sensed that we were no longer navigating under normal +conditions. + +Just then the door to the main lounge opened and Captain Nemo +appeared. He saw me, and without further preamble: + +“Ah, professor,” he said in an affable tone, “I’ve been looking for +you. Do you know your Spanish history?” + +Even if he knew it by heart, a man in my disturbed, befuddled +condition couldn’t have quoted a syllable of his own country’s +history. + +“Well?” Captain Nemo went on. “Did you hear my question? Do you know +the history of Spain?” + +“Very little of it,” I replied. + +“The most learned men,” the captain said, “still have much to +learn. Have a seat,” he added, “and I’ll tell you about an unusual +episode in this body of history.” + +The captain stretched out on a couch, and I mechanically took a seat +near him, but half in the shadows. + +“Professor,” he said, “listen carefully. This piece of history +concerns you in one definite respect, because it will answer a +question you’ve no doubt been unable to resolve.” + +“I’m listening, captain,” I said, not knowing what my partner in this +dialogue was driving at, and wondering if this incident related to our +escape plans. + +“Professor,” Captain Nemo went on, “if you’re amenable, we’ll go back +in time to 1702. You’re aware of the fact that in those days your King +Louis XIV thought an imperial gesture would suffice to humble the +Pyrenees in the dust, so he inflicted his grandson, the Duke of Anjou, +on the Spaniards. Reigning more or less poorly under the name King +Philip V, this aristocrat had to deal with mighty opponents abroad. + +“In essence, the year before, the royal houses of Holland, Austria, +and England had signed a treaty of alliance at The Hague, aiming to +wrest the Spanish crown from King Philip V and to place it on the head +of an archduke whom they prematurely dubbed King Charles III. + +“Spain had to withstand these allies. But the country had practically +no army or navy. Yet it wasn’t short of money, provided that its +galleons, laden with gold and silver from America, could enter its +ports. Now then, late in 1702 Spain was expecting a rich convoy, which +France ventured to escort with a fleet of twenty-three vessels under +the command of Admiral de Chateau-Renault, because by that time the +allied navies were roving the Atlantic. + +“This convoy was supposed to put into Cadiz, but after learning that +the English fleet lay across those waterways, the admiral decided to +make for a French port. + +“The Spanish commanders in the convoy objected to this decision. They +wanted to be taken to a Spanish port, if not to Cadiz, then to the Bay +of Vigo, located on Spain’s northwest coast and not blockaded. + +“Admiral de Chateau-Renault was so indecisive as to obey this +directive, and the galleons entered the Bay of Vigo. + +“Unfortunately this bay forms an open, offshore mooring that’s +impossible to defend. So it was essential to hurry and empty the +galleons before the allied fleets arrived, and there would have been +ample time for this unloading, if a wretched question of trade +agreements hadn’t suddenly come up. + +“Are you clear on the chain of events?” Captain Nemo asked me. + +“Perfectly clear,” I said, not yet knowing why I was being given this +history lesson. + +“Then I’ll continue. Here’s what came to pass. The tradesmen of Cadiz +had negotiated a charter whereby they were to receive all merchandise +coming from the West Indies. Now then, unloading the ingots from those +galleons at the port of Vigo would have been a violation of their +rights. So they lodged a complaint in Madrid, and they obtained an +order from the indecisive King Philip V: without unloading, the convoy +would stay in custody at the offshore mooring of Vigo until the enemy +fleets had retreated. + +“Now then, just as this decision was being handed down, English +vessels arrived in the Bay of Vigo on October 22, 1702. Despite his +inferior forces, Admiral de Chateau-Renault fought courageously. But +when he saw that the convoy’s wealth was about to fall into enemy +hands, he burned and scuttled the galleons, which went to the bottom +with their immense treasures.” + +Captain Nemo stopped. I admit it: I still couldn’t see how this piece +of history concerned me. + +“Well?” I asked him. + +“Well, Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo answered me, “we’re actually +in that Bay of Vigo, and all that’s left is for you to probe the +mysteries of the place.” + +The captain stood up and invited me to follow him. I’d had time to +collect myself. I did so. The lounge was dark, but the sea’s waves +sparkled through the transparent windows. I stared. + +Around the Nautilus for a half-mile radius, the waters seemed +saturated with electric light. The sandy bottom was clear and +bright. Dressed in diving suits, crewmen were busy clearing away +half-rotted barrels and disemboweled trunks in the midst of the dingy +hulks of ships. Out of these trunks and kegs spilled ingots of gold +and silver, cascades of jewels, pieces of eight. The sand was heaped +with them. Then, laden with these valuable spoils, the men returned to +the Nautilus, dropped off their burdens inside, and went to resume +this inexhaustible fishing for silver and gold. + +I understood. This was the setting of that battle on October 22, +1702. Here, in this very place, those galleons carrying treasure to +the Spanish government had gone to the bottom. Here, whenever he +needed, Captain Nemo came to withdraw these millions to ballast his +Nautilus. It was for him, for him alone, that America had yielded up +its precious metals. He was the direct, sole heir to these treasures +wrested from the Incas and those peoples conquered by Hernando Cortez! + +“Did you know, professor,” he asked me with a smile, “that the sea +contained such wealth?” + +“I know it’s estimated,” I replied, “that there are 2,000,000 metric +tons of silver held in suspension in seawater.” + +“Surely, but in extracting that silver, your expenses would outweigh +your profits. Here, by contrast, I have only to pick up what other men +have lost, and not only in this Bay of Vigo but at a thousand other +sites where ships have gone down, whose positions are marked on my +underwater chart. Do you understand now that I’m rich to the tune of +billions?” + +“I understand, captain. Nevertheless, allow me to inform you that by +harvesting this very Bay of Vigo, you’re simply forestalling the +efforts of a rival organization.” + +“What organization?” + +“A company chartered by the Spanish government to search for these +sunken galleons. The company’s investors were lured by the bait of +enormous gains, because this scuttled treasure is estimated to be +worth 500,000,000 francs.” + +“It was 500,000,000 francs,” Captain Nemo replied, “but no more!” + +“Right,” I said. “Hence a timely warning to those investors would be +an act of charity. Yet who knows if it would be well received? Usually +what gamblers regret the most isn’t the loss of their money so much as +the loss of their insane hopes. But ultimately I feel less sorry for +them than for the thousands of unfortunate people who would have +benefited from a fair distribution of this wealth, whereas now it will +be of no help to them!” + +No sooner had I voiced this regret than I felt it must have wounded +Captain Nemo. + +“No help!” he replied with growing animation. “Sir, what makes you +assume this wealth goes to waste when I’m the one amassing it? Do you +think I toil to gather this treasure out of selfishness? Who says I +don’t put it to good use? Do you think I’m unaware of the suffering +beings and oppressed races living on this earth, poor people to +comfort, victims to avenge? Don’t you understand . . . ?” + +Captain Nemo stopped on these last words, perhaps sorry that he had +said too much. But I had guessed. Whatever motives had driven him to +seek independence under the seas, he remained a human being before all +else! His heart still throbbed for suffering humanity, and his immense +philanthropy went out both to downtrodden races and to individuals! + +And now I knew where Captain Nemo had delivered those millions, when +the Nautilus navigated the waters where Crete was in rebellion against +the Ottoman Empire! + + +CHAPTER 9 + +A Lost Continent + + +THE NEXT MORNING, February 19, I beheld the Canadian entering my +stateroom. I was expecting this visit. He wore an expression of great +disappointment. + +“Well, sir?” he said to me. + +“Well, Ned, the fates were against us yesterday.” + +“Yes! That damned captain had to call a halt just as we were going to +escape from his boat.” + +“Yes, Ned, he had business with his bankers.” + +“His bankers?” + +“Or rather his bank vaults. By which I mean this ocean, where his +wealth is safer than in any national treasury.” + +I then related the evening’s incidents to the Canadian, secretly +hoping he would come around to the idea of not deserting the captain; +but my narrative had no result other than Ned’s voicing deep regret +that he hadn’t strolled across the Vigo battlefield on his own behalf. + +“Anyhow,” he said, “it’s not over yet! My first harpoon missed, that’s +all! We’ll succeed the next time, and as soon as this evening, if need +be . . .” + +“What’s the Nautilus’s heading?” I asked. + +“I’ve no idea,” Ned replied. + +“All right, at noon we’ll find out what our position is!” + +The Canadian returned to Conseil’s side. As soon as I was dressed, I +went into the lounge. The compass wasn’t encouraging. The Nautilus’s +course was south-southwest. We were turning our backs on Europe. + +I could hardly wait until our position was reported on the chart. Near +11:30 the ballast tanks emptied, and the submersible rose to the +surface of the ocean. I leaped onto the platform. Ned Land was already +there. + +No more shore in sight. Nothing but the immenseness of the sea. A few +sails were on the horizon, no doubt ships going as far as Cape São +Roque to find favorable winds for doubling the Cape of Good Hope. The +sky was overcast. A squall was on the way. + +Furious, Ned tried to see through the mists on the horizon. He still +hoped that behind all that fog there lay those shores he longed for. + +At noon the sun made a momentary appearance. Taking advantage of this +rift in the clouds, the chief officer took the orb’s altitude. Then +the sea grew turbulent, we went below again, and the hatch closed once +more. + +When I consulted the chart an hour later, I saw that the Nautilus’s +position was marked at longitude 16 degrees 17’ and latitude 33 +degrees 22’, a good 150 leagues from the nearest coast. It wouldn’t do +to even dream of escaping, and I’ll let the reader decide how promptly +the Canadian threw a tantrum when I ventured to tell him our +situation. + +As for me, I wasn’t exactly grief-stricken. I felt as if a heavy +weight had been lifted from me, and I was able to resume my regular +tasks in a state of comparative calm. + +Near eleven o’clock in the evening, I received a most unexpected visit +from Captain Nemo. He asked me very graciously if I felt exhausted +from our vigil the night before. I said no. + +“Then, Professor Aronnax, I propose an unusual excursion.” + +“Propose away, captain.” + +“So far you’ve visited the ocean depths only by day and under +sunlight. Would you like to see these depths on a dark night?” + +“Very much.” + +“I warn you, this will be an exhausting stroll. We’ll need to walk +long hours and scale a mountain. The roads aren’t terribly well kept +up.” + +“Everything you say, captain, just increases my curiosity. I’m ready +to go with you.” + +“Then come along, professor, and we’ll go put on our diving suits.” + +Arriving at the wardrobe, I saw that neither my companions nor any +crewmen would be coming with us on this excursion. Captain Nemo hadn’t +even suggested my fetching Ned or Conseil. + +In a few moments we had put on our equipment. Air tanks, abundantly +charged, were placed on our backs, but the electric lamps were not in +readiness. I commented on this to the captain. + +“They’ll be useless to us,” he replied. + +I thought I hadn’t heard him right, but I couldn’t repeat my comment +because the captain’s head had already disappeared into its metal +covering. I finished harnessing myself, I felt an alpenstock being +placed in my hand, and a few minutes later, after the usual +procedures, we set foot on the floor of the Atlantic, 300 meters down. + +Midnight was approaching. The waters were profoundly dark, but Captain +Nemo pointed to a reddish spot in the distance, a sort of wide glow +shimmering about two miles from the Nautilus. What this fire was, what +substances fed it, how and why it kept burning in the liquid mass, I +couldn’t say. Anyhow it lit our way, although hazily, but I soon grew +accustomed to this unique gloom, and in these circumstances I +understood the uselessness of the Ruhmkorff device. + +Side by side, Captain Nemo and I walked directly toward this +conspicuous flame. The level seafloor rose imperceptibly. We took long +strides, helped by our alpenstocks; but in general our progress was +slow, because our feet kept sinking into a kind of slimy mud mixed +with seaweed and assorted flat stones. + +As we moved forward, I heard a kind of pitter-patter above my +head. Sometimes this noise increased and became a continuous +crackle. I soon realized the cause. It was a heavy rainfall rattling +on the surface of the waves. Instinctively I worried that I might get +soaked! By water in the midst of water! I couldn’t help smiling at +this outlandish notion. But to tell the truth, wearing these heavy +diving suits, you no longer feel the liquid element, you simply think +you’re in the midst of air a little denser than air on land, that’s +all. + +After half an hour of walking, the seafloor grew rocky. Jellyfish, +microscopic crustaceans, and sea-pen coral lit it faintly with their +phosphorescent glimmers. I glimpsed piles of stones covered by a +couple million zoophytes and tangles of algae. My feet often slipped +on this viscous seaweed carpet, and without my alpenstock I would have +fallen more than once. When I turned around, I could still see the +Nautilus’s whitish beacon, which was starting to grow pale in the +distance. + +Those piles of stones just mentioned were laid out on the ocean floor +with a distinct but inexplicable symmetry. I spotted gigantic furrows +trailing off into the distant darkness, their length +incalculable. There also were other peculiarities I couldn’t make +sense of. It seemed to me that my heavy lead soles were crushing a +litter of bones that made a dry crackling noise. So what were these +vast plains we were now crossing? I wanted to ask the captain, but I +still didn’t grasp that sign language that allowed him to chat with +his companions when they went with him on his underwater excursions. + +Meanwhile the reddish light guiding us had expanded and inflamed the +horizon. The presence of this furnace under the waters had me +extremely puzzled. Was it some sort of electrical discharge? Was I +approaching some natural phenomenon still unknown to scientists on +shore? Or, rather (and this thought did cross my mind), had the hand +of man intervened in that blaze? Had human beings fanned those flames? +In these deep strata would I meet up with more of Captain Nemo’s +companions, friends he was about to visit who led lives as strange as +his own? Would I find a whole colony of exiles down here, men tired of +the world’s woes, men who had sought and found independence in the +ocean’s lower depths? All these insane, inadmissible ideas dogged me, +and in this frame of mind, continually excited by the series of +wonders passing before my eyes, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find +on this sea bottom one of those underwater towns Captain Nemo dreamed +about! + +Our path was getting brighter and brighter. The red glow had turned +white and was radiating from a mountain peak about 800 feet high. But +what I saw was simply a reflection produced by the crystal waters of +these strata. The furnace that was the source of this inexplicable +light occupied the far side of the mountain. + +In the midst of the stone mazes furrowing this Atlantic seafloor, +Captain Nemo moved forward without hesitation. He knew this dark +path. No doubt he had often traveled it and was incapable of losing +his way. I followed him with unshakeable confidence. He seemed like +some Spirit of the Sea, and as he walked ahead of me, I marveled at +his tall figure, which stood out in black against the glowing +background of the horizon. + +It was one o’clock in the morning. We arrived at the mountain’s lower +gradients. But in grappling with them, we had to venture up difficult +trails through a huge thicket. + +Yes, a thicket of dead trees! Trees without leaves, without sap, +turned to stone by the action of the waters, and crowned here and +there by gigantic pines. It was like a still-erect coalfield, its +roots clutching broken soil, its boughs clearly outlined against the +ceiling of the waters like thin, black, paper cutouts. Picture a +forest clinging to the sides of a peak in the Harz Mountains, but a +submerged forest. The trails were cluttered with algae and fucus +plants, hosts of crustaceans swarming among them. I plunged on, +scaling rocks, straddling fallen tree trunks, snapping marine creepers +that swayed from one tree to another, startling the fish that flitted +from branch to branch. Carried away, I didn’t feel exhausted any +more. I followed a guide who was immune to exhaustion. + +What a sight! How can I describe it! How can I portray these woods and +rocks in this liquid setting, their lower parts dark and sullen, their +upper parts tinted red in this light whose intensity was doubled by +the reflecting power of the waters! We scaled rocks that crumbled +behind us, collapsing in enormous sections with the hollow rumble of +an avalanche. To our right and left there were carved gloomy galleries +where the eye lost its way. Huge glades opened up, seemingly cleared +by the hand of man, and I sometimes wondered whether some residents of +these underwater regions would suddenly appear before me. + +But Captain Nemo kept climbing. I didn’t want to fall behind. I +followed him boldly. My alpenstock was a great help. One wrong step +would have been disastrous on the narrow paths cut into the sides of +these chasms, but I walked along with a firm tread and without the +slightest feeling of dizziness. Sometimes I leaped over a crevasse +whose depth would have made me recoil had I been in the midst of +glaciers on shore; sometimes I ventured out on a wobbling tree trunk +fallen across a gorge, without looking down, having eyes only for +marveling at the wild scenery of this region. There, leaning on +erratically cut foundations, monumental rocks seemed to defy the laws +of balance. From between their stony knees, trees sprang up like jets +under fearsome pressure, supporting other trees that supported them in +turn. Next, natural towers with wide, steeply carved battlements +leaned at angles that, on dry land, the laws of gravity would never +have authorized. + +And I too could feel the difference created by the water’s powerful +density—despite my heavy clothing, copper headpiece, and metal soles, +I climbed the most impossibly steep gradients with all the nimbleness, +I swear it, of a chamois or a Pyrenees mountain goat! + +As for my account of this excursion under the waters, I’m well aware +that it sounds incredible! I’m the chronicler of deeds seemingly +impossible and yet incontestably real. This was no fantasy. This was +what I saw and felt! + +Two hours after leaving the Nautilus, we had cleared the timberline, +and 100 feet above our heads stood the mountain peak, forming a dark +silhouette against the brilliant glare that came from its far +slope. Petrified shrubs rambled here and there in sprawling +zigzags. Fish rose in a body at our feet like birds startled in tall +grass. The rocky mass was gouged with impenetrable crevices, deep +caves, unfathomable holes at whose far ends I could hear fearsome +things moving around. My blood would curdle as I watched some enormous +antenna bar my path, or saw some frightful pincer snap shut in the +shadow of some cavity! A thousand specks of light glittered in the +midst of the gloom. They were the eyes of gigantic crustaceans +crouching in their lairs, giant lobsters rearing up like spear +carriers and moving their claws with a scrap-iron clanking, titanic +crabs aiming their bodies like cannons on their carriages, and hideous +devilfish intertwining their tentacles like bushes of writhing snakes. + +What was this astounding world that I didn’t yet know? In what order +did these articulates belong, these creatures for which the rocks +provided a second carapace? Where had nature learned the secret of +their vegetating existence, and for how many centuries had they lived +in the ocean’s lower strata? + +But I couldn’t linger. Captain Nemo, on familiar terms with these +dreadful animals, no longer minded them. We arrived at a preliminary +plateau where still other surprises were waiting for me. There +picturesque ruins took shape, betraying the hand of man, not our +Creator. They were huge stacks of stones in which you could +distinguish the indistinct forms of palaces and temples, now arrayed +in hosts of blossoming zoophytes, and over it all, not ivy but a heavy +mantle of algae and fucus plants. + +But what part of the globe could this be, this land swallowed by +cataclysms? Who had set up these rocks and stones like the dolmens of +prehistoric times? Where was I, where had Captain Nemo’s fancies taken +me? + +I wanted to ask him. Unable to, I stopped him. I seized his arm. But +he shook his head, pointed to the mountain’s topmost peak, and seemed +to tell me: + +“Come on! Come with me! Come higher!” + +I followed him with one last burst of energy, and in a few minutes I +had scaled the peak, which crowned the whole rocky mass by some ten +meters. + +I looked back down the side we had just cleared. There the mountain +rose only 700 to 800 feet above the plains; but on its far slope it +crowned the receding bottom of this part of the Atlantic by a height +twice that. My eyes scanned the distance and took in a vast area lit +by intense flashes of light. In essence, this mountain was a +volcano. Fifty feet below its peak, amid a shower of stones and slag, +a wide crater vomited torrents of lava that were dispersed in fiery +cascades into the heart of the liquid mass. So situated, this volcano +was an immense torch that lit up the lower plains all the way to the +horizon. + +As I said, this underwater crater spewed lava, but not flames. Flames +need oxygen from the air and are unable to spread underwater; but a +lava flow, which contains in itself the principle of its +incandescence, can rise to a white heat, overpower the liquid element, +and turn it into steam on contact. Swift currents swept away all this +diffuse gas, and torrents of lava slid to the foot of the mountain, +like the disgorgings of a Mt. Vesuvius over the city limits of a +second Torre del Greco. + +In fact, there beneath my eyes was a town in ruins, demolished, +overwhelmed, laid low, its roofs caved in, its temples pulled down, +its arches dislocated, its columns stretching over the earth; in these +ruins you could still detect the solid proportions of a sort of Tuscan +architecture; farther off, the remains of a gigantic aqueduct; here, +the caked heights of an acropolis along with the fluid forms of a +Parthenon; there, the remnants of a wharf, as if some bygone port had +long ago harbored merchant vessels and triple-tiered war galleys on +the shores of some lost ocean; still farther off, long rows of +collapsing walls, deserted thoroughfares, a whole Pompeii buried under +the waters, which Captain Nemo had resurrected before my eyes! + +Where was I? Where was I? I had to find out at all cost, I wanted to +speak, I wanted to rip off the copper sphere imprisoning my head. + +But Captain Nemo came over and stopped me with a gesture. Then, +picking up a piece of chalky stone, he advanced to a black basaltic +rock and scrawled this one word: + +ATLANTIS + +What lightning flashed through my mind! Atlantis, that ancient land of +Meropis mentioned by the historian Theopompus; Plato’s Atlantis; the +continent whose very existence has been denied by such philosophers +and scientists as Origen, Porphyry, Iamblichus, d’Anville, Malte-Brun, +and Humboldt, who entered its disappearance in the ledger of myths and +folk tales; the country whose reality has nevertheless been accepted +by such other thinkers as Posidonius, Pliny, Ammianus Marcellinus, +Tertullian, Engel, Scherer, Tournefort, Buffon, and d’Avezac; I had +this land right under my eyes, furnishing its own unimpeachable +evidence of the catastrophe that had overtaken it! So this was the +submerged region that had existed outside Europe, Asia, and Libya, +beyond the Pillars of Hercules, home of those powerful Atlantean +people against whom ancient Greece had waged its earliest wars! + +The writer whose narratives record the lofty deeds of those heroic +times is Plato himself. His dialogues Timaeus and Critias were drafted +with the poet and legislator Solon as their inspiration, as it were. + +One day Solon was conversing with some elderly wise men in the +Egyptian capital of Sais, a town already 8,000 years of age, as +documented by the annals engraved on the sacred walls of its +temples. One of these elders related the history of another town 1,000 +years older still. This original city of Athens, ninety centuries old, +had been invaded and partly destroyed by the Atlanteans. These +Atlanteans, he said, resided on an immense continent greater than +Africa and + +Asia combined, taking in an area that lay between latitude 12 degrees +and 40 degrees north. Their dominion extended even to Egypt. They +tried to enforce their rule as far as Greece, but they had to retreat +before the indomitable resistance of the Hellenic people. Centuries +passed. A cataclysm occurred—floods, earthquakes. A single night and +day were enough to obliterate this Atlantis, whose highest peaks +(Madeira, the Azores, the Canaries, the Cape Verde Islands) still +emerge above the waves. + +These were the historical memories that Captain Nemo’s scrawl sent +rushing through my mind. Thus, led by the strangest of fates, I was +treading underfoot one of the mountains of that continent! My hands +were touching ruins many thousands of years old, contemporary with +prehistoric times! I was walking in the very place where +contemporaries of early man had walked! My heavy soles were crushing +the skeletons of animals from the age of fable, animals that used to +take cover in the shade of these trees now turned to stone! + +Oh, why was I so short of time! I would have gone down the steep +slopes of this mountain, crossed this entire immense continent, which +surely connects Africa with America, and visited its great prehistoric +cities. Under my eyes there perhaps lay the warlike town of Makhimos +or the pious village of Eusebes, whose gigantic inhabitants lived for +whole centuries and had the strength to raise blocks of stone that +still withstood the action of the waters. One day perhaps, some +volcanic phenomenon will bring these sunken ruins back to the surface +of the waves! Numerous underwater volcanoes have been sighted in this +part of the ocean, and many ships have felt terrific tremors when +passing over these turbulent depths. A few have heard hollow noises +that announced some struggle of the elements far below, others have +hauled in volcanic ash hurled above the waves. As far as the equator +this whole seafloor is still under construction by plutonic +forces. And in some remote epoch, built up by volcanic disgorgings and +successive layers of lava, who knows whether the peaks of these +fire-belching mountains may reappear above the surface of the +Atlantic! + +As I mused in this way, trying to establish in my memory every detail +of this impressive landscape, Captain Nemo was leaning his elbows on a +moss-covered monument, motionless as if petrified in some mute +trance. Was he dreaming of those lost generations, asking them for the +secret of human destiny? Was it here that this strange man came to +revive himself, basking in historical memories, reliving that bygone +life, he who had no desire for our modern one? I would have given +anything to know his thoughts, to share them, understand them! + +We stayed in this place an entire hour, contemplating its vast plains +in the lava’s glow, which sometimes took on a startling +intensity. Inner boilings sent quick shivers running through the +mountain’s crust. Noises from deep underneath, clearly transmitted by +the liquid medium, reverberated with majestic amplitude. + +Just then the moon appeared for an instant through the watery mass, +casting a few pale rays over this submerged continent. It was only a +fleeting glimmer, but its effect was indescribable. The captain stood +up and took one last look at these immense plains; then his hand +signaled me to follow him. + +We went swiftly down the mountain. Once past the petrified forest, I +could see the Nautilus’s beacon twinkling like a star. The captain +walked straight toward it, and we were back on board just as the first +glimmers of dawn were whitening the surface of the ocean. + + +CHAPTER 10 + +The Underwater Coalfields + + +THE NEXT DAY, February 20, I overslept. I was so exhausted from the +night before, I didn’t get up until eleven o’clock. I dressed +quickly. I hurried to find out the Nautilus’s heading. The instruments +indicated that it was running southward at a speed of twenty miles per +hour and a depth of 100 meters. + +Conseil entered. I described our nocturnal excursion to him, and since +the panels were open, he could still catch a glimpse of this submerged +continent. + +In fact, the Nautilus was skimming only ten meters over the soil of +these Atlantis plains. The ship scudded along like an air balloon +borne by the wind over some prairie on land; but it would be more +accurate to say that we sat in the lounge as if we were riding in a +coach on an express train. As for the foregrounds passing before our +eyes, they were fantastically carved rocks, forests of trees that had +crossed over from the vegetable kingdom into the mineral kingdom, +their motionless silhouettes sprawling beneath the waves. There also +were stony masses buried beneath carpets of axidia and sea anemone, +bristling with long, vertical water plants, then strangely contoured +blocks of lava that testified to all the fury of those plutonic +developments. + +While this bizarre scenery was glittering under our electric beams, I +told Conseil the story of the Atlanteans, who had inspired the old +French scientist Jean Bailly to write so many entertaining—albeit +utterly fictitious—pages.* I told the lad about the wars of these +heroic people. I discussed the question of Atlantis with the fervor of +a man who no longer had any doubts. But Conseil was so distracted he +barely heard me, and his lack of interest in any commentary on this +historical topic was soon explained. + +*Bailly believed that Atlantis was located at the North Pole! Ed. + +In essence, numerous fish had caught his eye, and when fish pass by, +Conseil vanishes into his world of classifying and leaves real life +behind. In which case I could only tag along and resume our +ichthyological research. + +Even so, these Atlantic fish were not noticeably different from those +we had observed earlier. There were rays of gigantic size, five meters +long and with muscles so powerful they could leap above the waves, +sharks of various species including a fifteen-foot glaucous shark with +sharp triangular teeth and so transparent it was almost invisible amid +the waters, brown lantern sharks, prism-shaped humantin sharks armored +with protuberant hides, sturgeons resembling their relatives in the +Mediterranean, trumpet-snouted pipefish a foot and a half long, +yellowish brown with small gray fins and no teeth or tongue, unreeling +like slim, supple snakes. + +Among bony fish, Conseil noticed some blackish marlin three meters +long with a sharp sword jutting from the upper jaw, bright-colored +weevers known in Aristotle’s day as sea dragons and whose dorsal +stingers make them quite dangerous to pick up, then dolphinfish with +brown backs striped in blue and edged in gold, handsome dorados, +moonlike opahs that look like azure disks but which the sun’s rays +turn into spots of silver, finally eight-meter swordfish from the +genus Xiphias, swimming in schools, sporting yellowish sickle-shaped +fins and six-foot broadswords, stalwart animals, plant eaters rather +than fish eaters, obeying the tiniest signals from their females like +henpecked husbands. + +But while observing these different specimens of marine fauna, I +didn’t stop examining the long plains of Atlantis. Sometimes an +unpredictable irregularity in the seafloor would force the Nautilus to +slow down, and then it would glide into the narrow channels between +the hills with a cetacean’s dexterity. If the labyrinth became +hopelessly tangled, the submersible would rise above it like an +airship, and after clearing the obstacle, it would resume its speedy +course just a few meters above the ocean floor. It was an enjoyable +and impressive way of navigating that did indeed recall the maneuvers +of an airship ride, with the major difference that the Nautilus +faithfully obeyed the hands of its helmsman. + +The terrain consisted mostly of thick slime mixed with petrified +branches, but it changed little by little near four o’clock in the +afternoon; it grew rockier and seemed to be strewn with pudding stones +and a basaltic gravel called “tuff,” together with bits of lava and +sulfurous obsidian. I expected these long plains to change into +mountain regions, and in fact, as the Nautilus was executing certain +turns, I noticed that the southerly horizon was blocked by a high wall +that seemed to close off every exit. Its summit obviously poked above +the level of the ocean. It had to be a continent or at least an +island, either one of the Canaries or one of the Cape Verde +Islands. Our bearings hadn’t been marked on the chart—perhaps +deliberately—and I had no idea what our position was. In any case this +wall seemed to signal the end of Atlantis, of which, all in all, we +had crossed only a small part. + +Nightfall didn’t interrupt my observations. I was left to +myself. Conseil had repaired to his cabin. The Nautilus slowed down, +hovering above the muddled masses on the seafloor, sometimes grazing +them as if wanting to come to rest, sometimes rising unpredictably to +the surface of the waves. Then I glimpsed a few bright constellations +through the crystal waters, specifically five or six of those zodiacal +stars trailing from the tail end of Orion. + +I would have stayed longer at my window, marveling at these beauties +of sea and sky, but the panels closed. Just then the Nautilus had +arrived at the perpendicular face of that high wall. How the ship +would maneuver I hadn’t a guess. I repaired to my stateroom. The +Nautilus did not stir. I fell asleep with the firm intention of waking +up in just a few hours. + +But it was eight o’clock the next day when I returned to the lounge. I +stared at the pressure gauge. It told me that the Nautilus was afloat +on the surface of the ocean. Furthermore, I heard the sound of +footsteps on the platform. Yet there were no rolling movements to +indicate the presence of waves undulating above me. + +I climbed as far as the hatch. It was open. But instead of the broad +daylight I was expecting, I found that I was surrounded by total +darkness. Where were we? Had I been mistaken? Was it still night? No! +Not one star was twinkling, and nighttime is never so utterly black. + +I wasn’t sure what to think, when a voice said to me: + +“Is that you, professor?” + +“Ah, Captain Nemo!” I replied. “Where are we?” + +“Underground, professor.” + +“Underground!” I exclaimed. “And the Nautilus is still floating?” + +“It always floats.” + +“But I don’t understand!” + +“Wait a little while. Our beacon is about to go on, and if you want +some light on the subject, you’ll be satisfied.” + +I set foot on the platform and waited. The darkness was so profound I +couldn’t see even Captain Nemo. However, looking at the zenith +directly overhead, I thought I caught sight of a feeble glimmer, a +sort of twilight filtering through a circular hole. Just then the +beacon suddenly went on, and its intense brightness made that hazy +light vanish. + +This stream of electricity dazzled my eyes, and after momentarily +shutting them, I looked around. The Nautilus was stationary. It was +floating next to an embankment shaped like a wharf. As for the water +now buoying the ship, it was a lake completely encircled by an inner +wall about two miles in diameter, hence six miles around. Its level—as +indicated by the pressure gauge—would be the same as the outside +level, because some connection had to exist between this lake and the +sea. Slanting inward over their base, these high walls converged to +form a vault shaped like an immense upside-down funnel that measured +500 or 600 meters in height. At its summit there gaped the circular +opening through which I had detected that faint glimmer, obviously +daylight. + +Before more carefully examining the interior features of this enormous +cavern, and before deciding if it was the work of nature or humankind, +I went over to Captain Nemo. + +“Where are we?” I said. + +“In the very heart of an extinct volcano,” the captain answered me, “a +volcano whose interior was invaded by the sea after some convulsion in +the earth. While you were sleeping, professor, the Nautilus entered +this lagoon through a natural channel that opens ten meters below the +surface of the ocean. This is our home port, secure, convenient, +secret, and sheltered against winds from any direction! Along the +coasts of your continents or islands, show me any offshore mooring +that can equal this safe refuge for withstanding the fury of +hurricanes.” + +“Indeed,” I replied, “here you’re in perfect safety, Captain Nemo. Who +could reach you in the heart of a volcano? But don’t I see an opening +at its summit?” + +“Yes, its crater, a crater formerly filled with lava, steam, and +flames, but which now lets in this life-giving air we’re breathing.” + +“But which volcanic mountain is this?” I asked. + +“It’s one of the many islets with which this sea is strewn. For ships +a mere reef, for us an immense cavern. I discovered it by chance, and +chance served me well.” + +“But couldn’t someone enter through the mouth of its crater?” + +“No more than I could exit through it. You can climb about 100 feet up +the inner base of this mountain, but then the walls overhang, they +lean too far in to be scaled.” + +“I can see, captain, that nature is your obedient servant, any time or +any place. You’re safe on this lake, and nobody else can visit its +waters. But what’s the purpose of this refuge? The Nautilus doesn’t +need a harbor.” + +“No, professor, but it needs electricity to run, batteries to generate +its electricity, sodium to feed its batteries, coal to make its +sodium, and coalfields from which to dig its coal. Now then, right at +this spot the sea covers entire forests that sank underwater in +prehistoric times; today, turned to stone, transformed into carbon +fuel, they offer me inexhaustible coal mines.” + +“So, captain, your men practice the trade of miners here?” + +“Precisely. These mines extend under the waves like the coalfields at +Newcastle. Here, dressed in diving suits, pick and mattock in hand, my +men go out and dig this carbon fuel for which I don’t need a single +mine on land. When I burn this combustible to produce sodium, the +smoke escaping from the mountain’s crater gives it the appearance of a +still-active volcano.” + +“And will we see your companions at work?” + +“No, at least not this time, because I’m eager to continue our +underwater tour of the world. Accordingly, I’ll rest content with +drawing on my reserve stock of sodium. We’ll stay here long enough to +load it on board, in other words, a single workday, then we’ll resume +our voyage. So, Professor Aronnax, if you’d like to explore this +cavern and circle its lagoon, seize the day.” + +I thanked the captain and went to look for my two companions, who +hadn’t yet left their cabin. I invited them to follow me, not telling +them where we were. + +They climbed onto the platform. Conseil, whom nothing could startle, +saw it as a perfectly natural thing to fall asleep under the waves and +wake up under a mountain. But Ned Land had no idea in his head other +than to see if this cavern offered some way out. + +After breakfast near ten o’clock, we went down onto the embankment. + +“So here we are, back on shore,” Conseil said. + +“I’d hardly call this shore,” the Canadian replied. “And besides, we +aren’t on it but under it.” + +A sandy beach unfolded before us, measuring 500 feet at its widest +point between the waters of the lake and the foot of the mountain’s +walls. Via this strand you could easily circle the lake. But the base +of these high walls consisted of broken soil over which there lay +picturesque piles of volcanic blocks and enormous pumice stones. All +these crumbling masses were covered with an enamel polished by the +action of underground fires, and they glistened under the stream of +electric light from our beacon. Stirred up by our footsteps, the +mica-rich dust on this beach flew into the air like a cloud of sparks. + +The ground rose appreciably as it moved away from the sand flats by +the waves, and we soon arrived at some long, winding gradients, +genuinely steep paths that allowed us to climb little by little; but +we had to tread cautiously in the midst of pudding stones that weren’t +cemented together, and our feet kept skidding on glassy trachyte, made +of feldspar and quartz crystals. + +The volcanic nature of this enormous pit was apparent all around us. I +ventured to comment on it to my companions. + +“Can you picture,” I asked them, “what this funnel must have been like +when it was filled with boiling lava, and the level of that +incandescent liquid rose right to the mountain’s mouth, like cast iron +up the insides of a furnace?” + +“I can picture it perfectly,” Conseil replied. “But will master tell +me why this huge smelter suspended operations, and how it is that an +oven was replaced by the tranquil waters of a lake?” + +“In all likelihood, Conseil, because some convulsion created an +opening below the surface of the ocean, the opening that serves as a +passageway for the Nautilus. Then the waters of the Atlantic rushed +inside the mountain. There ensued a dreadful struggle between the +elements of fire and water, a struggle ending in King Neptune’s +favor. But many centuries have passed since then, and this submerged +volcano has changed into a peaceful cavern.” + +“That’s fine,” Ned Land answered. “I accept the explanation, but in +our personal interests, I’m sorry this opening the professor mentions +wasn’t made above sea level.” + +“But Ned my friend,” Conseil answered, “if it weren’t an underwater +passageway, the Nautilus couldn’t enter it!” + +“And I might add, Mr. Land,” I said, “that the waters wouldn’t have +rushed under the mountain, and the volcano would still be a +volcano. So you have nothing to be sorry about.” + +Our climb continued. The gradients got steeper and narrower. Sometimes +they were cut across by deep pits that had to be cleared. Masses of +overhanging rock had to be gotten around. You slid on your knees, you +crept on your belly. But helped by the Canadian’s strength and +Conseil’s dexterity, we overcame every obstacle. + +At an elevation of about thirty meters, the nature of the terrain +changed without becoming any easier. Pudding stones and trachyte gave +way to black basaltic rock: here, lying in slabs all swollen with +blisters; there, shaped like actual prisms and arranged into a series +of columns that supported the springings of this immense vault, a +wonderful sample of natural architecture. Then, among this basaltic +rock, there snaked long, hardened lava flows inlaid with veins of +bituminous coal and in places covered by wide carpets of sulfur. The +sunshine coming through the crater had grown stronger, shedding a hazy +light over all the volcanic waste forever buried in the heart of this +extinct mountain. + +But when we had ascended to an elevation of about 250 feet, we were +stopped by insurmountable obstacles. The converging inside walls +changed into overhangs, and our climb into a circular stroll. At this +topmost level the vegetable kingdom began to challenge the mineral +kingdom. Shrubs, and even a few trees, emerged from crevices in the +walls. I recognized some spurges that let their caustic, purgative sap +trickle out. There were heliotropes, very remiss at living up to their +sun-worshipping reputations since no sunlight ever reached them; their +clusters of flowers drooped sadly, their colors and scents were +faded. Here and there chrysanthemums sprouted timidly at the feet of +aloes with long, sad, sickly leaves. But between these lava flows I +spotted little violets that still gave off a subtle fragrance, and I +confess that I inhaled it with delight. The soul of a flower is its +scent, and those splendid water plants, flowers of the sea, have no +souls! + +We had arrived at the foot of a sturdy clump of dragon trees, which +were splitting the rocks with exertions of their muscular roots, when +Ned Land exclaimed: + +“Oh, sir, a hive!” + +“A hive?” I answered, with a gesture of utter disbelief. + +“Yes, a hive,” the Canadian repeated, “with bees buzzing around!” + +I went closer and was forced to recognize the obvious. At the mouth of +a hole cut in the trunk of a dragon tree, there swarmed thousands of +these ingenious insects so common to all the Canary Islands, where +their output is especially prized. + +Naturally enough, the Canadian wanted to lay in a supply of honey, and +it would have been ill-mannered of me to say no. He mixed sulfur with +some dry leaves, set them on fire with a spark from his tinderbox, and +proceeded to smoke the bees out. Little by little the buzzing died +down and the disemboweled hive yielded several pounds of sweet +honey. Ned Land stuffed his haversack with it. + +“When I’ve mixed this honey with our breadfruit batter,” he told us, +“I’ll be ready to serve you a delectable piece of cake.” + +“But of course,” Conseil put in, “it will be gingerbread!” + +“I’m all for gingerbread,” I said, “but let’s resume this fascinating +stroll.” + +At certain turns in the trail we were going along, the lake appeared +in its full expanse. The ship’s beacon lit up that whole placid +surface, which experienced neither ripples nor undulations. The +Nautilus lay perfectly still. On its platform and on the embankment, +crewmen were bustling around, black shadows that stood out clearly in +the midst of the luminous air. + +Just then we went around the highest ridge of these rocky foothills +that supported the vault. Then I saw that bees weren’t the animal +kingdom’s only representatives inside this volcano. Here and in the +shadows, birds of prey soared and whirled, flying away from nests +perched on tips of rock. There were sparrow hawks with white bellies, +and screeching kestrels. With all the speed their stiltlike legs could +muster, fine fat bustards scampered over the slopes. I’ll let the +reader decide whether the Canadian’s appetite was aroused by the sight +of this tasty game, and whether he regretted having no rifle in his +hands. He tried to make stones do the work of bullets, and after +several fruitless attempts, he managed to wound one of these +magnificent bustards. To say he risked his life twenty times in order +to capture this bird is simply the unadulterated truth; but he fared +so well, the animal went into his sack to join the honeycombs. + +By then we were forced to go back down to the beach because the ridge +had become impossible. Above us, the yawning crater looked like the +wide mouth of a well. From where we stood, the sky was pretty easy to +see, and I watched clouds race by, disheveled by the west wind, +letting tatters of mist trail over the mountain’s summit. Proof +positive that those clouds kept at a moderate altitude, because this +volcano didn’t rise more than 1,800 feet above the level of the ocean. + +Half an hour after the Canadian’s latest exploits, we were back on the +inner beach. There the local flora was represented by a wide carpet of +samphire, a small umbelliferous plant that keeps quite nicely, which +also boasts the names glasswort, saxifrage, and sea fennel. Conseil +picked a couple bunches. As for the local fauna, it included thousands +of crustaceans of every type: lobsters, hermit crabs, prawns, mysid +shrimps, daddy longlegs, rock crabs, and a prodigious number of +seashells, such as cowries, murex snails, and limpets. + +In this locality there gaped the mouth of a magnificent cave. My +companions and I took great pleasure in stretching out on its +fine-grained sand. Fire had polished the sparkling enamel of its inner +walls, sprinkled all over with mica-rich dust. Ned Land tapped these +walls and tried to probe their thickness. I couldn’t help smiling. Our +conversation then turned to his everlasting escape plans, and without +going too far, I felt I could offer him this hope: Captain Nemo had +gone down south only to replenish his sodium supplies. So I hoped he +would now hug the coasts of Europe and America, which would allow the +Canadian to try again with a greater chance of success. + +We were stretched out in this delightful cave for an hour. Our +conversation, lively at the outset, then languished. A definite +drowsiness overcame us. Since I saw no good reason to resist the call +of sleep, I fell into a heavy doze. I dreamed—one doesn’t choose his +dreams—that my life had been reduced to the vegetating existence of a +simple mollusk. It seemed to me that this cave made up my +double-valved shell. . . . + +Suddenly Conseil’s voice startled me awake. + +“Get up! Get up!” shouted the fine lad. + +“What is it?” I asked, in a sitting position. + +“The water’s coming up to us!” + +I got back on my feet. Like a torrent the sea was rushing into our +retreat, and since we definitely were not mollusks, we had to clear +out. + +In a few seconds we were safe on top of the cave. + +“What happened?” Conseil asked. “Some new phenomenon?” + +“Not quite, my friends!” I replied. “It was the tide, merely the tide, +which wellnigh caught us by surprise just as it did Sir Walter Scott’s +hero! The ocean outside is rising, and by a perfectly natural law of +balance, the level of this lake is also rising. We’ve gotten off with +a mild dunking. Let’s go change clothes on the Nautilus.” + +Three-quarters of an hour later, we had completed our circular stroll +and were back on board. Just then the crewmen finished loading the +sodium supplies, and the Nautilus could have departed immediately. + +But Captain Nemo gave no orders. Would he wait for nightfall and exit +through his underwater passageway in secrecy? Perhaps. + +Be that as it may, by the next day the Nautilus had left its home port +and was navigating well out from any shore, a few meters beneath the +waves of the Atlantic. + + +CHAPTER 11 + +The Sargasso Sea + + +THE NAUTILUS didn’t change direction. For the time being, then, we had +to set aside any hope of returning to European seas. Captain Nemo kept +his prow pointing south. Where was he taking us? I was afraid to +guess. + +That day the Nautilus crossed an odd part of the Atlantic Ocean. No +one is unaware of the existence of that great warm-water current known +by name as the Gulf Stream. After emerging from channels off Florida, +it heads toward Spitzbergen. But before entering the Gulf of Mexico +near latitude 44 degrees north, this current divides into two arms; +its chief arm makes for the shores of Ireland and Norway while the +second flexes southward at the level of the Azores; then it hits the +coast of Africa, sweeps in a long oval, and returns to the Caribbean +Sea. + +Now then, this second arm—more accurately, a collar—forms a ring of +warm water around a section of cool, tranquil, motionless ocean called +the Sargasso Sea. This is an actual lake in the open Atlantic, and the +great current’s waters take at least three years to circle it. + +Properly speaking, the Sargasso Sea covers every submerged part of +Atlantis. Certain authors have even held that the many weeds strewn +over this sea were torn loose from the prairies of that ancient +continent. But it’s more likely that these grasses, algae, and fucus +plants were carried off from the beaches of Europe and America, then +taken as far as this zone by the Gulf Stream. This is one of the +reasons why Christopher Columbus assumed the existence of a New +World. When the ships of that bold investigator arrived in the +Sargasso Sea, they had great difficulty navigating in the midst of +these weeds, which, much to their crews’ dismay, slowed them down to a +halt; and they wasted three long weeks crossing this sector. + +Such was the region our Nautilus was visiting just then: a genuine +prairie, a tightly woven carpet of algae, gulfweed, and bladder wrack +so dense and compact a craft’s stempost couldn’t tear through it +without difficulty. Accordingly, not wanting to entangle his propeller +in this weed-choked mass, Captain Nemo stayed at a depth some meters +below the surface of the waves. + +The name Sargasso comes from the Spanish word “sargazo,” meaning +gulfweed. This gulfweed, the swimming gulfweed or berry carrier, is +the chief substance making up this immense shoal. And here’s why these +water plants collect in this placid Atlantic basin, according to the +expert on the subject, Commander Maury, author of The Physical +Geography of the Sea. + +The explanation he gives seems to entail a set of conditions that +everybody knows: “Now,” Maury says, “if bits of cork or chaff, or any +floating substance, be put into a basin, and a circular motion be +given to the water, all the light substances will be found crowding +together near the center of the pool, where there is the least +motion. Just such a basin is the Atlantic Ocean to the Gulf Stream, +and the Sargasso Sea is the center of the whirl.” + +I share Maury’s view, and I was able to study the phenomenon in this +exclusive setting where ships rarely go. Above us, huddled among the +brown weeds, there floated objects originating from all over: tree +trunks ripped from the Rocky Mountains or the Andes and sent floating +down the Amazon or the Mississippi, numerous pieces of wreckage, +remnants of keels or undersides, bulwarks staved in and so weighed +down with seashells and barnacles, they couldn’t rise to the surface +of the ocean. And the passing years will someday bear out Maury’s +other view that by collecting in this way over the centuries, these +substances will be turned to stone by the action of the waters and +will then form inexhaustible coalfields. Valuable reserves prepared by +farseeing nature for that time when man will have exhausted his mines +on the continents. + +In the midst of this hopelessly tangled fabric of weeds and fucus +plants, I noted some delightful pink-colored, star-shaped alcyon +coral, sea anemone trailing the long tresses of their tentacles, some +green, red, and blue jellyfish, and especially those big rhizostome +jellyfish that Cuvier described, whose bluish parasols are trimmed +with violet festoons. + +We spent the whole day of February 22 in the Sargasso Sea, where fish +that dote on marine plants and crustaceans find plenty to eat. The +next day the ocean resumed its usual appearance. + +From this moment on, for nineteen days from February 23 to March 12, +the Nautilus stayed in the middle of the Atlantic, hustling us along +at a constant speed of 100 leagues every twenty-four hours. It was +obvious that Captain Nemo wanted to carry out his underwater program, +and I had no doubt that he intended, after doubling Cape Horn, to +return to the Pacific South Seas. + +So Ned Land had good reason to worry. In these wide seas empty of +islands, it was no longer feasible to jump ship. Nor did we have any +way to counter Captain Nemo’s whims. We had no choice but to +acquiesce; but if we couldn’t attain our end through force or cunning, +I liked to think we might achieve it through persuasion. Once this +voyage was over, might not Captain Nemo consent to set us free in +return for our promise never to reveal his existence? Our word of +honor, which we sincerely would have kept. However, this delicate +question would have to be negotiated with the captain. But how would +he receive our demands for freedom? At the very outset and in no +uncertain terms, hadn’t he declared that the secret of his life +required that we be permanently imprisoned on board the Nautilus? +Wouldn’t he see my four-month silence as a tacit acceptance of this +situation? Would my returning to this subject arouse suspicions that +could jeopardize our escape plans, if we had promising circumstances +for trying again later on? I weighed all these considerations, turned +them over in my mind, submitted them to Conseil, but he was as baffled +as I was. In short, although I’m not easily discouraged, I realized +that my chances of ever seeing my fellow men again were shrinking by +the day, especially at a time when Captain Nemo was recklessly racing +toward the south Atlantic! + +During those nineteen days just mentioned, no unique incidents +distinguished our voyage. I saw little of the captain. He was at +work. In the library I often found books he had left open, especially +books on natural history. He had thumbed through my work on the great +ocean depths, and the margins were covered with his notes, which +sometimes contradicted my theories and formulations. But the captain +remained content with this method of refining my work, and he rarely +discussed it with me. Sometimes I heard melancholy sounds +reverberating from the organ, which he played very expressively, but +only at night in the midst of the most secretive darkness, while the +Nautilus slumbered in the wilderness of the ocean. + +During this part of our voyage, we navigated on the surface of the +waves for entire days. The sea was nearly deserted. A few sailing +ships, laden for the East Indies, were heading toward the Cape of Good +Hope. One day we were chased by the longboats of a whaling vessel, +which undoubtedly viewed us as some enormous baleen whale of great +value. But Captain Nemo didn’t want these gallant gentlemen wasting +their time and energy, so he ended the hunt by diving beneath the +waters. This incident seemed to fascinate Ned Land intensely. I’m sure +the Canadian was sorry that these fishermen couldn’t harpoon our +sheet-iron cetacean and mortally wound it. + +During this period the fish Conseil and I observed differed little +from those we had already studied in other latitudes. Chief among them +were specimens of that dreadful cartilaginous genus that’s divided +into three subgenera numbering at least thirty-two species: striped +sharks five meters long, the head squat and wider than the body, the +caudal fin curved, the back with seven big, black, parallel lines +running lengthwise; then perlon sharks, ash gray, pierced with seven +gill openings, furnished with a single dorsal fin placed almost +exactly in the middle of the body. + +Some big dogfish also passed by, a voracious species of shark if there +ever was one. With some justice, fishermen’s yarns aren’t to be +trusted, but here’s what a few of them relate. Inside the corpse of +one of these animals there were found a buffalo head and a whole calf; +in another, two tuna and a sailor in uniform; in yet another, a +soldier with his saber; in another, finally, a horse with its +rider. In candor, none of these sounds like divinely inspired +truth. But the fact remains that not a single dogfish let itself get +caught in the Nautilus’s nets, so I can’t vouch for their voracity. + +Schools of elegant, playful dolphin swam alongside for entire +days. They went in groups of five or six, hunting in packs like wolves +over the countryside; moreover, they’re just as voracious as dogfish, +if I can believe a certain Copenhagen professor who says that from one +dolphin’s stomach, he removed thirteen porpoises and fifteen +seals. True, it was a killer whale, belonging to the biggest known +species, whose length sometimes exceeds twenty-four feet. The family +Delphinia numbers ten genera, and the dolphins I saw were akin to the +genus Delphinorhynchus, remarkable for an extremely narrow muzzle four +times as long as the cranium. Measuring three meters, their bodies +were black on top, underneath a pinkish white strewn with small, very +scattered spots. + +From these seas I’ll also mention some unusual specimens of croakers, +fish from the order Acanthopterygia, family Scienidea. Some +authors—more artistic than scientific—claim that these fish are +melodious singers, that their voices in unison put on concerts +unmatched by human choristers. I don’t say nay, but to my regret these +croakers didn’t serenade us as we passed. + +Finally, to conclude, Conseil classified a large number of flying +fish. Nothing could have made a more unusual sight than the marvelous +timing with which dolphins hunt these fish. Whatever the range of its +flight, however evasive its trajectory (even up and over the +Nautilus), the hapless flying fish always found a dolphin to welcome +it with open mouth. These were either flying gurnards or kitelike sea +robins, whose lips glowed in the dark, at night scrawling fiery +streaks in the air before plunging into the murky waters like so many +shooting stars. + +Our navigating continued under these conditions until March 13. That +day the Nautilus was put to work in some depth-sounding experiments +that fascinated me deeply. + +By then we had fared nearly 13,000 leagues from our starting point in +the Pacific high seas. Our position fix placed us in latitude 45 +degrees 37’ south and longitude 37 degrees 53’ west. These were the +same waterways where Captain Denham, aboard the Herald, payed out +14,000 meters of sounding line without finding bottom. It was here too +that Lieutenant Parker, aboard the American frigate Congress, was +unable to reach the underwater soil at 15,149 meters. + +Captain Nemo decided to take his Nautilus down to the lowest depths in +order to double-check these different soundings. I got ready to record +the results of this experiment. The panels in the lounge opened, and +maneuvers began for reaching those strata so prodigiously far removed. + +It was apparently considered out of the question to dive by filling +the ballast tanks. Perhaps they wouldn’t sufficiently increase the +Nautilus’s specific gravity. Moreover, in order to come back up, it +would be necessary to expel the excess water, and our pumps might not +have been strong enough to overcome the outside pressure. + +Captain Nemo decided to make for the ocean floor by submerging on an +appropriately gradual diagonal with the help of his side fins, which +were set at a 45 degrees angle to the Nautilus’s waterline. Then the +propeller was brought to its maximum speed, and its four blades +churned the waves with indescribable violence. + +Under this powerful thrust the Nautilus’s hull quivered like a +resonating chord, and the ship sank steadily under the +waters. Stationed in the lounge, the captain and I watched the needle +swerving swiftly over the pressure gauge. Soon we had gone below the +livable zone where most fish reside. Some of these animals can thrive +only at the surface of seas or rivers, but a minority can dwell at +fairly great depths. Among the latter I observed a species of dogfish +called the cow shark that’s equipped with six respiratory slits, the +telescope fish with its enormous eyes, the armored gurnard with gray +thoracic fins plus black pectoral fins and a breastplate protected by +pale red slabs of bone, then finally the grenadier, living at a depth +of 1,200 meters, by that point tolerating a pressure of 120 +atmospheres. + +I asked Captain Nemo if he had observed any fish at more considerable +depths. + +“Fish? Rarely!” he answered me. “But given the current state of marine +science, who are we to presume, what do we really know of these +depths?” + +“Just this, captain. In going toward the ocean’s lower strata, we know +that vegetable life disappears more quickly than animal life. We know +that moving creatures can still be encountered where water plants no +longer grow. We know that oysters and pilgrim scallops live in 2,000 +meters of water, and that Admiral McClintock, England’s hero of the +polar seas, pulled in a live sea star from a depth of 2,500 meters. We +know that the crew of the Royal Navy’s Bulldog fished up a starfish +from 2,620 fathoms, hence from a depth of more than one vertical +league. Would you still say, Captain Nemo, that we really know +nothing?” + +“No, professor,” the captain replied, “I wouldn’t be so +discourteous. Yet I’ll ask you to explain how these creatures can live +at such depths?” + +“I explain it on two grounds,” I replied. “In the first place, because +vertical currents, which are caused by differences in the water’s +salinity and density, can produce enough motion to sustain the +rudimentary lifestyles of sea lilies and starfish.” + +“True,” the captain put in. + +“In the second place, because oxygen is the basis of life, and we know +that the amount of oxygen dissolved in salt water increases rather +than decreases with depth, that the pressure in these lower strata +helps to concentrate their oxygen content.” + +“Oho! We know that, do we?” Captain Nemo replied in a tone of mild +surprise. “Well, professor, we have good reason to know it because +it’s the truth. I might add, in fact, that the air bladders of fish +contain more nitrogen than oxygen when these animals are caught at the +surface of the water, and conversely, more oxygen than nitrogen when +they’re pulled up from the lower depths. Which bears out your +formulation. But let’s continue our observations.” + +My eyes flew back to the pressure gauge. The instrument indicated a +depth of 6,000 meters. Our submergence had been going on for an +hour. The Nautilus slid downward on its slanting fins, still +sinking. These deserted waters were wonderfully clear, with a +transparency impossible to convey. An hour later we were at 13,000 +meters—about three and a quarter vertical leagues—and the ocean floor +was nowhere in sight. + +However, at 14,000 meters I saw blackish peaks rising in the midst of +the waters. But these summits could have belonged to mountains as high +or even higher than the Himalayas or Mt. Blanc, and the extent of +these depths remained incalculable. + +Despite the powerful pressures it was undergoing, the Nautilus sank +still deeper. I could feel its sheet-iron plates trembling down to +their riveted joins; metal bars arched; bulkheads groaned; the lounge +windows seemed to be warping inward under the water’s pressure. And +this whole sturdy mechanism would surely have given way, if, as its +captain had said, it weren’t capable of resisting like a solid block. + +While grazing these rocky slopes lost under the waters, I still +spotted some seashells, tube worms, lively annelid worms from the +genus Spirorbis, and certain starfish specimens. + +But soon these last representatives of animal life vanished, and three +vertical leagues down, the Nautilus passed below the limits of +underwater existence just as an air balloon rises above the breathable +zones in the sky. We reached a depth of 16,000 meters—four vertical +leagues—and by then the Nautilus’s plating was tolerating a pressure +of 1,600 atmospheres, in other words, 1,600 kilograms per each square +centimeter on its surface! + +“What an experience!” I exclaimed. “Traveling these deep regions where +no man has ever ventured before! Look, captain! Look at these +magnificent rocks, these uninhabited caves, these last global haunts +where life is no longer possible! What unheard-of scenery, and why are +we reduced to preserving it only as a memory?” + +“Would you like,” Captain Nemo asked me, “to bring back more than just +a memory?” + +“What do you mean?” + +“I mean that nothing could be easier than taking a photograph of this +underwater region!” + +Before I had time to express the surprise this new proposition caused +me, a camera was carried into the lounge at Captain Nemo’s +request. The liquid setting, electrically lit, unfolded with perfect +clarity through the wide-open panels. No shadows, no blurs, thanks to +our artificial light. Not even sunshine could have been better for our +purposes. With the thrust of its propeller curbed by the slant of its +fins, the Nautilus stood still. The camera was aimed at the scenery on +the ocean floor, and in a few seconds we had a perfect negative. + +I attach a print of the positive. In it you can view these primordial +rocks that have never seen the light of day, this nether granite that +forms the powerful foundation of our globe, the deep caves cut into +the stony mass, the outlines of incomparable distinctness whose far +edges stand out in black as if from the brush of certain Flemish +painters. In the distance is a mountainous horizon, a wondrously +undulating line that makes up the background of this landscape. The +general effect of these smooth rocks is indescribable: black, +polished, without moss or other blemish, carved into strange shapes, +sitting firmly on a carpet of sand that sparkled beneath our streams +of electric light. + +Meanwhile, his photographic operations over, Captain Nemo told me: + +“Let’s go back up, professor. We mustn’t push our luck and expose the +Nautilus too long to these pressures.” + +“Let’s go back up!” I replied. + +“Hold on tight.” + +Before I had time to realize why the captain made this recommendation, +I was hurled to the carpet. + +Its fins set vertically, its propeller thrown in gear at the captain’s +signal, the Nautilus rose with lightning speed, shooting upward like +an air balloon into the sky. Vibrating resonantly, it knifed through +the watery mass. Not a single detail was visible. In four minutes it +had cleared the four vertical leagues separating it from the surface +of the ocean, and after emerging like a flying fish, it fell back into +the sea, making the waves leap to prodigious heights. + + +CHAPTER 12 + +Sperm Whales and Baleen Whales + + +DURING THE NIGHT of March 13-14, the Nautilus resumed its southward +heading. Once it was abreast of Cape Horn, I thought it would strike +west of the cape, make for Pacific seas, and complete its tour of the +world. It did nothing of the sort and kept moving toward the +southernmost regions. So where was it bound? The pole? That was +insanity. I was beginning to think that the captain’s recklessness +more than justified Ned Land’s worst fears. + +For a good while the Canadian had said nothing more to me about his +escape plans. He had become less sociable, almost sullen. I could see +how heavily this protracted imprisonment was weighing on him. I could +feel the anger building in him. Whenever he encountered the captain, +his eyes would flicker with dark fire, and I was in constant dread +that his natural vehemence would cause him to do something rash. + +That day, March 14, he and Conseil managed to find me in my +stateroom. I asked them the purpose of their visit. + +“To put a simple question to you, sir,” the Canadian answered me. + +“Go on, Ned.” + +“How many men do you think are on board the Nautilus?” + +“I’m unable to say, my friend.” + +“It seems to me,” Ned Land went on, “that it wouldn’t take much of a +crew to run a ship like this one.” + +“Correct,” I replied. “Under existing conditions some ten men at the +most should be enough to operate it.” + +“All right,” the Canadian said, “then why should there be any more +than that?” + +“Why?” I answered. + +I stared at Ned Land, whose motives were easy to guess. + +“Because,” I said, “if I can trust my hunches, if I truly understand +the captain’s way of life, his Nautilus isn’t simply a ship. It’s +meant to be a refuge for people like its commander, people who have +severed all ties with the shore.” + +“Perhaps,” Conseil said, “but in a nutshell, the Nautilus can hold +only a certain number of men, so couldn’t master estimate their +maximum?” + +“How, Conseil?” + +“By calculating it. Master is familiar with the ship’s capacity, hence +the amount of air it contains; on the other hand, master knows how +much air each man consumes in the act of breathing, and he can compare +this data with the fact that the Nautilus must rise to the surface +every twenty-four hours . . .” + +Conseil didn’t finish his sentence, but I could easily see what he was +driving at. + +“I follow you,” I said. “But while they’re simple to do, such +calculations can give only a very uncertain figure.” + +“No problem,” the Canadian went on insistently. + +“Then here’s how to calculate it,” I replied. “In one hour each man +consumes the oxygen contained in 100 liters of air, hence during +twenty-four hours the oxygen contained in 2,400 liters. Therefore, we +must look for the multiple of 2,400 liters of air that gives us the +amount found in the Nautilus.” + +“Precisely,” Conseil said. + +“Now then,” I went on, “the Nautilus’s capacity is 1,500 metric tons, +and that of a ton is 1,000 liters, so the Nautilus holds 1,500,000 +liters of air, which, divided by 2,400 . . .” + +I did a quick pencil calculation. + +“. . . gives us the quotient of 625. Which is tantamount to saying +that the air contained in the Nautilus would be exactly enough for 625 +men over twenty-four hours.” + +“625!” Ned repeated. + +“But rest assured,” I added, “that between passengers, seamen, or +officers, we don’t total one-tenth of that figure.” + +“Which is still too many for three men!” Conseil muttered. + +“So, my poor Ned, I can only counsel patience.” + +“And,” Conseil replied, “even more than patience, resignation.” + +Conseil had said the true word. + +“Even so,” he went on, “Captain Nemo can’t go south forever! He’ll +surely have to stop, if only at the Ice Bank, and he’ll return to the +seas of civilization! Then it will be time to resume Ned Land’s +plans.” + +The Canadian shook his head, passed his hand over his brow, made no +reply, and left us. + +“With master’s permission, I’ll make an observation to him,” Conseil +then told me. “Our poor Ned broods about all the things he can’t +have. He’s haunted by his former life. He seems to miss everything +that’s denied us. He’s obsessed by his old memories and it’s breaking +his heart. We must understand him. What does he have to occupy him +here? Nothing. He isn’t a scientist like master, and he doesn’t share +our enthusiasm for the sea’s wonders. He would risk anything just to +enter a tavern in his own country!” + +To be sure, the monotony of life on board must have seemed unbearable +to the Canadian, who was accustomed to freedom and activity. It was a +rare event that could excite him. That day, however, a development +occurred that reminded him of his happy years as a harpooner. + +Near eleven o’clock in the morning, while on the surface of the ocean, +the Nautilus fell in with a herd of baleen whales. This encounter +didn’t surprise me, because I knew these animals were being hunted so +relentlessly that they took refuge in the ocean basins of the high +latitudes. + +In the maritime world and in the realm of geographic exploration, +whales have played a major role. This is the animal that first dragged +the Basques in its wake, then Asturian Spaniards, Englishmen, and +Dutchmen, emboldening them against the ocean’s perils, and leading +them to the ends of the earth. Baleen whales like to frequent the +southernmost and northernmost seas. Old legends even claim that these +cetaceans led fishermen to within a mere seven leagues of the North +Pole. Although this feat is fictitious, it will someday come true, +because it’s likely that by hunting whales in the Arctic or Antarctic +regions, man will finally reach this unknown spot on the globe. + +We were seated on the platform next to a tranquil sea. The month of +March, since it’s the equivalent of October in these latitudes, was +giving us some fine autumn days. It was the Canadian—on this topic he +was never mistaken—who sighted a baleen whale on the eastern +horizon. If you looked carefully, you could see its blackish back +alternately rise and fall above the waves, five miles from the +Nautilus. + +“Wow!” Ned Land exclaimed. “If I were on board a whaler, there’s an +encounter that would be great fun! That’s one big animal! Look how +high its blowholes are spouting all that air and steam! Damnation! Why +am I chained to this hunk of sheet iron!” + +“Why, Ned!” I replied. “You still aren’t over your old fishing urges?” + +“How could a whale fisherman forget his old trade, sir? Who could ever +get tired of such exciting hunting?” + +“You’ve never fished these seas, Ned?” + +“Never, sir. Just the northernmost seas, equally in the Bering Strait +and the Davis Strait.” + +“So the southern right whale is still unknown to you. Until now it’s +the bowhead whale you’ve hunted, and it won’t risk going past the warm +waters of the equator.” + +“Oh, professor, what are you feeding me?” the Canadian answered in a +tolerably skeptical tone. + +“I’m feeding you the facts.” + +“By thunder! In ’65, just two and a half years ago, I to whom you +speak, I myself stepped onto the carcass of a whale near Greenland, +and its flank still carried the marked harpoon of a whaling ship from +the Bering Sea. Now I ask you, after it had been wounded west of +America, how could this animal be killed in the east, unless it had +cleared the equator and doubled Cape Horn or the Cape of Good Hope?” + +“I agree with our friend Ned,” Conseil said, “and I’m waiting to hear +how master will reply to him.” + +“Master will reply, my friends, that baleen whales are localized, +according to species, within certain seas that they never leave. And +if one of these animals went from the Bering Strait to the Davis +Strait, it’s quite simply because there’s some passageway from the one +sea to the other, either along the coasts of Canada or Siberia.” + +“You expect us to fall for that?” the Canadian asked, tipping me a +wink. + +“If master says so,” Conseil replied. + +“Which means,” the Canadian went on, “since I’ve never fished these +waterways, I don’t know the whales that frequent them?” + +“That’s what I’ve been telling you, Ned.” + +“All the more reason to get to know them,” Conseil answered. + +“Look! Look!” the Canadian exclaimed, his voice full of +excitement. “It’s approaching! It’s coming toward us! It’s thumbing +its nose at me! It knows I can’t do a blessed thing to it!” + +Ned stamped his foot. Brandishing an imaginary harpoon, his hands +positively trembled. + +“These cetaceans,” he asked, “are they as big as the ones in the +northernmost seas?” + +“Pretty nearly, Ned.” + +“Because I’ve seen big baleen whales, sir, whales measuring up to 100 +feet long! I’ve even heard that those rorqual whales off the Aleutian +Islands sometimes get over 150 feet.” + +“That strikes me as exaggerated,” I replied. “Those animals are only +members of the genus Balaenoptera furnished with dorsal fins, and like +sperm whales, they’re generally smaller than the bowhead whale.” + +“Oh!” exclaimed the Canadian, whose eyes hadn’t left the ocean. “It’s +getting closer, it’s coming into the Nautilus’s waters!” + +Then, going on with his conversation: + +“You talk about sperm whales,” he said, “as if they were little +beasts! But there are stories of gigantic sperm whales. They’re shrewd +cetaceans. I hear that some will cover themselves with algae and fucus +plants. People mistake them for islets. They pitch camp on top, make +themselves at home, light a fire—” + +“Build houses,” Conseil said. + +“Yes, funny man,” Ned Land replied. “Then one fine day the animal +dives and drags all its occupants down into the depths.” + +“Like in the voyages of Sinbad the Sailor,” I answered, laughing. “Oh, +Mr. Land, you’re addicted to tall tales! What sperm whales you’re +handing us! I hope you don’t really believe in them!” + +“Mr. Naturalist,” the Canadian replied in all seriousness, “when it +comes to whales, you can believe anything! (Look at that one move! +Look at it stealing away!) People claim these animals can circle +around the world in just fifteen days.” + +“I don’t say nay.” + +“But what you undoubtedly don’t know, Professor Aronnax, is that at +the beginning of the world, whales traveled even quicker.” + +“Oh really, Ned! And why so?” + +“Because in those days their tails moved side to side, like those on +fish, in other words, their tails were straight up, thrashing the +water from left to right, right to left. But spotting that they swam +too fast, our Creator twisted their tails, and ever since they’ve been +thrashing the waves up and down, at the expense of their speed.” + +“Fine, Ned,” I said, then resurrected one of the Canadian’s +expressions. “You expect us to fall for that?” + +“Not too terribly,” Ned Land replied, “and no more than if I told you +there are whales that are 300 feet long and weigh 1,000,000 pounds.” + +“That’s indeed considerable,” I said. “But you must admit that certain +cetaceans do grow to significant size, since they’re said to supply as +much as 120 metric tons of oil.” + +“That I’ve seen,” the Canadian said. + +“I can easily believe it, Ned, just as I can believe that certain +baleen whales equal 100 elephants in bulk. Imagine the impact of such +a mass if it were launched at full speed!” + +“Is it true,” Conseil asked, “that they can sink ships?” + +“Ships? I doubt it,” I replied. “However, they say that in 1820, right +in these southern seas, a baleen whale rushed at the Essex and pushed +it backward at a speed of four meters per second. Its stern was +flooded, and the Essex went down fast.” + +Ned looked at me with a bantering expression. + +“Speaking for myself,” he said, “I once got walloped by a whale’s +tail—in my longboat, needless to say. My companions and I were +launched to an altitude of six meters. But next to the professor’s +whale, mine was just a baby.” + +“Do these animals live a long time?” Conseil asked. + +“A thousand years,” the Canadian replied without hesitation. + +“And how, Ned,” I asked, “do you know that’s so?” + +“Because people say so.” + +“And why do people say so?” + +“Because people know so.” + +“No, Ned! People don’t know so, they suppose so, and here’s the logic +with which they back up their beliefs. When fishermen first hunted +whales 400 years ago, these animals grew to bigger sizes than they do +today. Reasonably enough, it’s assumed that today’s whales are smaller +because they haven’t had time to reach their full growth. That’s why +the Count de Buffon’s encyclopedia says that cetaceans can live, and +even must live, for a thousand years. You understand?” + +Ned Land didn’t understand. He no longer even heard me. That baleen +whale kept coming closer. His eyes devoured it. + +“Oh!” he exclaimed. “It’s not just one whale, it’s ten, twenty, a +whole gam! And I can’t do a thing! I’m tied hand and foot!” + +“But Ned my friend,” Conseil said, “why not ask Captain Nemo for +permission to hunt—” + +Before Conseil could finish his sentence, Ned Land scooted down the +hatch and ran to look for the captain. A few moments later, the two of +them reappeared on the platform. + +Captain Nemo observed the herd of cetaceans cavorting on the waters a +mile from the Nautilus. + +“They’re southern right whales,” he said. “There goes the fortune of a +whole whaling fleet.” + +“Well, sir,” the Canadian asked, “couldn’t I hunt them, just so I +don’t forget my old harpooning trade?” + +“Hunt them? What for?” Captain Nemo replied. “Simply to destroy them? +We have no use for whale oil on this ship.” + +“But, sir,” the Canadian went on, “in the Red Sea you authorized us to +chase a dugong!” + +“There it was an issue of obtaining fresh meat for my crew. Here it +would be killing for the sake of killing. I’m well aware that’s a +privilege reserved for mankind, but I don’t allow such murderous +pastimes. When your peers, Mr. Land, destroy decent, harmless +creatures like the southern right whale or the bowhead whale, they +commit a reprehensible offense. Thus they’ve already depopulated all +of Baffin Bay, and they’ll wipe out a whole class of useful +animals. So leave these poor cetaceans alone. They have quite enough +natural enemies, such as sperm whales, swordfish, and sawfish, without +you meddling with them.” + +I’ll let the reader decide what faces the Canadian made during this +lecture on hunting ethics. Furnishing such arguments to a professional +harpooner was a waste of words. Ned Land stared at Captain Nemo and +obviously missed his meaning. But the captain was right. Thanks to the +mindless, barbaric bloodthirstiness of fishermen, the last baleen +whale will someday disappear from the ocean. + +Ned Land whistled “Yankee Doodle” between his teeth, stuffed his hands +in his pockets, and turned his back on us. + +Meanwhile Captain Nemo studied the herd of cetaceans, then addressed +me: + +“I was right to claim that baleen whales have enough natural enemies +without counting man. These specimens will soon have to deal with +mighty opponents. Eight miles to leeward, Professor Aronnax, can you +see those blackish specks moving about?” + +“Yes, captain,” I replied. + +“Those are sperm whales, dreadful animals that I’ve sometimes +encountered in herds of 200 or 300! As for them, they’re cruel, +destructive beasts, and they deserve to be exterminated.” + +The Canadian turned swiftly at these last words. + +“Well, captain,” I said, “on behalf of the baleen whales, there’s +still time—” + +“It’s pointless to run any risks, professor. The Nautilus will suffice +to disperse these sperm whales. It’s armed with a steel spur quite +equal to Mr. Land’s harpoon, I imagine.” + +The Canadian didn’t even bother shrugging his shoulders. Attacking +cetaceans with thrusts from a spur! Who ever heard of such malarkey! + +“Wait and see, Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo said. “We’ll show you +a style of hunting with which you aren’t yet familiar. We’ll take no +pity on these ferocious cetaceans. They’re merely mouth and teeth!” + +Mouth and teeth! There’s no better way to describe the long-skulled +sperm whale, whose length sometimes exceeds twenty-five meters. The +enormous head of this cetacean occupies about a third of its +body. Better armed than a baleen whale, whose upper jaw is adorned +solely with whalebone, the sperm whale is equipped with twenty-five +huge teeth that are twenty centimeters high, have cylindrical, conical +summits, and weigh two pounds each. In the top part of this enormous +head, inside big cavities separated by cartilage, you’ll find 300 to +400 kilograms of that valuable oil called “spermaceti.” The sperm +whale is an awkward animal, more tadpole than fish, as Professor +Frédol has noted. It’s poorly constructed, being “defective,” so to +speak, over the whole left side of its frame, with good eyesight only +in its right eye. + +Meanwhile that monstrous herd kept coming closer. It had seen the +baleen whales and was preparing to attack. You could tell in advance +that the sperm whales would be victorious, not only because they were +better built for fighting than their harmless adversaries, but also +because they could stay longer underwater before returning to breathe +at the surface. + +There was just time to run to the rescue of the baleen whales. The +Nautilus proceeded to midwater. Conseil, Ned, and I sat in front of +the lounge windows. Captain Nemo made his way to the helmsman’s side +to operate his submersible as an engine of destruction. Soon I felt +the beats of our propeller getting faster, and we picked up speed. + +The battle between sperm whales and baleen whales had already begun +when the Nautilus arrived. It maneuvered to cut into the herd of +long-skulled predators. At first the latter showed little concern at +the sight of this new monster meddling in the battle. But they soon +had to sidestep its thrusts. + +What a struggle! Ned Land quickly grew enthusiastic and even ended up +applauding. Brandished in its captain’s hands, the Nautilus was simply +a fearsome harpoon. He hurled it at those fleshy masses and ran them +clean through, leaving behind two squirming animal halves. As for +those daunting strokes of the tail hitting our sides, the ship never +felt them. No more than the collisions it caused. One sperm whale +exterminated, it ran at another, tacked on the spot so as not to miss +its prey, went ahead or astern, obeyed its rudder, dived when the +cetacean sank to deeper strata, rose with it when it returned to the +surface, struck it head-on or slantwise, hacked at it or tore it, and +from every direction and at any speed, skewered it with its dreadful +spur. + +What bloodshed! What a hubbub on the surface of the waves! What sharp +hisses and snorts unique to these frightened animals! Their tails +churned the normally peaceful strata into actual billows. + +This Homeric slaughter dragged on for an hour, and the long-skulled +predators couldn’t get away. Several times ten or twelve of them +teamed up, trying to crush the Nautilus with their sheer mass. Through +the windows you could see their enormous mouths paved with teeth, +their fearsome eyes. Losing all self-control, Ned Land hurled threats +and insults at them. You could feel them clinging to the submersible +like hounds atop a wild boar in the underbrush. But by forcing the +pace of its propeller, the Nautilus carried them off, dragged them +under, or brought them back to the upper level of the waters, +untroubled by their enormous weight or their powerful grip. + +Finally this mass of sperm whales thinned out. The waves grew tranquil +again. I felt us rising to the surface of the ocean. The hatch opened +and we rushed onto the platform. + +The sea was covered with mutilated corpses. A fearsome explosion +couldn’t have slashed, torn, or shredded these fleshy masses with +greater violence. We were floating in the midst of gigantic bodies, +bluish on the back, whitish on the belly, and all deformed by enormous +protuberances. A few frightened sperm whales were fleeing toward the +horizon. The waves were dyed red over an area of several miles, and +the Nautilus was floating in the middle of a sea of blood. + +Captain Nemo rejoined us. + +“Well, Mr. Land?” he said. + +“Well, sir,” replied the Canadian, whose enthusiasm had subsided, +“it’s a dreadful sight for sure. But I’m a hunter not a butcher, and +this is plain butchery.” + +“It was a slaughter of destructive animals,” the captain replied, “and +the Nautilus is no butcher knife.” + +“I prefer my harpoon,” the Canadian answered. + +“To each his own,” the captain replied, staring intently at Ned Land. + +I was in dread the latter would give way to some violent outburst that +might have had deplorable consequences. But his anger was diverted by +the sight of a baleen whale that the Nautilus had pulled alongside of +just then. + +This animal had been unable to escape the teeth of those sperm +whales. I recognized the southern right whale, its head squat, its +body dark all over. Anatomically, it’s distinguished from the white +whale and the black right whale by the fusion of its seven cervical +vertebrae, and it numbers two more ribs than its relatives. Floating +on its side, its belly riddled with bites, the poor cetacean was +dead. Still hanging from the tip of its mutilated fin was a little +baby whale that it had been unable to rescue from the slaughter. Its +open mouth let water flow through its whalebone like a murmuring surf. + +Captain Nemo guided the Nautilus next to the animal’s corpse. Two of +his men climbed onto the whale’s flank, and to my astonishment, I saw +them draw from its udders all the milk they held, in other words, +enough to fill two or three casks. + +The captain offered me a cup of this still-warm milk. I couldn’t help +showing my distaste for such a beverage. He assured me that this milk +was excellent, no different from cow’s milk. + +I sampled it and agreed. So this milk was a worthwhile reserve ration +for us, because in the form of salt butter or cheese, it would provide +a pleasant change of pace from our standard fare. + +From that day on, I noted with some uneasiness that Ned Land’s +attitudes toward Captain Nemo grew worse and worse, and I decided to +keep a close watch on the Canadian’s movements and activities. + + +CHAPTER 13 + +The Ice Bank + + +THE NAUTILUS resumed its unruffled southbound heading. It went along +the 50th meridian with considerable speed. Would it go to the pole? I +didn’t think so, because every previous attempt to reach this spot on +the globe had failed. Besides, the season was already quite advanced, +since March 13 on Antarctic shores corresponds with September 13 in +the northernmost regions, which marks the beginning of the equinoctial +period. + +On March 14 at latitude 55 degrees, I spotted floating ice, plain pale +bits of rubble twenty to twenty-five feet long, which formed reefs +over which the sea burst into foam. The Nautilus stayed on the surface +of the ocean. Having fished in the Arctic seas, Ned Land was already +familiar with the sight of icebergs. Conseil and I were marveling at +them for the first time. + +In the sky toward the southern horizon, there stretched a dazzling +white band. English whalers have given this the name “ice blink.” No +matter how heavy the clouds may be, they can’t obscure this +phenomenon. It announces the presence of a pack, or shoal, of ice. + +Indeed, larger blocks of ice soon appeared, their brilliance varying +at the whim of the mists. Some of these masses displayed green veins, +as if scrawled with undulating lines of copper sulfate. Others looked +like enormous amethysts, letting the light penetrate their +insides. The latter reflected the sun’s rays from the thousand facets +of their crystals. The former, tinted with a bright limestone sheen, +would have supplied enough building material to make a whole marble +town. + +The farther down south we went, the more these floating islands grew +in numbers and prominence. Polar birds nested on them by the +thousands. These were petrels, cape pigeons, or puffins, and their +calls were deafening. Mistaking the Nautilus for the corpse of a +whale, some of them alighted on it and prodded its resonant sheet iron +with pecks of their beaks. + +During this navigating in the midst of the ice, Captain Nemo often +stayed on the platform. He observed these deserted waterways +carefully. I saw his calm eyes sometimes perk up. In these polar seas +forbidden to man, did he feel right at home, the lord of these +unreachable regions? Perhaps. But he didn’t say. He stood still, +reviving only when his pilot’s instincts took over. Then, steering his +Nautilus with consummate dexterity, he skillfully dodged the masses of +ice, some of which measured several miles in length, their heights +varying from seventy to eighty meters. Often the horizon seemed +completely closed off. Abreast of latitude 60 degrees, every +passageway had disappeared. Searching with care, Captain Nemo soon +found a narrow opening into which he brazenly slipped, well aware, +however, that it would close behind him. + +Guided by his skillful hands, the Nautilus passed by all these +different masses of ice, which are classified by size and shape with a +precision that enraptured Conseil: “icebergs,” or mountains; “ice +fields,” or smooth, limitless tracts; “drift ice,” or floating floes; +“packs,” or broken tracts, called “patches” when they’re circular and +“streams” when they form long strips. + +The temperature was fairly low. Exposed to the outside air, the +thermometer marked -2 degrees to + +-3 degrees centigrade. But we were warmly dressed in furs, for which + seals and aquatic bears had paid the price. Evenly heated by all its + electric equipment, the Nautilus’s interior defied the most intense + cold. Moreover, to find a bearable temperature, the ship had only to + sink just a few meters beneath the waves. + +Two months earlier we would have enjoyed perpetual daylight in this +latitude; but night already fell for three or four hours, and later it +would cast six months of shadow over these circumpolar regions. + +On March 15 we passed beyond the latitude of the South Shetland and +South Orkney Islands. The captain told me that many tribes of seals +used to inhabit these shores; but English and American whalers, in a +frenzy of destruction, slaughtered all the adults, including pregnant +females, and where life and activity once existed, those fishermen +left behind only silence and death. + +Going along the 55th meridian, the Nautilus cut the Antarctic Circle +on March 16 near eight o’clock in the morning. Ice completely +surrounded us and closed off the horizon. Nevertheless, Captain Nemo +went from passageway to passageway, always proceeding south. + +“But where’s he going?” I asked. + +“Straight ahead,” Conseil replied. “Ultimately, when he can’t go any +farther, he’ll stop.” + +“I wouldn’t bet on it!” I replied. + +And in all honesty, I confess that this venturesome excursion was far +from displeasing to me. I can’t express the intensity of my amazement +at the beauties of these new regions. The ice struck superb +poses. Here, its general effect suggested an oriental town with +countless minarets and mosques. There, a city in ruins, flung to the +ground by convulsions in the earth. These views were varied +continuously by the sun’s oblique rays, or were completely swallowed +up by gray mists in the middle of blizzards. Then explosions, +cave-ins, and great iceberg somersaults would occur all around us, +altering the scenery like the changing landscape in a diorama. + +If the Nautilus was submerged during these losses of balance, we heard +the resulting noises spread under the waters with frightful intensity, +and the collapse of these masses created daunting eddies down to the +ocean’s lower strata. The Nautilus then rolled and pitched like a ship +left to the fury of the elements. + +Often, no longer seeing any way out, I thought we were imprisoned for +good, but Captain Nemo, guided by his instincts, discovered new +passageways from the tiniest indications. He was never wrong when he +observed slender threads of bluish water streaking through these ice +fields. Accordingly, I was sure that he had already risked his +Nautilus in the midst of the Antarctic seas. + +However, during the day of March 16, these tracts of ice completely +barred our path. It wasn’t the Ice Bank as yet, just huge ice fields +cemented together by the cold. This obstacle couldn’t stop Captain +Nemo, and he launched his ship against the ice fields with hideous +violence. The Nautilus went into these brittle masses like a wedge, +splitting them with dreadful cracklings. It was an old-fashioned +battering ram propelled with infinite power. Hurled aloft, ice rubble +fell back around us like hail. Through brute force alone, the +submersible carved out a channel for itself. Carried away by its +momentum, the ship sometimes mounted on top of these tracts of ice and +crushed them with its weight, or at other times, when cooped up +beneath the ice fields, it split them with simple pitching movements, +creating wide punctures. + +Violent squalls assaulted us during the daytime. Thanks to certain +heavy mists, we couldn’t see from one end of the platform to the +other. The wind shifted abruptly to every point on the compass. The +snow was piling up in such packed layers, it had to be chipped loose +with blows from picks. Even in a temperature of merely -5 degrees +centigrade, every outside part of the Nautilus was covered with ice. A +ship’s rigging would have been unusable, because all its tackle would +have jammed in the grooves of the pulleys. Only a craft without sails, +driven by an electric motor that needed no coal, could face such high +latitudes. + +Under these conditions the barometer generally stayed quite low. It +fell as far as 73.5 centimeters. Our compass indications no longer +offered any guarantees. The deranged needles would mark contradictory +directions as we approached the southern magnetic pole, which doesn’t +coincide with the South Pole proper. In fact, according to the +astronomer Hansteen, this magnetic pole is located fairly close to +latitude 70 degrees and longitude 130 degrees, or abiding by the +observations of Louis-Isidore Duperrey, in longitude 135 degrees and +latitude 70 degrees 30’. Hence we had to transport compasses to +different parts of the ship, take many readings, and strike an +average. Often we could chart our course only by guesswork, a less +than satisfactory method in the midst of these winding passageways +whose landmarks change continuously. + +At last on March 18, after twenty futile assaults, the Nautilus was +decisively held in check. No longer was it an ice stream, patch, or +field—it was an endless, immovable barrier formed by ice mountains +fused to each other. + +“The Ice Bank!” the Canadian told me. + +For Ned Land, as well as for every navigator before us, I knew that +this was the great insurmountable obstacle. When the sun appeared for +an instant near noon, Captain Nemo took a reasonably accurate sight +that gave our position as longitude 51 degrees 30’ and latitude 67 +degrees 39’ south. This was a position already well along in these +Antarctic regions. + +As for the liquid surface of the sea, there was no longer any +semblance of it before our eyes. Before the Nautilus’s spur there lay +vast broken plains, a tangle of confused chunks with all the +helter-skelter unpredictability typical of a river’s surface a short +while before its ice breakup; but in this case the proportions were +gigantic. Here and there stood sharp peaks, lean spires that rose as +high as 200 feet; farther off, a succession of steeply cut cliffs +sporting a grayish tint, huge mirrors that reflected the sparse rays +of a sun half drowned in mist. Beyond, a stark silence reigned in this +desolate natural setting, a silence barely broken by the flapping +wings of petrels or puffins. By this point everything was frozen, even +sound. + +So the Nautilus had to halt in its venturesome course among these +tracts of ice. + +“Sir,” Ned Land told me that day, “if your captain goes any farther +. . .” + +“Yes?” + +“He’ll be a superman.” + +“How so, Ned?” + +“Because nobody can clear the Ice Bank. Your captain’s a powerful man, +but damnation, he isn’t more powerful than nature. If she draws a +boundary line, there you stop, like it or not!” + +“Correct, Ned Land, but I still want to know what’s behind this Ice +Bank! Behold my greatest source of irritation—a wall!” + +“Master is right,” Conseil said. “Walls were invented simply to +frustrate scientists. All walls should be banned.” + +“Fine!” the Canadian put in. “But we already know what’s behind this +Ice Bank.” + +“What?” I asked. + +“Ice, ice, and more ice.” + +“You may be sure of that, Ned,” I answered, “but I’m not. That’s why I +want to see for myself.” + +“Well, professor,” the Canadian replied, “you can just drop that idea! +You’ve made it to the Ice Bank, which is already far enough, but you +won’t get any farther, neither your Captain Nemo or his Nautilus. And +whether he wants to or not, we’ll head north again, in other words, to +the land of sensible people.” + +I had to agree that Ned Land was right, and until ships are built to +navigate over tracts of ice, they’ll have to stop at the Ice Bank. + +Indeed, despite its efforts, despite the powerful methods it used to +split this ice, the Nautilus was reduced to immobility. Ordinarily, +when someone can’t go any farther, he still has the option of +returning in his tracks. But here it was just as impossible to turn +back as to go forward, because every passageway had closed behind us, +and if our submersible remained even slightly stationary, it would be +frozen in without delay. Which is exactly what happened near two +o’clock in the afternoon, and fresh ice kept forming over the ship’s +sides with astonishing speed. I had to admit that Captain Nemo’s +leadership had been most injudicious. + +Just then I was on the platform. Observing the situation for some +while, the captain said to me: + +“Well, professor! What think you?” + +“I think we’re trapped, captain.” + +“Trapped! What do you mean?” + +“I mean we can’t go forward, backward, or sideways. I think that’s the +standard definition of ‘trapped,’ at least in the civilized world.” + +“So, Professor Aronnax, you think the Nautilus won’t be able to float +clear?” + +“Only with the greatest difficulty, captain, since the season is +already too advanced for you to depend on an ice breakup.” + +“Oh, professor,” Captain Nemo replied in an ironic tone, “you never +change! You see only impediments and obstacles! I promise you, not +only will the Nautilus float clear, it will go farther still!” + +“Farther south?” I asked, gaping at the captain. + +“Yes, sir, it will go to the pole.” + +“To the pole!” I exclaimed, unable to keep back a movement of +disbelief. + +“Yes,” the captain replied coolly, “the Antarctic pole, that unknown +spot crossed by every meridian on the globe. As you know, I do +whatever I like with my Nautilus.” + +Yes, I did know that! I knew this man was daring to the point of being +foolhardy. But to overcome all the obstacles around the South +Pole—even more unattainable than the North Pole, which still hadn’t +been reached by the boldest navigators—wasn’t this an absolutely +insane undertaking, one that could occur only in the brain of a +madman? + +It then dawned on me to ask Captain Nemo if he had already discovered +this pole, which no human being had ever trod underfoot. + +“No, sir,” he answered me, “but we’ll discover it together. Where +others have failed, I’ll succeed. Never before has my Nautilus cruised +so far into these southernmost seas, but I repeat: it will go farther +still.” + +“I’d like to believe you, captain,” I went on in a tone of some +sarcasm. “Oh I do believe you! Let’s forge ahead! There are no +obstacles for us! Let’s shatter this Ice Bank! Let’s blow it up, and +if it still resists, let’s put wings on the Nautilus and fly over it!” + +“Over it, professor?” Captain Nemo replied serenely. “No, not over it, +but under it.” + +“Under it!” I exclaimed. + +A sudden insight into Captain Nemo’s plans had just flashed through my +mind. I understood. The marvelous talents of his Nautilus would be put +to work once again in this superhuman undertaking! + +“I can see we’re starting to understand each other, professor,” +Captain Nemo told me with a half smile. “You already glimpse the +potential—myself, I’d say the success—of this attempt. Maneuvers that +aren’t feasible for an ordinary ship are easy for the Nautilus. If a +continent emerges at the pole, we’ll stop at that continent. But on +the other hand, if open sea washes the pole, we’ll go to that very +place!” + +“Right,” I said, carried away by the captain’s logic. “Even though the +surface of the sea has solidified into ice, its lower strata are still +open, thanks to that divine justice that puts the maximum density of +salt water one degree above its freezing point. And if I’m not +mistaken, the submerged part of this Ice Bank is in a four-to-one +ratio to its emerging part.” + +“Very nearly, professor. For each foot of iceberg above the sea, there +are three more below. Now then, since these ice mountains don’t exceed +a height of 100 meters, they sink only to a depth of 300 meters. And +what are 300 meters to the Nautilus?” + +“A mere nothing, sir.” + +“We could even go to greater depths and find that temperature layer +common to all ocean water, and there we’d brave with impunity the -30 +degrees or -40 degrees cold on the surface.” + +“True, sir, very true,” I replied with growing excitement. + +“Our sole difficulty,” Captain Nemo went on, “lies in our staying +submerged for several days without renewing our air supply.” + +“That’s all?” I answered. “The Nautilus has huge air tanks; we’ll fill +them up and they’ll supply all the oxygen we need.” + +“Good thinking, Professor Aronnax,” the captain replied with a +smile. “But since I don’t want to be accused of foolhardiness, I’m +giving you all my objections in advance.” + +“You have more?” + +“Just one. If a sea exists at the South Pole, it’s possible this sea +may be completely frozen over, so we couldn’t come up to the surface!” + +“My dear sir, have you forgotten that the Nautilus is armed with a +fearsome spur? Couldn’t it be launched diagonally against those tracts +of ice, which would break open from the impact?” + +“Ah, professor, you’re full of ideas today!” + +“Besides, captain,” I added with still greater enthusiasm, “why +wouldn’t we find open sea at the South Pole just as at the North Pole? +The cold-temperature poles and the geographical poles don’t coincide +in either the northern or southern hemispheres, and until proof to the +contrary, we can assume these two spots on the earth feature either a +continent or an ice-free ocean.” + +“I think as you do, Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo replied. “I’ll +only point out that after raising so many objections against my plan, +you’re now crushing me under arguments in its favor.” + +Captain Nemo was right. I was outdoing him in daring! It was I who was +sweeping him to the pole. I was leading the way, I was out in front +. . . but no, you silly fool! Captain Nemo already knew the pros and +cons of this question, and it amused him to see you flying off into +impossible fantasies! + +Nevertheless, he didn’t waste an instant. At his signal, the chief +officer appeared. The two men held a quick exchange in their +incomprehensible language, and either the chief officer had been +alerted previously or he found the plan feasible, because he showed no +surprise. + +But as unemotional as he was, he couldn’t have been more impeccably +emotionless than Conseil when I told the fine lad our intention of +pushing on to the South Pole. He greeted my announcement with the +usual “As master wishes,” and I had to be content with that. As for +Ned Land, no human shoulders ever executed a higher shrug than the +pair belonging to our Canadian. + +“Honestly, sir,” he told me. “You and your Captain Nemo, I pity you +both!” + +“But we will go to the pole, Mr. Land.” + +“Maybe, but you won’t come back!” + +And Ned Land reentered his cabin, “to keep from doing something +desperate,” he said as he left me. + +Meanwhile preparations for this daring attempt were getting under +way. The Nautilus’s powerful pumps forced air down into the tanks and +stored it under high pressure. Near four o’clock Captain Nemo informed +me that the platform hatches were about to be closed. I took a last +look at the dense Ice Bank we were going to conquer. The weather was +fair, the skies reasonably clear, the cold quite brisk, namely -12 +degrees centigrade; but after the wind had lulled, this temperature +didn’t seem too unbearable. + +Equipped with picks, some ten men climbed onto the Nautilus’s sides +and cracked loose the ice around the ship’s lower plating, which was +soon set free. This operation was swiftly executed because the fresh +ice was still thin. We all reentered the interior. The main ballast +tanks were filled with the water that hadn’t yet congealed at our line +of flotation. The Nautilus submerged without delay. + +I took a seat in the lounge with Conseil. Through the open window we +stared at the lower strata of this southernmost ocean. The thermometer +rose again. The needle on the pressure gauge swerved over its dial. + +About 300 meters down, just as Captain Nemo had predicted, we cruised +beneath the undulating surface of the Ice Bank. But the Nautilus sank +deeper still. It reached a depth of 800 meters. At the surface this +water gave a temperature of -12 degrees centigrade, but now it gave no +more than -10 degrees. Two degrees had already been gained. Thanks to +its heating equipment, the Nautilus’s temperature, needless to say, +stayed at a much higher degree. Every maneuver was accomplished with +extraordinary precision. + +“With all due respect to master,” Conseil told me, “we’ll pass it by.” + +“I fully expect to!” I replied in a tone of deep conviction. + +Now in open water, the Nautilus took a direct course to the pole +without veering from the 52nd meridian. From 67 degrees 30’ to 90 +degrees, twenty-two and a half degrees of latitude were left to cross, +in other words, slightly more than 500 leagues. The Nautilus adopted +an average speed of twenty-six miles per hour, the speed of an express +train. If it kept up this pace, forty hours would do it for reaching +the pole. + +For part of the night, the novelty of our circumstances kept Conseil +and me at the lounge window. The sea was lit by our beacon’s electric +rays. But the depths were deserted. Fish didn’t linger in these +imprisoned waters. Here they found merely a passageway for going from +the Antarctic Ocean to open sea at the pole. Our progress was +swift. You could feel it in the vibrations of the long steel hull. + +Near two o’clock in the morning, I went to snatch a few hours of +sleep. Conseil did likewise. I didn’t encounter Captain Nemo while +going down the gangways. I assumed that he was keeping to the +pilothouse. + +The next day, March 19, at five o’clock in the morning, I was back at +my post in the lounge. The electric log indicated that the Nautilus +had reduced speed. By then it was rising to the surface, but +cautiously, while slowly emptying its ballast tanks. + +My heart was pounding. Would we emerge into the open and find the +polar air again? + +No. A jolt told me that the Nautilus had bumped the underbelly of the +Ice Bank, still quite thick to judge from the hollowness of the +accompanying noise. Indeed, we had “struck bottom,” to use nautical +terminology, but in the opposite direction and at a depth of 3,000 +feet. That gave us 4,000 feet of ice overhead, of which 1,000 feet +emerged above water. So the Ice Bank was higher here than we had found +it on the outskirts. A circumstance less than encouraging. + +Several times that day, the Nautilus repeated the same experiment and +always it bumped against this surface that formed a ceiling above +it. At certain moments the ship encountered ice at a depth of 900 +meters, denoting a thickness of 1,200 meters, of which 300 meters rose +above the level of the ocean. This height had tripled since the moment +the Nautilus had dived beneath the waves. + +I meticulously noted these different depths, obtaining the underwater +profile of this upside-down mountain chain that stretched beneath the +sea. + +By evening there was still no improvement in our situation. The ice +stayed between 400 and 500 meters deep. It was obviously shrinking, +but what a barrier still lay between us and the surface of the ocean! + +By then it was eight o’clock. The air inside the Nautilus should have +been renewed four hours earlier, following daily practice on +board. But I didn’t suffer very much, although Captain Nemo hadn’t yet +made demands on the supplementary oxygen in his air tanks. + +That night my sleep was fitful. Hope and fear besieged me by turns. I +got up several times. The Nautilus continued groping. Near three +o’clock in the morning, I observed that we encountered the Ice Bank’s +underbelly at a depth of only fifty meters. So only 150 feet separated +us from the surface of the water. Little by little the Ice Bank was +turning into an ice field again. The mountains were changing back into +plains. + +My eyes didn’t leave the pressure gauge. We kept rising on a diagonal, +going along this shiny surface that sparkled beneath our electric +rays. Above and below, the Ice Bank was subsiding in long +gradients. Mile after mile it was growing thinner. + +Finally, at six o’clock in the morning on that memorable day of March +19, the lounge door opened. Captain Nemo appeared. + +“Open sea!” he told me. + + +CHAPTER 14 + +The South Pole + + +I RUSHED UP onto the platform. Yes, open sea! Barely a few sparse +floes, some moving icebergs; a sea stretching into the distance; hosts +of birds in the air and myriads of fish under the waters, which varied +from intense blue to olive green depending on the depth. The +thermometer marked 3 degrees centigrade. It was as if a comparative +springtime had been locked up behind that Ice Bank, whose distant +masses were outlined on the northern horizon. + +“Are we at the pole?” I asked the captain, my heart pounding. + +“I’ve no idea,” he answered me. “At noon we’ll fix our position.” + +“But will the sun show through this mist?” I said, staring at the +grayish sky. + +“No matter how faintly it shines, it will be enough for me,” the +captain replied. + +To the south, ten miles from the Nautilus, a solitary islet rose to a +height of 200 meters. We proceeded toward it, but cautiously, because +this sea could have been strewn with reefs. + +In an hour we had reached the islet. Two hours later we had completed +a full circle around it. It measured four to five miles in +circumference. A narrow channel separated it from a considerable +shore, perhaps a continent whose limits we couldn’t see. The existence +of this shore seemed to bear out Commander Maury’s hypotheses. In +essence, this ingenious American has noted that between the South Pole +and the 60th parallel, the sea is covered with floating ice of +dimensions much greater than any found in the north Atlantic. From +this fact he drew the conclusion that the Antarctic Circle must +contain considerable shores, since icebergs can’t form on the high +seas but only along coastlines. According to his calculations, this +frozen mass enclosing the southernmost pole forms a vast ice cap whose +width must reach 4,000 kilometers. + +Meanwhile, to avoid running aground, the Nautilus halted three cable +lengths from a strand crowned by superb piles of rocks. The skiff was +launched to sea. Two crewmen carrying instruments, the captain, +Conseil, and I were on board. It was ten o’clock in the morning. I +hadn’t seen Ned Land. No doubt, in the presence of the South Pole, the +Canadian hated having to eat his words. + +A few strokes of the oar brought the skiff to the sand, where it ran +aground. Just as Conseil was about to jump ashore, I held him back. + +“Sir,” I told Captain Nemo, “to you belongs the honor of first setting +foot on this shore.” + +“Yes, sir,” the captain replied, “and if I have no hesitation in +treading this polar soil, it’s because no human being until now has +left a footprint here.” + +So saying, he leaped lightly onto the sand. His heart must have been +throbbing with intense excitement. He scaled an overhanging rock that +ended in a small promontory and there, mute and motionless, with +crossed arms and blazing eyes, he seemed to be laying claim to these +southernmost regions. After spending five minutes in this trance, he +turned to us. + +“Whenever you’re ready, sir,” he called to me. + +I got out, Conseil at my heels, leaving the two men in the skiff. + +Over an extensive area, the soil consisted of that igneous gravel +called “tuff,” reddish in color as if made from crushed bricks. The +ground was covered with slag, lava flows, and pumice stones. Its +volcanic origin was unmistakable. In certain localities thin smoke +holes gave off a sulfurous odor, showing that the inner fires still +kept their wide-ranging power. Nevertheless, when I scaled a high +escarpment, I could see no volcanoes within a radius of several +miles. In these Antarctic districts, as is well known, Sir James Clark +Ross had found the craters of Mt. Erebus and Mt. Terror in fully +active condition on the 167th meridian at latitude 77 degrees 32’. + +The vegetation on this desolate continent struck me as quite +limited. A few lichens of the species Usnea melanoxanthra sprawled +over the black rocks. The whole meager flora of this region consisted +of certain microscopic buds, rudimentary diatoms made up of a type of +cell positioned between two quartz-rich shells, plus long purple and +crimson fucus plants, buoyed by small air bladders and washed up on +the coast by the surf. + +The beach was strewn with mollusks: small mussels, limpets, smooth +heart-shaped cockles, and especially some sea butterflies with oblong, +membrane-filled bodies whose heads are formed from two rounded +lobes. I also saw myriads of those northernmost sea butterflies three +centimeters long, which a baleen whale can swallow by the thousands in +one gulp. The open waters at the shoreline were alive with these +delightful pteropods, true butterflies of the sea. + +Among other zoophytes present in these shallows, there were a few +coral tree forms that, according to Sir James Clark Ross, live in +these Antarctic seas at depths as great as 1,000 meters; then small +alcyon coral belonging to the species Procellaria pelagica, also a +large number of starfish unique to these climes, plus some feather +stars spangling the sand. + +But it was in the air that life was superabundant. There various +species of birds flew and fluttered by the thousands, deafening us +with their calls. Crowding the rocks, other fowl watched without fear +as we passed and pressed familiarly against our feet. These were auks, +as agile and supple in water, where they are sometimes mistaken for +fast bonito, as they are clumsy and heavy on land. They uttered +outlandish calls and participated in numerous public assemblies that +featured much noise but little action. + +Among other fowl I noted some sheathbills from the wading-bird family, +the size of pigeons, white in color, the beak short and conical, the +eyes framed by red circles. Conseil laid in a supply of them, because +when they’re properly cooked, these winged creatures make a pleasant +dish. In the air there passed sooty albatross with four-meter +wingspans, birds aptly dubbed “vultures of the ocean,” also gigantic +petrels including several with arching wings, enthusiastic eaters of +seal that are known as quebrantahuesos,* and cape pigeons, a sort of +small duck, the tops of their bodies black and white—in short, a whole +series of petrels, some whitish with wings trimmed in brown, others +blue and exclusive to these Antarctic seas, the former “so oily,” I +told Conseil, “that inhabitants of the Faroe Islands simply fit the +bird with a wick, then light it up.” + +*Spanish: “ospreys.” Ed. + +“With that minor addition,” Conseil replied, “these fowl would make +perfect lamps! After this, we should insist that nature equip them +with wicks in advance!” + +Half a mile farther on, the ground was completely riddled with penguin +nests, egg-laying burrows from which numerous birds emerged. Later +Captain Nemo had hundreds of them hunted because their black flesh is +highly edible. They brayed like donkeys. The size of a goose with +slate-colored bodies, white undersides, and lemon-colored neck bands, +these animals let themselves be stoned to death without making any +effort to get away. + +Meanwhile the mists didn’t clear, and by eleven o’clock the sun still +hadn’t made an appearance. Its absence disturbed me. Without it, no +sights were possible. Then how could we tell whether we had reached +the pole? + +When I rejoined Captain Nemo, I found him leaning silently against a +piece of rock and staring at the sky. He seemed impatient, +baffled. But what could we do? This daring and powerful man couldn’t +control the sun as he did the sea. + +Noon arrived without the orb of day appearing for a single +instant. You couldn’t even find its hiding place behind the curtain of +mist. And soon this mist began to condense into snow. + +“Until tomorrow,” the captain said simply; and we went back to the +Nautilus, amid flurries in the air. + +During our absence the nets had been spread, and I observed with +fascination the fish just hauled on board. The Antarctic seas serve as +a refuge for an extremely large number of migratory fish that flee +from storms in the subpolar zones, in truth only to slide down the +gullets of porpoises and seals. I noted some one-decimeter southern +bullhead, a species of whitish cartilaginous fish overrun with bluish +gray stripes and armed with stings, then some Antarctic rabbitfish +three feet long, the body very slender, the skin a smooth silver +white, the head rounded, the topside furnished with three fins, the +snout ending in a trunk that curved back toward the mouth. I sampled +its flesh but found it tasteless, despite Conseil’s views, which were +largely approving. + +The blizzard lasted until the next day. It was impossible to stay on +the platform. From the lounge, where I was writing up the incidents of +this excursion to the polar continent, I could hear the calls of +petrel and albatross cavorting in the midst of the turmoil. The +Nautilus didn’t stay idle, and cruising along the coast, it advanced +some ten miles farther south amid the half light left by the sun as it +skimmed the edge of the horizon. + +The next day, March 20, it stopped snowing. The cold was a little more +brisk. The thermometer marked -2 degrees centigrade. The mist had +cleared, and on that day I hoped our noon sights could be +accomplished. + +Since Captain Nemo hadn’t yet appeared, only Conseil and I were taken +ashore by the skiff. The soil’s nature was still the same: +volcanic. Traces of lava, slag, and basaltic rock were everywhere, but +I couldn’t find the crater that had vomited them up. There as yonder, +myriads of birds enlivened this part of the polar continent. But they +had to share their dominion with huge herds of marine mammals that +looked at us with gentle eyes. These were seals of various species, +some stretched out on the ground, others lying on drifting ice floes, +several leaving or reentering the sea. Having never dealt with man, +they didn’t run off at our approach, and I counted enough of them +thereabouts to provision a couple hundred ships. + +“Ye gods,” Conseil said, “it’s fortunate that Ned Land didn’t come +with us!” + +“Why so, Conseil?” + +“Because that madcap hunter would kill every animal here.” + +“Every animal may be overstating it, but in truth I doubt we could +keep our Canadian friend from harpooning some of these magnificent +cetaceans. Which would be an affront to Captain Nemo, since he hates +to slay harmless beasts needlessly.” + +“He’s right.” + +“Certainly, Conseil. But tell me, haven’t you finished classifying +these superb specimens of marine fauna?” + +“Master is well aware,” Conseil replied, “that I’m not seasoned in +practical application. When master has told me these animals’ names +. . .” + +“They’re seals and walruses.” + +“Two genera,” our scholarly Conseil hastened to say, “that belong to +the family Pinnipedia, order Carnivora, group Unguiculata, subclass +Monodelphia, class Mammalia, branch Vertebrata.” + +“Very nice, Conseil,” I replied, “but these two genera of seals and +walruses are each divided into species, and if I’m not mistaken, we +now have a chance to actually look at them. Let’s.” + +It was eight o’clock in the morning. We had four hours to ourselves +before the sun could be productively observed. I guided our steps +toward a huge bay that made a crescent-shaped incision in the granite +cliffs along the beach. + +There, all about us, I swear that the shores and ice floes were +crowded with marine mammals as far as the eye could see, and I +involuntarily looked around for old Proteus, that mythological +shepherd who guarded King Neptune’s immense flocks. To be specific, +these were seals. They formed distinct male-and-female groups, the +father watching over his family, the mother suckling her little ones, +the stronger youngsters emancipated a few paces away. When these +mammals wanted to relocate, they moved in little jumps made by +contracting their bodies, clumsily helped by their imperfectly +developed flippers, which, as with their manatee relatives, form +actual forearms. In the water, their ideal element, I must say these +animals swim wonderfully thanks to their flexible backbones, narrow +pelvises, close-cropped hair, and webbed feet. Resting on shore, they +assumed extremely graceful positions. Consequently, their gentle +features, their sensitive expressions equal to those of the loveliest +women, their soft, limpid eyes, their charming poses, led the ancients +to glorify them by metamorphosing the males into sea gods and the +females into mermaids. + +I drew Conseil’s attention to the considerable growth of the cerebral +lobes found in these intelligent cetaceans. No mammal except man has +more abundant cerebral matter. Accordingly, seals are quite capable of +being educated; they make good pets, and together with certain other +naturalists, I think these animals can be properly trained to perform +yeoman service as hunting dogs for fishermen. + +Most of these seals were sleeping on the rocks or the sand. Among +those properly termed seals—which have no external ears, unlike sea +lions whose ears protrude—I observed several varieties of the species +stenorhynchus, three meters long, with white hair, bulldog heads, and +armed with ten teeth in each jaw: four incisors in both the upper and +lower, plus two big canines shaped like the fleur-de-lis. Among them +slithered some sea elephants, a type of seal with a short, flexible +trunk; these are the giants of the species, with a circumference of +twenty feet and a length of ten meters. They didn’t move as we +approached. + +“Are these animals dangerous?” Conseil asked me. + +“Only if they’re attacked,” I replied. “But when these giant seals +defend their little ones, their fury is dreadful, and it isn’t rare +for them to smash a fisherman’s longboat to bits.” + +“They’re within their rights,” Conseil answered. + +“I don’t say nay.” + +Two miles farther on, we were stopped by a promontory that screened +the bay from southerly winds. It dropped straight down to the sea, and +surf foamed against it. From beyond this ridge there came fearsome +bellows, such as a herd of cattle might produce. + +“Gracious,” Conseil put in, “a choir of bulls?” + +“No,” I said, “a choir of walruses.” + +“Are they fighting with each other?” + +“Either fighting or playing.” + +“With all due respect to master, this we must see.” + +“Then see it we must, Conseil.” + +And there we were, climbing these blackish rocks amid sudden +landslides and over stones slippery with ice. More than once I took a +tumble at the expense of my backside. Conseil, more cautious or more +stable, barely faltered and would help me up, saying: + +“If master’s legs would kindly adopt a wider stance, master will keep +his balance.” + +Arriving at the topmost ridge of this promontory, I could see vast +white plains covered with walruses. These animals were playing among +themselves. They were howling not in anger but in glee. + +Walruses resemble seals in the shape of their bodies and the +arrangement of their limbs. But their lower jaws lack canines and +incisors, and as for their upper canines, they consist of two tusks +eighty centimeters long with a circumference of thirty-three +centimeters at the socket. Made of solid ivory, without striations, +harder than elephant tusks, and less prone to yellowing, these teeth +are in great demand. Accordingly, walruses are the victims of a +mindless hunting that soon will destroy them all, since their hunters +indiscriminately slaughter pregnant females and youngsters, and over +4,000 individuals are destroyed annually. + +Passing near these unusual animals, I could examine them at my leisure +since they didn’t stir. Their hides were rough and heavy, a tan color +leaning toward a reddish brown; their coats were short and less than +abundant. Some were four meters long. More tranquil and less fearful +than their northern relatives, they posted no sentinels on guard duty +at the approaches to their campsite. + +After examining this community of walruses, I decided to return in my +tracks. It was eleven o’clock, and if Captain Nemo found conditions +favorable for taking his sights, I wanted to be present at the +operation. But I held no hopes that the sun would make an appearance +that day. It was hidden from our eyes by clouds squeezed together on +the horizon. Apparently the jealous orb didn’t want to reveal this +inaccessible spot on the globe to any human being. + +Yet I decided to return to the Nautilus. We went along a steep, narrow +path that ran over the cliff’s summit. By 11:30 we had arrived at our +landing place. The beached skiff had brought the captain ashore. I +spotted him standing on a chunk of basalt. His instruments were beside +him. His eyes were focused on the northern horizon, along which the +sun was sweeping in its extended arc. + +I found a place near him and waited without speaking. Noon arrived, +and just as on the day before, the sun didn’t put in an appearance. + +It was sheer bad luck. Our noon sights were still lacking. If we +couldn’t obtain them tomorrow, we would finally have to give up any +hope of fixing our position. + +In essence, it was precisely March 20. Tomorrow, the 21st, was the day +of the equinox; the sun would disappear below the horizon for six +months not counting refraction, and after its disappearance the long +polar night would begin. Following the September equinox, the sun had +emerged above the northerly horizon, rising in long spirals until +December 21. At that time, the summer solstice of these southernmost +districts, the sun had started back down, and tomorrow it would cast +its last rays. + +I shared my thoughts and fears with Captain Nemo. + +“You’re right, Professor Aronnax,” he told me. “If I can’t take the +sun’s altitude tomorrow, I won’t be able to try again for another six +months. But precisely because sailors’ luck has led me into these seas +on March 21, it will be easy to get our bearings if the noonday sun +does appear before our eyes.” + +“Why easy, captain?” + +“Because when the orb of day sweeps in such long spirals, it’s +difficult to measure its exact altitude above the horizon, and our +instruments are open to committing serious errors.” + +“Then what can you do?” + +“I use only my chronometer,” Captain Nemo answered me. “At noon +tomorrow, March 21, if, after accounting for refraction, the sun’s +disk is cut exactly in half by the northern horizon, that will mean +I’m at the South Pole.” + +“Right,” I said. “Nevertheless, it isn’t mathematically exact proof, +because the equinox needn’t fall precisely at noon.” + +“No doubt, sir, but the error will be under 100 meters, and that’s +close enough for us. Until tomorrow then.” + +Captain Nemo went back on board. Conseil and I stayed behind until +five o’clock, surveying the beach, observing and studying. The only +unusual object I picked up was an auk’s egg of remarkable size, for +which a collector would have paid more than 1,000 francs. Its +cream-colored tint, plus the streaks and markings that decorated it +like so many hieroglyphics, made it a rare trinket. I placed it in +Conseil’s hands, and holding it like precious porcelain from China, +that cautious, sure-footed lad got it back to the Nautilus in one +piece. + +There I put this rare egg inside one of the glass cases in the +museum. I ate supper, feasting with appetite on an excellent piece of +seal liver whose flavor reminded me of pork. Then I went to bed; but +not without praying, like a good Hindu, for the favors of the radiant +orb. + +The next day, March 21, bright and early at five o’clock in the +morning, I climbed onto the platform. I found Captain Nemo there. + +“The weather is clearing a bit,” he told me. “I have high hopes. After +breakfast we’ll make our way ashore and choose an observation post.” + +This issue settled, I went to find Ned Land. I wanted to take him with +me. The obstinate Canadian refused, and I could clearly see that his +tight-lipped mood and his bad temper were growing by the day. Under +the circumstances I ultimately wasn’t sorry that he refused. In truth, +there were too many seals ashore, and it would never do to expose this +impulsive fisherman to such temptations. + +Breakfast over, I made my way ashore. The Nautilus had gone a few more +miles during the night. It lay well out, a good league from the coast, +which was crowned by a sharp peak 400 to 500 meters high. In addition +to me, the skiff carried Captain Nemo, two crewmen, and the +instruments—in other words, a chronometer, a spyglass, and a +barometer. + +During our crossing I saw numerous baleen whales belonging to the +three species unique to these southernmost seas: the bowhead whale (or +“right whale,” according to the English), which has no dorsal fin; the +humpback whale from the genus Balaenoptera (in other words, “winged +whales”), beasts with wrinkled bellies and huge whitish fins that, +genus name regardless, do not yet form wings; and the finback whale, +yellowish brown, the swiftest of all cetaceans. This powerful animal +is audible from far away when it sends up towering spouts of air and +steam that resemble swirls of smoke. Herds of these different mammals +were playing about in the tranquil waters, and I could easily see that +this Antarctic polar basin now served as a refuge for those cetaceans +too relentlessly pursued by hunters. + +I also noted long, whitish strings of salps, a type of mollusk found +in clusters, and some jellyfish of large size that swayed in the +eddies of the billows. + +By nine o’clock we had pulled up to shore. The sky was growing +brighter. Clouds were fleeing to the south. Mists were rising from the +cold surface of the water. Captain Nemo headed toward the peak, which +he no doubt planned to make his observatory. It was an arduous climb +over sharp lava and pumice stones in the midst of air often reeking +with sulfurous fumes from the smoke holes. For a man out of practice +at treading land, the captain scaled the steepest slopes with a supple +agility I couldn’t equal, and which would have been envied by hunters +of Pyrenees mountain goats. + +It took us two hours to reach the summit of this half-crystal, +half-basalt peak. From there our eyes scanned a vast sea, which +scrawled its boundary line firmly against the background of the +northern sky. At our feet: dazzling tracts of white. Over our heads: a +pale azure, clear of mists. North of us: the sun’s disk, like a ball +of fire already cut into by the edge of the horizon. From the heart of +the waters: jets of liquid rising like hundreds of magnificent +bouquets. Far off, like a sleeping cetacean: the Nautilus. Behind us +to the south and east: an immense shore, a chaotic heap of rocks and +ice whose limits we couldn’t see. + +Arriving at the summit of this peak, Captain Nemo carefully determined +its elevation by means of his barometer, since he had to take this +factor into account in his noon sights. + +At 11:45 the sun, by then seen only by refraction, looked like a +golden disk, dispersing its last rays over this deserted continent and +down to these seas not yet plowed by the ships of man. + +Captain Nemo had brought a spyglass with a reticular eyepiece, which +corrected the sun’s refraction by means of a mirror, and he used it to +observe the orb sinking little by little along a very extended +diagonal that reached below the horizon. I held the chronometer. My +heart was pounding mightily. If the lower half of the sun’s disk +disappeared just as the chronometer said noon, we were right at the +pole. + +“Noon!” I called. + +“The South Pole!” Captain Nemo replied in a solemn voice, handing me +the spyglass, which showed the orb of day cut into two exactly equal +parts by the horizon. + +I stared at the last rays wreathing this peak, while shadows were +gradually climbing its gradients. + +Just then, resting his hand on my shoulder, Captain Nemo said to me: + +“In 1600, sir, the Dutchman Gheritk was swept by storms and currents, +reaching latitude 64 degrees south and discovering the South Shetland +Islands. On January 17, 1773, the famous Captain Cook went along the +38th meridian, arriving at latitude 67 degrees 30’; and on January 30, +1774, along the 109th meridian, he reached latitude 71 degrees 15’. In +1819 the Russian Bellinghausen lay on the 69th parallel, and in 1821 +on the 66th at longitude 111 degrees west. In 1820 the Englishman +Bransfield stopped at 65 degrees. That same year the American Morrel, +whose reports are dubious, went along the 42nd meridian, finding open +sea at latitude 70 degrees 14’. In 1825 the Englishman Powell was +unable to get beyond 62 degrees. That same year a humble seal +fisherman, the Englishman Weddell, went as far as latitude 72 degrees +14’ on the 35th meridian, and as far as 74 degrees 15’ on the 36th. In +1829 the Englishman Forster, commander of the Chanticleer, laid claim +to the Antarctic continent in latitude 63 degrees 26’ and longitude 66 +degrees 26’. On February 1, 1831, the Englishman Biscoe discovered +Enderby Land at latitude 68 degrees 50’, Adelaide Land at latitude 67 +degrees on February 5, 1832, and Graham Land at latitude 64 degrees +45’ on February 21. In 1838 the Frenchman Dumont d’Urville stopped at +the Ice Bank in latitude 62 degrees 57’, sighting the Louis-Philippe +Peninsula; on January 21 two years later, at a new southerly position +of 66 degrees 30’, he named the Adélie Coast and eight days later, the +Clarie Coast at 64 degrees 40’. In 1838 the American Wilkes advanced +as far as the 69th parallel on the 100th meridian. In 1839 the +Englishman Balleny discovered the Sabrina Coast at the edge of the +polar circle. Lastly, on January 12, 1842, with his ships, the Erebus +and the Terror, the Englishman Sir James Clark Ross found Victoria +Land in latitude 70 degrees 56’ and longitude 171 degrees 7’ east; on +the 23rd of that same month, he reached the 74th parallel, a position +denoting the Farthest South attained until then; on the 27th he lay at +76 degrees 8’; on the 28th at 77 degrees 32’; on February 2 at 78 +degrees 4’; and late in 1842 he returned to 71 degrees but couldn’t +get beyond it. Well now! In 1868, on this 21st day of March, I myself, +Captain Nemo, have reached the South Pole at 90 degrees, and I hereby +claim this entire part of the globe, equal to one-sixth of the known +continents.” + +“In the name of which sovereign, captain?” + +“In my own name, sir!” + +So saying, Captain Nemo unfurled a black flag bearing a gold “N” on +its quartered bunting. Then, turning toward the orb of day, whose last +rays were licking at the sea’s horizon: + +“Farewell, O sun!” he called. “Disappear, O radiant orb! Retire +beneath this open sea, and let six months of night spread their +shadows over my new domains!” + + +CHAPTER 15 + +Accident or Incident? + + +THE NEXT DAY, March 22, at six o’clock in the morning, preparations +for departure began. The last gleams of twilight were melting into +night. The cold was brisk. The constellations were glittering with +startling intensity. The wonderful Southern Cross, polar star of the +Antarctic regions, twinkled at its zenith. + +The thermometer marked -12 degrees centigrade, and a fresh breeze left +a sharp nip in the air. Ice floes were increasing over the open +water. The sea was starting to congeal everywhere. Numerous blackish +patches were spreading over its surface, announcing the imminent +formation of fresh ice. Obviously this southernmost basin froze over +during its six-month winter and became utterly inaccessible. What +happened to the whales during this period? No doubt they went beneath +the Ice Bank to find more feasible seas. As for seals and walruses, +they were accustomed to living in the harshest climates and stayed on +in these icy waterways. These animals know by instinct how to gouge +holes in the ice fields and keep them continually open; they go to +these holes to breathe. Once the birds have migrated northward to +escape the cold, these marine mammals remain as sole lords of the +polar continent. + +Meanwhile the ballast tanks filled with water and the Nautilus sank +slowly. At a depth of 1,000 feet, it stopped. Its propeller churned +the waves and it headed due north at a speed of fifteen miles per +hour. Near the afternoon it was already cruising under the immense +frozen carapace of the Ice Bank. + +As a precaution, the panels in the lounge stayed closed, because the +Nautilus’s hull could run afoul of some submerged block of ice. So I +spent the day putting my notes into final form. My mind was completely +wrapped up in my memories of the pole. We had reached that +inaccessible spot without facing exhaustion or danger, as if our +seagoing passenger carriage had glided there on railroad tracks. And +now we had actually started our return journey. Did it still have +comparable surprises in store for me? I felt sure it did, so +inexhaustible is this series of underwater wonders! As it was, in the +five and a half months since fate had brought us on board, we had +cleared 14,000 leagues, and over this track longer than the earth’s +equator, so many fascinating or frightening incidents had beguiled our +voyage: that hunting trip in the Crespo forests, our running aground +in the Torres Strait, the coral cemetery, the pearl fisheries of +Ceylon, the Arabic tunnel, the fires of Santorini, those millions in +the Bay of Vigo, Atlantis, the South Pole! During the night all these +memories crossed over from one dream to the next, not giving my brain +a moment’s rest. + +At three o’clock in the morning, I was awakened by a violent +collision. I sat up in bed, listening in the darkness, and then was +suddenly hurled into the middle of my stateroom. Apparently the +Nautilus had gone aground, then heeled over sharply. + +Leaning against the walls, I dragged myself down the gangways to the +lounge, whose ceiling lights were on. The furniture had been knocked +over. Fortunately the glass cases were solidly secured at the base and +had stood fast. Since we were no longer vertical, the starboard +pictures were glued to the tapestries, while those to port had their +lower edges hanging a foot away from the wall. So the Nautilus was +lying on its starboard side, completely stationary to boot. + +In its interior I heard the sound of footsteps and muffled voices. But +Captain Nemo didn’t appear. Just as I was about to leave the lounge, +Ned Land and Conseil entered. + +“What happened?” I instantly said to them. + +“I came to ask master that,” Conseil replied. + +“Damnation!” the Canadian exclaimed. “I know full well what happened! +The Nautilus has gone aground, and judging from the way it’s listing, +I don’t think it’ll pull through like that first time in the Torres +Strait.” + +“But,” I asked, “are we at least back on the surface of the sea?” + +“We have no idea,” Conseil replied. + +“It’s easy to find out,” I answered. + +I consulted the pressure gauge. Much to my surprise, it indicated a +depth of 360 meters. + +“What’s the meaning of this?” I exclaimed. + +“We must confer with Captain Nemo,” Conseil said. + +“But where do we find him?” Ned Land asked. + +“Follow me,” I told my two companions. + +We left the lounge. Nobody in the library. Nobody by the central +companionway or the crew’s quarters. I assumed that Captain Nemo was +stationed in the pilothouse. Best to wait. The three of us returned to +the lounge. + +I’ll skip over the Canadian’s complaints. He had good grounds for an +outburst. I didn’t answer him back, letting him blow off all the steam +he wanted. + +We had been left to ourselves for twenty minutes, trying to detect the +tiniest noises inside the Nautilus, when Captain Nemo entered. He +didn’t seem to see us. His facial features, usually so emotionless, +revealed a certain uneasiness. He studied the compass and pressure +gauge in silence, then went and put his finger on the world map at a +spot in the sector depicting the southernmost seas. + +I hesitated to interrupt him. But some moments later, when he turned +to me, I threw back at him a phrase he had used in the Torres Strait: + +“An incident, captain?” + +“No, sir,” he replied, “this time an accident.” + +“Serious?” + +“Perhaps.” + +“Is there any immediate danger?” + +“No.” + +“The Nautilus has run aground?” + +“Yes.” + +“And this accident came about . . . ?” + +“Through nature’s unpredictability, not man’s incapacity. No errors +were committed in our maneuvers. Nevertheless, we can’t prevent a loss +of balance from taking its toll. One may defy human laws, but no one +can withstand the laws of nature.” + +Captain Nemo had picked an odd time to philosophize. All in all, this +reply told me nothing. + +“May I learn, sir,” I asked him, “what caused this accident?” + +“An enormous block of ice, an entire mountain, has toppled over,” he +answered me. “When an iceberg is eroded at the base by warmer waters +or by repeated collisions, its center of gravity rises. Then it +somersaults, it turns completely upside down. That’s what happened +here. When it overturned, one of these blocks hit the Nautilus as it +was cruising under the waters. Sliding under our hull, this block then +raised us with irresistible power, lifting us into less congested +strata where we now lie on our side.” + +“But can’t we float the Nautilus clear by emptying its ballast tanks, +to regain our balance?” + +“That, sir, is being done right now. You can hear the pumps +working. Look at the needle on the pressure gauge. It indicates that +the Nautilus is rising, but this block of ice is rising with us, and +until some obstacle halts its upward movement, our position won’t +change.” + +Indeed, the Nautilus kept the same heel to starboard. No doubt it +would straighten up once the block came to a halt. But before that +happened, who knew if we might not hit the underbelly of the Ice Bank +and be hideously squeezed between two frozen surfaces? + +I mused on all the consequences of this situation. Captain Nemo didn’t +stop studying the pressure gauge. Since the toppling of this iceberg, +the Nautilus had risen about 150 feet, but it still stayed at the same +angle to the perpendicular. + +Suddenly a slight movement could be felt over the hull. Obviously the +Nautilus was straightening a bit. Objects hanging in the lounge were +visibly returning to their normal positions. The walls were +approaching the vertical. Nobody said a word. Hearts pounding, we +could see and feel the ship righting itself. The floor was becoming +horizontal beneath our feet. Ten minutes went by. + +“Finally, we’re upright!” I exclaimed. + +“Yes,” Captain Nemo said, heading to the lounge door. + +“But will we float off?” I asked him. + +“Certainly,” he replied, “since the ballast tanks aren’t yet empty, +and when they are, the Nautilus must rise to the surface of the sea.” + +The captain went out, and soon I saw that at his orders, the Nautilus +had halted its upward movement. In fact, it soon would have hit the +underbelly of the Ice Bank, but it had stopped in time and was +floating in midwater. + +“That was a close call!” Conseil then said. + +“Yes. We could have been crushed between these masses of ice, or at +least imprisoned between them. And then, with no way to renew our air +supply. . . . Yes, that was a close call!” + +“If it’s over with!” Ned Land muttered. + +I was unwilling to get into a pointless argument with the Canadian and +didn’t reply. Moreover, the panels opened just then, and the outside +light burst through the uncovered windows. + +We were fully afloat, as I have said; but on both sides of the +Nautilus, about ten meters away, there rose dazzling walls of +ice. There also were walls above and below. Above, because the Ice +Bank’s underbelly spread over us like an immense ceiling. Below, +because the somersaulting block, shifting little by little, had found +points of purchase on both side walls and had gotten jammed between +them. The Nautilus was imprisoned in a genuine tunnel of ice about +twenty meters wide and filled with quiet water. So the ship could +easily exit by going either ahead or astern, sinking a few hundred +meters deeper, and then taking an open passageway beneath the Ice +Bank. + +The ceiling lights were off, yet the lounge was still brightly +lit. This was due to the reflecting power of the walls of ice, which +threw the beams of our beacon right back at us. Words cannot describe +the effects produced by our galvanic rays on these huge, whimsically +sculpted blocks, whose every angle, ridge, and facet gave off a +different glow depending on the nature of the veins running inside the +ice. It was a dazzling mine of gems, in particular sapphires and +emeralds, whose jets of blue and green crisscrossed. Here and there, +opaline hues of infinite subtlety raced among sparks of light that +were like so many fiery diamonds, their brilliance more than any eye +could stand. The power of our beacon was increased a hundredfold, like +a lamp shining through the biconvex lenses of a world-class +lighthouse. + +“How beautiful!” Conseil exclaimed. + +“Yes,” I said, “it’s a wonderful sight! Isn’t it, Ned?” + +“Oh damnation, yes!” Ned Land shot back. “It’s superb! I’m furious +that I have to admit it. Nobody has ever seen the like. But this sight +could cost us dearly. And in all honesty, I think we’re looking at +things God never intended for human eyes.” + +Ned was right. It was too beautiful. All at once a yell from Conseil +made me turn around. + +“What is it?” I asked. + +“Master must close his eyes! Master mustn’t look!” + +With that, Conseil clapped his hands over his eyes. + +“But what’s wrong, my boy?” + +“I’ve been dazzled, struck blind!” + +Involuntarily my eyes flew to the window, but I couldn’t stand the +fire devouring it. + +I realized what had happened. The Nautilus had just started off at +great speed. All the tranquil glimmers of the ice walls had then +changed into blazing streaks. The sparkles from these myriads of +diamonds were merging with each other. Swept along by its propeller, +the Nautilus was traveling through a sheath of flashing light. + +Then the panels in the lounge closed. We kept our hands over our eyes, +which were utterly saturated with those concentric gleams that swirl +before the retina when sunlight strikes it too intensely. It took some +time to calm our troubled vision. + +Finally we lowered our hands. + +“Ye gods, I never would have believed it,” Conseil said. + +“And I still don’t believe it!” the Canadian shot back. + +“When we return to shore, jaded from all these natural wonders,” +Conseil added, “think how we’ll look down on those pitiful land +masses, those puny works of man! No, the civilized world won’t be good +enough for us!” + +Such words from the lips of this emotionless Flemish boy showed that +our enthusiasm was near the boiling point. But the Canadian didn’t +fail to throw his dram of cold water over us. + +“The civilized world!” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, +Conseil my friend, we’re never going back to that world!” + +By this point it was five o’clock in the morning. Just then there was +a collision in the Nautilus’s bow. I realized that its spur had just +bumped a block of ice. It must have been a faulty maneuver because +this underwater tunnel was obstructed by such blocks and didn’t make +for easy navigating. So I had assumed that Captain Nemo, in adjusting +his course, would go around each obstacle or would hug the walls and +follow the windings of the tunnel. In either case our forward motion +wouldn’t receive an absolute check. Nevertheless, contrary to my +expectations, the Nautilus definitely began to move backward. + +“We’re going astern?” Conseil said. + +“Yes,” I replied. “Apparently the tunnel has no way out at this end.” + +“And so . . . ?” + +“So,” I said, “our maneuvers are quite simple. We’ll return in our +tracks and go out the southern opening. That’s all.” + +As I spoke, I tried to sound more confident than I really +felt. Meanwhile the Nautilus accelerated its backward movement, and +running with propeller in reverse, it swept us along at great speed. + +“This’ll mean a delay,” Ned said. + +“What are a few hours more or less, so long as we get out.” + +“Yes,” Ned Land repeated, “so long as we get out!” + +I strolled for a little while from the lounge into the library. My +companions kept their seats and didn’t move. Soon I threw myself down +on a couch and picked up a book, which my eyes skimmed mechanically. + +A quarter of an hour later, Conseil approached me, saying: + +“Is it deeply fascinating, this volume master is reading?” + +“Tremendously fascinating,” I replied. + +“I believe it. Master is reading his own book!” + +“My own book?” + +Indeed, my hands were holding my own work on the great ocean depths. I +hadn’t even suspected. I closed the book and resumed my strolling. Ned +and Conseil stood up to leave. + +“Stay here, my friends,” I said, stopping them. “Let’s stay together +until we’re out of this blind alley.” + +“As master wishes,” Conseil replied. + +The hours passed. I often studied the instruments hanging on the +lounge wall. The pressure gauge indicated that the Nautilus stayed at +a constant depth of 300 meters, the compass that it kept heading +south, the log that it was traveling at a speed of twenty miles per +hour, an excessive speed in such a cramped area. But Captain Nemo knew +that by this point there was no such thing as too fast, since minutes +were now worth centuries. + +At 8:25 a second collision took place. This time astern. I grew +pale. My companions came over. I clutched Conseil’s hand. Our eyes +questioned each other, and more directly than if our thoughts had been +translated into words. + +Just then the captain entered the lounge. I went to him. + +“Our path is barred to the south?” I asked him. + +“Yes, sir. When it overturned, that iceberg closed off every exit.” + +“We’re boxed in?” + +“Yes.” + + +CHAPTER 16 + +Shortage of Air + + +CONSEQUENTLY, above, below, and around the Nautilus, there were +impenetrable frozen walls. We were the Ice Bank’s prisoners! The +Canadian banged a table with his fearsome fist. Conseil kept still. I +stared at the captain. His face had resumed its usual +emotionlessness. He crossed his arms. He pondered. The Nautilus did +not stir. + +The captain then broke into speech: + +“Gentlemen,” he said in a calm voice, “there are two ways of dying +under the conditions in which we’re placed.” + +This inexplicable individual acted like a mathematics professor +working out a problem for his pupils. + +“The first way,” he went on, “is death by crushing. The second is +death by asphyxiation. I don’t mention the possibility of death by +starvation because the Nautilus’s provisions will certainly last +longer than we will. Therefore, let’s concentrate on our chances of +being crushed or asphyxiated.” + +“As for asphyxiation, captain,” I replied, “that isn’t a cause for +alarm, because the air tanks are full.” + +“True,” Captain Nemo went on, “but they’ll supply air for only two +days. Now then, we’ve been buried beneath the waters for thirty-six +hours, and the Nautilus’s heavy atmosphere already needs renewing. In +another forty-eight hours, our reserve air will be used up.” + +“Well then, captain, let’s free ourselves within forty-eight hours!” + +“We’ll try to at least, by cutting through one of these walls +surrounding us.” + +“Which one?” I asked. + +“Borings will tell us that. I’m going to ground the Nautilus on the +lower shelf, then my men will put on their diving suits and attack the +thinnest of these ice walls.” + +“Can the panels in the lounge be left open?” + +“Without ill effect. We’re no longer in motion.” + +Captain Nemo went out. Hissing sounds soon told me that water was +being admitted into the ballast tanks. The Nautilus slowly settled and +rested on the icy bottom at a depth of 350 meters, the depth at which +the lower shelf of ice lay submerged. + +“My friends,” I said, “we’re in a serious predicament, but I’m +counting on your courage and energy.” + +“Sir,” the Canadian replied, “this is no time to bore you with my +complaints. I’m ready to do anything I can for the common good.” + +“Excellent, Ned,” I said, extending my hand to the Canadian. + +“I might add,” he went on, “that I’m as handy with a pick as a +harpoon. If I can be helpful to the captain, he can use me any way he +wants.” + +“He won’t turn down your assistance. Come along, Ned.” + +I led the Canadian to the room where the Nautilus’s men were putting +on their diving suits. I informed the captain of Ned’s proposition, +which was promptly accepted. The Canadian got into his underwater +costume and was ready as soon as his fellow workers. Each of them +carried on his back a Rouquayrol device that the air tanks had +supplied with a generous allowance of fresh oxygen. A considerable but +necessary drain on the Nautilus’s reserves. As for the Ruhmkorff +lamps, they were unnecessary in the midst of these brilliant waters +saturated with our electric rays. + +After Ned was dressed, I reentered the lounge, whose windows had been +uncovered; stationed next to Conseil, I examined the strata +surrounding and supporting the Nautilus. + +Some moments later, we saw a dozen crewmen set foot on the shelf of +ice, among them Ned Land, easily recognized by his tall +figure. Captain Nemo was with them. + +Before digging into the ice, the captain had to obtain borings, to +insure working in the best direction. Long bores were driven into the +side walls; but after fifteen meters, the instruments were still +impeded by the thickness of those walls. It was futile to attack the +ceiling since that surface was the Ice Bank itself, more than 400 +meters high. Captain Nemo then bored into the lower surface. There we +were separated from the sea by a ten-meter barrier. That’s how thick +the iceberg was. From this point on, it was an issue of cutting out a +piece equal in surface area to the Nautilus’s waterline. This meant +detaching about 6,500 cubic meters, to dig a hole through which the +ship could descend below this tract of ice. + +Work began immediately and was carried on with tireless +tenacity. Instead of digging all around the Nautilus, which would have +entailed even greater difficulties, Captain Nemo had an immense trench +outlined on the ice, eight meters from our port quarter. Then his men +simultaneously staked it off at several points around its +circumference. Soon their picks were vigorously attacking this compact +matter, and huge chunks were loosened from its mass. These chunks +weighed less than the water, and by an unusual effect of specific +gravity, each chunk took wing, as it were, to the roof of the tunnel, +which thickened above by as much as it diminished below. But this +hardly mattered so long as the lower surface kept growing thinner. + +After two hours of energetic work, Ned Land reentered, exhausted. He +and his companions were replaced by new workmen, including Conseil and +me. The Nautilus’s chief officer supervised us. + +The water struck me as unusually cold, but I warmed up promptly while +wielding my pick. My movements were quite free, although they were +executed under a pressure of thirty atmospheres. + +After two hours of work, reentering to snatch some food and rest, I +found a noticeable difference between the clean elastic fluid supplied +me by the Rouquayrol device and the Nautilus’s atmosphere, which was +already charged with carbon dioxide. The air hadn’t been renewed in +forty-eight hours, and its life-giving qualities were considerably +weakened. Meanwhile, after twelve hours had gone by, we had removed +from the outlined surface area a slice of ice only one meter thick, +hence about 600 cubic meters. Assuming the same work would be +accomplished every twelve hours, it would still take five nights and +four days to see the undertaking through to completion. + +“Five nights and four days!” I told my companions. “And we have oxygen +in the air tanks for only two days.” + +“Without taking into account,” Ned answered, “that once we’re out of +this damned prison, we’ll still be cooped up beneath the Ice Bank, +without any possible contact with the open air!” + +An apt remark. For who could predict the minimum time we would need to +free ourselves? Before the Nautilus could return to the surface of the +waves, couldn’t we all die of asphyxiation? Were this ship and +everyone on board doomed to perish in this tomb of ice? It was a +dreadful state of affairs. But we faced it head-on, each one of us +determined to do his duty to the end. + +During the night, in line with my forecasts, a new one-meter slice was +removed from this immense socket. But in the morning, wearing my +diving suit, I was crossing through the liquid mass in a temperature +of -6 degrees to -7 degrees centigrade, when I noted that little by +little the side walls were closing in on each other. The liquid strata +farthest from the trench, not warmed by the movements of workmen and +tools, were showing a tendency to solidify. In the face of this +imminent new danger, what would happen to our chances for salvation, +and how could we prevent this liquid medium from solidifying, then +cracking the Nautilus’s hull like glass? + +I didn’t tell my two companions about this new danger. There was no +point in dampening the energy they were putting into our arduous +rescue work. But when I returned on board, I mentioned this serious +complication to Captain Nemo. + +“I know,” he told me in that calm tone the most dreadful outlook +couldn’t change. “It’s one more danger, but I don’t know any way of +warding it off. Our sole chance for salvation is to work faster than +the water solidifies. We’ve got to get there first, that’s all.” + +Get there first! By then I should have been used to this type of talk! + +For several hours that day, I wielded my pick doggedly. The work kept +me going. Besides, working meant leaving the Nautilus, which meant +breathing the clean oxygen drawn from the air tanks and supplied by +our equipment, which meant leaving the thin, foul air behind. + +Near evening one more meter had been dug from the trench. When I +returned on board, I was wellnigh asphyxiated by the carbon dioxide +saturating the air. Oh, if only we had the chemical methods that would +enable us to drive out this noxious gas! There was no lack of +oxygen. All this water contained a considerable amount, and after it +was decomposed by our powerful batteries, this life-giving elastic +fluid could have been restored to us. I had thought it all out, but to +no avail because the carbon dioxide produced by our breathing +permeated every part of the ship. To absorb it, we would need to fill +containers with potassium hydroxide and shake them continually. But +this substance was missing on board and nothing else could replace it. + +That evening Captain Nemo was forced to open the spigots of his air +tanks and shoot a few spouts of fresh oxygen through the Nautilus’s +interior. Without this precaution we wouldn’t have awakened the +following morning. + +The next day, March 26, I returned to my miner’s trade, working to +remove the fifth meter. The Ice Bank’s side walls and underbelly had +visibly thickened. Obviously they would come together before the +Nautilus could break free. For an instant I was gripped by despair. My +pick nearly slipped from my hands. What was the point of this digging +if I was to die smothered and crushed by this water turning to stone, +a torture undreamed of by even the wildest savages! I felt like I was +lying in the jaws of a fearsome monster, jaws irresistibly closing. + +Supervising our work, working himself, Captain Nemo passed near me +just then. I touched him with my hand and pointed to the walls of our +prison. The starboard wall had moved forward to a point less than four +meters from the Nautilus’s hull. + +The captain understood and gave me a signal to follow him. We returned +on board. My diving suit removed, I went with him to the lounge. + +“Professor Aronnax,” he told me, “this calls for heroic measures, or +we’ll be sealed up in this solidified water as if it were cement.” + +“Yes!” I said. “But what can we do?” + +“Oh,” he exclaimed, “if only my Nautilus were strong enough to stand +that much pressure without being crushed!” + +“Well?” I asked, not catching the captain’s meaning. + +“Don’t you understand,” he went on, “that the congealing of this water +could come to our rescue? Don’t you see that by solidifying, it could +burst these tracts of ice imprisoning us, just as its freezing can +burst the hardest stones? Aren’t you aware that this force could be +the instrument of our salvation rather than our destruction?” + +“Yes, captain, maybe so. But whatever resistance to crushing the +Nautilus may have, it still couldn’t stand such dreadful pressures, +and it would be squashed as flat as a piece of sheet iron.” + +“I know it, sir. So we can’t rely on nature to rescue us, only our own +efforts. We must counteract this solidification. We must hold it in +check. Not only are the side walls closing in, but there aren’t ten +feet of water ahead or astern of the Nautilus. All around us, this +freeze is gaining fast.” + +“How long,” I asked, “will the oxygen in the air tanks enable us to +breathe on board?” + +The captain looked me straight in the eye. + +“After tomorrow,” he said, “the air tanks will be empty!” + +I broke out in a cold sweat. But why should I have been startled by +this reply? On March 22 the Nautilus had dived under the open waters +at the pole. It was now the 26th. We had lived off the ship’s stores +for five days! And all remaining breathable air had to be saved for +the workmen. Even today as I write these lines, my sensations are so +intense that an involuntary terror sweeps over me, and my lungs still +seem short of air! + +Meanwhile, motionless and silent, Captain Nemo stood lost in +thought. An idea visibly crossed his mind. But he seemed to brush it +aside. He told himself no. At last these words escaped his lips: + +“Boiling water!” he muttered. + +“Boiling water?” I exclaimed. + +“Yes, sir. We’re shut up in a relatively confined area. If the +Nautilus’s pumps continually injected streams of boiling water into +this space, wouldn’t that raise its temperature and delay its +freezing?” + +“It’s worth trying!” I said resolutely. + +“So let’s try it, professor.” + +By then the thermometer gave -7 degrees centigrade outside. Captain +Nemo led me to the galley where a huge distilling mechanism was at +work, supplying drinking water via evaporation. The mechanism was +loaded with water, and the full electric heat of our batteries was +thrown into coils awash in liquid. In a few minutes the water reached +100 degrees centigrade. It was sent to the pumps while new water +replaced it in the process. The heat generated by our batteries was so +intense that after simply going through the mechanism, water drawn +cold from the sea arrived boiling hot at the body of the pump. + +The steaming water was injected into the icy water outside, and after +three hours had passed, the thermometer gave the exterior temperature +as -6 degrees centigrade. That was one degree gained. Two hours later +the thermometer gave only -4 degrees. + +After I monitored the operation’s progress, double-checking it with +many inspections, I told the captain, “It’s working.” + +“I think so,” he answered me. “We’ve escaped being crushed. Now we +have only asphyxiation to fear.” + +During the night the water temperature rose to -1 degrees +centigrade. The injections couldn’t get it to go a single degree +higher. But since salt water freezes only at -2 degrees, I was finally +assured that there was no danger of it solidifying. + +By the next day, March 27, six meters of ice had been torn from the +socket. Only four meters were left to be removed. That still meant +forty-eight hours of work. The air couldn’t be renewed in the +Nautilus’s interior. Accordingly, that day it kept getting worse. + +An unbearable heaviness weighed me down. Near three o’clock in the +afternoon, this agonizing sensation affected me to an intense +degree. Yawns dislocated my jaws. My lungs were gasping in their quest +for that enkindling elastic fluid required for breathing, now growing +scarcer and scarcer. My mind was in a daze. I lay outstretched, +strength gone, nearly unconscious. My gallant Conseil felt the same +symptoms, suffered the same sufferings, yet never left my side. He +held my hand, he kept encouraging me, and I even heard him mutter: + +“Oh, if only I didn’t have to breathe, to leave more air for master!” + +It brought tears to my eyes to hear him say these words. + +Since conditions inside were universally unbearable, how eagerly, how +happily, we put on our diving suits to take our turns working! Picks +rang out on that bed of ice. Arms grew weary, hands were rubbed raw, +but who cared about exhaustion, what difference were wounds? +Life-sustaining air reached our lungs! We could breathe! We could +breathe! + +And yet nobody prolonged his underwater work beyond the time allotted +him. His shift over, each man surrendered to a gasping companion the +air tank that would revive him. Captain Nemo set the example and was +foremost in submitting to this strict discipline. When his time was +up, he yielded his equipment to another and reentered the foul air on +board, always calm, unflinching, and uncomplaining. + +That day the usual work was accomplished with even greater +energy. Over the whole surface area, only two meters were left to be +removed. Only two meters separated us from the open sea. But the +ship’s air tanks were nearly empty. The little air that remained had +to be saved for the workmen. Not an atom for the Nautilus! + +When I returned on board, I felt half suffocated. What a night! I’m +unable to depict it. Such sufferings are indescribable. The next day I +was short-winded. Headaches and staggering fits of dizziness made me +reel like a drunk. My companions were experiencing the same +symptoms. Some crewmen were at their last gasp. + +That day, the sixth of our imprisonment, Captain Nemo concluded that +picks and mattocks were too slow to deal with the ice layer still +separating us from open water—and he decided to crush this layer. The +man had kept his energy and composure. He had subdued physical pain +with moral strength. He could still think, plan, and act. + +At his orders the craft was eased off, in other words, it was raised +from its icy bed by a change in its specific gravity. When it was +afloat, the crew towed it, leading it right above the immense trench +outlined to match the ship’s waterline. Next the ballast tanks filled +with water, the boat sank, and was fitted into its socket. + +Just then the whole crew returned on board, and the double outside +door was closed. By this point the Nautilus was resting on a bed of +ice only one meter thick and drilled by bores in a thousand places. + +The stopcocks of the ballast tanks were then opened wide, and 100 +cubic meters of water rushed in, increasing the Nautilus’s weight by +100,000 kilograms. + +We waited, we listened, we forgot our sufferings, we hoped once +more. We had staked our salvation on this one last gamble. + +Despite the buzzing in my head, I soon could hear vibrations under the +Nautilus’s hull. We tilted. The ice cracked with an odd ripping sound, +like paper tearing, and the Nautilus began settling downward. + +“We’re going through!” Conseil muttered in my ear. + +I couldn’t answer him. I clutched his hand. I squeezed it in an +involuntary convulsion. + +All at once, carried away by its frightful excess load, the Nautilus +sank into the waters like a cannonball, in other words, dropping as if +in a vacuum! + +Our full electric power was then put on the pumps, which instantly +began to expel water from the ballast tanks. After a few minutes we +had checked our fall. The pressure gauge soon indicated an ascending +movement. Brought to full speed, the propeller made the sheet-iron +hull tremble down to its rivets, and we sped northward. + +But how long would it take to navigate under the Ice Bank to the open +sea? Another day? I would be dead first! + +Half lying on a couch in the library, I was suffocating. My face was +purple, my lips blue, my faculties in abeyance. I could no longer see +or hear. I had lost all sense of time. My muscles had no power to +contract. + +I’m unable to estimate the hours that passed in this way. But I was +aware that my death throes had begun. I realized that I was about to +die . . . + +Suddenly I regained consciousness. A few whiffs of air had entered my +lungs. Had we risen to the surface of the waves? Had we cleared the +Ice Bank? + +No! Ned and Conseil, my two gallant friends, were sacrificing +themselves to save me. A few atoms of air were still left in the +depths of one Rouquayrol device. Instead of breathing it themselves, +they had saved it for me, and while they were suffocating, they poured +life into me drop by drop! I tried to push the device away. They held +my hands, and for a few moments I could breathe luxuriously. + +My eyes flew toward the clock. It was eleven in the morning. It had to +be March 28. The Nautilus was traveling at the frightful speed of +forty miles per hour. It was writhing in the waters. + +Where was Captain Nemo? Had he perished? Had his companions died with +him? + +Just then the pressure gauge indicated we were no more than twenty +feet from the surface. Separating us from the open air was a mere +tract of ice. Could we break through it? + +Perhaps! In any event the Nautilus was going to try. In fact, I could +feel it assuming an oblique position, lowering its stern and raising +its spur. The admission of additional water was enough to shift its +balance. Then, driven by its powerful propeller, it attacked this ice +field from below like a fearsome battering ram. It split the barrier +little by little, backing up, then putting on full speed against the +punctured tract of ice; and finally, carried away by its supreme +momentum, it lunged through and onto this frozen surface, crushing the +ice beneath its weight. + +The hatches were opened—or torn off, if you prefer—and waves of clean +air were admitted into every part of the Nautilus. + + +CHAPTER 17 + +From Cape Horn to the Amazon + + +HOW I GOT ONTO the platform I’m unable to say. Perhaps the Canadian +transferred me there. But I could breathe, I could inhale the +life-giving sea air. Next to me my two companions were getting tipsy +on the fresh oxygen particles. Poor souls who have suffered from long +starvation mustn’t pounce heedlessly on the first food given them. We, +on the other hand, didn’t have to practice such moderation: we could +suck the atoms from the air by the lungful, and it was the breeze, the +breeze itself, that poured into us this luxurious intoxication! + +“Ahhh!” Conseil was putting in. “What fine oxygen! Let master have no +fears about breathing. There’s enough for everyone.” + +As for Ned Land, he didn’t say a word, but his wide-open jaws would +have scared off a shark. And what powerful inhalations! The Canadian +“drew” like a furnace going full blast. + +Our strength returned promptly, and when I looked around, I saw that +we were alone on the platform. No crewmen. Not even Captain +Nemo. Those strange seamen on the Nautilus were content with the +oxygen circulating inside. Not one of them had come up to enjoy the +open air. + +The first words I pronounced were words of appreciation and gratitude +to my two companions. Ned and Conseil had kept me alive during the +final hours of our long death throes. But no expression of thanks +could repay them fully for such devotion. + +“Good lord, professor,” Ned Land answered me, “don’t mention it! What +did we do that’s so praiseworthy? Not a thing. It was a question of +simple arithmetic. Your life is worth more than ours. So we had to +save it.” + +“No, Ned,” I replied, “it isn’t worth more. Nobody could be better +than a kind and generous man like yourself!” + +“All right, all right!” the Canadian repeated in embarrassment. + +“And you, my gallant Conseil, you suffered a great deal.” + +“Not too much, to be candid with master. I was lacking a few +throatfuls of air, but I would have gotten by. Besides, when I saw +master fainting, it left me without the slightest desire to +breathe. It took my breath away, in a manner of . . .” + +Confounded by this lapse into banality, Conseil left his sentence +hanging. + +“My friends,” I replied, very moved, “we’re bound to each other +forever, and I’m deeply indebted to you—” + +“Which I’ll take advantage of,” the Canadian shot back. + +“Eh?” Conseil put in. + +“Yes,” Ned Land went on. “You can repay your debt by coming with me +when I leave this infernal Nautilus.” + +“By the way,” Conseil said, “are we going in a favorable direction?” + +“Yes,” I replied, “because we’re going in the direction of the sun, +and here the sun is due north.” + +“Sure,” Ned Land went on, “but it remains to be seen whether we’ll +make for the Atlantic or the Pacific, in other words, whether we’ll +end up in well-traveled or deserted seas.” + +I had no reply to this, and I feared that Captain Nemo wouldn’t take +us homeward but rather into that huge ocean washing the shores of both +Asia and America. In this way he would complete his underwater tour of +the world, going back to those seas where the Nautilus enjoyed the +greatest freedom. But if we returned to the Pacific, far from every +populated shore, what would happen to Ned Land’s plans? + +We would soon settle this important point. The Nautilus traveled +swiftly. Soon we had cleared the Antarctic Circle plus the promontory +of Cape Horn. We were abreast of the tip of South America by March 31 +at seven o’clock in the evening. + +By then all our past sufferings were forgotten. The memory of that +imprisonment under the ice faded from our minds. We had thoughts only +of the future. Captain Nemo no longer appeared, neither in the lounge +nor on the platform. The positions reported each day on the world map +were put there by the chief officer, and they enabled me to determine +the Nautilus’s exact heading. Now then, that evening it became +obvious, much to my satisfaction, that we were returning north by the +Atlantic route. + +I shared the results of my observations with the Canadian and Conseil. + +“That’s good news,” the Canadian replied, “but where’s the Nautilus +going?” + +“I’m unable to say, Ned.” + +“After the South Pole, does our captain want to tackle the North Pole, +then go back to the Pacific by the notorious Northwest Passage?” + +“I wouldn’t double dare him,” Conseil replied. + +“Oh well,” the Canadian said, “we’ll give him the slip long before +then.” + +“In any event,” Conseil added, “he’s a superman, that Captain Nemo, +and we’ll never regret having known him.” + +“Especially once we’ve left him,” Ned Land shot back. + +The next day, April 1, when the Nautilus rose to the surface of the +waves a few minutes before noon, we raised land to the west. It was +Tierra del Fuego, the Land of Fire, a name given it by early +navigators after they saw numerous curls of smoke rising from the +natives’ huts. This Land of Fire forms a huge cluster of islands over +thirty leagues long and eighty leagues wide, extending between +latitude 53 degrees and 56 degrees south, and between longitude 67 +degrees 50’ and 77 degrees 15’ west. Its coastline looked flat, but +high mountains rose in the distance. I even thought I glimpsed +Mt. Sarmiento, whose elevation is 2,070 meters above sea level: a +pyramid-shaped block of shale with a very sharp summit, which, +depending on whether it’s clear or veiled in vapor, “predicts fair +weather or foul,” as Ned Land told me. + +“A first-class barometer, my friend.” + +“Yes, sir, a natural barometer that didn’t let me down when I +navigated the narrows of the Strait of Magellan.” + +Just then its peak appeared before us, standing out distinctly against +the background of the skies. This forecast fair weather. And so it +proved. + +Going back under the waters, the Nautilus drew near the coast, +cruising along it for only a few miles. Through the lounge windows I +could see long creepers and gigantic fucus plants, bulb-bearing +seaweed of which the open sea at the pole had revealed a few +specimens; with their smooth, viscous filaments, they measured as much +as 300 meters long; genuine cables more than an inch thick and very +tough, they’re often used as mooring lines for ships. Another weed, +known by the name velp and boasting four-foot leaves, was crammed into +the coral concretions and carpeted the ocean floor. It served as both +nest and nourishment for myriads of crustaceans and mollusks, for +crabs and cuttlefish. Here seals and otters could indulge in a +sumptuous meal, mixing meat from fish with vegetables from the sea, +like the English with their Irish stews. + +The Nautilus passed over these lush, luxuriant depths with tremendous +speed. Near evening it approached the Falkland Islands, whose rugged +summits I recognized the next day. The sea was of moderate depth. So +not without good reason, I assumed that these two islands, plus the +many islets surrounding them, used to be part of the Magellan +coastline. The Falkland Islands were probably discovered by the famous +navigator John Davis, who gave them the name Davis Southern +Islands. Later Sir Richard Hawkins called them the Maidenland, after +the Blessed Virgin. Subsequently, at the beginning of the 18th +century, they were named the Malouines by fishermen from Saint-Malo in +Brittany, then finally dubbed the Falklands by the English, to whom +they belong today. + +In these waterways our nets brought up fine samples of algae, in +particular certain fucus plants whose roots were laden with the +world’s best mussels. Geese and duck alighted by the dozens on the +platform and soon took their places in the ship’s pantry. As for fish, +I specifically observed some bony fish belonging to the goby genus, +especially some gudgeon two decimeters long, sprinkled with whitish +and yellow spots. + +I likewise marveled at the numerous medusas, including the most +beautiful of their breed, the compass jellyfish, unique to the +Falkland seas. Some of these jellyfish were shaped like very smooth, +semispheric parasols with russet stripes and fringes of twelve neat +festoons. Others looked like upside-down baskets from which wide +leaves and long red twigs were gracefully trailing. They swam with +quiverings of their four leaflike arms, letting the opulent tresses of +their tentacles dangle in the drift. I wanted to preserve a few +specimens of these delicate zoophytes, but they were merely clouds, +shadows, illusions, melting and evaporating outside their native +element. + +When the last tips of the Falkland Islands had disappeared below the +horizon, the Nautilus submerged to a depth between twenty and +twenty-five meters and went along the South American coast. Captain +Nemo didn’t put in an appearance. + +We didn’t leave these Patagonian waterways until April 3, sometimes +cruising under the ocean, sometimes on its surface. The Nautilus +passed the wide estuary formed by the mouth of the Rio de la Plata, +and on April 4 we lay abreast of Uruguay, albeit fifty miles +out. Keeping to its northerly heading, it followed the long windings +of South America. By then we had fared 16,000 leagues since coming on +board in the seas of Japan. + +Near eleven o’clock in the morning, we cut the Tropic of Capricorn on +the 37th meridian, passing well out from Cape Frio. Much to Ned Land’s +displeasure, Captain Nemo had no liking for the neighborhood of +Brazil’s populous shores, because he shot by with dizzying speed. Not +even the swiftest fish or birds could keep up with us, and the natural +curiosities in these seas completely eluded our observation. + +This speed was maintained for several days, and on the evening of +April 9, we raised South America’s easternmost tip, Cape São +Roque. But then the Nautilus veered away again and went looking for +the lowest depths of an underwater valley gouged between this cape and +Sierra Leone on the coast of Africa. Abreast of the West Indies, this +valley forks into two arms, and to the north it ends in an enormous +depression 9,000 meters deep. From this locality to the Lesser +Antilles, the ocean’s geologic profile features a steeply cut cliff +six kilometers high, and abreast of the Cape Verde Islands, there’s +another wall just as imposing; together these two barricades confine +the whole submerged continent of Atlantis. The floor of this immense +valley is made picturesque by mountains that furnish these underwater +depths with scenic views. This description is based mostly on certain +hand-drawn charts kept in the Nautilus’s library, charts obviously +rendered by Captain Nemo himself from his own personal observations. + +For two days we visited these deep and deserted waters by means of our +slanting fins. The Nautilus would do long, diagonal dives that took us +to every level. But on April 11 it rose suddenly, and the shore +reappeared at the mouth of the Amazon River, a huge estuary whose +outflow is so considerable, it desalts the sea over an area of several +leagues. + +We cut the Equator. Twenty miles to the west lay Guiana, French +territory where we could easily have taken refuge. But the wind was +blowing a strong gust, and the furious billows would not allow us to +face them in a mere skiff. No doubt Ned Land understood this because +he said nothing to me. For my part, I made no allusion to his escape +plans because I didn’t want to push him into an attempt that was +certain to misfire. + +I was readily compensated for this delay by fascinating +research. During those two days of April 11-12, the Nautilus didn’t +leave the surface of the sea, and its trawl brought up a simply +miraculous catch of zoophytes, fish, and reptiles. + +Some zoophytes were dredged up by the chain of our trawl. Most were +lovely sea anemone belonging to the family Actinidia, including among +other species, the Phyctalis protexta, native to this part of the +ocean: a small cylindrical trunk adorned with vertical lines, mottled +with red spots, and crowned by a wondrous blossoming of tentacles. As +for mollusks, they consisted of exhibits I had already observed: +turret snails, olive shells of the “tent olive” species with neatly +intersecting lines and russet spots standing out sharply against a +flesh-colored background, fanciful spider conchs that looked like +petrified scorpions, transparent glass snails, argonauts, some highly +edible cuttlefish, and certain species of squid that the naturalists +of antiquity classified with the flying fish, which are used chiefly +as bait for catching cod. + +As for the fish in these waterways, I noted various species that I +hadn’t yet had the opportunity to study. Among cartilaginous fish: +some brook lamprey, a type of eel fifteen inches long, head greenish, +fins violet, back bluish gray, belly a silvery brown strewn with +bright spots, iris of the eye encircled in gold, unusual animals that +the Amazon’s current must have swept out to sea because their natural +habitat is fresh water; sting rays, the snout pointed, the tail long, +slender, and armed with an extensive jagged sting; small one-meter +sharks with gray and whitish hides, their teeth arranged in several +backward-curving rows, fish commonly known by the name carpet shark; +batfish, a sort of reddish isosceles triangle half a meter long, whose +pectoral fins are attached by fleshy extensions that make these fish +look like bats, although an appendage made of horn, located near the +nostrils, earns them the nickname of sea unicorns; lastly, a couple +species of triggerfish, the cucuyo whose stippled flanks glitter with +a sparkling gold color, and the bright purple leatherjacket whose hues +glisten like a pigeon’s throat. + +I’ll finish up this catalog, a little dry but quite accurate, with the +series of bony fish I observed: eels belonging to the genus +Apteronotus whose snow-white snout is very blunt, the body painted a +handsome black and armed with a very long, slender, fleshy whip; long +sardines from the genus Odontognathus, like three-decimeter pike, +shining with a bright silver glow; Guaranian mackerel furnished with +two anal fins; black-tinted rudderfish that you catch by using +torches, fish measuring two meters and boasting white, firm, plump +meat that, when fresh, tastes like eel, when dried, like smoked +salmon; semired wrasse sporting scales only at the bases of their +dorsal and anal fins; grunts on which gold and silver mingle their +luster with that of ruby and topaz; yellow-tailed gilthead whose flesh +is extremely dainty and whose phosphorescent properties give them away +in the midst of the waters; porgies tinted orange, with slender +tongues; croakers with gold caudal fins; black surgeonfish; four-eyed +fish from Surinam, etc. + +This “et cetera” won’t keep me from mentioning one more fish that +Conseil, with good reason, will long remember. + +One of our nets had hauled up a type of very flat ray that weighed +some twenty kilograms; with its tail cut off, it would have formed a +perfect disk. It was white underneath and reddish on top, with big +round spots of deep blue encircled in black, its hide quite smooth and +ending in a double-lobed fin. Laid out on the platform, it kept +struggling with convulsive movements, trying to turn over, making such +efforts that its final lunge was about to flip it into the sea. But +Conseil, being very possessive of his fish, rushed at it, and before I +could stop him, he seized it with both hands. + +Instantly there he was, thrown on his back, legs in the air, his body +half paralyzed, and yelling: + +“Oh, sir, sir! Will you help me!” + +For once in his life, the poor lad didn’t address me “in the third +person.” + +The Canadian and I sat him up; we massaged his contracted arms, and +when he regained his five senses, that eternal classifier mumbled in a +broken voice: + +“Class of cartilaginous fish, order Chondropterygia with fixed gills, +suborder Selacia, family Rajiiforma, genus electric ray.” + +“Yes, my friend,” I answered, “it was an electric ray that put you in +this deplorable state.” + +“Oh, master can trust me on this,” Conseil shot back. “I’ll be +revenged on that animal!” + +“How?” + +“I’ll eat it.” + +Which he did that same evening, but strictly as retaliation. Because, +frankly, it tasted like leather. + +Poor Conseil had assaulted an electric ray of the most dangerous +species, the cumana. Living in a conducting medium such as water, this +bizarre animal can electrocute other fish from several meters away, so +great is the power of its electric organ, an organ whose two chief +surfaces measure at least twenty-seven square feet. + +During the course of the next day, April 12, the Nautilus drew near +the coast of Dutch Guiana, by the mouth of the Maroni River. There +several groups of sea cows were living in family units. These were +manatees, which belong to the order Sirenia, like the dugong and +Steller’s sea cow. Harmless and unaggressive, these fine animals were +six to seven meters long and must have weighed at least 4,000 +kilograms each. I told Ned Land and Conseil that farseeing nature had +given these mammals a major role to play. In essence, manatees, like +seals, are designed to graze the underwater prairies, destroying the +clusters of weeds that obstruct the mouths of tropical rivers. + +“And do you know,” I added, “what happened since man has almost +completely wiped out these beneficial races? Rotting weeds have +poisoned the air, and this poisoned air causes the yellow fever that +devastates these wonderful countries. This toxic vegetation has +increased beneath the seas of the Torrid Zone, so the disease spreads +unchecked from the mouth of the Rio de la Plata to Florida!” + +And if Professor Toussenel is correct, this plague is nothing compared +to the scourge that will strike our descendants once the seas are +depopulated of whales and seals. By then, crowded with jellyfish, +squid, and other devilfish, the oceans will have become huge centers +of infection, because their waves will no longer possess “these huge +stomachs that God has entrusted with scouring the surface of the sea.” + +Meanwhile, without scorning these theories, the Nautilus’s crew +captured half a dozen manatees. In essence, it was an issue of +stocking the larder with excellent red meat, even better than beef or +veal. Their hunting was not a fascinating sport. The manatees let +themselves be struck down without offering any resistance. Several +thousand kilos of meat were hauled below, to be dried and stored. + +The same day an odd fishing practice further increased the Nautilus’s +stores, so full of game were these seas. Our trawl brought up in its +meshes a number of fish whose heads were topped by little oval slabs +with fleshy edges. These were suckerfish from the third family of the +subbrachian Malacopterygia. These flat disks on their heads consist of +crosswise plates of movable cartilage, between which the animals can +create a vacuum, enabling them to stick to objects like suction cups. + +The remoras I had observed in the Mediterranean were related to this +species. But the creature at issue here was an Echeneis osteochara, +unique to this sea. Right after catching them, our seamen dropped them +in buckets of water. + +Its fishing finished, the Nautilus drew nearer to the coast. In this +locality a number of sea turtles were sleeping on the surface of the +waves. It would have been difficult to capture these valuable +reptiles, because they wake up at the slightest sound, and their solid +carapaces are harpoon-proof. But our suckerfish would effect their +capture with extraordinary certainty and precision. In truth, this +animal is a living fishhook, promising wealth and happiness to the +greenest fisherman in the business. + +The Nautilus’s men attached to each fish’s tail a ring that was big +enough not to hamper its movements, and to this ring a long rope whose +other end was moored on board. + +Thrown into the sea, the suckerfish immediately began to play their +roles, going and fastening themselves onto the breastplates of the +turtles. Their tenacity was so great, they would rip apart rather than +let go. They were hauled in, still sticking to the turtles that came +aboard with them. + +In this way we caught several loggerheads, reptiles a meter wide and +weighing 200 kilos. They’re extremely valuable because of their +carapaces, which are covered with big slabs of horn, thin, brown, +transparent, with white and yellow markings. Besides, they were +excellent from an edible viewpoint, with an exquisite flavor +comparable to the green turtle. + +This fishing ended our stay in the waterways of the Amazon, and that +evening the Nautilus took to the high seas once more. + + +CHAPTER 18 + +The Devilfish + + +FOR SOME DAYS the Nautilus kept veering away from the American +coast. It obviously didn’t want to frequent the waves of the Gulf of +Mexico or the Caribbean Sea. Yet there was no shortage of water under +its keel, since the average depth of these seas is 1,800 meters; but +these waterways, strewn with islands and plowed by steamers, probably +didn’t agree with Captain Nemo. + +On April 16 we raised Martinique and Guadalupe from a distance of +about thirty miles. For one instant I could see their lofty peaks. + +The Canadian was quite disheartened, having counted on putting his +plans into execution in the gulf, either by reaching shore or by +pulling alongside one of the many boats plying a coastal trade from +one island to another. An escape attempt would have been quite +feasible, assuming Ned Land managed to seize the skiff without the +captain’s knowledge. But in midocean it was unthinkable. + +The Canadian, Conseil, and I had a pretty long conversation on this +subject. For six months we had been prisoners aboard the Nautilus. We +had fared 17,000 leagues, and as Ned Land put it, there was no end in +sight. So he made me a proposition I hadn’t anticipated. We were to +ask Captain Nemo this question straight out: did the captain mean to +keep us on board his vessel permanently? + +This measure was distasteful to me. To my mind it would lead +nowhere. We could hope for nothing from the Nautilus’s commander but +could depend only on ourselves. Besides, for some time now the man had +been gloomier, more withdrawn, less sociable. He seemed to be avoiding +me. I encountered him only at rare intervals. He used to take pleasure +in explaining the underwater wonders to me; now he left me to my +research and no longer entered the lounge. + +What changes had come over him? From what cause? I had no reason to +blame myself. Was our presence on board perhaps a burden to him? Even +so, I cherished no hopes that the man would set us free. + +So I begged Ned to let me think about it before taking action. If this +measure proved fruitless, it could arouse the captain’s suspicions, +make our circumstances even more arduous, and jeopardize the +Canadian’s plans. I might add that I could hardly use our state of +health as an argument. Except for that grueling ordeal under the Ice +Bank at the South Pole, we had never felt better, neither Ned, +Conseil, nor I. The nutritious food, life-giving air, regular routine, +and uniform temperature kept illness at bay; and for a man who didn’t +miss his past existence on land, for a Captain Nemo who was at home +here, who went where he wished, who took paths mysterious to others if +not himself in attaining his ends, I could understand such a life. But +we ourselves hadn’t severed all ties with humanity. For my part, I +didn’t want my new and unusual research to be buried with my bones. I +had now earned the right to pen the definitive book on the sea, and +sooner or later I wanted that book to see the light of day. + +There once more, through the panels opening into these Caribbean +waters ten meters below the surface of the waves, I found so many +fascinating exhibits to describe in my daily notes! Among other +zoophytes there were Portuguese men-of-war known by the name Physalia +pelagica, like big, oblong bladders with a pearly sheen, spreading +their membranes to the wind, letting their blue tentacles drift like +silken threads; to the eye delightful jellyfish, to the touch actual +nettles that ooze a corrosive liquid. Among the articulates there were +annelid worms one and a half meters long, furnished with a pink +proboscis, equipped with 1,700 organs of locomotion, snaking through +the waters, and as they went, throwing off every gleam in the solar +spectrum. From the fish branch there were manta rays, enormous +cartilaginous fish ten feet long and weighing 600 pounds, their +pectoral fin triangular, their midback slightly arched, their eyes +attached to the edges of the face at the front of the head; they +floated like wreckage from a ship, sometimes fastening onto our +windows like opaque shutters. There were American triggerfish for +which nature has ground only black and white pigments, feather-shaped +gobies that were long and plump with yellow fins and jutting jaws, +sixteen-decimeter mackerel with short, sharp teeth, covered with small +scales, and related to the albacore species. Next came swarms of red +mullet corseted in gold stripes from head to tail, their shining fins +all aquiver, genuine masterpieces of jewelry, formerly sacred to the +goddess Diana, much in demand by rich Romans, and about which the old +saying goes: “He who catches them doesn’t eat them!” Finally, adorned +with emerald ribbons and dressed in velvet and silk, golden angelfish +passed before our eyes like courtiers in the paintings of Veronese; +spurred gilthead stole by with their swift thoracic fins; thread +herring fifteen inches long were wrapped in their phosphorescent +glimmers; gray mullet thrashed the sea with their big fleshy tails; +red salmon seemed to mow the waves with their slicing pectorals; and +silver moonfish, worthy of their name, rose on the horizon of the +waters like the whitish reflections of many moons. + +How many other marvelous new specimens I still could have observed if, +little by little, the Nautilus hadn’t settled to the lower strata! Its +slanting fins drew it to depths of 2,000 and 3,500 meters. There +animal life was represented by nothing more than sea lilies, starfish, +delightful crinoids with bell-shaped heads like little chalices on +straight stems, top-shell snails, blood-red tooth shells, and +fissurella snails, a large species of coastal mollusk. + +By April 20 we had risen to an average level of 1,500 meters. The +nearest land was the island group of the Bahamas, scattered like a +batch of cobblestones over the surface of the water. There high +underwater cliffs reared up, straight walls made of craggy chunks +arranged like big stone foundations, among which there gaped black +caves so deep our electric rays couldn’t light them to the far ends. + +These rocks were hung with huge weeds, immense sea tangle, gigantic +fucus—a genuine trellis of water plants fit for a world of giants. + +In discussing these colossal plants, Conseil, Ned, and I were +naturally led into mentioning the sea’s gigantic animals. The former +were obviously meant to feed the latter. However, through the windows +of our almost motionless Nautilus, I could see nothing among these +long filaments other than the chief articulates of the division +Brachyura: long-legged spider crabs, violet crabs, and sponge crabs +unique to the waters of the Caribbean. + +It was about eleven o’clock when Ned Land drew my attention to a +fearsome commotion out in this huge seaweed. + +“Well,” I said, “these are real devilfish caverns, and I wouldn’t be +surprised to see some of those monsters hereabouts.” + +“What!” Conseil put in. “Squid, ordinary squid from the class +Cephalopoda?” + +“No,” I said, “devilfish of large dimensions. But friend Land is no +doubt mistaken, because I don’t see a thing.” + +“That’s regrettable,” Conseil answered. “I’d like to come face to face +with one of those devilfish I’ve heard so much about, which can drag +ships down into the depths. Those beasts go by the name of krake—” + +“Fake is more like it,” the Canadian replied sarcastically. + +“Krakens!” Conseil shot back, finishing his word without wincing at +his companion’s witticism. + +“Nobody will ever make me believe,” Ned Land said, “that such animals +exist.” + +“Why not?” Conseil replied. “We sincerely believed in master’s +narwhale.” + +“We were wrong, Conseil.” + +“No doubt, but there are others with no doubts who believe to this +day!” + +“Probably, Conseil. But as for me, I’m bound and determined not to +accept the existence of any such monster till I’ve dissected it with +my own two hands.” + +“Yet,” Conseil asked me, “doesn’t master believe in gigantic +devilfish?” + +“Yikes! Who in Hades ever believed in them?” the Canadian exclaimed. + +“Many people, Ned my friend,” I said. + +“No fishermen. Scientists maybe!” + +“Pardon me, Ned. Fishermen and scientists!” + +“Why, I to whom you speak,” Conseil said with the world’s straightest +face, “I recall perfectly seeing a large boat dragged under the waves +by the arms of a cephalopod.” + +“You saw that?” the Canadian asked. + +“Yes, Ned.” + +“With your own two eyes?” + +“With my own two eyes.” + +“Where, may I ask?” + +“In Saint-Malo,” Conseil returned unflappably. + +“In the harbor?” Ned Land said sarcastically. + +“No, in a church,” Conseil replied. + +“In a church!” the Canadian exclaimed. + +“Yes, Ned my friend. It had a picture that portrayed the devilfish in +question.” + +“Oh good!” Ned Land exclaimed with a burst of laughter. “Mr. Conseil +put one over on me!” + +“Actually he’s right,” I said. “I’ve heard about that picture. But the +subject it portrays is taken from a legend, and you know how to rate +legends in matters of natural history! Besides, when it’s an issue of +monsters, the human imagination always tends to run wild. People not +only claimed these devilfish could drag ships under, but a certain +Olaus Magnus tells of a cephalopod a mile long that looked more like +an island than an animal. There’s also the story of how the Bishop of +Trondheim set up an altar one day on an immense rock. After he +finished saying mass, this rock started moving and went back into the +sea. The rock was a devilfish.” + +“And that’s everything we know?” the Canadian asked. + +“No,” I replied, “another bishop, Pontoppidan of Bergen, also tells of +a devilfish so large a whole cavalry regiment could maneuver on it.” + +“They sure did go on, those oldtime bishops!” Ned Land said. + +“Finally, the naturalists of antiquity mention some monsters with +mouths as big as a gulf, which were too huge to get through the Strait +of Gibraltar.” + +“Good work, men!” the Canadian put in. + +“But in all these stories, is there any truth?” Conseil asked. + +“None at all, my friends, at least in those that go beyond the bounds +of credibility and fly off into fable or legend. Yet for the +imaginings of these storytellers there had to be, if not a cause, at +least an excuse. It can’t be denied that some species of squid and +other devilfish are quite large, though still smaller than +cetaceans. Aristotle put the dimensions of one squid at five cubits, +or 3.1 meters. Our fishermen frequently see specimens over 1.8 meters +long. The museums in Trieste and Montpellier have preserved some +devilfish carcasses measuring two meters. Besides, according to the +calculations of naturalists, one of these animals only six feet long +would have tentacles as long as twenty-seven. Which is enough to make +a fearsome monster.” + +“Does anybody fish for ’em nowadays?” the Canadian asked. + +“If they don’t fish for them, sailors at least sight them. A friend of +mine, Captain Paul Bos of Le Havre, has often sworn to me that he +encountered one of these monsters of colossal size in the seas of the +East Indies. But the most astonishing event, which proves that these +gigantic animals undeniably exist, took place a few years ago in +1861.” + +“What event was that?” Ned Land asked. + +“Just this. In 1861, to the northeast of Tenerife and fairly near the +latitude where we are right now, the crew of the gunboat Alecto +spotted a monstrous squid swimming in their waters. Commander Bouguer +approached the animal and attacked it with blows from harpoons and +blasts from rifles, but without much success because bullets and +harpoons crossed its soft flesh as if it were semiliquid jelly. After +several fruitless attempts, the crew managed to slip a noose around +the mollusk’s body. This noose slid as far as the caudal fins and came +to a halt. Then they tried to haul the monster on board, but its +weight was so considerable that when they tugged on the rope, the +animal parted company with its tail; and deprived of this adornment, +it disappeared beneath the waters.” + +“Finally, an actual event,” Ned Land said. + +“An indisputable event, my gallant Ned. Accordingly, people have +proposed naming this devilfish Bouguer’s Squid.” + +“And how long was it?” the Canadian asked. + +“Didn’t it measure about six meters?” said Conseil, who was stationed +at the window and examining anew the crevices in the cliff. + +“Precisely,” I replied. + +“Wasn’t its head,” Conseil went on, “crowned by eight tentacles that +quivered in the water like a nest of snakes?” + +“Precisely.” + +“Weren’t its eyes prominently placed and considerably enlarged?” + +“Yes, Conseil.” + +“And wasn’t its mouth a real parrot’s beak but of fearsome size?” + +“Correct, Conseil.” + +“Well, with all due respect to master,” Conseil replied serenely, “if +this isn’t Bouguer’s Squid, it’s at least one of his close relatives!” + +I stared at Conseil. Ned Land rushed to the window. + +“What an awful animal!” he exclaimed. + +I stared in my turn and couldn’t keep back a movement of +revulsion. Before my eyes there quivered a horrible monster worthy of +a place among the most farfetched teratological legends. + +It was a squid of colossal dimensions, fully eight meters long. It was +traveling backward with tremendous speed in the same direction as the +Nautilus. It gazed with enormous, staring eyes that were tinted sea +green. Its eight arms (or more accurately, feet) were rooted in its +head, which has earned these animals the name cephalopod; its arms +stretched a distance twice the length of its body and were writhing +like the serpentine hair of the Furies. You could plainly see its 250 +suckers, arranged over the inner sides of its tentacles and shaped +like semispheric capsules. Sometimes these suckers fastened onto the +lounge window by creating vacuums against it. The monster’s mouth—a +beak made of horn and shaped like that of a parrot—opened and closed +vertically. Its tongue, also of horn substance and armed with several +rows of sharp teeth, would flicker out from between these genuine +shears. What a freak of nature! A bird’s beak on a mollusk! Its body +was spindle-shaped and swollen in the middle, a fleshy mass that must +have weighed 20,000 to 25,000 kilograms. Its unstable color would +change with tremendous speed as the animal grew irritated, passing +successively from bluish gray to reddish brown. + +What was irritating this mollusk? No doubt the presence of the +Nautilus, even more fearsome than itself, and which it couldn’t grip +with its mandibles or the suckers on its arms. And yet what monsters +these devilfish are, what vitality our Creator has given them, what +vigor in their movements, thanks to their owning a triple heart! + +Sheer chance had placed us in the presence of this squid, and I didn’t +want to lose this opportunity to meticulously study such a cephalopod +specimen. I overcame the horror that its appearance inspired in me, +picked up a pencil, and began to sketch it. + +“Perhaps this is the same as the Alecto’s,” Conseil said. + +“Can’t be,” the Canadian replied, “because this one’s complete while +the other one lost its tail!” + +“That doesn’t necessarily follow,” I said. “The arms and tails of +these animals grow back through regeneration, and in seven years the +tail on Bouguer’s Squid has surely had time to sprout again.” + +“Anyhow,” Ned shot back, “if it isn’t this fellow, maybe it’s one of +those!” + +Indeed, other devilfish had appeared at the starboard window. I +counted seven of them. They provided the Nautilus with an escort, and +I could hear their beaks gnashing on the sheet-iron hull. We couldn’t +have asked for a more devoted following. + +I continued sketching. These monsters kept pace in our waters with +such precision, they seemed to be standing still, and I could have +traced their outlines in miniature on the window. But we were moving +at a moderate speed. + +All at once the Nautilus stopped. A jolt made it tremble through its +entire framework. + +“Did we strike bottom?” I asked. + +“In any event we’re already clear,” the Canadian replied, “because +we’re afloat.” + +The Nautilus was certainly afloat, but it was no longer in motion. The +blades of its propeller weren’t churning the waves. A minute +passed. Followed by his chief officer, Captain Nemo entered the +lounge. + +I hadn’t seen him for a good while. He looked gloomy to me. Without +speaking to us, without even seeing us perhaps, he went to the panel, +stared at the devilfish, and said a few words to his chief officer. + +The latter went out. Soon the panels closed. The ceiling lit up. + +I went over to the captain. + +“An unusual assortment of devilfish,” I told him, as carefree as a +collector in front of an aquarium. + +“Correct, Mr. Naturalist,” he answered me, “and we’re going to fight +them at close quarters.” + +I gaped at the captain. I thought my hearing had gone bad. + +“At close quarters?” I repeated. + +“Yes, sir. Our propeller is jammed. I think the horn-covered mandibles +of one of these squid are entangled in the blades. That’s why we +aren’t moving.” + +“And what are you going to do?” + +“Rise to the surface and slaughter the vermin.” + +“A difficult undertaking.” + +“Correct. Our electric bullets are ineffective against such soft +flesh, where they don’t meet enough resistance to go off. But we’ll +attack the beasts with axes.” + +“And harpoons, sir,” the Canadian said, “if you don’t turn down my +help.” + +“I accept it, Mr. Land.” + +“We’ll go with you,” I said. And we followed Captain Nemo, heading to +the central companionway. + +There some ten men were standing by for the assault, armed with +boarding axes. Conseil and I picked up two more axes. Ned Land seized +a harpoon. + +By then the Nautilus had returned to the surface of the +waves. Stationed on the top steps, one of the seamen undid the bolts +of the hatch. But he had scarcely unscrewed the nuts when the hatch +flew up with tremendous violence, obviously pulled open by the suckers +on a devilfish’s arm. + +Instantly one of those long arms glided like a snake into the opening, +and twenty others were quivering above. With a sweep of the ax, +Captain Nemo chopped off this fearsome tentacle, which slid writhing +down the steps. + +Just as we were crowding each other to reach the platform, two more +arms lashed the air, swooped on the seaman stationed in front of +Captain Nemo, and carried the fellow away with irresistible violence. + +Captain Nemo gave a shout and leaped outside. We rushed after him. + +What a scene! Seized by the tentacle and glued to its suckers, the +unfortunate man was swinging in the air at the mercy of this enormous +appendage. He gasped, he choked, he yelled: “Help! Help!” These words, +pronounced in French, left me deeply stunned! So I had a fellow +countryman on board, perhaps several! I’ll hear his harrowing plea the +rest of my life! + +The poor fellow was done for. Who could tear him from such a powerful +grip? Even so, Captain Nemo rushed at the devilfish and with a sweep +of the ax hewed one more of its arms. His chief officer struggled +furiously with other monsters crawling up the Nautilus’s sides. The +crew battled with flailing axes. The Canadian, Conseil, and I sank our +weapons into these fleshy masses. An intense, musky odor filled the +air. It was horrible. + +For an instant I thought the poor man entwined by the devilfish might +be torn loose from its powerful suction. Seven arms out of eight had +been chopped off. Brandishing its victim like a feather, one lone +tentacle was writhing in the air. But just as Captain Nemo and his +chief officer rushed at it, the animal shot off a spout of blackish +liquid, secreted by a pouch located in its abdomen. It blinded +us. When this cloud had dispersed, the squid was gone, and so was my +poor fellow countryman! + +What rage then drove us against these monsters! We lost all +self-control. Ten or twelve devilfish had overrun the Nautilus’s +platform and sides. We piled helter-skelter into the thick of these +sawed-off snakes, which darted over the platform amid waves of blood +and sepia ink. It seemed as if these viscous tentacles grew back like +the many heads of Hydra. At every thrust Ned Land’s harpoon would +plunge into a squid’s sea-green eye and burst it. But my daring +companion was suddenly toppled by the tentacles of a monster he could +not avoid. + +Oh, my heart nearly exploded with excitement and horror! The squid’s +fearsome beak was wide open over Ned Land. The poor man was about to +be cut in half. I ran to his rescue. But Captain Nemo got there +first. His ax disappeared between the two enormous mandibles, and the +Canadian, miraculously saved, stood and plunged his harpoon all the +way into the devilfish’s triple heart. + +“Tit for tat,” Captain Nemo told the Canadian. “I owed it to myself!” + +Ned bowed without answering him. + +This struggle had lasted a quarter of an hour. Defeated, mutilated, +battered to death, the monsters finally yielded to us and disappeared +beneath the waves. + +Red with blood, motionless by the beacon, Captain Nemo stared at the +sea that had swallowed one of his companions, and large tears streamed +from his eyes. + + +CHAPTER 19 + +The Gulf Stream + + +THIS DREADFUL SCENE on April 20 none of us will ever be able to +forget. I wrote it up in a state of intense excitement. Later I +reviewed my narrative. I read it to Conseil and the Canadian. They +found it accurate in detail but deficient in impact. To convey such +sights, it would take the pen of our most famous poet, Victor Hugo, +author of The Toilers of the Sea. + +As I said, Captain Nemo wept while staring at the waves. His grief was +immense. This was the second companion he had lost since we had come +aboard. And what a way to die! Smashed, strangled, crushed by the +fearsome arms of a devilfish, ground between its iron mandibles, this +friend would never rest with his companions in the placid waters of +their coral cemetery! + +As for me, what had harrowed my heart in the thick of this struggle +was the despairing yell given by this unfortunate man. Forgetting his +regulation language, this poor Frenchman had reverted to speaking his +own mother tongue to fling out one supreme plea! Among the Nautilus’s +crew, allied body and soul with Captain Nemo and likewise fleeing from +human contact, I had found a fellow countryman! Was he the only +representative of France in this mysterious alliance, obviously made +up of individuals from different nationalities? This was just one more +of those insoluble problems that kept welling up in my mind! + +Captain Nemo reentered his stateroom, and I saw no more of him for a +good while. But how sad, despairing, and irresolute he must have felt, +to judge from this ship whose soul he was, which reflected his every +mood! The Nautilus no longer kept to a fixed heading. It drifted back +and forth, riding with the waves like a corpse. Its propeller had been +disentangled but was barely put to use. It was navigating at +random. It couldn’t tear itself away from the setting of this last +struggle, from this sea that had devoured one of its own! + +Ten days went by in this way. It was only on May 1 that the Nautilus +openly resumed its northbound course, after raising the Bahamas at the +mouth of Old Bahama Channel. We then went with the current of the +sea’s greatest river, which has its own banks, fish, and +temperature. I mean the Gulf Stream. + +It is indeed a river that runs independently through the middle of the +Atlantic, its waters never mixing with the ocean’s waters. It’s a +salty river, saltier than the sea surrounding it. Its average depth is +3,000 feet, its average width sixty miles. In certain localities its +current moves at a speed of four kilometers per hour. The unchanging +volume of its waters is greater than that of all the world’s rivers +combined. + +As discovered by Commander Maury, the true source of the Gulf Stream, +its starting point, if you prefer, is located in the Bay of +Biscay. There its waters, still weak in temperature and color, begin +to form. It goes down south, skirts equatorial Africa, warms its waves +in the rays of the Torrid Zone, crosses the Atlantic, reaches Cape São +Roque on the coast of Brazil, and forks into two branches, one going +to the Caribbean Sea for further saturation with heat particles. Then, +entrusted with restoring the balance between hot and cold temperatures +and with mixing tropical and northern waters, the Gulf Stream begins +to play its stabilizing role. Attaining a white heat in the Gulf of +Mexico, it heads north up the American coast, advances as far as +Newfoundland, swerves away under the thrust of a cold current from the +Davis Strait, and resumes its ocean course by going along a great +circle of the earth on a rhumb line; it then divides into two arms +near the 43rd parallel; one, helped by the northeast trade winds, +returns to the Bay of Biscay and the Azores; the other washes the +shores of Ireland and Norway with lukewarm water, goes beyond +Spitzbergen, where its temperature falls to 4 degrees centigrade, and +fashions the open sea at the pole. + +It was on this oceanic river that the Nautilus was then +navigating. Leaving Old Bahama Channel, which is fourteen leagues wide +by 350 meters deep, the Gulf Stream moves at the rate of eight +kilometers per hour. Its speed steadily decreases as it advances +northward, and we must pray that this steadiness continues, because, +as experts agree, if its speed and direction were to change, the +climates of Europe would undergo disturbances whose consequences are +incalculable. + +Near noon I was on the platform with Conseil. I shared with him the +relevant details on the Gulf Stream. When my explanation was over, I +invited him to dip his hands into its current. + +Conseil did so, and he was quite astonished to experience no sensation +of either hot or cold. + +“That comes,” I told him, “from the water temperature of the Gulf +Stream, which, as it leaves the Gulf of Mexico, is barely different +from your blood temperature. This Gulf Stream is a huge heat generator +that enables the coasts of Europe to be decked in eternal +greenery. And if Commander Maury is correct, were one to harness the +full warmth of this current, it would supply enough heat to keep +molten a river of iron solder as big as the Amazon or the Missouri.” + +Just then the Gulf Stream’s speed was 2.25 meters per second. So +distinct is its current from the surrounding sea, its confined waters +stand out against the ocean and operate on a different level from the +colder waters. Murky as well, and very rich in saline material, their +pure indigo contrasts with the green waves surrounding them. Moreover, +their line of demarcation is so clear that abreast of the Carolinas, +the Nautilus’s spur cut the waves of the Gulf Stream while its +propeller was still churning those belonging to the ocean. + +This current swept along with it a whole host of moving +creatures. Argonauts, so common in the Mediterranean, voyaged here in +schools of large numbers. Among cartilaginous fish, the most +remarkable were rays whose ultra slender tails made up nearly a third +of the body, which was shaped like a huge diamond twenty-five feet +long; then little one-meter sharks, the head large, the snout short +and rounded, the teeth sharp and arranged in several rows, the body +seemingly covered with scales. + +Among bony fish, I noted grizzled wrasse unique to these seas, +deep-water gilthead whose iris has a fiery gleam, one-meter croakers +whose large mouths bristle with small teeth and which let out thin +cries, black rudderfish like those I’ve already discussed, blue +dorados accented with gold and silver, rainbow-hued parrotfish that +can rival the loveliest tropical birds in coloring, banded blennies +with triangular heads, bluish flounder without scales, toadfish +covered with a crosswise yellow band in the shape of a Greek t, swarms +of little freckled gobies stippled with brown spots, lungfish with +silver heads and yellow tails, various specimens of salmon, mullet +with slim figures and a softly glowing radiance that Lacépède +dedicated to the memory of his wife, and finally the American cavalla, +a handsome fish decorated by every honorary order, bedizened with +their every ribbon, frequenting the shores of this great nation where +ribbons and orders are held in such low esteem. + +I might add that during the night, the Gulf Stream’s phosphorescent +waters rivaled the electric glow of our beacon, especially in the +stormy weather that frequently threatened us. + +On May 8, while abreast of North Carolina, we were across from Cape +Hatteras once more. There the Gulf Stream is seventy-five miles wide +and 210 meters deep. The Nautilus continued to wander at +random. Seemingly, all supervision had been jettisoned. Under these +conditions I admit that we could easily have gotten away. In fact, the +populous shores offered ready refuge everywhere. The sea was plowed +continuously by the many steamers providing service between the Gulf +of Mexico and New York or Boston, and it was crossed night and day by +little schooners engaged in coastal trade over various points on the +American shore. We could hope to be picked up. So it was a promising +opportunity, despite the thirty miles that separated the Nautilus from +these Union coasts. + +But one distressing circumstance totally thwarted the Canadian’s +plans. The weather was thoroughly foul. We were approaching waterways +where storms are commonplace, the very homeland of tornadoes and +cyclones specifically engendered by the Gulf Stream’s current. To face +a frequently raging sea in a frail skiff was a race to certain +disaster. Ned Land conceded this himself. So he champed at the bit, in +the grip of an intense homesickness that could be cured only by our +escape. + +“Sir,” he told me that day, “it’s got to stop. I want to get to the +bottom of this. Your Nemo’s veering away from shore and heading up +north. But believe you me, I had my fill at the South Pole and I’m not +going with him to the North Pole.” + +“What can we do, Ned, since it isn’t feasible to escape right now?” + +“I keep coming back to my idea. We’ve got to talk to the captain. When +we were in your own country’s seas, you didn’t say a word. Now that +we’re in mine, I intend to speak up. Before a few days are out, I +figure the Nautilus will lie abreast of Nova Scotia, and from there to +Newfoundland is the mouth of a large gulf, and the St. Lawrence +empties into that gulf, and the St. Lawrence is my own river, the +river running by Quebec, my hometown—and when I think about all this, +my gorge rises and my hair stands on end! Honestly, sir, I’d rather +jump overboard! I can’t stay here any longer! I’m suffocating!” + +The Canadian was obviously at the end of his patience. His vigorous +nature couldn’t adapt to this protracted imprisonment. His facial +appearance was changing by the day. His moods grew gloomier and +gloomier. I had a sense of what he was suffering because I also was +gripped by homesickness. Nearly seven months had gone by without our +having any news from shore. Moreover, Captain Nemo’s reclusiveness, +his changed disposition, and especially his total silence since the +battle with the devilfish all made me see things in a different +light. I no longer felt the enthusiasm of our first days on board. You +needed to be Flemish like Conseil to accept these circumstances, +living in a habitat designed for cetaceans and other denizens of the +deep. Truly, if that gallant lad had owned gills instead of lungs, I +think he would have made an outstanding fish! + +“Well, sir?” Ned Land went on, seeing that I hadn’t replied. + +“Well, Ned, you want me to ask Captain Nemo what he intends to do with +us?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Even though he has already made that clear?” + +“Yes. I want it settled once and for all. Speak just for me, strictly +on my behalf, if you want.” + +“But I rarely encounter him. He positively avoids me.” + +“All the more reason you should go look him up.” + +“I’ll confer with him, Ned.” + +“When?” the Canadian asked insistently. + +“When I encounter him.” + +“Professor Aronnax, would you like me to go find him myself?” + +“No, let me do it. Tomorrow—” + +“Today,” Ned Land said. + +“So be it. I’ll see him today,” I answered the Canadian, who, if he +took action himself, would certainly have ruined everything. + +I was left to myself. His request granted, I decided to dispose of it +immediately. I like things over and done with. + +I reentered my stateroom. From there I could hear movements inside +Captain Nemo’s quarters. I couldn’t pass up this chance for an +encounter. I knocked on his door. I received no reply. I knocked +again, then tried the knob. The door opened. + +I entered. The captain was there. He was bending over his worktable +and hadn’t heard me. Determined not to leave without questioning him, +I drew closer. He looked up sharply, with a frowning brow, and said in +a pretty stern tone: + +“Oh, it’s you! What do you want?” + +“To speak with you, captain.” + +“But I’m busy, sir, I’m at work. I give you the freedom to enjoy your +privacy, can’t I have the same for myself?” + +This reception was less than encouraging. But I was determined to give +as good as I got. + +“Sir,” I said coolly, “I need to speak with you on a matter that +simply can’t wait.” + +“Whatever could that be, sir?” he replied sarcastically. “Have you +made some discovery that has escaped me? Has the sea yielded up some +novel secret to you?” + +We were miles apart. But before I could reply, he showed me a +manuscript open on the table and told me in a more serious tone: + +“Here, Professor Aronnax, is a manuscript written in several +languages. It contains a summary of my research under the sea, and God +willing, it won’t perish with me. Signed with my name, complete with +my life story, this manuscript will be enclosed in a small, unsinkable +contrivance. The last surviving man on the Nautilus will throw this +contrivance into the sea, and it will go wherever the waves carry it.” + +The man’s name! His life story written by himself! So the secret of +his existence might someday be unveiled? But just then I saw this +announcement only as a lead-in to my topic. + +“Captain,” I replied, “I’m all praise for this idea you’re putting +into effect. The fruits of your research must not be lost. But the +methods you’re using strike me as primitive. Who knows where the winds +will take that contrivance, into whose hands it may fall? Can’t you +find something better? Can’t you or one of your men—” + +“Never, sir,” the captain said, swiftly interrupting me. + +“But my companions and I would be willing to safeguard this +manuscript, and if you give us back our freedom—” + +“Your freedom!” Captain Nemo put in, standing up. + +“Yes, sir, and that’s the subject on which I wanted to confer with +you. For seven months we’ve been aboard your vessel, and I ask you +today, in the name of my companions as well as myself, if you intend +to keep us here forever.” + +“Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo said, “I’ll answer you today just as +I did seven months ago: whoever boards the Nautilus must never leave +it.” + +“What you’re inflicting on us is outright slavery!” + +“Call it anything you like.” + +“But every slave has the right to recover his freedom! By any +worthwhile, available means!” + +“Who has denied you that right?” Captain Nemo replied. “Did I ever try +to bind you with your word of honor?” + +The captain stared at me, crossing his arms. + +“Sir,” I told him, “to take up this subject a second time would be +distasteful to both of us. So let’s finish what we’ve started. I +repeat: it isn’t just for myself that I raise this issue. To me, +research is a relief, a potent diversion, an enticement, a passion +that can make me forget everything else. Like you, I’m a man neglected +and unknown, living in the faint hope that someday I can pass on to +future generations the fruits of my labors—figuratively speaking, by +means of some contrivance left to the luck of winds and waves. In +short, I can admire you and comfortably go with you while playing a +role I only partly understand; but I still catch glimpses of other +aspects of your life that are surrounded by involvements and secrets +that, alone on board, my companions and I can’t share. And even when +our hearts could beat with yours, moved by some of your griefs or +stirred by your deeds of courage and genius, we’ve had to stifle even +the slightest token of that sympathy that arises at the sight of +something fine and good, whether it comes from friend or enemy. All +right then! It’s this feeling of being alien to your deepest concerns +that makes our situation unacceptable, impossible, even impossible for +me but especially for Ned Land. Every man, by virtue of his very +humanity, deserves fair treatment. Have you considered how a love of +freedom and hatred of slavery could lead to plans of vengeance in a +temperament like the Canadian’s, what he might think, attempt, +endeavor . . . ?” + +I fell silent. Captain Nemo stood up. + +“Ned Land can think, attempt, or endeavor anything he wants, what +difference is it to me? I didn’t go looking for him! I don’t keep him +on board for my pleasure! As for you, Professor Aronnax, you’re a man +able to understand anything, even silence. I have nothing more to say +to you. Let this first time you’ve come to discuss this subject also +be the last, because a second time I won’t even listen.” + +I withdrew. From that day forward our position was very strained. I +reported this conversation to my two companions. + +“Now we know,” Ned said, “that we can’t expect a thing from this +man. The Nautilus is nearing Long Island. We’ll escape, no matter what +the weather.” + +But the skies became more and more threatening. There were conspicuous +signs of a hurricane on the way. The atmosphere was turning white and +milky. Slender sheaves of cirrus clouds were followed on the horizon +by layers of nimbocumulus. Other low clouds fled swiftly. The sea grew +towering, inflated by long swells. Every bird had disappeared except a +few petrels, friends of the storms. The barometer fell significantly, +indicating a tremendous tension in the surrounding haze. The mixture +in our stormglass decomposed under the influence of the electricity +charging the air. A struggle of the elements was approaching. + +The storm burst during the daytime of May 13, just as the Nautilus was +cruising abreast of Long Island, a few miles from the narrows to Upper +New York Bay. I’m able to describe this struggle of the elements +because Captain Nemo didn’t flee into the ocean depths; instead, from +some inexplicable whim, he decided to brave it out on the surface. + +The wind was blowing from the southwest, initially a stiff breeze, in +other words, with a speed of fifteen meters per second, which built to +twenty-five meters near three o’clock in the afternoon. This is the +figure for major storms. + +Unshaken by these squalls, Captain Nemo stationed himself on the +platform. He was lashed around the waist to withstand the monstrous +breakers foaming over the deck. I hoisted and attached myself to the +same place, dividing my wonderment between the storm and this +incomparable man who faced it head-on. + +The raging sea was swept with huge tattered clouds drenched by the +waves. I saw no more of the small intervening billows that form in the +troughs of the big crests. Just long, soot-colored undulations with +crests so compact they didn’t foam. They kept growing taller. They +were spurring each other on. The Nautilus, sometimes lying on its +side, sometimes standing on end like a mast, rolled and pitched +frightfully. + +Near five o’clock a torrential rain fell, but it lulled neither wind +nor sea. The hurricane was unleashed at a speed of forty-five meters +per second, hence almost forty leagues per hour. Under these +conditions houses topple, roof tiles puncture doors, iron railings +snap in two, and twenty-four-pounder cannons relocate. And yet in the +midst of this turmoil, the Nautilus lived up to that saying of an +expert engineer: “A well-constructed hull can defy any sea!” This +submersible was no resisting rock that waves could demolish; it was a +steel spindle, obediently in motion, without rigging or masting, and +able to brave their fury with impunity. + +Meanwhile I was carefully examining these unleashed breakers. They +measured up to fifteen meters in height over a length of 150 to 175 +meters, and the speed of their propagation (half that of the wind) was +fifteen meters per second. Their volume and power increased with the +depth of the waters. I then understood the role played by these waves, +which trap air in their flanks and release it in the depths of the sea +where its oxygen brings life. Their utmost pressure—it has been +calculated—can build to 3,000 kilograms on every square foot of +surface they strike. It was such waves in the Hebrides that +repositioned a stone block weighing 84,000 pounds. It was their +relatives in the tidal wave on December 23, 1854, that toppled part of +the Japanese city of Tokyo, then went that same day at 700 kilometers +per hour to break on the beaches of America. + +After nightfall the storm grew in intensity. As in the 1860 cyclone on +Réunion Island, the barometer fell to 710 millimeters. At the close of +day, I saw a big ship passing on the horizon, struggling painfully. It +lay to at half steam in an effort to hold steady on the waves. It must +have been a steamer on one of those lines out of New York to Liverpool +or Le Havre. It soon vanished into the shadows. + +At ten o’clock in the evening, the skies caught on fire. The air was +streaked with violent flashes of lightning. I couldn’t stand this +brightness, but Captain Nemo stared straight at it, as if to inhale +the spirit of the storm. A dreadful noise filled the air, a +complicated noise made up of the roar of crashing breakers, the howl +of the wind, claps of thunder. The wind shifted to every point of the +horizon, and the cyclone left the east to return there after passing +through north, west, and south, moving in the opposite direction of +revolving storms in the southern hemisphere. + +Oh, that Gulf Stream! It truly lives up to its nickname, the Lord of +Storms! All by itself it creates these fearsome cyclones through the +difference in temperature between its currents and the superimposed +layers of air. + +The rain was followed by a downpour of fire. Droplets of water changed +into exploding tufts. You would have thought Captain Nemo was courting +a death worthy of himself, seeking to be struck by lightning. In one +hideous pitching movement, the Nautilus reared its steel spur into the +air like a lightning rod, and I saw long sparks shoot down it. + +Shattered, at the end of my strength, I slid flat on my belly to the +hatch. I opened it and went below to the lounge. By then the storm had +reached its maximum intensity. It was impossible to stand upright +inside the Nautilus. + +Captain Nemo reentered near midnight. I could hear the ballast tanks +filling little by little, and the Nautilus sank gently beneath the +surface of the waves. + +Through the lounge’s open windows, I saw large, frightened fish +passing like phantoms in the fiery waters. Some were struck by +lightning right before my eyes! + +The Nautilus kept descending. I thought it would find calm again at +fifteen meters down. No. The upper strata were too violently +agitated. It needed to sink to fifty meters, searching for a resting +place in the bowels of the sea. + +But once there, what tranquility we found, what silence, what peace +all around us! Who would have known that a dreadful hurricane was then +unleashed on the surface of this ocean? + + +CHAPTER 20 + +In Latitude 47° 24’ and Longitude 17° 28’ + + +IN THE AFTERMATH of this storm, we were thrown back to the east. Away +went any hope of escaping to the landing places of New York or the +St. Lawrence. In despair, poor Ned went into seclusion like Captain +Nemo. Conseil and I no longer left each other. + +As I said, the Nautilus veered to the east. To be more accurate, I +should have said to the northeast. Sometimes on the surface of the +waves, sometimes beneath them, the ship wandered for days amid these +mists so feared by navigators. These are caused chiefly by melting +ice, which keeps the air extremely damp. How many ships have perished +in these waterways as they tried to get directions from the hazy +lights on the coast! How many casualties have been caused by these +opaque mists! How many collisions have occurred with these reefs, +where the breaking surf is covered by the noise of the wind! How many +vessels have rammed each other, despite their running lights, despite +the warnings given by their bosun’s pipes and alarm bells! + +So the floor of this sea had the appearance of a battlefield where +every ship defeated by the ocean still lay, some already old and +encrusted, others newer and reflecting our beacon light on their +ironwork and copper undersides. Among these vessels, how many went +down with all hands, with their crews and hosts of immigrants, at +these trouble spots so prominent in the statistics: Cape Race, +St. Paul Island, the Strait of Belle Isle, the St. Lawrence estuary! +And in only a few years, how many victims have been furnished to the +obituary notices by the Royal Mail, Inman, and Montreal lines; by +vessels named the Solway, the Isis, the Paramatta, the Hungarian, the +Canadian, the Anglo-Saxon, the Humboldt, and the United States, all +run aground; by the Arctic and the Lyonnais, sunk in collisions; by +the President, the Pacific, and the City of Glasgow, lost for reasons +unknown; in the midst of their gloomy rubble, the Nautilus navigated +as if passing the dead in review! + +By May 15 we were off the southern tip of the Grand Banks of +Newfoundland. These banks are the result of marine sedimentation, an +extensive accumulation of organic waste brought either from the +equator by the Gulf Stream’s current, or from the North Pole by the +countercurrent of cold water that skirts the American coast. Here, +too, erratically drifting chunks collect from the ice breakup. Here a +huge boneyard forms from fish, mollusks, and zoophytes dying over it +by the billions. + +The sea is of no great depth at the Grand Banks. A few hundred fathoms +at best. But to the south there is a deep, suddenly occurring +depression, a 3,000-meter pit. Here the Gulf Stream widens. Its waters +come to full bloom. It loses its speed and temperature, but it turns +into a sea. + +Among the fish that the Nautilus startled on its way, I’ll mention a +one-meter lumpfish, blackish on top with orange on the belly and rare +among its brethren in that it practices monogamy, a good-sized +eelpout, a type of emerald moray whose flavor is excellent, wolffish +with big eyes in a head somewhat resembling a canine’s, viviparous +blennies whose eggs hatch inside their bodies like those of snakes, +bloated gobio (or black gudgeon) measuring two decimeters, grenadiers +with long tails and gleaming with a silvery glow, speedy fish +venturing far from their High Arctic seas. + +Our nets also hauled in a bold, daring, vigorous, and muscular fish +armed with prickles on its head and stings on its fins, a real +scorpion measuring two to three meters, the ruthless enemy of cod, +blennies, and salmon; it was the bullhead of the northerly seas, a +fish with red fins and a brown body covered with nodules. The +Nautilus’s fishermen had some trouble getting a grip on this animal, +which, thanks to the formation of its gill covers, can protect its +respiratory organs from any parching contact with the air and can live +out of water for a good while. + +And I’ll mention—for the record—some little banded blennies that +follow ships into the northernmost seas, sharp-snouted carp exclusive +to the north Atlantic, scorpionfish, and lastly the gadoid family, +chiefly the cod species, which I detected in their waters of choice +over these inexhaustible Grand Banks. + +Because Newfoundland is simply an underwater peak, you could call +these cod mountain fish. While the Nautilus was clearing a path +through their tight ranks, Conseil couldn’t refrain from making this +comment: + +“Mercy, look at these cod!” he said. “Why, I thought cod were flat, +like dab or sole!” + +“Innocent boy!” I exclaimed. “Cod are flat only at the grocery store, +where they’re cut open and spread out on display. But in the water +they’re like mullet, spindle-shaped and perfectly built for speed.” + +“I can easily believe master,” Conseil replied. “But what crowds of +them! What swarms!” + +“Bah! My friend, there’d be many more without their enemies, +scorpionfish and human beings! Do you know how many eggs have been +counted in a single female?” + +“I’ll go all out,” Conseil replied. “500,000.” + +“11,000,000, my friend.” + +“11,000,000! I refuse to accept that until I count them myself.” + +“So count them, Conseil. But it would be less work to believe +me. Besides, Frenchmen, Englishmen, Americans, Danes, and Norwegians +catch these cod by the thousands. They’re eaten in prodigious +quantities, and without the astonishing fertility of these fish, the +seas would soon be depopulated of them. Accordingly, in England and +America alone, 5,000 ships manned by 75,000 seamen go after cod. Each +ship brings back an average catch of 4,400 fish, making +22,000,000. Off the coast of Norway, the total is the same.” + +“Fine,” Conseil replied, “I’ll take master’s word for it. I won’t +count them.” + +“Count what?” + +“Those 11,000,000 eggs. But I’ll make one comment.” + +“What’s that?” + +“If all their eggs hatched, just four codfish could feed England, +America, and Norway.” + +As we skimmed the depths of the Grand Banks, I could see perfectly +those long fishing lines, each armed with 200 hooks, that every boat +dangled by the dozens. The lower end of each line dragged the bottom +by means of a small grappling iron, and at the surface it was secured +to the buoy-rope of a cork float. The Nautilus had to maneuver +shrewdly in the midst of this underwater spiderweb. + +But the ship didn’t stay long in these heavily traveled waterways. It +went up to about latitude 42 degrees. This brought it abreast of +St. John’s in Newfoundland and Heart’s Content, where the Atlantic +Cable reaches its end point. + +Instead of continuing north, the Nautilus took an easterly heading, as +if to go along this plateau on which the telegraph cable rests, where +multiple soundings have given the contours of the terrain with the +utmost accuracy. + +It was on May 17, about 500 miles from Heart’s Content and 2,800 +meters down, that I spotted this cable lying on the seafloor. Conseil, +whom I hadn’t alerted, mistook it at first for a gigantic sea snake +and was gearing up to classify it in his best manner. But I +enlightened the fine lad and let him down gently by giving him various +details on the laying of this cable. + +The first cable was put down during the years 1857-1858; but after +transmitting about 400 telegrams, it went dead. In 1863 engineers +built a new cable that measured 3,400 kilometers, weighed 4,500 metric +tons, and was shipped aboard the Great Eastern. This attempt also +failed. + +Now then, on May 25 while submerged to a depth of 3,836 meters, the +Nautilus lay in precisely the locality where this second cable +suffered the rupture that ruined the undertaking. It happened 638 +miles from the coast of Ireland. At around two o’clock in the +afternoon, all contact with Europe broke off. The electricians on +board decided to cut the cable before fishing it up, and by eleven +o’clock that evening they had retrieved the damaged part. They +repaired the joint and its splice; then the cable was resubmerged. But +a few days later it snapped again and couldn’t be recovered from the +ocean depths. + +These Americans refused to give up. The daring Cyrus Field, who had +risked his whole fortune to promote this undertaking, called for a new +bond issue. It sold out immediately. Another cable was put down under +better conditions. Its sheaves of conducting wire were insulated +within a gutta-percha covering, which was protected by a padding of +textile material enclosed in a metal sheath. The Great Eastern put +back to sea on July 13, 1866. + +The operation proceeded apace. Yet there was one hitch. As they +gradually unrolled this third cable, the electricians observed on +several occasions that someone had recently driven nails into it, +trying to damage its core. Captain Anderson, his officers, and the +engineers put their heads together, then posted a warning that if the +culprit were detected, he would be thrown overboard without a +trial. After that, these villainous attempts were not repeated. + +By July 23 the Great Eastern was lying no farther than 800 kilometers +from Newfoundland when it received telegraphed news from Ireland of an +armistice signed between Prussia and Austria after the Battle of +Sadova. Through the mists on the 27th, it sighted the port of Heart’s +Content. The undertaking had ended happily, and in its first dispatch, +young America addressed old Europe with these wise words so rarely +understood: “Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to men of +good will.” + +I didn’t expect to find this electric cable in mint condition, as it +looked on leaving its place of manufacture. The long snake was covered +with seashell rubble and bristling with foraminifera; a crust of caked +gravel protected it from any mollusks that might bore into it. It +rested serenely, sheltered from the sea’s motions, under a pressure +favorable to the transmission of that electric spark that goes from +America to Europe in 32/100 of a second. This cable will no doubt last +indefinitely because, as observers note, its gutta-percha casing is +improved by a stay in salt water. + +Besides, on this well-chosen plateau, the cable never lies at depths +that could cause a break. The Nautilus followed it to its lowest +reaches, located 4,431 meters down, and even there it rested without +any stress or strain. Then we returned to the locality where the 1863 +accident had taken place. + +There the ocean floor formed a valley 120 kilometers wide, into which +you could fit Mt. Blanc without its summit poking above the surface of +the waves. This valley is closed off to the east by a sheer wall 2,000 +meters high. We arrived there on May 28, and the Nautilus lay no +farther than 150 kilometers from Ireland. + +Would Captain Nemo head up north and beach us on the British Isles? +No. Much to my surprise, he went back down south and returned to +European seas. As we swung around the Emerald Isle, I spotted Cape +Clear for an instant, plus the lighthouse on Fastnet Rock that guides +all those thousands of ships setting out from Glasgow or Liverpool. + +An important question then popped into my head. Would the Nautilus +dare to tackle the English Channel? Ned Land (who promptly reappeared +after we hugged shore) never stopped questioning me. What could I +answer him? Captain Nemo remained invisible. After giving the Canadian +a glimpse of American shores, was he about to show me the coast of +France? + +But the Nautilus kept gravitating southward. On May 30, in sight of +Land’s End, it passed between the lowermost tip of England and the +Scilly Islands, which it left behind to starboard. + +If it was going to enter the English Channel, it clearly needed to +head east. It did not. + +All day long on May 31, the Nautilus swept around the sea in a series +of circles that had me deeply puzzled. It seemed to be searching for a +locality that it had some trouble finding. At noon Captain Nemo +himself came to take our bearings. He didn’t address a word to me. He +looked gloomier than ever. What was filling him with such sadness? Was +it our proximity to these European shores? Was he reliving his +memories of that country he had left behind? If so, what did he feel? +Remorse or regret? For a good while these thoughts occupied my mind, +and I had a hunch that fate would soon give away the captain’s +secrets. + +The next day, June 1, the Nautilus kept to the same tack. It was +obviously trying to locate some precise spot in the ocean. Just as on +the day before, Captain Nemo came to take the altitude of the sun. The +sea was smooth, the skies clear. Eight miles to the east, a big +steamship was visible on the horizon line. No flag was flapping from +the gaff of its fore-and-aft sail, and I couldn’t tell its +nationality. + +A few minutes before the sun passed its zenith, Captain Nemo raised +his sextant and took his sights with the utmost precision. The +absolute calm of the waves facilitated this operation. The Nautilus +lay motionless, neither rolling nor pitching. + +I was on the platform just then. After determining our position, the +captain pronounced only these words: + +“It’s right here!” + +He went down the hatch. Had he seen that vessel change course and +seemingly head toward us? I’m unable to say. + +I returned to the lounge. The hatch closed, and I heard water hissing +in the ballast tanks. The Nautilus began to sink on a vertical line, +because its propeller was in check and no longer furnished any forward +motion. + +Some minutes later it stopped at a depth of 833 meters and came to +rest on the seafloor. + +The ceiling lights in the lounge then went out, the panels opened, and +through the windows I saw, for a half-mile radius, the sea brightly +lit by the beacon’s rays. + +I looked to port and saw nothing but the immenseness of these tranquil +waters. + +To starboard, a prominent bulge on the sea bottom caught my +attention. You would have thought it was some ruin enshrouded in a +crust of whitened seashells, as if under a mantle of snow. Carefully +examining this mass, I could identify the swollen outlines of a ship +shorn of its masts, which must have sunk bow first. This casualty +certainly dated from some far-off time. To be so caked with the +limestone of these waters, this wreckage must have spent many a year +on the ocean floor. + +What ship was this? Why had the Nautilus come to visit its grave? Was +it something other than a maritime accident that had dragged this +craft under the waters? + +I wasn’t sure what to think, but next to me I heard Captain Nemo’s +voice slowly say: + +“Originally this ship was christened the Marseillais. It carried +seventy-four cannons and was launched in 1762. On August 13, 1778, +commanded by La Poype-Vertrieux, it fought valiantly against the +Preston. On July 4, 1779, as a member of the squadron under Admiral +d’Estaing, it assisted in the capture of the island of Grenada. On +September 5, 1781, under the Count de Grasse, it took part in the +Battle of Chesapeake Bay. In 1794 the new Republic of France changed +the name of this ship. On April 16 of that same year, it joined the +squadron at Brest under Rear Admiral Villaret de Joyeuse, who was +entrusted with escorting a convoy of wheat coming from America under +the command of Admiral Van Stabel. In this second year of the French +Revolutionary Calendar, on the 11th and 12th days in the Month of +Pasture, this squadron fought an encounter with English vessels. Sir, +today is June 1, 1868, or the 13th day in the Month of +Pasture. Seventy-four years ago to the day, at this very spot in +latitude 47 degrees 24’ and longitude 17 degrees 28’, this ship sank +after a heroic battle; its three masts gone, water in its hold, a +third of its crew out of action, it preferred to go to the bottom with +its 356 seamen rather than surrender; and with its flag nailed up on +the afterdeck, it disappeared beneath the waves to shouts of ‘Long +live the Republic!’” + +“This is the Avenger!” I exclaimed. + +“Yes, sir! The Avenger! A splendid name!” Captain Nemo murmured, +crossing his arms. + + +CHAPTER 21 + +A Mass Execution + + +THE WAY HE SAID THIS, the unexpectedness of this scene, first the +biography of this patriotic ship, then the excitement with which this +eccentric individual pronounced these last words—the name Avenger +whose significance could not escape me—all this, taken together, had a +profound impact on my mind. My eyes never left the captain. Hands +outstretched toward the sea, he contemplated the proud wreck with +blazing eyes. Perhaps I would never learn who he was, where he came +from or where he was heading, but more and more I could see a +distinction between the man and the scientist. It was no ordinary +misanthropy that kept Captain Nemo and his companions sequestered +inside the Nautilus’s plating, but a hate so monstrous or so sublime +that the passing years could never weaken it. + +Did this hate also hunger for vengeance? Time would soon tell. + +Meanwhile the Nautilus rose slowly to the surface of the sea, and I +watched the Avenger’s murky shape disappearing little by little. Soon +a gentle rolling told me that we were afloat in the open air. + +Just then a hollow explosion was audible. I looked at the captain. The +captain did not stir. + +“Captain?” I said. + +He didn’t reply. + +I left him and climbed onto the platform. Conseil and the Canadian +were already there. + +“What caused that explosion?” I asked. + +“A cannon going off,” Ned Land replied. + +I stared in the direction of the ship I had spotted. It was heading +toward the Nautilus, and you could tell it had put on steam. Six miles +separated it from us. + +“What sort of craft is it, Ned?” + +“From its rigging and its low masts,” the Canadian replied, “I bet +it’s a warship. Here’s hoping it pulls up and sinks this damned +Nautilus!” + +“Ned my friend,” Conseil replied, “what harm could it do the Nautilus? +Will it attack us under the waves? Will it cannonade us at the bottom +of the sea?” + +“Tell me, Ned,” I asked, “can you make out the nationality of that +craft?” + +Creasing his brow, lowering his lids, and puckering the corners of his +eyes, the Canadian focused the full power of his gaze on the ship for +a short while. + +“No, sir,” he replied. “I can’t make out what nation it’s from. It’s +flying no flag. But I’ll swear it’s a warship, because there’s a long +pennant streaming from the peak of its mainmast.” + +For a quarter of an hour, we continued to watch the craft bearing down +on us. But it was inconceivable to me that it had discovered the +Nautilus at such a distance, still less that it knew what this +underwater machine really was. + +Soon the Canadian announced that the craft was a big battleship, a +double-decker ironclad complete with ram. Dark, dense smoke burst from +its two funnels. Its furled sails merged with the lines of its +yardarms. The gaff of its fore-and-aft sail flew no flag. Its distance +still kept us from distinguishing the colors of its pennant, which was +fluttering like a thin ribbon. + +It was coming on fast. If Captain Nemo let it approach, a chance for +salvation might be available to us. + +“Sir,” Ned Land told me, “if that boat gets within a mile of us, I’m +jumping overboard, and I suggest you follow suit.” + +I didn’t reply to the Canadian’s proposition but kept watching the +ship, which was looming larger on the horizon. Whether it was English, +French, American, or Russian, it would surely welcome us aboard if we +could just get to it. + +“Master may recall,” Conseil then said, “that we have some experience +with swimming. He can rely on me to tow him to that vessel, if he’s +agreeable to going with our friend Ned.” + +Before I could reply, white smoke streamed from the battleship’s +bow. Then, a few seconds later, the waters splashed astern of the +Nautilus, disturbed by the fall of a heavy object. Soon after, an +explosion struck my ears. + +“What’s this? They’re firing at us!” I exclaimed. + +“Good lads!” the Canadian muttered. + +“That means they don’t see us as castaways clinging to some wreckage!” + +“With all due respect to master—gracious!” Conseil put in, shaking off +the water that had sprayed over him from another shell. “With all due +respect to master, they’ve discovered the narwhale and they’re +cannonading the same.” + +“But it must be clear to them,” I exclaimed, “that they’re dealing +with human beings.” + +“Maybe that’s why!” Ned Land replied, staring hard at me. + +The full truth dawned on me. Undoubtedly people now knew where they +stood on the existence of this so-called monster. Undoubtedly the +latter’s encounter with the Abraham Lincoln, when the Canadian hit it +with his harpoon, had led Commander Farragut to recognize the narwhale +as actually an underwater boat, more dangerous than any unearthly +cetacean! + +Yes, this had to be the case, and undoubtedly they were now chasing +this dreadful engine of destruction on every sea! + +Dreadful indeed, if, as we could assume, Captain Nemo had been using +the Nautilus in works of vengeance! That night in the middle of the +Indian Ocean, when he imprisoned us in the cell, hadn’t he attacked +some ship? That man now buried in the coral cemetery, wasn’t he the +victim of some collision caused by the Nautilus? Yes, I repeat: this +had to be the case. One part of Captain Nemo’s secret life had been +unveiled. And now, even though his identity was still unknown, at +least the nations allied against him knew they were no longer hunting +some fairy-tale monster, but a man who had sworn an implacable hate +toward them! + +This whole fearsome sequence of events appeared in my mind’s +eye. Instead of encountering friends on this approaching ship, we +would find only pitiless enemies. + +Meanwhile shells fell around us in increasing numbers. Some, meeting +the liquid surface, would ricochet and vanish into the sea at +considerable distances. But none of them reached the Nautilus. + +By then the ironclad was no more than three miles off. Despite its +violent cannonade, Captain Nemo hadn’t appeared on the platform. And +yet if one of those conical shells had scored a routine hit on the +Nautilus’s hull, it could have been fatal to him. + +The Canadian then told me: + +“Sir, we’ve got to do everything we can to get out of this jam! Let’s +signal them! Damnation! Maybe they’ll realize we’re decent people!” + +Ned Land pulled out his handkerchief to wave it in the air. But he had +barely unfolded it when he was felled by an iron fist, and despite his +great strength, he tumbled to the deck. + +“Scum!” the captain shouted. “Do you want to be nailed to the +Nautilus’s spur before it charges that ship?” + +Dreadful to hear, Captain Nemo was even more dreadful to see. His face +was pale from some spasm of his heart, which must have stopped beating +for an instant. His pupils were hideously contracted. His voice was no +longer speaking, it was bellowing. Bending from the waist, he shook +the Canadian by the shoulders. + +Then, dropping Ned and turning to the battleship, whose shells were +showering around him: + +“O ship of an accursed nation, you know who I am!” he shouted in his +powerful voice. “And I don’t need your colors to recognize you! Look! +I’ll show you mine!” + +And in the bow of the platform, Captain Nemo unfurled a black flag, +like the one he had left planted at the South Pole. + +Just then a shell hit the Nautilus’s hull obliquely, failed to breach +it, ricocheted near the captain, and vanished into the sea. + +Captain Nemo shrugged his shoulders. Then, addressing me: + +“Go below!” he told me in a curt tone. “You and your companions, go +below!” + +“Sir,” I exclaimed, “are you going to attack this ship?” + +“Sir, I’m going to sink it.” + +“You wouldn’t!” + +“I will,” Captain Nemo replied icily. “You’re ill-advised to pass +judgment on me, sir. Fate has shown you what you weren’t meant to +see. The attack has come. Our reply will be dreadful. Get back +inside!” + +“From what country is that ship?” + +“You don’t know? Fine, so much the better! At least its nationality +will remain a secret to you. Go below!” + +The Canadian, Conseil, and I could only obey. Some fifteen of the +Nautilus’s seamen surrounded their captain and stared with a feeling +of implacable hate at the ship bearing down on them. You could feel +the same spirit of vengeance enkindling their every soul. + +I went below just as another projectile scraped the Nautilus’s hull, +and I heard the captain exclaim: + +“Shoot, you demented vessel! Shower your futile shells! You won’t +escape the Nautilus’s spur! But this isn’t the place where you’ll +perish! I don’t want your wreckage mingling with that of the Avenger!” + +I repaired to my stateroom. The captain and his chief officer stayed +on the platform. The propeller was set in motion. The Nautilus swiftly +retreated, putting us outside the range of the vessel’s shells. But +the chase continued, and Captain Nemo was content to keep his +distance. + +Near four o’clock in the afternoon, unable to control the impatience +and uneasiness devouring me, I went back to the central +companionway. The hatch was open. I ventured onto the platform. The +captain was still strolling there, his steps agitated. He stared at +the ship, which stayed to his leeward five or six miles off. He was +circling it like a wild beast, drawing it eastward, letting it chase +after him. Yet he didn’t attack. Was he, perhaps, still undecided? + +I tried to intervene one last time. But I had barely queried Captain +Nemo when the latter silenced me: + +“I’m the law, I’m the tribunal! I’m the oppressed, and there are my +oppressors! Thanks to them, I’ve witnessed the destruction of +everything I loved, cherished, and venerated—homeland, wife, children, +father, and mother! There lies everything I hate! Not another word out +of you!” + +I took a last look at the battleship, which was putting on steam. Then +I rejoined Ned and Conseil. + +“We’ll escape!” I exclaimed. + +“Good,” Ned put in. “Where’s that ship from?” + +“I’ve no idea. But wherever it’s from, it will sink before +nightfall. In any event, it’s better to perish with it than be +accomplices in some act of revenge whose merits we can’t gauge.” + +“That’s my feeling,” Ned Land replied coolly. “Let’s wait for +nightfall.” + +Night fell. A profound silence reigned on board. The compass indicated +that the Nautilus hadn’t changed direction. I could hear the beat of +its propeller, churning the waves with steady speed. Staying on the +surface of the water, it rolled gently, sometimes to one side, +sometimes to the other. + +My companions and I had decided to escape as soon as the vessel came +close enough for us to be heard—or seen, because the moon would wax +full in three days and was shining brightly. Once we were aboard that +ship, if we couldn’t ward off the blow that threatened it, at least we +could do everything that circumstances permitted. Several times I +thought the Nautilus was about to attack. But it was content to let +its adversary approach, and then it would quickly resume its +retreating ways. + +Part of the night passed without incident. We kept watch for an +opportunity to take action. We talked little, being too keyed up. Ned +Land was all for jumping overboard. I forced him to wait. As I saw it, +the Nautilus would attack the double-decker on the surface of the +waves, and then it would be not only possible but easy to escape. + +At three o’clock in the morning, full of uneasiness, I climbed onto +the platform. Captain Nemo hadn’t left it. He stood in the bow next to +his flag, which a mild breeze was unfurling above his head. His eyes +never left that vessel. The extraordinary intensity of his gaze seemed +to attract it, beguile it, and draw it more surely than if he had it +in tow! + +The moon then passed its zenith. Jupiter was rising in the east. In +the midst of this placid natural setting, sky and ocean competed with +each other in tranquility, and the sea offered the orb of night the +loveliest mirror ever to reflect its image. + +And when I compared this deep calm of the elements with all the fury +seething inside the plating of this barely perceptible Nautilus, I +shivered all over. + +The vessel was two miles off. It drew nearer, always moving toward the +phosphorescent glow that signaled the Nautilus’s presence. I saw its +green and red running lights, plus the white lantern hanging from the +large stay of its foremast. Hazy flickerings were reflected on its +rigging and indicated that its furnaces were pushed to the +limit. Showers of sparks and cinders of flaming coal escaped from its +funnels, spangling the air with stars. + +I stood there until six o’clock in the morning, Captain Nemo never +seeming to notice me. The vessel lay a mile and a half off, and with +the first glimmers of daylight, it resumed its cannonade. The time +couldn’t be far away when the Nautilus would attack its adversary, and +my companions and I would leave forever this man I dared not judge. + +I was about to go below to alert them, when the chief officer climbed +onto the platform. Several seamen were with him. Captain Nemo didn’t +see them, or didn’t want to see them. They carried out certain +procedures that, on the Nautilus, you could call “clearing the decks +for action.” They were quite simple. The manropes that formed a +handrail around the platform were lowered. Likewise the pilothouse and +the beacon housing were withdrawn into the hull until they lay exactly +flush with it. The surface of this long sheet-iron cigar no longer +offered a single protrusion that could hamper its maneuvers. + +I returned to the lounge. The Nautilus still emerged above the +surface. A few morning gleams infiltrated the liquid strata. Beneath +the undulations of the billows, the windows were enlivened by the +blushing of the rising sun. That dreadful day of June 2 had dawned. + +At seven o’clock the log told me that the Nautilus had reduced +speed. I realized that it was letting the warship approach. Moreover, +the explosions grew more intensely audible. Shells furrowed the water +around us, drilling through it with an odd hissing sound. + +“My friends,” I said, “it’s time. Let’s shake hands, and may God be +with us!” + +Ned Land was determined, Conseil calm, I myself nervous and barely in +control. + +We went into the library. Just as I pushed open the door leading to +the well of the central companionway, I heard the hatch close sharply +overhead. + +The Canadian leaped up the steps, but I stopped him. A well-known +hissing told me that water was entering the ship’s ballast +tanks. Indeed, in a few moments the Nautilus had submerged some meters +below the surface of the waves. + +I understood this maneuver. It was too late to take action. The +Nautilus wasn’t going to strike the double-decker where it was clad in +impenetrable iron armor, but below its waterline, where the metal +carapace no longer protected its planking. + +We were prisoners once more, unwilling spectators at the performance +of this gruesome drama. But we barely had time to think. Taking refuge +in my stateroom, we stared at each other without pronouncing a +word. My mind was in a total daze. My mental processes came to a dead +stop. I hovered in that painful state that predominates during the +period of anticipation before some frightful explosion. I waited, I +listened, I lived only through my sense of hearing! + +Meanwhile the Nautilus’s speed had increased appreciably. So it was +gathering momentum. Its entire hull was vibrating. + +Suddenly I let out a yell. There had been a collision, but it was +comparatively mild. I could feel the penetrating force of the steel +spur. I could hear scratchings and scrapings. Carried away with its +driving power, the Nautilus had passed through the vessel’s mass like +a sailmaker’s needle through canvas! + +I couldn’t hold still. Frantic, going insane, I leaped out of my +stateroom and rushed into the lounge. + +Captain Nemo was there. Mute, gloomy, implacable, he was staring +through the port panel. + +An enormous mass was sinking beneath the waters, and the Nautilus, +missing none of its death throes, was descending into the depths with +it. Ten meters away, I could see its gaping hull, into which water was +rushing with a sound of thunder, then its double rows of cannons and +railings. Its deck was covered with dark, quivering shadows. + +The water was rising. Those poor men leaped up into the shrouds, clung +to the masts, writhed beneath the waters. It was a human anthill that +an invading sea had caught by surprise! + +Paralyzed, rigid with anguish, my hair standing on end, my eyes +popping out of my head, short of breath, suffocating, speechless, I +stared—I too! I was glued to the window by an irresistible allure! + +The enormous vessel settled slowly. Following it down, the Nautilus +kept watch on its every movement. Suddenly there was an eruption. The +air compressed inside the craft sent its decks flying, as if the +powder stores had been ignited. The thrust of the waters was so great, +the Nautilus swerved away. + +The poor ship then sank more swiftly. Its mastheads appeared, laden +with victims, then its crosstrees bending under clusters of men, +finally the peak of its mainmast. Then the dark mass disappeared, and +with it a crew of corpses dragged under by fearsome eddies. . . . + +I turned to Captain Nemo. This dreadful executioner, this true +archangel of hate, was still staring. When it was all over, Captain +Nemo headed to the door of his stateroom, opened it, and entered. I +followed him with my eyes. + +On the rear paneling, beneath the portraits of his heroes, I saw the +portrait of a still-youthful woman with two little children. Captain +Nemo stared at them for a few moments, stretched out his arms to them, +sank to his knees, and melted into sobs. + + +CHAPTER 22 + +The Last Words of Captain Nemo + + +THE PANELS CLOSED over this frightful view, but the lights didn’t go +on in the lounge. Inside the Nautilus all was gloom and silence. It +left this place of devastation with prodigious speed, 100 feet beneath +the waters. Where was it going? North or south? Where would the man +flee after this horrible act of revenge? + +I reentered my stateroom, where Ned and Conseil were waiting +silently. Captain Nemo filled me with insurmountable horror. Whatever +he had once suffered at the hands of humanity, he had no right to mete +out such punishment. He had made me, if not an accomplice, at least an +eyewitness to his vengeance! Even this was intolerable. + +At eleven o’clock the electric lights came back on. I went into the +lounge. It was deserted. I consulted the various instruments. The +Nautilus was fleeing northward at a speed of twenty-five miles per +hour, sometimes on the surface of the sea, sometimes thirty feet +beneath it. + +After our position had been marked on the chart, I saw that we were +passing into the mouth of the English Channel, that our heading would +take us to the northernmost seas with incomparable speed. + +I could barely glimpse the swift passing of longnose sharks, +hammerhead sharks, spotted dogfish that frequent these waters, big +eagle rays, swarms of seahorse looking like knights on a chessboard, +eels quivering like fireworks serpents, armies of crab that fled +obliquely by crossing their pincers over their carapaces, finally +schools of porpoise that held contests of speed with the Nautilus. But +by this point observing, studying, and classifying were out of the +question. + +By evening we had cleared 200 leagues up the Atlantic. Shadows +gathered and gloom overran the sea until the moon came up. + +I repaired to my stateroom. I couldn’t sleep. I was assaulted by +nightmares. That horrible scene of destruction kept repeating in my +mind’s eye. + +From that day forward, who knows where the Nautilus took us in the +north Atlantic basin? Always at incalculable speed! Always amid the +High Arctic mists! Did it call at the capes of Spitzbergen or the +shores of Novaya Zemlya? Did it visit such uncharted seas as the White +Sea, the Kara Sea, the Gulf of Ob, the Lyakhov Islands, or those +unknown beaches on the Siberian coast? I’m unable to say. I lost track +of the passing hours. Time was in abeyance on the ship’s clocks. As +happens in the polar regions, it seemed that night and day no longer +followed their normal sequence. I felt myself being drawn into that +strange domain where the overwrought imagination of Edgar Allan Poe +was at home. Like his fabled Arthur Gordon Pym, I expected any moment +to see that “shrouded human figure, very far larger in its proportions +than any dweller among men,” thrown across the cataract that protects +the outskirts of the pole! + +I estimate—but perhaps I’m mistaken—that the Nautilus’s haphazard +course continued for fifteen or twenty days, and I’m not sure how long +this would have gone on without the catastrophe that ended our +voyage. As for Captain Nemo, he was no longer in the picture. As for +his chief officer, the same applied. Not one crewman was visible for a +single instant. The Nautilus cruised beneath the waters almost +continuously. When it rose briefly to the surface to renew our air, +the hatches opened and closed as if automated. No more positions were +reported on the world map. I didn’t know where we were. + +I’ll also mention that the Canadian, at the end of his strength and +patience, made no further appearances. Conseil couldn’t coax a single +word out of him and feared that, in a fit of delirium while under the +sway of a ghastly homesickness, Ned would kill himself. So he kept a +devoted watch on his friend every instant. + +You can appreciate that under these conditions, our situation had +become untenable. + +One morning—whose date I’m unable to specify—I was slumbering near the +first hours of daylight, a painful, sickly slumber. Waking up, I saw +Ned Land leaning over me, and I heard him tell me in a low voice: + +“We’re going to escape!” + +I sat up. + +“When?” I asked. + +“Tonight. There doesn’t seem to be any supervision left on the +Nautilus. You’d think a total daze was reigning on board. Will you be +ready, sir?” + +“Yes. Where are we?” + +“In sight of land. I saw it through the mists just this morning, +twenty miles to the east.” + +“What land is it?” + +“I’ve no idea, but whatever it is, there we’ll take refuge.” + +“Yes, Ned! We’ll escape tonight even if the sea swallows us up!” + +“The sea’s rough, the wind’s blowing hard, but a twenty-mile run in +the Nautilus’s nimble longboat doesn’t scare me. Unknown to the crew, +I’ve stowed some food and flasks of water inside.” + +“I’m with you.” + +“What’s more,” the Canadian added, “if they catch me, I’ll defend +myself, I’ll fight to the death.” + +“Then we’ll die together, Ned my friend.” + +My mind was made up. The Canadian left me. I went out on the platform, +where I could barely stand upright against the jolts of the +billows. The skies were threatening, but land lay inside those dense +mists, and we had to escape. Not a single day, or even a single hour, +could we afford to lose. + +I returned to the lounge, dreading yet desiring an encounter with +Captain Nemo, wanting yet not wanting to see him. What would I say to +him? How could I hide the involuntary horror he inspired in me? No! It +was best not to meet him face to face! Best to try and forget him! And +yet . . . ! + +How long that day seemed, the last I would spend aboard the Nautilus! +I was left to myself. Ned Land and Conseil avoided speaking to me, +afraid they would give themselves away. + +At six o’clock I ate supper, but I had no appetite. Despite my +revulsion, I forced it down, wanting to keep my strength up. + +At 6:30 Ned Land entered my stateroom. He told me: + +“We won’t see each other again before we go. At ten o’clock the moon +won’t be up yet. We’ll take advantage of the darkness. Come to the +skiff. Conseil and I will be inside waiting for you.” + +The Canadian left without giving me time to answer him. + +I wanted to verify the Nautilus’s heading. I made my way to the +lounge. We were racing north-northeast with frightful speed, fifty +meters down. + +I took one last look at the natural wonders and artistic treasures +amassed in the museum, this unrivaled collection doomed to perish +someday in the depths of the seas, together with its curator. I wanted +to establish one supreme impression in my mind. I stayed there an +hour, basking in the aura of the ceiling lights, passing in review the +treasures shining in their glass cases. Then I returned to my +stateroom. + +There I dressed in sturdy seafaring clothes. I gathered my notes and +packed them tenderly about my person. My heart was pounding +mightily. I couldn’t curb its pulsations. My anxiety and agitation +would certainly have given me away if Captain Nemo had seen me. + +What was he doing just then? I listened at the door to his +stateroom. I heard the sound of footsteps. Captain Nemo was inside. He +hadn’t gone to bed. With his every movement I imagined he would appear +and ask me why I wanted to escape! I felt in a perpetual state of +alarm. My imagination magnified this sensation. The feeling became so +acute, I wondered whether it wouldn’t be better to enter the captain’s +stateroom, dare him face to face, brave it out with word and deed! + +It was an insane idea. Fortunately I controlled myself and stretched +out on the bed to soothe my bodily agitation. My nerves calmed a +little, but with my brain so aroused, I did a swift review of my whole +existence aboard the Nautilus, every pleasant or unpleasant incident +that had crossed my path since I went overboard from the Abraham +Lincoln: the underwater hunting trip, the Torres Strait, our running +aground, the savages of Papua, the coral cemetery, the Suez +passageway, the island of Santorini, the Cretan diver, the Bay of +Vigo, Atlantis, the Ice Bank, the South Pole, our imprisonment in the +ice, the battle with the devilfish, the storm in the Gulf Stream, the +Avenger, and that horrible scene of the vessel sinking with its crew +. . . ! All these events passed before my eyes like backdrops +unrolling upstage in a theater. In this strange setting Captain Nemo +then grew fantastically. His features were accentuated, taking on +superhuman proportions. He was no longer my equal, he was the Man of +the Waters, the Spirit of the Seas. + +By then it was 9:30. I held my head in both hands to keep it from +bursting. I closed my eyes. I no longer wanted to think. A half hour +still to wait! A half hour of nightmares that could drive me insane! + +Just then I heard indistinct chords from the organ, melancholy +harmonies from some undefinable hymn, actual pleadings from a soul +trying to sever its earthly ties. I listened with all my senses at +once, barely breathing, immersed like Captain Nemo in this musical +trance that was drawing him beyond the bounds of this world. + +Then a sudden thought terrified me. Captain Nemo had left his +stateroom. He was in the same lounge I had to cross in order to +escape. There I would encounter him one last time. He would see me, +perhaps speak to me! One gesture from him could obliterate me, a +single word shackle me to his vessel! + +Even so, ten o’clock was about to strike. It was time to leave my +stateroom and rejoin my companions. + +I dared not hesitate, even if Captain Nemo stood before me. I opened +the door cautiously, but as it swung on its hinges, it seemed to make +a frightful noise. This noise existed, perhaps, only in my +imagination! + +I crept forward through the Nautilus’s dark gangways, pausing after +each step to curb the pounding of my heart. + +I arrived at the corner door of the lounge. I opened it gently. The +lounge was plunged in profound darkness. Chords from the organ were +reverberating faintly. Captain Nemo was there. He didn’t see me. Even +in broad daylight I doubt that he would have noticed me, so completely +was he immersed in his trance. + +I inched over the carpet, avoiding the tiniest bump whose noise might +give me away. It took me five minutes to reach the door at the far +end, which led into the library. + +I was about to open it when a gasp from Captain Nemo nailed me to the +spot. I realized that he was standing up. I even got a glimpse of him +because some rays of light from the library had filtered into the +lounge. He was coming toward me, arms crossed, silent, not walking but +gliding like a ghost. His chest was heaving, swelling with sobs. And I +heard him murmur these words, the last of his to reach my ears: + +“O almighty God! Enough! Enough!” + +Was it a vow of repentance that had just escaped from this man’s +conscience . . . ? + +Frantic, I rushed into the library. I climbed the central +companionway, and going along the upper gangway, I arrived at the +skiff. I went through the opening that had already given access to my +two companions. + +“Let’s go, let’s go!” I exclaimed. + +“Right away!” the Canadian replied. + +First, Ned Land closed and bolted the opening cut into the Nautilus’s +sheet iron, using the monkey wrench he had with him. After likewise +closing the opening in the skiff, the Canadian began to unscrew the +nuts still bolting us to the underwater boat. + +Suddenly a noise from the ship’s interior became audible. Voices were +answering each other hurriedly. What was it? Had they spotted our +escape? I felt Ned Land sliding a dagger into my hand. + +“Yes,” I muttered, “we know how to die!” + +The Canadian paused in his work. But one word twenty times repeated, +one dreadful word, told me the reason for the agitation spreading +aboard the Nautilus. We weren’t the cause of the crew’s concern. + +“Maelstrom! Maelstrom!” they were shouting. + +The Maelstrom! Could a more frightening name have rung in our ears +under more frightening circumstances? Were we lying in the dangerous +waterways off the Norwegian coast? Was the Nautilus being dragged into +this whirlpool just as the skiff was about to detach from its plating? + +As you know, at the turn of the tide, the waters confined between the +Faroe and Lofoten Islands rush out with irresistible violence. They +form a vortex from which no ship has ever been able to +escape. Monstrous waves race together from every point of the +horizon. They form a whirlpool aptly called “the ocean’s navel,” whose +attracting power extends a distance of fifteen kilometers. It can suck +down not only ships but whales, and even polar bears from the +northernmost regions. + +This was where the Nautilus had been sent accidentally—or perhaps +deliberately—by its captain. It was sweeping around in a spiral whose +radius kept growing smaller and smaller. The skiff, still attached to +the ship’s plating, was likewise carried around at dizzying speed. I +could feel us whirling. I was experiencing that accompanying nausea +that follows such continuous spinning motions. We were in dread, in +the last stages of sheer horror, our blood frozen in our veins, our +nerves numb, drenched in cold sweat as if from the throes of dying! +And what a noise around our frail skiff! What roars echoing from +several miles away! What crashes from the waters breaking against +sharp rocks on the seafloor, where the hardest objects are smashed, +where tree trunks are worn down and worked into “a shaggy fur,” as +Norwegians express it! + +What a predicament! We were rocking frightfully. The Nautilus defended +itself like a human being. Its steel muscles were cracking. Sometimes +it stood on end, the three of us along with it! + +“We’ve got to hold on tight,” Ned said, “and screw the nuts down +again! If we can stay attached to the Nautilus, we can still make it +. . . !” + +He hadn’t finished speaking when a cracking sound occurred. The nuts +gave way, and ripped out of its socket, the skiff was hurled like a +stone from a sling into the midst of the vortex. + +My head struck against an iron timber, and with this violent shock I +lost consciousness. + + +CHAPTER 23 + +Conclusion + + +WE COME TO the conclusion of this voyage under the seas. What happened +that night, how the skiff escaped from the Maelstrom’s fearsome +eddies, how Ned Land, Conseil, and I got out of that whirlpool, I’m +unable to say. But when I regained consciousness, I was lying in a +fisherman’s hut on one of the Lofoten Islands. My two companions, safe +and sound, were at my bedside clasping my hands. We embraced each +other heartily. + +Just now we can’t even dream of returning to France. Travel between +upper Norway and the south is limited. So I have to wait for the +arrival of a steamboat that provides bimonthly service from North +Cape. + +So it is here, among these gallant people who have taken us in, that +I’m reviewing my narrative of these adventures. It is accurate. Not a +fact has been omitted, not a detail has been exaggerated. It’s the +faithful record of this inconceivable expedition into an element now +beyond human reach, but where progress will someday make great +inroads. + +Will anyone believe me? I don’t know. Ultimately it’s +unimportant. What I can now assert is that I’ve earned the right to +speak of these seas, beneath which in less than ten months, I’ve +cleared 20,000 leagues in this underwater tour of the world that has +shown me so many wonders across the Pacific, the Indian Ocean, the Red +Sea, the Mediterranean, the Atlantic, the southernmost and +northernmost seas! + +But what happened to the Nautilus? Did it withstand the Maelstrom’s +clutches? Is Captain Nemo alive? Is he still under the ocean pursuing +his frightful program of revenge, or did he stop after that latest +mass execution? Will the waves someday deliver that manuscript that +contains his full life story? Will I finally learn the man’s name? +Will the nationality of the stricken warship tell us the nationality +of Captain Nemo? + +I hope so. I likewise hope that his powerful submersible has defeated +the sea inside its most dreadful whirlpool, that the Nautilus has +survived where so many ships have perished! If this is the case and +Captain Nemo still inhabits the ocean—his adopted country—may the hate +be appeased in that fierce heart! May the contemplation of so many +wonders extinguish the spirit of vengeance in him! May the executioner +pass away, and the scientist continue his peaceful exploration of the +seas! If his destiny is strange, it’s also sublime. Haven’t I +encompassed it myself? Didn’t I lead ten months of this otherworldly +existence? Thus to that question asked 6,000 years ago in the Book of +Ecclesiastes—“Who can fathom the soundless depths?”—two men out of all +humanity have now earned the right to reply. Captain Nemo and I. diff --git a/LICENSE b/LICENSE new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6cc1b14 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE @@ -0,0 +1,21 @@ +MIT License + +Copyright (c) 2023 eline@dmz.rs + +Permission is hereby granted, free of charge, to any person obtaining a copy +of this software and associated documentation files (the "Software"), to deal +in the Software without restriction, including without limitation the rights +to use, copy, modify, merge, publish, distribute, sublicense, and/or sell +copies of the Software, and to permit persons to whom the Software is +furnished to do so, subject to the following conditions: + +The above copyright notice and this permission notice shall be included in all +copies or substantial portions of the Software. + +THE SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED "AS IS", WITHOUT WARRANTY OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR +IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO THE WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY, +FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE AND NONINFRINGEMENT. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE +AUTHORS OR COPYRIGHT HOLDERS BE LIABLE FOR ANY CLAIM, DAMAGES OR OTHER +LIABILITY, WHETHER IN AN ACTION OF CONTRACT, TORT OR OTHERWISE, ARISING FROM, +OUT OF OR IN CONNECTION WITH THE SOFTWARE OR THE USE OR OTHER DEALINGS IN THE +SOFTWARE. diff --git a/deniro.csv b/deniro.csv new file mode 100644 index 0000000..039f36d --- /dev/null +++ b/deniro.csv @@ -0,0 +1,88 @@ +"Year", "Score", "Title" +1968, 86, "Greetings" +1970, 17, "Bloody Mama" +1970, 73, "Hi, Mom!" +1971, 40, "Born to Win" +1973, 98, "Mean Streets" +1973, 88, "Bang the Drum Slowly" +1974, 97, "The Godfather, Part II" +1976, 41, "The Last Tycoon" +1976, 99, "Taxi Driver" +1977, 47, "1900" +1977, 67, "New York, New York" +1978, 93, "The Deer Hunter" +1980, 97, "Raging Bull" +1981, 75, "True Confessions" +1983, 90, "The King of Comedy" +1984, 89, "Once Upon a Time in America" +1984, 60, "Falling in Love" +1985, 98, "Brazil" +1986, 65, "The Mission" +1987, 100, "Dear America: Letters Home From Vietnam" +1987, 80, "The Untouchables" +1987, 78, "Angel Heart" +1988, 96, "Midnight Run" +1989, 64, "Jacknife" +1989, 47, "We're No Angels" +1990, 88, "Awakenings" +1990, 29, "Stanley & Iris" +1990, 96, "Goodfellas" +1991, 76, "Cape Fear" +1991, 69, "Mistress" +1991, 65, "Guilty by Suspicion" +1991, 71, "Backdraft" +1992, 87, "Thunderheart" +1992, 67, "Night and the City" +1993, 75, "This Boy's Life" +1993, 78, "Mad Dog and Glory" +1993, 96, "A Bronx Tale" +1994, 39, "Mary Shelley's Frankenstein" +1995, 80, "Casino" +1995, 86, "Heat" +1996, 74, "Sleepers" +1996, 38, "The Fan" +1996, 80, "Marvin's Room" +1997, 85, "Wag the Dog" +1997, 87, "Jackie Brown" +1997, 72, "Cop Land" +1998, 68, "Ronin" +1998, 38, "Great Expectations" +1999, 69, "Analyze This" +1999, 43, "Flawless" +2000, 43, "The Adventures of Rocky & Bullwinkle" +2000, 84, "Meet the Parents" +2000, 41, "Men of Honor" +2001, 73, "The Score" +2001, 33, "15 Minutes" +2002, 48, "City by the Sea" +2002, 27, "Analyze That" +2003, 4, "Godsend" +2004, 35, "Shark Tale" +2004, 38, "Meet the Fockers" +2005, 4, "The Bridge of San Luis Rey" +2005, 46, "Rent" +2005, 13, "Hide and Seek" +2006, 54, "The Good Shepherd" +2007, 21, "Arthur and the Invisibles" +2007, 76, "Captain Shakespeare" +2008, 19, "Righteous Kill" +2008, 51, "What Just Happened?" +2009, 46, "Everybody's Fine" +2010, 72, "Machete" +2010, 10, "Little Fockers" +2010, 50, "Stone" +2011, 25, "Killer Elite" +2011, 7, "New Year's Eve" +2011, 70, "Limitless" +2012, 92, "Silver Linings Playbook" +2012, 51, "Being Flynn" +2012, 29, "Red Lights" +2013, 46, "Last Vegas" +2013, 7, "The Big Wedding" +2013, 29, "Grudge Match" +2013, 11, "Killing Season" +2014, 9, "The Bag Man" +2015, 60, "Joy" +2015, 26, "Heist" +2015, 61, "The Intern" +2016, 11, "Dirty Grandpa" diff --git a/fajlovi.py b/fajlovi.py new file mode 100644 index 0000000..190bb3f --- /dev/null +++ b/fajlovi.py @@ -0,0 +1,83 @@ +# fajlovi + +# Kako manipulisemo fajlovima? +# Kako citamo fajlove? +# Kako kreiramo fajlove? +# Kako pisemo (dodajemo sadrzaj) u fajlove? + +# Da bi otvorili fajl (za citanje ili pisanje) u python-u, koristimo funkciju: +# open +# argumenti za funkciju `open` su: +# - ime fajla (onog koji zelimo da otvorimo), +# - mod + +# Objasnjenje za modove: +# Oni govore pajtonu sta planiramo da radimo sa tim fajlom. Neki od ponudjenih +# i najcesce koriscenih modova su: +# - "w" za pisanje, ako fajl ne postoji, kreira se novi, ako fajl postoji, +# sve u njemu se brise i onda mozemo da pisemo u taj fajl +# - "a" za pisanje, nalik na "w" samo sto mod "a" ne brise fajl nego dodaje +# - "r" za citanje + +# znaci da bi otvorili neki fajl (tekstualni fajl) i njegov sadrzaj zabelezili +# u promenljivoj (tipa string) mozemo da uradimo sledece: + +neki_fajl = open("tekst.txt", "r") # tekst.txt je fajl koji se nalazi u istom + # folderu kao i ovaj fajl (fajlovi.py) + +sadrzaj_fajla = neki_fajl.read() + +print(sadrzaj_fajla) + +neki_fajl.close() # sve fajlove koje otvorimo moramo i da zatvorimo!!! + # inace rizikujemo da se desi korupcija fajla + +# ako otvorimo neki fajl, i 2 puta pokusamo da procitamo njegov sadrzaj, samo +# prvi put cemo procitati taj sadrzaj; tj. citanje fajla, "konzumira" taj fajl! +# !! to ne znaci da ce fajl biti obrisan !! + + +fajl = open("tekst.txt", "r") + +print(fajl.read()) +print(fajl.read()) # ovde necemo stampati nista, zato sto je fajl vec procitan + # ako zelimo ponovo da procitamo isti fajl, moramo ga prvo + # zatvoriti pa ponovo otvoriti +fajl.close() + +# druge metode (osim read()) koje mozemo koristiti su: +# - readline() koji cita jednu liniju fajla (vraca nam string) +# - readlines() koji cita sve linije fajla i vraca nam niz linija +# - write(tekst) koji upisuje zadati tekst (argument tipa string) u zeljeni fajl + +# u python-u, mozemo iterirati preko fajlova (kao i sa nizovima i recnicima) + +deniro_fajl = open("deniro.csv","r") + +filmovi = {} +# ako pogledate fajl "deniro.csv", sastoji se od jedne linije koja opisuje redove +# fajla, a ostatak fajla su pomenuti redovi u formatu: +# vrednost, vrednost, vrednost +# !! pogledati fajl "deniro.csv" !! + +fajl.readline() # da "preskocimo" prvu liniju fajla + +for linija in fajl: + linija = linija.strip() # uklanjamo '\n' (znak za novi red) iz linije + # zatim delimo liniju na 3 dela (za 2 reza..), gde su delovi: + # godina kada je film objavljen, rejting filma i naslov filma + godina, rejting, naslov = linija.split(", ", 2) + filmovi[naslov] = (rejting, godina) + +# sada u recniku "filmovi" koji smo definisali iznad, imamo parove +# film => (rejting, godina) + +# to mozemo da iskoristimo da nadjemo npr: +# - sve filmove odredjene godine (npr. pitamo korisnika koju godinu zele, i onda +# ispisemo sve filmove od te godine, sortirane po rejtingu) +# - najbolje ocenjeno filmove +# - da vrsimo pretragu nad filmovima (npr. pitamo korisnika koji film zeli, i +# onda ispisemo godinu izlaska tog filma i njegov rejting, a ako u recniku +# nemamo taj film, onda ispisemo da nemamo trazeni film) + +# ovo sve mogu biti zadaci za domaci! diff --git a/iteriranje.py b/iteriranje.py new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6cbf136 --- /dev/null +++ b/iteriranje.py @@ -0,0 +1,26 @@ +# primer u kome se vidi nacin na koji "iteriramo" kroz niz, kao i kroz recnik + +niz = [1,2,3,4,5] + +# u primeru niza, iteriramo preko elemenata +for element in niz: + print(element) + +print("---------------") + +recnik = { + "a": 1, + "b": 2, + "c": 3, + "d": 4, + "e": 5, +} + +# u primeru recnika, iteriramo preko kljuca +# a da dobijemo element u recniku koristimo `recnik[kljuc]` +for kljuc in recnik: + print(kljuc, recnik[kljuc]) + +# imati na umu da `kljuc` promenljiva u liniji `for kljuc in recnik` ne mora da se zove kljuc, +# to je samo naziv koji smo mi odabrali; samo treba zapamtiti da to ime mozemo da koristimo samo +# unutar for pelje (tj, za vreme iteriranja) diff --git a/ocene.py b/ocene.py new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f68500 --- /dev/null +++ b/ocene.py @@ -0,0 +1,19 @@ +# jednostavan primer koji pokazuje iteraciju preko recnika, kao i jedan od +# standardnih problema za cije resavnanje obicno koristimo recnike + +ocene = { + "srpski": 5, + "matematika": 4, + "likovno": 3 +} + +suma = 0 + +for predmet in ocene: + print("predmet", predmet, ":", ocene[predmet]) + suma = suma + ocene[predmet] + +prosek = suma / len(ocene) + +print("prosek je", prosek) + diff --git a/recnici.py b/recnici.py new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fc79086 --- /dev/null +++ b/recnici.py @@ -0,0 +1,103 @@ +# primer u kome predstavljamo recnike i radimo poredjenje izmedju recnika i nizova + +# u vecini slucajeva, sintaksa za rad sa nizovima i recnicima je ista + +niz = [1,2,3,4,5] + +if 6 in niz: # pomocu `in` kljucne reci, mozemo proveriti da li je neka vrednost clan niza + print("6 je u nizu") +else: + print("6 nije u nizu") + +ocene = { # za razliku od nizova, koje definisemo koriscenjem [] zagrada, za recnike koristimo {} + "srpski": 5, + "engleski": 2, + "matematika": 4, + "matematika": 5 +} + +print(ocene["srpski"]) # sintaksa za pristupanje elementima recnika je nalik na onu za pristupanje + # clanovima niza, samo sto u ovom slucaju umesto indeksa (tj. broja), + # koristimo kljuceve + +print("ocena iz engleskog",ocene["engleski"]) # 2 +ocene["engleski"] = 4 # za razliku od nizova kod kojis smo morali da koristimo append metodu, za + # dodavanje elemenata u recnik koristimo istu sintaksu kao i za pristupanje + # elementima +print("ocena iz engleskog",ocene["engleski"]) # 4 + +if "fizicko" in ocene: # kao sto primecujete, sintaksa za proveravanje da li je neka vrednost clan + # recnika, je potpuno ista kao i za proveravanje da li je neka vrednost clan + # niza + print("ocena iz fizickog",ocene["fizicko"]) +else: + print("nema ocene iz fizickog") + +print(ocene) +del ocene["engleski"] # mozemo da uklonima neki par (kljuc, vrenost) iz recnika (kao i sa nizovima) +print(ocene) + +# malo ozbiljniji primer u kojem su kljucevi recnika imena (tipa string), a vrednosti drugi recnici +# koji predstavljaju neke ljude (ime, prezime, zanimanje, godiste, itd.) + +petar = { + "ime": "Petar", + "prezime": "Petrovic", + "zanimanje": "Moler", + "godiste": 1950, + "imena dece": ["Mika", "Zika"], + "adresa": { + "grad": "Beograd", + "ulica": "Stolarska", + "broj": 35 + } +} +marko = { + "ime": "Marko", + "prezime": "Markovic", + "zanimanje": "Zidar", + "godiste": 1990, + "imena dece": ["Iva", "Ana"], + "adresa": { + "grad": "Beograd", + "ulica": "Zidarska", + "broj": 13 + } +} + +adresar = { # mogli smo da ne pravimo posebne promenljive za ljude, vec da inicijalizujemo sve unutar + # recnika direktno, a mozemo i da za neke ljude koristimo vec definisane promenljive a za + # druge da ih definisemo direktno unutar recnika + "Petar Petrovic": petar, + "Marko Markovic": marko, + "Ivan Ivanovic": { + "ime": "Ivan", + "prezime": "Ivanovic", + "zanimanje": "TV voditelj", + "godiste": 1975, + "imena dece": [], + "adresa": { + "grad": "Beograd", + "ulica": "Knjeginje Zorke", + "broj": 25 + } + }, +} + +print("Marko Markovic zivi u ulici: ",adresar["Marko Markovic"]["adresa"]["ulica"]) + +stevan = { + "ime": "Stevan", + "prezime": "Markovic", + "zanimanje": "Fotograf", + "godiste": 1970, + "imena dece": ["Iva", "Ana"], + "adresa": { + "grad": "Novi Sad", + "ulica": "Zidarska", + "broj": 13 + } +} + +adresar["Stevan Markovic"] = stevan # naravno mozemo dodati novu osobu u adresar (recnik) + diff --git a/romeo and juliet.txt b/romeo and juliet.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d0673b --- /dev/null +++ b/romeo and juliet.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5634 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Romeo and Juliet + +Author: William Shakespeare + +Release Date: November, 1998 [eBook #1513] +[Most recently updated: May 11, 2022] + +Language: English + + +Produced by: the PG Shakespeare Team, a team of about twenty Project Gutenberg volunteers. + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROMEO AND JULIET *** + + + + +THE TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET + + + +by William Shakespeare + + +Contents + +THE PROLOGUE. + +ACT I +Scene I. A public place. +Scene II. A Street. +Scene III. Room in Capulet’s House. +Scene IV. A Street. +Scene V. A Hall in Capulet’s House. + + +ACT II +CHORUS. +Scene I. An open place adjoining Capulet’s Garden. +Scene II. Capulet’s Garden. +Scene III. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. +Scene IV. A Street. +Scene V. Capulet’s Garden. +Scene VI. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. + + +ACT III +Scene I. A public Place. +Scene II. A Room in Capulet’s House. +Scene III. Friar Lawrence’s cell. +Scene IV. A Room in Capulet’s House. +Scene V. An open Gallery to Juliet’s Chamber, overlooking the Garden. + + +ACT IV +Scene I. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. +Scene II. Hall in Capulet’s House. +Scene III. Juliet’s Chamber. +Scene IV. Hall in Capulet’s House. +Scene V. Juliet’s Chamber; Juliet on the bed. + + +ACT V +Scene I. Mantua. A Street. +Scene II. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. +Scene III. A churchyard; in it a Monument belonging to the Capulets. + + + + + Dramatis Personæ + +ESCALUS, Prince of Verona. +MERCUTIO, kinsman to the Prince, and friend to Romeo. +PARIS, a young Nobleman, kinsman to the Prince. +Page to Paris. + +MONTAGUE, head of a Veronese family at feud with the Capulets. +LADY MONTAGUE, wife to Montague. +ROMEO, son to Montague. +BENVOLIO, nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo. +ABRAM, servant to Montague. +BALTHASAR, servant to Romeo. + +CAPULET, head of a Veronese family at feud with the Montagues. +LADY CAPULET, wife to Capulet. +JULIET, daughter to Capulet. +TYBALT, nephew to Lady Capulet. +CAPULET’S COUSIN, an old man. +NURSE to Juliet. +PETER, servant to Juliet’s Nurse. +SAMPSON, servant to Capulet. +GREGORY, servant to Capulet. +Servants. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE, a Franciscan. +FRIAR JOHN, of the same Order. +An Apothecary. +CHORUS. +Three Musicians. +An Officer. +Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women, relations to both houses; +Maskers, Guards, Watchmen and Attendants. + +SCENE. During the greater part of the Play in Verona; once, in the +Fifth Act, at Mantua. + + +THE PROLOGUE + + Enter Chorus. + +CHORUS. +Two households, both alike in dignity, +In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, +From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, +Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. +From forth the fatal loins of these two foes +A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; +Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows +Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife. +The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love, +And the continuance of their parents’ rage, +Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove, +Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage; +The which, if you with patient ears attend, +What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. + + [_Exit._] + + + +ACT I + +SCENE I. A public place. + + Enter Sampson and Gregory armed with swords and bucklers. + +SAMPSON. +Gregory, on my word, we’ll not carry coals. + +GREGORY. +No, for then we should be colliers. + +SAMPSON. +I mean, if we be in choler, we’ll draw. + +GREGORY. +Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o’ the collar. + +SAMPSON. +I strike quickly, being moved. + +GREGORY. +But thou art not quickly moved to strike. + +SAMPSON. +A dog of the house of Montague moves me. + +GREGORY. +To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand: therefore, if thou +art moved, thou runn’st away. + +SAMPSON. +A dog of that house shall move me to stand. +I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague’s. + +GREGORY. +That shows thee a weak slave, for the weakest goes to the wall. + +SAMPSON. +True, and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to +the wall: therefore I will push Montague’s men from the wall, and +thrust his maids to the wall. + +GREGORY. +The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. + +SAMPSON. +’Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the +men I will be civil with the maids, I will cut off their heads. + +GREGORY. +The heads of the maids? + +SAMPSON. +Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense +thou wilt. + +GREGORY. +They must take it in sense that feel it. + +SAMPSON. +Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and ’tis known I am a +pretty piece of flesh. + +GREGORY. +’Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John. +Draw thy tool; here comes of the house of Montagues. + + Enter Abram and Balthasar. + +SAMPSON. +My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee. + +GREGORY. +How? Turn thy back and run? + +SAMPSON. +Fear me not. + +GREGORY. +No, marry; I fear thee! + +SAMPSON. +Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. + +GREGORY. +I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list. + +SAMPSON. +Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them, which is disgrace to +them if they bear it. + +ABRAM. +Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + +SAMPSON. +I do bite my thumb, sir. + +ABRAM. +Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + +SAMPSON. +Is the law of our side if I say ay? + +GREGORY. +No. + +SAMPSON. +No sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir. + +GREGORY. +Do you quarrel, sir? + +ABRAM. +Quarrel, sir? No, sir. + +SAMPSON. +But if you do, sir, I am for you. I serve as good a man as you. + +ABRAM. +No better. + +SAMPSON. +Well, sir. + + Enter Benvolio. + +GREGORY. +Say better; here comes one of my master’s kinsmen. + +SAMPSON. +Yes, better, sir. + +ABRAM. +You lie. + +SAMPSON. +Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy washing blow. + + [_They fight._] + +BENVOLIO. +Part, fools! put up your swords, you know not what you do. + + [_Beats down their swords._] + + Enter Tybalt. + +TYBALT. +What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? +Turn thee Benvolio, look upon thy death. + +BENVOLIO. +I do but keep the peace, put up thy sword, +Or manage it to part these men with me. + +TYBALT. +What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word +As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: +Have at thee, coward. + + [_They fight._] + + Enter three or four Citizens with clubs. + +FIRST CITIZEN. +Clubs, bills and partisans! Strike! Beat them down! +Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues! + + Enter Capulet in his gown, and Lady Capulet. + +CAPULET. +What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! + +LADY CAPULET. +A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword? + +CAPULET. +My sword, I say! Old Montague is come, +And flourishes his blade in spite of me. + + Enter Montague and his Lady Montague. + +MONTAGUE. +Thou villain Capulet! Hold me not, let me go. + +LADY MONTAGUE. +Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. + + Enter Prince Escalus, with Attendants. + +PRINCE. +Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, +Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,— +Will they not hear? What, ho! You men, you beasts, +That quench the fire of your pernicious rage +With purple fountains issuing from your veins, +On pain of torture, from those bloody hands +Throw your mistemper’d weapons to the ground +And hear the sentence of your moved prince. +Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, +By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, +Have thrice disturb’d the quiet of our streets, +And made Verona’s ancient citizens +Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, +To wield old partisans, in hands as old, +Canker’d with peace, to part your canker’d hate. +If ever you disturb our streets again, +Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. +For this time all the rest depart away: +You, Capulet, shall go along with me, +And Montague, come you this afternoon, +To know our farther pleasure in this case, +To old Free-town, our common judgement-place. +Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. + + [_Exeunt Prince and Attendants; Capulet, Lady Capulet, Tybalt, + Citizens and Servants._] + +MONTAGUE. +Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? +Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? + +BENVOLIO. +Here were the servants of your adversary +And yours, close fighting ere I did approach. +I drew to part them, in the instant came +The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar’d, +Which, as he breath’d defiance to my ears, +He swung about his head, and cut the winds, +Who nothing hurt withal, hiss’d him in scorn. +While we were interchanging thrusts and blows +Came more and more, and fought on part and part, +Till the Prince came, who parted either part. + +LADY MONTAGUE. +O where is Romeo, saw you him today? +Right glad I am he was not at this fray. + +BENVOLIO. +Madam, an hour before the worshipp’d sun +Peer’d forth the golden window of the east, +A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad, +Where underneath the grove of sycamore +That westward rooteth from this city side, +So early walking did I see your son. +Towards him I made, but he was ware of me, +And stole into the covert of the wood. +I, measuring his affections by my own, +Which then most sought where most might not be found, +Being one too many by my weary self, +Pursu’d my humour, not pursuing his, +And gladly shunn’d who gladly fled from me. + +MONTAGUE. +Many a morning hath he there been seen, +With tears augmenting the fresh morning’s dew, +Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; +But all so soon as the all-cheering sun +Should in the farthest east begin to draw +The shady curtains from Aurora’s bed, +Away from light steals home my heavy son, +And private in his chamber pens himself, +Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out +And makes himself an artificial night. +Black and portentous must this humour prove, +Unless good counsel may the cause remove. + +BENVOLIO. +My noble uncle, do you know the cause? + +MONTAGUE. +I neither know it nor can learn of him. + +BENVOLIO. +Have you importun’d him by any means? + +MONTAGUE. +Both by myself and many other friends; +But he, his own affections’ counsellor, +Is to himself—I will not say how true— +But to himself so secret and so close, +So far from sounding and discovery, +As is the bud bit with an envious worm +Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, +Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. +Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, +We would as willingly give cure as know. + + Enter Romeo. + +BENVOLIO. +See, where he comes. So please you step aside; +I’ll know his grievance or be much denied. + +MONTAGUE. +I would thou wert so happy by thy stay +To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let’s away, + + [_Exeunt Montague and Lady Montague._] + +BENVOLIO. +Good morrow, cousin. + +ROMEO. +Is the day so young? + +BENVOLIO. +But new struck nine. + +ROMEO. +Ay me, sad hours seem long. +Was that my father that went hence so fast? + +BENVOLIO. +It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours? + +ROMEO. +Not having that which, having, makes them short. + +BENVOLIO. +In love? + +ROMEO. +Out. + +BENVOLIO. +Of love? + +ROMEO. +Out of her favour where I am in love. + +BENVOLIO. +Alas that love so gentle in his view, +Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof. + +ROMEO. +Alas that love, whose view is muffled still, +Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! +Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? +Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. +Here’s much to do with hate, but more with love: +Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! +O anything, of nothing first create! +O heavy lightness! serious vanity! +Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! +Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! +Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! +This love feel I, that feel no love in this. +Dost thou not laugh? + +BENVOLIO. +No coz, I rather weep. + +ROMEO. +Good heart, at what? + +BENVOLIO. +At thy good heart’s oppression. + +ROMEO. +Why such is love’s transgression. +Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, +Which thou wilt propagate to have it prest +With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown +Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. +Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; +Being purg’d, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes; +Being vex’d, a sea nourish’d with lovers’ tears: +What is it else? A madness most discreet, +A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. +Farewell, my coz. + + [_Going._] + +BENVOLIO. +Soft! I will go along: +And if you leave me so, you do me wrong. + +ROMEO. +Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here. +This is not Romeo, he’s some other where. + +BENVOLIO. +Tell me in sadness who is that you love? + +ROMEO. +What, shall I groan and tell thee? + +BENVOLIO. +Groan! Why, no; but sadly tell me who. + +ROMEO. +Bid a sick man in sadness make his will, +A word ill urg’d to one that is so ill. +In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. + +BENVOLIO. +I aim’d so near when I suppos’d you lov’d. + +ROMEO. +A right good markman, and she’s fair I love. + +BENVOLIO. +A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. + +ROMEO. +Well, in that hit you miss: she’ll not be hit +With Cupid’s arrow, she hath Dian’s wit; +And in strong proof of chastity well arm’d, +From love’s weak childish bow she lives uncharm’d. +She will not stay the siege of loving terms +Nor bide th’encounter of assailing eyes, +Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: +O she’s rich in beauty, only poor +That when she dies, with beauty dies her store. + +BENVOLIO. +Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? + +ROMEO. +She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; +For beauty starv’d with her severity, +Cuts beauty off from all posterity. +She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair, +To merit bliss by making me despair. +She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow +Do I live dead, that live to tell it now. + +BENVOLIO. +Be rul’d by me, forget to think of her. + +ROMEO. +O teach me how I should forget to think. + +BENVOLIO. +By giving liberty unto thine eyes; +Examine other beauties. + +ROMEO. +’Tis the way +To call hers, exquisite, in question more. +These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows, +Being black, puts us in mind they hide the fair; +He that is strucken blind cannot forget +The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. +Show me a mistress that is passing fair, +What doth her beauty serve but as a note +Where I may read who pass’d that passing fair? +Farewell, thou canst not teach me to forget. + +BENVOLIO. +I’ll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. A Street. + + Enter Capulet, Paris and Servant. + +CAPULET. +But Montague is bound as well as I, +In penalty alike; and ’tis not hard, I think, +For men so old as we to keep the peace. + +PARIS. +Of honourable reckoning are you both, +And pity ’tis you liv’d at odds so long. +But now my lord, what say you to my suit? + +CAPULET. +But saying o’er what I have said before. +My child is yet a stranger in the world, +She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; +Let two more summers wither in their pride +Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. + +PARIS. +Younger than she are happy mothers made. + +CAPULET. +And too soon marr’d are those so early made. +The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, +She is the hopeful lady of my earth: +But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, +My will to her consent is but a part; +And she agree, within her scope of choice +Lies my consent and fair according voice. +This night I hold an old accustom’d feast, +Whereto I have invited many a guest, +Such as I love, and you among the store, +One more, most welcome, makes my number more. +At my poor house look to behold this night +Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: +Such comfort as do lusty young men feel +When well apparell’d April on the heel +Of limping winter treads, even such delight +Among fresh female buds shall you this night +Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see, +And like her most whose merit most shall be: +Which, on more view of many, mine, being one, +May stand in number, though in reckoning none. +Come, go with me. Go, sirrah, trudge about +Through fair Verona; find those persons out +Whose names are written there, [_gives a paper_] and to them say, +My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. + + [_Exeunt Capulet and Paris._] + +SERVANT. +Find them out whose names are written here! It is written that the +shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the +fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to +find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what +names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned. In good +time! + + Enter Benvolio and Romeo. + +BENVOLIO. +Tut, man, one fire burns out another’s burning, +One pain is lessen’d by another’s anguish; +Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; +One desperate grief cures with another’s languish: +Take thou some new infection to thy eye, +And the rank poison of the old will die. + +ROMEO. +Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. + +BENVOLIO. +For what, I pray thee? + +ROMEO. +For your broken shin. + +BENVOLIO. +Why, Romeo, art thou mad? + +ROMEO. +Not mad, but bound more than a madman is: +Shut up in prison, kept without my food, +Whipp’d and tormented and—God-den, good fellow. + +SERVANT. +God gi’ go-den. I pray, sir, can you read? + +ROMEO. +Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. + +SERVANT. +Perhaps you have learned it without book. +But I pray, can you read anything you see? + +ROMEO. +Ay, If I know the letters and the language. + +SERVANT. +Ye say honestly, rest you merry! + +ROMEO. +Stay, fellow; I can read. + + [_He reads the letter._] + +_Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; +County Anselmo and his beauteous sisters; +The lady widow of Utruvio; +Signior Placentio and his lovely nieces; +Mercutio and his brother Valentine; +Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; +My fair niece Rosaline and Livia; +Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt; +Lucio and the lively Helena. _ + + +A fair assembly. [_Gives back the paper_] Whither should they come? + +SERVANT. +Up. + +ROMEO. +Whither to supper? + +SERVANT. +To our house. + +ROMEO. +Whose house? + +SERVANT. +My master’s. + +ROMEO. +Indeed I should have ask’d you that before. + +SERVANT. +Now I’ll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet, +and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come and crush a +cup of wine. Rest you merry. + + [_Exit._] + +BENVOLIO. +At this same ancient feast of Capulet’s +Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov’st; +With all the admired beauties of Verona. +Go thither and with unattainted eye, +Compare her face with some that I shall show, +And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. + +ROMEO. +When the devout religion of mine eye +Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fire; +And these who, often drown’d, could never die, +Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars. +One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun +Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun. + +BENVOLIO. +Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, +Herself pois’d with herself in either eye: +But in that crystal scales let there be weigh’d +Your lady’s love against some other maid +That I will show you shining at this feast, +And she shall scant show well that now shows best. + +ROMEO. +I’ll go along, no such sight to be shown, +But to rejoice in splendour of my own. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE III. Room in Capulet’s House. + + Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse. + +LADY CAPULET. +Nurse, where’s my daughter? Call her forth to me. + +NURSE. +Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old, +I bade her come. What, lamb! What ladybird! +God forbid! Where’s this girl? What, Juliet! + + Enter Juliet. + +JULIET. +How now, who calls? + +NURSE. +Your mother. + +JULIET. +Madam, I am here. What is your will? + +LADY CAPULET. +This is the matter. Nurse, give leave awhile, +We must talk in secret. Nurse, come back again, +I have remember’d me, thou’s hear our counsel. +Thou knowest my daughter’s of a pretty age. + +NURSE. +Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. + +LADY CAPULET. +She’s not fourteen. + +NURSE. +I’ll lay fourteen of my teeth, +And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four, +She is not fourteen. How long is it now +To Lammas-tide? + +LADY CAPULET. +A fortnight and odd days. + +NURSE. +Even or odd, of all days in the year, +Come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen. +Susan and she,—God rest all Christian souls!— +Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God; +She was too good for me. But as I said, +On Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen; +That shall she, marry; I remember it well. +’Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; +And she was wean’d,—I never shall forget it—, +Of all the days of the year, upon that day: +For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, +Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse wall; +My lord and you were then at Mantua: +Nay, I do bear a brain. But as I said, +When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple +Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, +To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug! +Shake, quoth the dovehouse: ’twas no need, I trow, +To bid me trudge. +And since that time it is eleven years; +For then she could stand alone; nay, by th’rood +She could have run and waddled all about; +For even the day before she broke her brow, +And then my husband,—God be with his soul! +A was a merry man,—took up the child: +‘Yea,’ quoth he, ‘dost thou fall upon thy face? +Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; +Wilt thou not, Jule?’ and, by my holidame, +The pretty wretch left crying, and said ‘Ay’. +To see now how a jest shall come about. +I warrant, and I should live a thousand years, +I never should forget it. ‘Wilt thou not, Jule?’ quoth he; +And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said ‘Ay.’ + +LADY CAPULET. +Enough of this; I pray thee hold thy peace. + +NURSE. +Yes, madam, yet I cannot choose but laugh, +To think it should leave crying, and say ‘Ay’; +And yet I warrant it had upon it brow +A bump as big as a young cockerel’s stone; +A perilous knock, and it cried bitterly. +‘Yea,’ quoth my husband, ‘fall’st upon thy face? +Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; +Wilt thou not, Jule?’ it stinted, and said ‘Ay’. + +JULIET. +And stint thou too, I pray thee, Nurse, say I. + +NURSE. +Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace +Thou wast the prettiest babe that e’er I nurs’d: +And I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. + +LADY CAPULET. +Marry, that marry is the very theme +I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, +How stands your disposition to be married? + +JULIET. +It is an honour that I dream not of. + +NURSE. +An honour! Were not I thine only nurse, +I would say thou hadst suck’d wisdom from thy teat. + +LADY CAPULET. +Well, think of marriage now: younger than you, +Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, +Are made already mothers. By my count +I was your mother much upon these years +That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief; +The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. + +NURSE. +A man, young lady! Lady, such a man +As all the world—why he’s a man of wax. + +LADY CAPULET. +Verona’s summer hath not such a flower. + +NURSE. +Nay, he’s a flower, in faith a very flower. + +LADY CAPULET. +What say you, can you love the gentleman? +This night you shall behold him at our feast; +Read o’er the volume of young Paris’ face, +And find delight writ there with beauty’s pen. +Examine every married lineament, +And see how one another lends content; +And what obscur’d in this fair volume lies, +Find written in the margent of his eyes. +This precious book of love, this unbound lover, +To beautify him, only lacks a cover: +The fish lives in the sea; and ’tis much pride +For fair without the fair within to hide. +That book in many’s eyes doth share the glory, +That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; +So shall you share all that he doth possess, +By having him, making yourself no less. + +NURSE. +No less, nay bigger. Women grow by men. + +LADY CAPULET. +Speak briefly, can you like of Paris’ love? + +JULIET. +I’ll look to like, if looking liking move: +But no more deep will I endart mine eye +Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. + + Enter a Servant. + +SERVANT. +Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady +asked for, the Nurse cursed in the pantry, and everything in extremity. +I must hence to wait, I beseech you follow straight. + +LADY CAPULET. +We follow thee. + + [_Exit Servant._] + +Juliet, the County stays. + +NURSE. +Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE IV. A Street. + + Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six Maskers; + Torch-bearers and others. + +ROMEO. +What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? +Or shall we on without apology? + +BENVOLIO. +The date is out of such prolixity: +We’ll have no Cupid hoodwink’d with a scarf, +Bearing a Tartar’s painted bow of lath, +Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; +Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke +After the prompter, for our entrance: +But let them measure us by what they will, +We’ll measure them a measure, and be gone. + +ROMEO. +Give me a torch, I am not for this ambling; +Being but heavy I will bear the light. + +MERCUTIO. +Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. + +ROMEO. +Not I, believe me, you have dancing shoes, +With nimble soles, I have a soul of lead +So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. + +MERCUTIO. +You are a lover, borrow Cupid’s wings, +And soar with them above a common bound. + +ROMEO. +I am too sore enpierced with his shaft +To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, +I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe. +Under love’s heavy burden do I sink. + +MERCUTIO. +And, to sink in it, should you burden love; +Too great oppression for a tender thing. + +ROMEO. +Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, +Too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn. + +MERCUTIO. +If love be rough with you, be rough with love; +Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. +Give me a case to put my visage in: [_Putting on a mask._] +A visor for a visor. What care I +What curious eye doth quote deformities? +Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me. + +BENVOLIO. +Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in +But every man betake him to his legs. + +ROMEO. +A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart, +Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; +For I am proverb’d with a grandsire phrase, +I’ll be a candle-holder and look on, +The game was ne’er so fair, and I am done. + +MERCUTIO. +Tut, dun’s the mouse, the constable’s own word: +If thou art dun, we’ll draw thee from the mire +Or save your reverence love, wherein thou stickest +Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho. + +ROMEO. +Nay, that’s not so. + +MERCUTIO. +I mean sir, in delay +We waste our lights in vain, light lights by day. +Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits +Five times in that ere once in our five wits. + +ROMEO. +And we mean well in going to this mask; +But ’tis no wit to go. + +MERCUTIO. +Why, may one ask? + +ROMEO. +I dreamt a dream tonight. + +MERCUTIO. +And so did I. + +ROMEO. +Well what was yours? + +MERCUTIO. +That dreamers often lie. + +ROMEO. +In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. + +MERCUTIO. +O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. +She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes +In shape no bigger than an agate-stone +On the fore-finger of an alderman, +Drawn with a team of little atomies +Over men’s noses as they lie asleep: +Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners’ legs; +The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; +Her traces, of the smallest spider’s web; +The collars, of the moonshine’s watery beams; +Her whip of cricket’s bone; the lash, of film; +Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, +Not half so big as a round little worm +Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid: +Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, +Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, +Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers. +And in this state she gallops night by night +Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love; +O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on curtsies straight; +O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees; +O’er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream, +Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, +Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: +Sometime she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose, +And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; +And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail, +Tickling a parson’s nose as a lies asleep, +Then dreams he of another benefice: +Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck, +And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, +Of breaches, ambuscados, Spanish blades, +Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon +Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes; +And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, +And sleeps again. This is that very Mab +That plats the manes of horses in the night; +And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, +Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes: +This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, +That presses them, and learns them first to bear, +Making them women of good carriage: +This is she,— + +ROMEO. +Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace, +Thou talk’st of nothing. + +MERCUTIO. +True, I talk of dreams, +Which are the children of an idle brain, +Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, +Which is as thin of substance as the air, +And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes +Even now the frozen bosom of the north, +And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence, +Turning his side to the dew-dropping south. + +BENVOLIO. +This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves: +Supper is done, and we shall come too late. + +ROMEO. +I fear too early: for my mind misgives +Some consequence yet hanging in the stars, +Shall bitterly begin his fearful date +With this night’s revels; and expire the term +Of a despised life, clos’d in my breast +By some vile forfeit of untimely death. +But he that hath the steerage of my course +Direct my suit. On, lusty gentlemen! + +BENVOLIO. +Strike, drum. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE V. A Hall in Capulet’s House. + + Musicians waiting. Enter Servants. + +FIRST SERVANT. +Where’s Potpan, that he helps not to take away? +He shift a trencher! He scrape a trencher! + +SECOND SERVANT. +When good manners shall lie all in one or two men’s hands, and they +unwash’d too, ’tis a foul thing. + +FIRST SERVANT. +Away with the join-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the +plate. Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and as thou loves me, +let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. Antony and Potpan! + +SECOND SERVANT. +Ay, boy, ready. + +FIRST SERVANT. +You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for, in the +great chamber. + +SECOND SERVANT. +We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys. Be brisk awhile, and +the longer liver take all. + + [_Exeunt._] + + Enter Capulet, &c. with the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers. + +CAPULET. +Welcome, gentlemen, ladies that have their toes +Unplagu’d with corns will have a bout with you. +Ah my mistresses, which of you all +Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, +She I’ll swear hath corns. Am I come near ye now? +Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day +That I have worn a visor, and could tell +A whispering tale in a fair lady’s ear, +Such as would please; ’tis gone, ’tis gone, ’tis gone, +You are welcome, gentlemen! Come, musicians, play. +A hall, a hall, give room! And foot it, girls. + + [_Music plays, and they dance._] + +More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, +And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. +Ah sirrah, this unlook’d-for sport comes well. +Nay sit, nay sit, good cousin Capulet, +For you and I are past our dancing days; +How long is’t now since last yourself and I +Were in a mask? + +CAPULET’S COUSIN. +By’r Lady, thirty years. + +CAPULET. +What, man, ’tis not so much, ’tis not so much: +’Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, +Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, +Some five and twenty years; and then we mask’d. + +CAPULET’S COUSIN. +’Tis more, ’tis more, his son is elder, sir; +His son is thirty. + +CAPULET. +Will you tell me that? +His son was but a ward two years ago. + +ROMEO. +What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand +Of yonder knight? + +SERVANT. +I know not, sir. + +ROMEO. +O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! +It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night +As a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear; +Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! +So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows +As yonder lady o’er her fellows shows. +The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand, +And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. +Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! +For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night. + +TYBALT. +This by his voice, should be a Montague. +Fetch me my rapier, boy. What, dares the slave +Come hither, cover’d with an antic face, +To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? +Now by the stock and honour of my kin, +To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. + +CAPULET. +Why how now, kinsman! +Wherefore storm you so? + +TYBALT. +Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; +A villain that is hither come in spite, +To scorn at our solemnity this night. + +CAPULET. +Young Romeo, is it? + +TYBALT. +’Tis he, that villain Romeo. + +CAPULET. +Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, +A bears him like a portly gentleman; +And, to say truth, Verona brags of him +To be a virtuous and well-govern’d youth. +I would not for the wealth of all the town +Here in my house do him disparagement. +Therefore be patient, take no note of him, +It is my will; the which if thou respect, +Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, +An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. + +TYBALT. +It fits when such a villain is a guest: +I’ll not endure him. + +CAPULET. +He shall be endur’d. +What, goodman boy! I say he shall, go to; +Am I the master here, or you? Go to. +You’ll not endure him! God shall mend my soul, +You’ll make a mutiny among my guests! +You will set cock-a-hoop, you’ll be the man! + +TYBALT. +Why, uncle, ’tis a shame. + +CAPULET. +Go to, go to! +You are a saucy boy. Is’t so, indeed? +This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what. +You must contrary me! Marry, ’tis time. +Well said, my hearts!—You are a princox; go: +Be quiet, or—More light, more light!—For shame! +I’ll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts. + +TYBALT. +Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting +Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. +I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall, +Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. + + [_Exit._] + +ROMEO. +[_To Juliet._] If I profane with my unworthiest hand +This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, +My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand +To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. + +JULIET. +Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, +Which mannerly devotion shows in this; +For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, +And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss. + +ROMEO. +Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? + +JULIET. +Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. + +ROMEO. +O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do: +They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. + +JULIET. +Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake. + +ROMEO. +Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take. +Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg’d. +[_Kissing her._] + +JULIET. +Then have my lips the sin that they have took. + +ROMEO. +Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg’d! +Give me my sin again. + +JULIET. +You kiss by the book. + +NURSE. +Madam, your mother craves a word with you. + +ROMEO. +What is her mother? + +NURSE. +Marry, bachelor, +Her mother is the lady of the house, +And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous. +I nurs’d her daughter that you talk’d withal. +I tell you, he that can lay hold of her +Shall have the chinks. + +ROMEO. +Is she a Capulet? +O dear account! My life is my foe’s debt. + +BENVOLIO. +Away, be gone; the sport is at the best. + +ROMEO. +Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. + +CAPULET. +Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone, +We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. +Is it e’en so? Why then, I thank you all; +I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night. +More torches here! Come on then, let’s to bed. +Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late, +I’ll to my rest. + + [_Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse._] + +JULIET. +Come hither, Nurse. What is yond gentleman? + +NURSE. +The son and heir of old Tiberio. + +JULIET. +What’s he that now is going out of door? + +NURSE. +Marry, that I think be young Petruchio. + +JULIET. +What’s he that follows here, that would not dance? + +NURSE. +I know not. + +JULIET. +Go ask his name. If he be married, +My grave is like to be my wedding bed. + +NURSE. +His name is Romeo, and a Montague, +The only son of your great enemy. + +JULIET. +My only love sprung from my only hate! +Too early seen unknown, and known too late! +Prodigious birth of love it is to me, +That I must love a loathed enemy. + +NURSE. +What’s this? What’s this? + +JULIET. +A rhyme I learn’d even now +Of one I danc’d withal. + + [_One calls within, ‘Juliet’._] + +NURSE. +Anon, anon! +Come let’s away, the strangers all are gone. + + [_Exeunt._] + + + +ACT II + + Enter Chorus. + +CHORUS. +Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, +And young affection gapes to be his heir; +That fair for which love groan’d for and would die, +With tender Juliet match’d, is now not fair. +Now Romeo is belov’d, and loves again, +Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; +But to his foe suppos’d he must complain, +And she steal love’s sweet bait from fearful hooks: +Being held a foe, he may not have access +To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; +And she as much in love, her means much less +To meet her new beloved anywhere. +But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, +Tempering extremities with extreme sweet. + + [_Exit._] + +SCENE I. An open place adjoining Capulet’s Garden. + + Enter Romeo. + +ROMEO. +Can I go forward when my heart is here? +Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. + + [_He climbs the wall and leaps down within it._] + + Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. + +BENVOLIO. +Romeo! My cousin Romeo! Romeo! + +MERCUTIO. +He is wise, +And on my life hath stol’n him home to bed. + +BENVOLIO. +He ran this way, and leap’d this orchard wall: +Call, good Mercutio. + +MERCUTIO. +Nay, I’ll conjure too. +Romeo! Humours! Madman! Passion! Lover! +Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh, +Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; +Cry but ‘Ah me!’ Pronounce but Love and dove; +Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, +One nickname for her purblind son and heir, +Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim +When King Cophetua lov’d the beggar-maid. +He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not; +The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. +I conjure thee by Rosaline’s bright eyes, +By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, +By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, +And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, +That in thy likeness thou appear to us. + +BENVOLIO. +An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. + +MERCUTIO. +This cannot anger him. ’Twould anger him +To raise a spirit in his mistress’ circle, +Of some strange nature, letting it there stand +Till she had laid it, and conjur’d it down; +That were some spite. My invocation +Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress’ name, +I conjure only but to raise up him. + +BENVOLIO. +Come, he hath hid himself among these trees +To be consorted with the humorous night. +Blind is his love, and best befits the dark. + +MERCUTIO. +If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. +Now will he sit under a medlar tree, +And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit +As maids call medlars when they laugh alone. +O Romeo, that she were, O that she were +An open-arse and thou a poperin pear! +Romeo, good night. I’ll to my truckle-bed. +This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep. +Come, shall we go? + +BENVOLIO. +Go then; for ’tis in vain +To seek him here that means not to be found. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. Capulet’s Garden. + + Enter Romeo. + +ROMEO. +He jests at scars that never felt a wound. + + Juliet appears above at a window. + +But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? +It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! +Arise fair sun and kill the envious moon, +Who is already sick and pale with grief, +That thou her maid art far more fair than she. +Be not her maid since she is envious; +Her vestal livery is but sick and green, +And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. +It is my lady, O it is my love! +O, that she knew she were! +She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? +Her eye discourses, I will answer it. +I am too bold, ’tis not to me she speaks. +Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, +Having some business, do entreat her eyes +To twinkle in their spheres till they return. +What if her eyes were there, they in her head? +The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, +As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven +Would through the airy region stream so bright +That birds would sing and think it were not night. +See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. +O that I were a glove upon that hand, +That I might touch that cheek. + +JULIET. +Ay me. + +ROMEO. +She speaks. +O speak again bright angel, for thou art +As glorious to this night, being o’er my head, +As is a winged messenger of heaven +Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes +Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him +When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds +And sails upon the bosom of the air. + +JULIET. +O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? +Deny thy father and refuse thy name. +Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, +And I’ll no longer be a Capulet. + +ROMEO. +[_Aside._] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? + +JULIET. +’Tis but thy name that is my enemy; +Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. +What’s Montague? It is nor hand nor foot, +Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part +Belonging to a man. O be some other name. +What’s in a name? That which we call a rose +By any other name would smell as sweet; +So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d, +Retain that dear perfection which he owes +Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, +And for thy name, which is no part of thee, +Take all myself. + +ROMEO. +I take thee at thy word. +Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptis’d; +Henceforth I never will be Romeo. + +JULIET. +What man art thou that, thus bescreen’d in night +So stumblest on my counsel? + +ROMEO. +By a name +I know not how to tell thee who I am: +My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, +Because it is an enemy to thee. +Had I it written, I would tear the word. + +JULIET. +My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words +Of thy tongue’s utterance, yet I know the sound. +Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? + +ROMEO. +Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike. + +JULIET. +How cam’st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? +The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, +And the place death, considering who thou art, +If any of my kinsmen find thee here. + +ROMEO. +With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls, +For stony limits cannot hold love out, +And what love can do, that dares love attempt: +Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me. + +JULIET. +If they do see thee, they will murder thee. + +ROMEO. +Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye +Than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet, +And I am proof against their enmity. + +JULIET. +I would not for the world they saw thee here. + +ROMEO. +I have night’s cloak to hide me from their eyes, +And but thou love me, let them find me here. +My life were better ended by their hate +Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. + +JULIET. +By whose direction found’st thou out this place? + +ROMEO. +By love, that first did prompt me to enquire; +He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. +I am no pilot; yet wert thou as far +As that vast shore wash’d with the farthest sea, +I should adventure for such merchandise. + +JULIET. +Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face, +Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek +For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight. +Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny +What I have spoke; but farewell compliment. +Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say Ay, +And I will take thy word. Yet, if thou swear’st, +Thou mayst prove false. At lovers’ perjuries, +They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, +If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully. +Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, +I’ll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay, +So thou wilt woo. But else, not for the world. +In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; +And therefore thou mayst think my ’haviour light: +But trust me, gentleman, I’ll prove more true +Than those that have more cunning to be strange. +I should have been more strange, I must confess, +But that thou overheard’st, ere I was ’ware, +My true-love passion; therefore pardon me, +And not impute this yielding to light love, +Which the dark night hath so discovered. + +ROMEO. +Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow, +That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,— + +JULIET. +O swear not by the moon, th’inconstant moon, +That monthly changes in her circled orb, +Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. + +ROMEO. +What shall I swear by? + +JULIET. +Do not swear at all. +Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, +Which is the god of my idolatry, +And I’ll believe thee. + +ROMEO. +If my heart’s dear love,— + +JULIET. +Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, +I have no joy of this contract tonight; +It is too rash, too unadvis’d, too sudden, +Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be +Ere one can say It lightens. Sweet, good night. +This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, +May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. +Good night, good night. As sweet repose and rest +Come to thy heart as that within my breast. + +ROMEO. +O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? + +JULIET. +What satisfaction canst thou have tonight? + +ROMEO. +Th’exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine. + +JULIET. +I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; +And yet I would it were to give again. + +ROMEO. +Would’st thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love? + +JULIET. +But to be frank and give it thee again. +And yet I wish but for the thing I have; +My bounty is as boundless as the sea, +My love as deep; the more I give to thee, +The more I have, for both are infinite. +I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu. +[_Nurse calls within._] +Anon, good Nurse!—Sweet Montague be true. +Stay but a little, I will come again. + + [_Exit._] + +ROMEO. +O blessed, blessed night. I am afeard, +Being in night, all this is but a dream, +Too flattering sweet to be substantial. + + Enter Juliet above. + +JULIET. +Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. +If that thy bent of love be honourable, +Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow, +By one that I’ll procure to come to thee, +Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite, +And all my fortunes at thy foot I’ll lay +And follow thee my lord throughout the world. + +NURSE. +[_Within._] Madam. + +JULIET. +I come, anon.— But if thou meanest not well, +I do beseech thee,— + +NURSE. +[_Within._] Madam. + +JULIET. +By and by I come— +To cease thy strife and leave me to my grief. +Tomorrow will I send. + +ROMEO. +So thrive my soul,— + +JULIET. +A thousand times good night. + + [_Exit._] + +ROMEO. +A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. +Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, +But love from love, towards school with heavy looks. + + [_Retiring slowly._] + + Re-enter Juliet, above. + +JULIET. +Hist! Romeo, hist! O for a falconer’s voice +To lure this tassel-gentle back again. +Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud, +Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, +And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine +With repetition of my Romeo’s name. + +ROMEO. +It is my soul that calls upon my name. +How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night, +Like softest music to attending ears. + +JULIET. +Romeo. + +ROMEO. +My nyas? + +JULIET. +What o’clock tomorrow +Shall I send to thee? + +ROMEO. +By the hour of nine. + +JULIET. +I will not fail. ’Tis twenty years till then. +I have forgot why I did call thee back. + +ROMEO. +Let me stand here till thou remember it. + +JULIET. +I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, +Remembering how I love thy company. + +ROMEO. +And I’ll still stay, to have thee still forget, +Forgetting any other home but this. + +JULIET. +’Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone, +And yet no farther than a wanton’s bird, +That lets it hop a little from her hand, +Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, +And with a silk thread plucks it back again, +So loving-jealous of his liberty. + +ROMEO. +I would I were thy bird. + +JULIET. +Sweet, so would I: +Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. +Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow +That I shall say good night till it be morrow. + + [_Exit._] + +ROMEO. +Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast. +Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest. +The grey-ey’d morn smiles on the frowning night, +Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; +And darkness fleckled like a drunkard reels +From forth day’s pathway, made by Titan’s wheels +Hence will I to my ghostly Sire’s cell, +His help to crave and my dear hap to tell. + + [_Exit._] + +SCENE III. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. + + Enter Friar Lawrence with a basket. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, +The day to cheer, and night’s dank dew to dry, +I must upfill this osier cage of ours +With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. +The earth that’s nature’s mother, is her tomb; +What is her burying grave, that is her womb: +And from her womb children of divers kind +We sucking on her natural bosom find. +Many for many virtues excellent, +None but for some, and yet all different. +O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies +In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities. +For naught so vile that on the earth doth live +But to the earth some special good doth give; +Nor aught so good but, strain’d from that fair use, +Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. +Virtue itself turns vice being misapplied, +And vice sometime’s by action dignified. + + Enter Romeo. + +Within the infant rind of this weak flower +Poison hath residence, and medicine power: +For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; +Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. +Two such opposed kings encamp them still +In man as well as herbs,—grace and rude will; +And where the worser is predominant, +Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. + +ROMEO. +Good morrow, father. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Benedicite! +What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? +Young son, it argues a distemper’d head +So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed. +Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, +And where care lodges sleep will never lie; +But where unbruised youth with unstuff’d brain +Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign. +Therefore thy earliness doth me assure +Thou art uprous’d with some distemperature; +Or if not so, then here I hit it right, +Our Romeo hath not been in bed tonight. + +ROMEO. +That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +God pardon sin. Wast thou with Rosaline? + +ROMEO. +With Rosaline, my ghostly father? No. +I have forgot that name, and that name’s woe. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +That’s my good son. But where hast thou been then? + +ROMEO. +I’ll tell thee ere thou ask it me again. +I have been feasting with mine enemy, +Where on a sudden one hath wounded me +That’s by me wounded. Both our remedies +Within thy help and holy physic lies. +I bear no hatred, blessed man; for lo, +My intercession likewise steads my foe. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; +Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. + +ROMEO. +Then plainly know my heart’s dear love is set +On the fair daughter of rich Capulet. +As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; +And all combin’d, save what thou must combine +By holy marriage. When, and where, and how +We met, we woo’d, and made exchange of vow, +I’ll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, +That thou consent to marry us today. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Holy Saint Francis! What a change is here! +Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear, +So soon forsaken? Young men’s love then lies +Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. +Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine +Hath wash’d thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! +How much salt water thrown away in waste, +To season love, that of it doth not taste. +The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, +Thy old groans yet ring in mine ancient ears. +Lo here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit +Of an old tear that is not wash’d off yet. +If ere thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, +Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline, +And art thou chang’d? Pronounce this sentence then, +Women may fall, when there’s no strength in men. + +ROMEO. +Thou chidd’st me oft for loving Rosaline. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. + +ROMEO. +And bad’st me bury love. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Not in a grave +To lay one in, another out to have. + +ROMEO. +I pray thee chide me not, her I love now +Doth grace for grace and love for love allow. +The other did not so. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +O, she knew well +Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell. +But come young waverer, come go with me, +In one respect I’ll thy assistant be; +For this alliance may so happy prove, +To turn your households’ rancour to pure love. + +ROMEO. +O let us hence; I stand on sudden haste. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE IV. A Street. + + Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. + +MERCUTIO. +Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home tonight? + +BENVOLIO. +Not to his father’s; I spoke with his man. + +MERCUTIO. +Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, torments him so +that he will sure run mad. + +BENVOLIO. +Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a letter to his father’s +house. + +MERCUTIO. +A challenge, on my life. + +BENVOLIO. +Romeo will answer it. + +MERCUTIO. +Any man that can write may answer a letter. + +BENVOLIO. +Nay, he will answer the letter’s master, how he dares, being dared. + +MERCUTIO. +Alas poor Romeo, he is already dead, stabbed with a white wench’s black +eye; run through the ear with a love song, the very pin of his heart +cleft with the blind bow-boy’s butt-shaft. And is he a man to encounter +Tybalt? + +BENVOLIO. +Why, what is Tybalt? + +MERCUTIO. +More than Prince of cats. O, he’s the courageous captain of +compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, +and proportion. He rests his minim rest, one, two, and the third in +your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; +a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause. Ah, +the immortal passado, the punto reverso, the hay. + +BENVOLIO. +The what? + +MERCUTIO. +The pox of such antic lisping, affecting phantasies; these new tuners +of accent. By Jesu, a very good blade, a very tall man, a very good +whore. Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should +be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, +these pardon-me’s, who stand so much on the new form that they cannot +sit at ease on the old bench? O their bones, their bones! + + Enter Romeo. + +BENVOLIO. +Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo! + +MERCUTIO. +Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art thou +fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in. Laura, to +his lady, was but a kitchen wench,—marry, she had a better love to +berhyme her: Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gypsy; Helen and Hero hildings +and harlots; Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior +Romeo, bonjour! There’s a French salutation to your French slop. You +gave us the counterfeit fairly last night. + +ROMEO. +Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? + +MERCUTIO. +The slip sir, the slip; can you not conceive? + +ROMEO. +Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great, and in such a case as +mine a man may strain courtesy. + +MERCUTIO. +That’s as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow +in the hams. + +ROMEO. +Meaning, to curtsy. + +MERCUTIO. +Thou hast most kindly hit it. + +ROMEO. +A most courteous exposition. + +MERCUTIO. +Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. + +ROMEO. +Pink for flower. + +MERCUTIO. +Right. + +ROMEO. +Why, then is my pump well flowered. + +MERCUTIO. +Sure wit, follow me this jest now, till thou hast worn out thy pump, +that when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain after the +wearing, solely singular. + +ROMEO. +O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness! + +MERCUTIO. +Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint. + +ROMEO. +Swits and spurs, swits and spurs; or I’ll cry a match. + +MERCUTIO. +Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done. For thou hast +more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits, than I am sure, I have in my +whole five. Was I with you there for the goose? + +ROMEO. +Thou wast never with me for anything, when thou wast not there for the +goose. + +MERCUTIO. +I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. + +ROMEO. +Nay, good goose, bite not. + +MERCUTIO. +Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting, it is a most sharp sauce. + +ROMEO. +And is it not then well served in to a sweet goose? + +MERCUTIO. +O here’s a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an +ell broad. + +ROMEO. +I stretch it out for that word broad, which added to the goose, proves +thee far and wide a broad goose. + +MERCUTIO. +Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? Now art thou +sociable, now art thou Romeo; not art thou what thou art, by art as +well as by nature. For this drivelling love is like a great natural, +that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. + +BENVOLIO. +Stop there, stop there. + +MERCUTIO. +Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. + +BENVOLIO. +Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large. + +MERCUTIO. +O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short, for I was come to the +whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupy the argument no +longer. + + Enter Nurse and Peter. + +ROMEO. +Here’s goodly gear! +A sail, a sail! + +MERCUTIO. +Two, two; a shirt and a smock. + +NURSE. +Peter! + +PETER. +Anon. + +NURSE. +My fan, Peter. + +MERCUTIO. +Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan’s the fairer face. + +NURSE. +God ye good morrow, gentlemen. + +MERCUTIO. +God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman. + +NURSE. +Is it good-den? + +MERCUTIO. +’Tis no less, I tell ye; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the +prick of noon. + +NURSE. +Out upon you! What a man are you? + +ROMEO. +One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar. + +NURSE. +By my troth, it is well said; for himself to mar, quoth a? Gentlemen, +can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo? + +ROMEO. +I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older when you have found him +than he was when you sought him. I am the youngest of that name, for +fault of a worse. + +NURSE. +You say well. + +MERCUTIO. +Yea, is the worst well? Very well took, i’faith; wisely, wisely. + +NURSE. +If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you. + +BENVOLIO. +She will endite him to some supper. + +MERCUTIO. +A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho! + +ROMEO. +What hast thou found? + +MERCUTIO. +No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is something +stale and hoar ere it be spent. +[_Sings._] + An old hare hoar, + And an old hare hoar, + Is very good meat in Lent; + But a hare that is hoar + Is too much for a score + When it hoars ere it be spent. +Romeo, will you come to your father’s? We’ll to dinner thither. + +ROMEO. +I will follow you. + +MERCUTIO. +Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, lady, lady. + + [_Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio._] + +NURSE. +I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this that was so full of his +ropery? + +ROMEO. +A gentleman, Nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, and will speak +more in a minute than he will stand to in a month. + +NURSE. +And a speak anything against me, I’ll take him down, and a were lustier +than he is, and twenty such Jacks. And if I cannot, I’ll find those +that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of +his skains-mates.—And thou must stand by too and suffer every knave to +use me at his pleasure! + +PETER. +I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I had, my weapon should +quickly have been out. I warrant you, I dare draw as soon as another +man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side. + +NURSE. +Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every part about me quivers. Scurvy +knave. Pray you, sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bid me +enquire you out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself. But first +let me tell ye, if ye should lead her in a fool’s paradise, as they +say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they say; for the +gentlewoman is young. And therefore, if you should deal double with +her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and +very weak dealing. + +ROMEO. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto +thee,— + +NURSE. +Good heart, and i’faith I will tell her as much. Lord, Lord, she will +be a joyful woman. + +ROMEO. +What wilt thou tell her, Nurse? Thou dost not mark me. + +NURSE. +I will tell her, sir, that you do protest, which, as I take it, is a +gentlemanlike offer. + +ROMEO. +Bid her devise +Some means to come to shrift this afternoon, +And there she shall at Friar Lawrence’ cell +Be shriv’d and married. Here is for thy pains. + +NURSE. +No truly, sir; not a penny. + +ROMEO. +Go to; I say you shall. + +NURSE. +This afternoon, sir? Well, she shall be there. + +ROMEO. +And stay, good Nurse, behind the abbey wall. +Within this hour my man shall be with thee, +And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair, +Which to the high topgallant of my joy +Must be my convoy in the secret night. +Farewell, be trusty, and I’ll quit thy pains; +Farewell; commend me to thy mistress. + +NURSE. +Now God in heaven bless thee. Hark you, sir. + +ROMEO. +What say’st thou, my dear Nurse? + +NURSE. +Is your man secret? Did you ne’er hear say, +Two may keep counsel, putting one away? + +ROMEO. +I warrant thee my man’s as true as steel. + +NURSE. +Well, sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady. Lord, Lord! When ’twas a +little prating thing,—O, there is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that +would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief see a +toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that +Paris is the properer man, but I’ll warrant you, when I say so, she +looks as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not rosemary and +Romeo begin both with a letter? + +ROMEO. +Ay, Nurse; what of that? Both with an R. + +NURSE. +Ah, mocker! That’s the dog’s name. R is for the—no, I know it begins +with some other letter, and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, +of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it. + +ROMEO. +Commend me to thy lady. + +NURSE. +Ay, a thousand times. Peter! + + [_Exit Romeo._] + +PETER. +Anon. + +NURSE. +Before and apace. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE V. Capulet’s Garden. + + Enter Juliet. + +JULIET. +The clock struck nine when I did send the Nurse, +In half an hour she promised to return. +Perchance she cannot meet him. That’s not so. +O, she is lame. Love’s heralds should be thoughts, +Which ten times faster glides than the sun’s beams, +Driving back shadows over lowering hills: +Therefore do nimble-pinion’d doves draw love, +And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. +Now is the sun upon the highmost hill +Of this day’s journey, and from nine till twelve +Is three long hours, yet she is not come. +Had she affections and warm youthful blood, +She’d be as swift in motion as a ball; +My words would bandy her to my sweet love, +And his to me. +But old folks, many feign as they were dead; +Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. + + Enter Nurse and Peter. + +O God, she comes. O honey Nurse, what news? +Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. + +NURSE. +Peter, stay at the gate. + + [_Exit Peter._] + +JULIET. +Now, good sweet Nurse,—O Lord, why look’st thou sad? +Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; +If good, thou sham’st the music of sweet news +By playing it to me with so sour a face. + +NURSE. +I am aweary, give me leave awhile; +Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had! + +JULIET. +I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news: +Nay come, I pray thee speak; good, good Nurse, speak. + +NURSE. +Jesu, what haste? Can you not stay a while? Do you not see that I am +out of breath? + +JULIET. +How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath +To say to me that thou art out of breath? +The excuse that thou dost make in this delay +Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. +Is thy news good or bad? Answer to that; +Say either, and I’ll stay the circumstance. +Let me be satisfied, is’t good or bad? + +NURSE. +Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man. +Romeo? No, not he. Though his face be better than any man’s, yet his +leg excels all men’s, and for a hand and a foot, and a body, though +they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare. He is not the +flower of courtesy, but I’ll warrant him as gentle as a lamb. Go thy +ways, wench, serve God. What, have you dined at home? + +JULIET. +No, no. But all this did I know before. +What says he of our marriage? What of that? + +NURSE. +Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I! +It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. +My back o’ t’other side,—O my back, my back! +Beshrew your heart for sending me about +To catch my death with jauncing up and down. + +JULIET. +I’faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. +Sweet, sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me, what says my love? + +NURSE. +Your love says like an honest gentleman, +And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, +And I warrant a virtuous,—Where is your mother? + +JULIET. +Where is my mother? Why, she is within. +Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest. +‘Your love says, like an honest gentleman, +‘Where is your mother?’ + +NURSE. +O God’s lady dear, +Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow. +Is this the poultice for my aching bones? +Henceforward do your messages yourself. + +JULIET. +Here’s such a coil. Come, what says Romeo? + +NURSE. +Have you got leave to go to shrift today? + +JULIET. +I have. + +NURSE. +Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence’ cell; +There stays a husband to make you a wife. +Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks, +They’ll be in scarlet straight at any news. +Hie you to church. I must another way, +To fetch a ladder by the which your love +Must climb a bird’s nest soon when it is dark. +I am the drudge, and toil in your delight; +But you shall bear the burden soon at night. +Go. I’ll to dinner; hie you to the cell. + +JULIET. +Hie to high fortune! Honest Nurse, farewell. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE VI. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. + + Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +So smile the heavens upon this holy act +That after-hours with sorrow chide us not. + +ROMEO. +Amen, amen, but come what sorrow can, +It cannot countervail the exchange of joy +That one short minute gives me in her sight. +Do thou but close our hands with holy words, +Then love-devouring death do what he dare, +It is enough I may but call her mine. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +These violent delights have violent ends, +And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, +Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey +Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, +And in the taste confounds the appetite. +Therefore love moderately: long love doth so; +Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. + + Enter Juliet. + +Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot +Will ne’er wear out the everlasting flint. +A lover may bestride the gossamers +That idles in the wanton summer air +And yet not fall; so light is vanity. + +JULIET. +Good even to my ghostly confessor. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. + +JULIET. +As much to him, else is his thanks too much. + +ROMEO. +Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy +Be heap’d like mine, and that thy skill be more +To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath +This neighbour air, and let rich music’s tongue +Unfold the imagin’d happiness that both +Receive in either by this dear encounter. + +JULIET. +Conceit more rich in matter than in words, +Brags of his substance, not of ornament. +They are but beggars that can count their worth; +But my true love is grown to such excess, +I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Come, come with me, and we will make short work, +For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone +Till holy church incorporate two in one. + + [_Exeunt._] + + + +ACT III + +SCENE I. A public Place. + + Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, Page and Servants. + +BENVOLIO. +I pray thee, good Mercutio, let’s retire: +The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, +And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl, +For now these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. + +MERCUTIO. +Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters the confines of +a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table, and says ‘God send me no +need of thee!’ and by the operation of the second cup draws him on the +drawer, when indeed there is no need. + +BENVOLIO. +Am I like such a fellow? + +MERCUTIO. +Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as +soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved. + +BENVOLIO. +And what to? + +MERCUTIO. +Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would +kill the other. Thou? Why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a +hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel +with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou +hast hazel eyes. What eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? +Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy +head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast +quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath +wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall +out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with +another for tying his new shoes with an old riband? And yet thou wilt +tutor me from quarrelling! + +BENVOLIO. +And I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee +simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. + +MERCUTIO. +The fee simple! O simple! + + Enter Tybalt and others. + +BENVOLIO. +By my head, here comes the Capulets. + +MERCUTIO. +By my heel, I care not. + +TYBALT. +Follow me close, for I will speak to them. +Gentlemen, good-den: a word with one of you. + +MERCUTIO. +And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a +word and a blow. + +TYBALT. +You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, and you will give me +occasion. + +MERCUTIO. +Could you not take some occasion without giving? + +TYBALT. +Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo. + +MERCUTIO. +Consort? What, dost thou make us minstrels? And thou make minstrels of +us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here’s my fiddlestick, here’s +that shall make you dance. Zounds, consort! + +BENVOLIO. +We talk here in the public haunt of men. +Either withdraw unto some private place, +And reason coldly of your grievances, +Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. + +MERCUTIO. +Men’s eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. +I will not budge for no man’s pleasure, I. + + Enter Romeo. + +TYBALT. +Well, peace be with you, sir, here comes my man. + +MERCUTIO. +But I’ll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery. +Marry, go before to field, he’ll be your follower; +Your worship in that sense may call him man. + +TYBALT. +Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford +No better term than this: Thou art a villain. + +ROMEO. +Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee +Doth much excuse the appertaining rage +To such a greeting. Villain am I none; +Therefore farewell; I see thou know’st me not. + +TYBALT. +Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries +That thou hast done me, therefore turn and draw. + +ROMEO. +I do protest I never injur’d thee, +But love thee better than thou canst devise +Till thou shalt know the reason of my love. +And so good Capulet, which name I tender +As dearly as mine own, be satisfied. + +MERCUTIO. +O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! +[_Draws._] Alla stoccata carries it away. +Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? + +TYBALT. +What wouldst thou have with me? + +MERCUTIO. +Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to +make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest +of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? +Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. + +TYBALT. +[_Drawing._] I am for you. + +ROMEO. +Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. + +MERCUTIO. +Come, sir, your passado. + + [_They fight._] + +ROMEO. +Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. +Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage, +Tybalt, Mercutio, the Prince expressly hath +Forbid this bandying in Verona streets. +Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio! + + [_Exeunt Tybalt with his Partizans._] + +MERCUTIO. +I am hurt. +A plague o’ both your houses. I am sped. +Is he gone, and hath nothing? + +BENVOLIO. +What, art thou hurt? + +MERCUTIO. +Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, ’tis enough. +Where is my page? Go villain, fetch a surgeon. + + [_Exit Page._] + +ROMEO. +Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. + +MERCUTIO. +No, ’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but ’tis +enough, ’twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a +grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o’ both +your houses. Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to +death. A braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of +arithmetic!—Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your +arm. + +ROMEO. +I thought all for the best. + +MERCUTIO. +Help me into some house, Benvolio, +Or I shall faint. A plague o’ both your houses. +They have made worms’ meat of me. +I have it, and soundly too. Your houses! + + [_Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio._] + +ROMEO. +This gentleman, the Prince’s near ally, +My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt +In my behalf; my reputation stain’d +With Tybalt’s slander,—Tybalt, that an hour +Hath been my cousin. O sweet Juliet, +Thy beauty hath made me effeminate +And in my temper soften’d valour’s steel. + + Re-enter Benvolio. + +BENVOLIO. +O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead, +That gallant spirit hath aspir’d the clouds, +Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. + +ROMEO. +This day’s black fate on mo days doth depend; +This but begins the woe others must end. + + Re-enter Tybalt. + +BENVOLIO. +Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. + +ROMEO. +Again in triumph, and Mercutio slain? +Away to heaven respective lenity, +And fire-ey’d fury be my conduct now! +Now, Tybalt, take the ‘villain’ back again +That late thou gav’st me, for Mercutio’s soul +Is but a little way above our heads, +Staying for thine to keep him company. +Either thou or I, or both, must go with him. + +TYBALT. +Thou wretched boy, that didst consort him here, +Shalt with him hence. + +ROMEO. +This shall determine that. + + [_They fight; Tybalt falls._] + +BENVOLIO. +Romeo, away, be gone! +The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. +Stand not amaz’d. The Prince will doom thee death +If thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away! + +ROMEO. +O, I am fortune’s fool! + +BENVOLIO. +Why dost thou stay? + + [_Exit Romeo._] + + Enter Citizens. + +FIRST CITIZEN. +Which way ran he that kill’d Mercutio? +Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? + +BENVOLIO. +There lies that Tybalt. + +FIRST CITIZEN. +Up, sir, go with me. +I charge thee in the Prince’s name obey. + + Enter Prince, attended; Montague, Capulet, their Wives and others. + +PRINCE. +Where are the vile beginners of this fray? + +BENVOLIO. +O noble Prince, I can discover all +The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl. +There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, +That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. + +LADY CAPULET. +Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother’s child! +O Prince! O husband! O, the blood is spill’d +Of my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true, +For blood of ours shed blood of Montague. +O cousin, cousin. + +PRINCE. +Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? + +BENVOLIO. +Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo’s hand did slay; +Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink +How nice the quarrel was, and urg’d withal +Your high displeasure. All this uttered +With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow’d +Could not take truce with the unruly spleen +Of Tybalt, deaf to peace, but that he tilts +With piercing steel at bold Mercutio’s breast, +Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, +And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats +Cold death aside, and with the other sends +It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity +Retorts it. Romeo he cries aloud, +‘Hold, friends! Friends, part!’ and swifter than his tongue, +His agile arm beats down their fatal points, +And ’twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm +An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life +Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled. +But by and by comes back to Romeo, +Who had but newly entertain’d revenge, +And to’t they go like lightning; for, ere I +Could draw to part them was stout Tybalt slain; +And as he fell did Romeo turn and fly. +This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. + +LADY CAPULET. +He is a kinsman to the Montague. +Affection makes him false, he speaks not true. +Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, +And all those twenty could but kill one life. +I beg for justice, which thou, Prince, must give; +Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. + +PRINCE. +Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio. +Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? + +MONTAGUE. +Not Romeo, Prince, he was Mercutio’s friend; +His fault concludes but what the law should end, +The life of Tybalt. + +PRINCE. +And for that offence +Immediately we do exile him hence. +I have an interest in your hate’s proceeding, +My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding. +But I’ll amerce you with so strong a fine +That you shall all repent the loss of mine. +I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; +Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses. +Therefore use none. Let Romeo hence in haste, +Else, when he is found, that hour is his last. +Bear hence this body, and attend our will. +Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. A Room in Capulet’s House. + + Enter Juliet. + +JULIET. +Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, +Towards Phoebus’ lodging. Such a waggoner +As Phaeton would whip you to the west +And bring in cloudy night immediately. +Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, +That runaway’s eyes may wink, and Romeo +Leap to these arms, untalk’d of and unseen. +Lovers can see to do their amorous rites +By their own beauties: or, if love be blind, +It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, +Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, +And learn me how to lose a winning match, +Play’d for a pair of stainless maidenhoods. +Hood my unmann’d blood, bating in my cheeks, +With thy black mantle, till strange love, grow bold, +Think true love acted simple modesty. +Come, night, come Romeo; come, thou day in night; +For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night +Whiter than new snow upon a raven’s back. +Come gentle night, come loving black-brow’d night, +Give me my Romeo, and when I shall die, +Take him and cut him out in little stars, +And he will make the face of heaven so fine +That all the world will be in love with night, +And pay no worship to the garish sun. +O, I have bought the mansion of a love, +But not possess’d it; and though I am sold, +Not yet enjoy’d. So tedious is this day +As is the night before some festival +To an impatient child that hath new robes +And may not wear them. O, here comes my Nurse, +And she brings news, and every tongue that speaks +But Romeo’s name speaks heavenly eloquence. + + Enter Nurse, with cords. + +Now, Nurse, what news? What hast thou there? +The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch? + +NURSE. +Ay, ay, the cords. + + [_Throws them down._] + +JULIET. +Ay me, what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands? + +NURSE. +Ah, well-a-day, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead! +We are undone, lady, we are undone. +Alack the day, he’s gone, he’s kill’d, he’s dead. + +JULIET. +Can heaven be so envious? + +NURSE. +Romeo can, +Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo. +Who ever would have thought it? Romeo! + +JULIET. +What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? +This torture should be roar’d in dismal hell. +Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but Ay, +And that bare vowel I shall poison more +Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice. +I am not I if there be such an I; +Or those eyes shut that make thee answer Ay. +If he be slain, say Ay; or if not, No. +Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe. + +NURSE. +I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, +God save the mark!—here on his manly breast. +A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; +Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub’d in blood, +All in gore-blood. I swounded at the sight. + +JULIET. +O, break, my heart. Poor bankrout, break at once. +To prison, eyes; ne’er look on liberty. +Vile earth to earth resign; end motion here, +And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier. + +NURSE. +O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had. +O courteous Tybalt, honest gentleman! +That ever I should live to see thee dead. + +JULIET. +What storm is this that blows so contrary? +Is Romeo slaughter’d and is Tybalt dead? +My dearest cousin, and my dearer lord? +Then dreadful trumpet sound the general doom, +For who is living, if those two are gone? + +NURSE. +Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished, +Romeo that kill’d him, he is banished. + +JULIET. +O God! Did Romeo’s hand shed Tybalt’s blood? + +NURSE. +It did, it did; alas the day, it did. + +JULIET. +O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! +Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? +Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical, +Dove-feather’d raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! +Despised substance of divinest show! +Just opposite to what thou justly seem’st, +A damned saint, an honourable villain! +O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell +When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend +In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? +Was ever book containing such vile matter +So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell +In such a gorgeous palace. + +NURSE. +There’s no trust, +No faith, no honesty in men. All perjur’d, +All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. +Ah, where’s my man? Give me some aqua vitae. +These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. +Shame come to Romeo. + +JULIET. +Blister’d be thy tongue +For such a wish! He was not born to shame. +Upon his brow shame is asham’d to sit; +For ’tis a throne where honour may be crown’d +Sole monarch of the universal earth. +O, what a beast was I to chide at him! + +NURSE. +Will you speak well of him that kill’d your cousin? + +JULIET. +Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? +Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, +When I thy three-hours’ wife have mangled it? +But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? +That villain cousin would have kill’d my husband. +Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring, +Your tributary drops belong to woe, +Which you mistaking offer up to joy. +My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain, +And Tybalt’s dead, that would have slain my husband. +All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? +Some word there was, worser than Tybalt’s death, +That murder’d me. I would forget it fain, +But O, it presses to my memory +Like damned guilty deeds to sinners’ minds. +Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished. +That ‘banished,’ that one word ‘banished,’ +Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt’s death +Was woe enough, if it had ended there. +Or if sour woe delights in fellowship, +And needly will be rank’d with other griefs, +Why follow’d not, when she said Tybalt’s dead, +Thy father or thy mother, nay or both, +Which modern lamentation might have mov’d? +But with a rear-ward following Tybalt’s death, +‘Romeo is banished’—to speak that word +Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, +All slain, all dead. Romeo is banished, +There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, +In that word’s death, no words can that woe sound. +Where is my father and my mother, Nurse? + +NURSE. +Weeping and wailing over Tybalt’s corse. +Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. + +JULIET. +Wash they his wounds with tears. Mine shall be spent, +When theirs are dry, for Romeo’s banishment. +Take up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguil’d, +Both you and I; for Romeo is exil’d. +He made you for a highway to my bed, +But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. +Come cords, come Nurse, I’ll to my wedding bed, +And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead. + +NURSE. +Hie to your chamber. I’ll find Romeo +To comfort you. I wot well where he is. +Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night. +I’ll to him, he is hid at Lawrence’ cell. + +JULIET. +O find him, give this ring to my true knight, +And bid him come to take his last farewell. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE III. Friar Lawrence’s cell. + + Enter Friar Lawrence. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man. +Affliction is enanmour’d of thy parts +And thou art wedded to calamity. + + Enter Romeo. + +ROMEO. +Father, what news? What is the Prince’s doom? +What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, +That I yet know not? + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Too familiar +Is my dear son with such sour company. +I bring thee tidings of the Prince’s doom. + +ROMEO. +What less than doomsday is the Prince’s doom? + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +A gentler judgment vanish’d from his lips, +Not body’s death, but body’s banishment. + +ROMEO. +Ha, banishment? Be merciful, say death; +For exile hath more terror in his look, +Much more than death. Do not say banishment. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Hence from Verona art thou banished. +Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. + +ROMEO. +There is no world without Verona walls, +But purgatory, torture, hell itself. +Hence banished is banish’d from the world, +And world’s exile is death. Then banished +Is death misterm’d. Calling death banished, +Thou cutt’st my head off with a golden axe, +And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +O deadly sin, O rude unthankfulness! +Thy fault our law calls death, but the kind Prince, +Taking thy part, hath brush’d aside the law, +And turn’d that black word death to banishment. +This is dear mercy, and thou see’st it not. + +ROMEO. +’Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here +Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog, +And little mouse, every unworthy thing, +Live here in heaven and may look on her, +But Romeo may not. More validity, +More honourable state, more courtship lives +In carrion flies than Romeo. They may seize +On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand, +And steal immortal blessing from her lips, +Who, even in pure and vestal modesty +Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin. +But Romeo may not, he is banished. +This may flies do, when I from this must fly. +They are free men but I am banished. +And say’st thou yet that exile is not death? +Hadst thou no poison mix’d, no sharp-ground knife, +No sudden mean of death, though ne’er so mean, +But banished to kill me? Banished? +O Friar, the damned use that word in hell. +Howlings attends it. How hast thou the heart, +Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, +A sin-absolver, and my friend profess’d, +To mangle me with that word banished? + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Thou fond mad man, hear me speak a little, + +ROMEO. +O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +I’ll give thee armour to keep off that word, +Adversity’s sweet milk, philosophy, +To comfort thee, though thou art banished. + +ROMEO. +Yet banished? Hang up philosophy. +Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, +Displant a town, reverse a Prince’s doom, +It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +O, then I see that mad men have no ears. + +ROMEO. +How should they, when that wise men have no eyes? + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. + +ROMEO. +Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel. +Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, +An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, +Doting like me, and like me banished, +Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, +And fall upon the ground as I do now, +Taking the measure of an unmade grave. + + [_Knocking within._] + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Arise; one knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself. + +ROMEO. +Not I, unless the breath of heartsick groans +Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes. + + [_Knocking._] + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Hark, how they knock!—Who’s there?—Romeo, arise, +Thou wilt be taken.—Stay awhile.—Stand up. + + [_Knocking._] + +Run to my study.—By-and-by.—God’s will, +What simpleness is this.—I come, I come. + + [_Knocking._] + +Who knocks so hard? Whence come you, what’s your will? + +NURSE. +[_Within._] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand. +I come from Lady Juliet. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Welcome then. + + Enter Nurse. + +NURSE. +O holy Friar, O, tell me, holy Friar, +Where is my lady’s lord, where’s Romeo? + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. + +NURSE. +O, he is even in my mistress’ case. +Just in her case! O woeful sympathy! +Piteous predicament. Even so lies she, +Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. +Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man. +For Juliet’s sake, for her sake, rise and stand. +Why should you fall into so deep an O? + +ROMEO. +Nurse. + +NURSE. +Ah sir, ah sir, death’s the end of all. + +ROMEO. +Spakest thou of Juliet? How is it with her? +Doth not she think me an old murderer, +Now I have stain’d the childhood of our joy +With blood remov’d but little from her own? +Where is she? And how doth she? And what says +My conceal’d lady to our cancell’d love? + +NURSE. +O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps; +And now falls on her bed, and then starts up, +And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries, +And then down falls again. + +ROMEO. +As if that name, +Shot from the deadly level of a gun, +Did murder her, as that name’s cursed hand +Murder’d her kinsman. O, tell me, Friar, tell me, +In what vile part of this anatomy +Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack +The hateful mansion. + + [_Drawing his sword._] + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Hold thy desperate hand. +Art thou a man? Thy form cries out thou art. +Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote +The unreasonable fury of a beast. +Unseemly woman in a seeming man, +And ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! +Thou hast amaz’d me. By my holy order, +I thought thy disposition better temper’d. +Hast thou slain Tybalt? Wilt thou slay thyself? +And slay thy lady, that in thy life lives, +By doing damned hate upon thyself? +Why rail’st thou on thy birth, the heaven and earth? +Since birth, and heaven and earth, all three do meet +In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose. +Fie, fie, thou sham’st thy shape, thy love, thy wit, +Which, like a usurer, abound’st in all, +And usest none in that true use indeed +Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit. +Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, +Digressing from the valour of a man; +Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, +Killing that love which thou hast vow’d to cherish; +Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, +Misshapen in the conduct of them both, +Like powder in a skilless soldier’s flask, +Is set afire by thine own ignorance, +And thou dismember’d with thine own defence. +What, rouse thee, man. Thy Juliet is alive, +For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead. +There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee, +But thou slew’st Tybalt; there art thou happy. +The law that threaten’d death becomes thy friend, +And turns it to exile; there art thou happy. +A pack of blessings light upon thy back; +Happiness courts thee in her best array; +But like a misshaped and sullen wench, +Thou putt’st up thy Fortune and thy love. +Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. +Go, get thee to thy love as was decreed, +Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her. +But look thou stay not till the watch be set, +For then thou canst not pass to Mantua; +Where thou shalt live till we can find a time +To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, +Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back +With twenty hundred thousand times more joy +Than thou went’st forth in lamentation. +Go before, Nurse. Commend me to thy lady, +And bid her hasten all the house to bed, +Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto. +Romeo is coming. + +NURSE. +O Lord, I could have stay’d here all the night +To hear good counsel. O, what learning is! +My lord, I’ll tell my lady you will come. + +ROMEO. +Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide. + +NURSE. +Here sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir. +Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. + + [_Exit._] + +ROMEO. +How well my comfort is reviv’d by this. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Go hence, good night, and here stands all your state: +Either be gone before the watch be set, +Or by the break of day disguis’d from hence. +Sojourn in Mantua. I’ll find out your man, +And he shall signify from time to time +Every good hap to you that chances here. +Give me thy hand; ’tis late; farewell; good night. + +ROMEO. +But that a joy past joy calls out on me, +It were a grief so brief to part with thee. +Farewell. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE IV. A Room in Capulet’s House. + + Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet and Paris. + +CAPULET. +Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily +That we have had no time to move our daughter. +Look you, she lov’d her kinsman Tybalt dearly, +And so did I. Well, we were born to die. +’Tis very late; she’ll not come down tonight. +I promise you, but for your company, +I would have been abed an hour ago. + +PARIS. +These times of woe afford no tune to woo. +Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter. + +LADY CAPULET. +I will, and know her mind early tomorrow; +Tonight she’s mew’d up to her heaviness. + +CAPULET. +Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender +Of my child’s love. I think she will be rul’d +In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not. +Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed, +Acquaint her here of my son Paris’ love, +And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next, +But, soft, what day is this? + +PARIS. +Monday, my lord. + +CAPULET. +Monday! Ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon, +A Thursday let it be; a Thursday, tell her, +She shall be married to this noble earl. +Will you be ready? Do you like this haste? +We’ll keep no great ado,—a friend or two, +For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, +It may be thought we held him carelessly, +Being our kinsman, if we revel much. +Therefore we’ll have some half a dozen friends, +And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? + +PARIS. +My lord, I would that Thursday were tomorrow. + +CAPULET. +Well, get you gone. A Thursday be it then. +Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, +Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day. +Farewell, my lord.—Light to my chamber, ho! +Afore me, it is so very very late that we +May call it early by and by. Good night. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE V. An open Gallery to Juliet’s Chamber, overlooking the Garden. + + Enter Romeo and Juliet. + +JULIET. +Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. +It was the nightingale, and not the lark, +That pierc’d the fearful hollow of thine ear; +Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree. +Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. + +ROMEO. +It was the lark, the herald of the morn, +No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks +Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. +Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day +Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. +I must be gone and live, or stay and die. + +JULIET. +Yond light is not daylight, I know it, I. +It is some meteor that the sun exhales +To be to thee this night a torchbearer +And light thee on thy way to Mantua. +Therefore stay yet, thou need’st not to be gone. + +ROMEO. +Let me be ta’en, let me be put to death, +I am content, so thou wilt have it so. +I’ll say yon grey is not the morning’s eye, +’Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia’s brow. +Nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat +The vaulty heaven so high above our heads. +I have more care to stay than will to go. +Come, death, and welcome. Juliet wills it so. +How is’t, my soul? Let’s talk. It is not day. + +JULIET. +It is, it is! Hie hence, be gone, away. +It is the lark that sings so out of tune, +Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. +Some say the lark makes sweet division; +This doth not so, for she divideth us. +Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes. +O, now I would they had chang’d voices too, +Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, +Hunting thee hence with hunt’s-up to the day. +O now be gone, more light and light it grows. + +ROMEO. +More light and light, more dark and dark our woes. + + Enter Nurse. + +NURSE. +Madam. + +JULIET. +Nurse? + +NURSE. +Your lady mother is coming to your chamber. +The day is broke, be wary, look about. + + [_Exit._] + +JULIET. +Then, window, let day in, and let life out. + +ROMEO. +Farewell, farewell, one kiss, and I’ll descend. + + [_Descends._] + +JULIET. +Art thou gone so? Love, lord, ay husband, friend, +I must hear from thee every day in the hour, +For in a minute there are many days. +O, by this count I shall be much in years +Ere I again behold my Romeo. + +ROMEO. +Farewell! +I will omit no opportunity +That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. + +JULIET. +O thinkest thou we shall ever meet again? + +ROMEO. +I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serve +For sweet discourses in our time to come. + +JULIET. +O God! I have an ill-divining soul! +Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low, +As one dead in the bottom of a tomb. +Either my eyesight fails, or thou look’st pale. + +ROMEO. +And trust me, love, in my eye so do you. +Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu. + + [_Exit below._] + +JULIET. +O Fortune, Fortune! All men call thee fickle, +If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him +That is renown’d for faith? Be fickle, Fortune; +For then, I hope thou wilt not keep him long +But send him back. + +LADY CAPULET. +[_Within._] Ho, daughter, are you up? + +JULIET. +Who is’t that calls? Is it my lady mother? +Is she not down so late, or up so early? +What unaccustom’d cause procures her hither? + + Enter Lady Capulet. + +LADY CAPULET. +Why, how now, Juliet? + +JULIET. +Madam, I am not well. + +LADY CAPULET. +Evermore weeping for your cousin’s death? +What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? +And if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live. +Therefore have done: some grief shows much of love, +But much of grief shows still some want of wit. + +JULIET. +Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. + +LADY CAPULET. +So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend +Which you weep for. + +JULIET. +Feeling so the loss, +I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. + +LADY CAPULET. +Well, girl, thou weep’st not so much for his death +As that the villain lives which slaughter’d him. + +JULIET. +What villain, madam? + +LADY CAPULET. +That same villain Romeo. + +JULIET. +Villain and he be many miles asunder. +God pardon him. I do, with all my heart. +And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart. + +LADY CAPULET. +That is because the traitor murderer lives. + +JULIET. +Ay madam, from the reach of these my hands. +Would none but I might venge my cousin’s death. + +LADY CAPULET. +We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not. +Then weep no more. I’ll send to one in Mantua, +Where that same banish’d runagate doth live, +Shall give him such an unaccustom’d dram +That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: +And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied. + +JULIET. +Indeed I never shall be satisfied +With Romeo till I behold him—dead— +Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex’d. +Madam, if you could find out but a man +To bear a poison, I would temper it, +That Romeo should upon receipt thereof, +Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors +To hear him nam’d, and cannot come to him, +To wreak the love I bore my cousin +Upon his body that hath slaughter’d him. + +LADY CAPULET. +Find thou the means, and I’ll find such a man. +But now I’ll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. + +JULIET. +And joy comes well in such a needy time. +What are they, I beseech your ladyship? + +LADY CAPULET. +Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; +One who to put thee from thy heaviness, +Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, +That thou expects not, nor I look’d not for. + +JULIET. +Madam, in happy time, what day is that? + +LADY CAPULET. +Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn +The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, +The County Paris, at Saint Peter’s Church, +Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. + +JULIET. +Now by Saint Peter’s Church, and Peter too, +He shall not make me there a joyful bride. +I wonder at this haste, that I must wed +Ere he that should be husband comes to woo. +I pray you tell my lord and father, madam, +I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear +It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, +Rather than Paris. These are news indeed. + +LADY CAPULET. +Here comes your father, tell him so yourself, +And see how he will take it at your hands. + + Enter Capulet and Nurse. + +CAPULET. +When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; +But for the sunset of my brother’s son +It rains downright. +How now? A conduit, girl? What, still in tears? +Evermore showering? In one little body +Thou counterfeits a bark, a sea, a wind. +For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, +Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, +Sailing in this salt flood, the winds, thy sighs, +Who raging with thy tears and they with them, +Without a sudden calm will overset +Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife? +Have you deliver’d to her our decree? + +LADY CAPULET. +Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. +I would the fool were married to her grave. + +CAPULET. +Soft. Take me with you, take me with you, wife. +How, will she none? Doth she not give us thanks? +Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blest, +Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought +So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? + +JULIET. +Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. +Proud can I never be of what I hate; +But thankful even for hate that is meant love. + +CAPULET. +How now, how now, chopp’d logic? What is this? +Proud, and, I thank you, and I thank you not; +And yet not proud. Mistress minion you, +Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, +But fettle your fine joints ’gainst Thursday next +To go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church, +Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. +Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage! +You tallow-face! + +LADY CAPULET. +Fie, fie! What, are you mad? + +JULIET. +Good father, I beseech you on my knees, +Hear me with patience but to speak a word. + +CAPULET. +Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch! +I tell thee what,—get thee to church a Thursday, +Or never after look me in the face. +Speak not, reply not, do not answer me. +My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest +That God had lent us but this only child; +But now I see this one is one too much, +And that we have a curse in having her. +Out on her, hilding. + +NURSE. +God in heaven bless her. +You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. + +CAPULET. +And why, my lady wisdom? Hold your tongue, +Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. + +NURSE. +I speak no treason. + +CAPULET. +O God ye good-en! + +NURSE. +May not one speak? + +CAPULET. +Peace, you mumbling fool! +Utter your gravity o’er a gossip’s bowl, +For here we need it not. + +LADY CAPULET. +You are too hot. + +CAPULET. +God’s bread, it makes me mad! +Day, night, hour, ride, time, work, play, +Alone, in company, still my care hath been +To have her match’d, and having now provided +A gentleman of noble parentage, +Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly allied, +Stuff’d, as they say, with honourable parts, +Proportion’d as one’s thought would wish a man, +And then to have a wretched puling fool, +A whining mammet, in her fortune’s tender, +To answer, ‘I’ll not wed, I cannot love, +I am too young, I pray you pardon me.’ +But, and you will not wed, I’ll pardon you. +Graze where you will, you shall not house with me. +Look to’t, think on’t, I do not use to jest. +Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise. +And you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend; +And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, +For by my soul, I’ll ne’er acknowledge thee, +Nor what is mine shall never do thee good. +Trust to’t, bethink you, I’ll not be forsworn. + + [_Exit._] + +JULIET. +Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, +That sees into the bottom of my grief? +O sweet my mother, cast me not away, +Delay this marriage for a month, a week, +Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed +In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. + +LADY CAPULET. +Talk not to me, for I’ll not speak a word. +Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. + + [_Exit._] + +JULIET. +O God! O Nurse, how shall this be prevented? +My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven. +How shall that faith return again to earth, +Unless that husband send it me from heaven +By leaving earth? Comfort me, counsel me. +Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems +Upon so soft a subject as myself. +What say’st thou? Hast thou not a word of joy? +Some comfort, Nurse. + +NURSE. +Faith, here it is. +Romeo is banished; and all the world to nothing +That he dares ne’er come back to challenge you. +Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth. +Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, +I think it best you married with the County. +O, he’s a lovely gentleman. +Romeo’s a dishclout to him. An eagle, madam, +Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye +As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, +I think you are happy in this second match, +For it excels your first: or if it did not, +Your first is dead, or ’twere as good he were, +As living here and you no use of him. + +JULIET. +Speakest thou from thy heart? + +NURSE. +And from my soul too, +Or else beshrew them both. + +JULIET. +Amen. + +NURSE. +What? + +JULIET. +Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. +Go in, and tell my lady I am gone, +Having displeas’d my father, to Lawrence’ cell, +To make confession and to be absolv’d. + +NURSE. +Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. + + [_Exit._] + +JULIET. +Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! +Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, +Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue +Which she hath prais’d him with above compare +So many thousand times? Go, counsellor. +Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. +I’ll to the Friar to know his remedy. +If all else fail, myself have power to die. + + [_Exit._] + + + +ACT IV + +SCENE I. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. + + Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +On Thursday, sir? The time is very short. + +PARIS. +My father Capulet will have it so; +And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +You say you do not know the lady’s mind. +Uneven is the course; I like it not. + +PARIS. +Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt’s death, +And therefore have I little talk’d of love; +For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. +Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous +That she do give her sorrow so much sway; +And in his wisdom, hastes our marriage, +To stop the inundation of her tears, +Which, too much minded by herself alone, +May be put from her by society. +Now do you know the reason of this haste. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +[_Aside._] I would I knew not why it should be slow’d.— +Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell. + + Enter Juliet. + +PARIS. +Happily met, my lady and my wife! + +JULIET. +That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. + +PARIS. +That may be, must be, love, on Thursday next. + +JULIET. +What must be shall be. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +That’s a certain text. + +PARIS. +Come you to make confession to this father? + +JULIET. +To answer that, I should confess to you. + +PARIS. +Do not deny to him that you love me. + +JULIET. +I will confess to you that I love him. + +PARIS. +So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. + +JULIET. +If I do so, it will be of more price, +Being spoke behind your back than to your face. + +PARIS. +Poor soul, thy face is much abus’d with tears. + +JULIET. +The tears have got small victory by that; +For it was bad enough before their spite. + +PARIS. +Thou wrong’st it more than tears with that report. + +JULIET. +That is no slander, sir, which is a truth, +And what I spake, I spake it to my face. + +PARIS. +Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander’d it. + +JULIET. +It may be so, for it is not mine own. +Are you at leisure, holy father, now, +Or shall I come to you at evening mass? + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.— +My lord, we must entreat the time alone. + +PARIS. +God shield I should disturb devotion!— +Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye, +Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. + + [_Exit._] + +JULIET. +O shut the door, and when thou hast done so, +Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help! + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +O Juliet, I already know thy grief; +It strains me past the compass of my wits. +I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, +On Thursday next be married to this County. + +JULIET. +Tell me not, Friar, that thou hear’st of this, +Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it. +If in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, +Do thou but call my resolution wise, +And with this knife I’ll help it presently. +God join’d my heart and Romeo’s, thou our hands; +And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo’s seal’d, +Shall be the label to another deed, +Or my true heart with treacherous revolt +Turn to another, this shall slay them both. +Therefore, out of thy long-experienc’d time, +Give me some present counsel, or behold +’Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife +Shall play the empire, arbitrating that +Which the commission of thy years and art +Could to no issue of true honour bring. +Be not so long to speak. I long to die, +If what thou speak’st speak not of remedy. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Hold, daughter. I do spy a kind of hope, +Which craves as desperate an execution +As that is desperate which we would prevent. +If, rather than to marry County Paris +Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, +Then is it likely thou wilt undertake +A thing like death to chide away this shame, +That cop’st with death himself to scape from it. +And if thou dar’st, I’ll give thee remedy. + +JULIET. +O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, +From off the battlements of yonder tower, +Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk +Where serpents are. Chain me with roaring bears; +Or hide me nightly in a charnel-house, +O’er-cover’d quite with dead men’s rattling bones, +With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls. +Or bid me go into a new-made grave, +And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; +Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble, +And I will do it without fear or doubt, +To live an unstain’d wife to my sweet love. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Hold then. Go home, be merry, give consent +To marry Paris. Wednesday is tomorrow; +Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone, +Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy chamber. +Take thou this vial, being then in bed, +And this distilled liquor drink thou off, +When presently through all thy veins shall run +A cold and drowsy humour; for no pulse +Shall keep his native progress, but surcease. +No warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest, +The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade +To paly ashes; thy eyes’ windows fall, +Like death when he shuts up the day of life. +Each part depriv’d of supple government, +Shall stiff and stark and cold appear like death. +And in this borrow’d likeness of shrunk death +Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, +And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. +Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes +To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead. +Then as the manner of our country is, +In thy best robes, uncover’d, on the bier, +Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault +Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. +In the meantime, against thou shalt awake, +Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, +And hither shall he come, and he and I +Will watch thy waking, and that very night +Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. +And this shall free thee from this present shame, +If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear +Abate thy valour in the acting it. + +JULIET. +Give me, give me! O tell not me of fear! + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous +In this resolve. I’ll send a friar with speed +To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. + +JULIET. +Love give me strength, and strength shall help afford. +Farewell, dear father. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. Hall in Capulet’s House. + + Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse and Servants. + +CAPULET. +So many guests invite as here are writ. + + [_Exit first Servant._] + +Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. + +SECOND SERVANT. +You shall have none ill, sir; for I’ll try if they can lick their +fingers. + +CAPULET. +How canst thou try them so? + +SECOND SERVANT. +Marry, sir, ’tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers; +therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me. + +CAPULET. +Go, begone. + + [_Exit second Servant._] + +We shall be much unfurnish’d for this time. +What, is my daughter gone to Friar Lawrence? + +NURSE. +Ay, forsooth. + +CAPULET. +Well, he may chance to do some good on her. +A peevish self-will’d harlotry it is. + + Enter Juliet. + +NURSE. +See where she comes from shrift with merry look. + +CAPULET. +How now, my headstrong. Where have you been gadding? + +JULIET. +Where I have learnt me to repent the sin +Of disobedient opposition +To you and your behests; and am enjoin’d +By holy Lawrence to fall prostrate here, +To beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you. +Henceforward I am ever rul’d by you. + +CAPULET. +Send for the County, go tell him of this. +I’ll have this knot knit up tomorrow morning. + +JULIET. +I met the youthful lord at Lawrence’ cell, +And gave him what becomed love I might, +Not stepping o’er the bounds of modesty. + +CAPULET. +Why, I am glad on’t. This is well. Stand up. +This is as’t should be. Let me see the County. +Ay, marry. Go, I say, and fetch him hither. +Now afore God, this reverend holy Friar, +All our whole city is much bound to him. + +JULIET. +Nurse, will you go with me into my closet, +To help me sort such needful ornaments +As you think fit to furnish me tomorrow? + +LADY CAPULET. +No, not till Thursday. There is time enough. + +CAPULET. +Go, Nurse, go with her. We’ll to church tomorrow. + + [_Exeunt Juliet and Nurse._] + +LADY CAPULET. +We shall be short in our provision, +’Tis now near night. + +CAPULET. +Tush, I will stir about, +And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife. +Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her. +I’ll not to bed tonight, let me alone. +I’ll play the housewife for this once.—What, ho!— +They are all forth: well, I will walk myself +To County Paris, to prepare him up +Against tomorrow. My heart is wondrous light +Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim’d. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE III. Juliet’s Chamber. + + Enter Juliet and Nurse. + +JULIET. +Ay, those attires are best. But, gentle Nurse, +I pray thee leave me to myself tonight; +For I have need of many orisons +To move the heavens to smile upon my state, +Which, well thou know’st, is cross and full of sin. + + Enter Lady Capulet. + +LADY CAPULET. +What, are you busy, ho? Need you my help? + +JULIET. +No, madam; we have cull’d such necessaries +As are behoveful for our state tomorrow. +So please you, let me now be left alone, +And let the nurse this night sit up with you, +For I am sure you have your hands full all +In this so sudden business. + +LADY CAPULET. +Good night. +Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need. + + [_Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse._] + +JULIET. +Farewell. God knows when we shall meet again. +I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins +That almost freezes up the heat of life. +I’ll call them back again to comfort me. +Nurse!—What should she do here? +My dismal scene I needs must act alone. +Come, vial. +What if this mixture do not work at all? +Shall I be married then tomorrow morning? +No, No! This shall forbid it. Lie thou there. + + [_Laying down her dagger._] + +What if it be a poison, which the Friar +Subtly hath minister’d to have me dead, +Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour’d, +Because he married me before to Romeo? +I fear it is. And yet methinks it should not, +For he hath still been tried a holy man. +How if, when I am laid into the tomb, +I wake before the time that Romeo +Come to redeem me? There’s a fearful point! +Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, +To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, +And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? +Or, if I live, is it not very like, +The horrible conceit of death and night, +Together with the terror of the place, +As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, +Where for this many hundred years the bones +Of all my buried ancestors are pack’d, +Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, +Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, +At some hours in the night spirits resort— +Alack, alack, is it not like that I, +So early waking, what with loathsome smells, +And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, +That living mortals, hearing them, run mad. +O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, +Environed with all these hideous fears, +And madly play with my forefathers’ joints? +And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? +And, in this rage, with some great kinsman’s bone, +As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? +O look, methinks I see my cousin’s ghost +Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body +Upon a rapier’s point. Stay, Tybalt, stay! +Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, here’s drink! I drink to thee. + + [_Throws herself on the bed._] + +SCENE IV. Hall in Capulet’s House. + + Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse. + +LADY CAPULET. +Hold, take these keys and fetch more spices, Nurse. + +NURSE. +They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. + + Enter Capulet. + +CAPULET. +Come, stir, stir, stir! The second cock hath crow’d, +The curfew bell hath rung, ’tis three o’clock. +Look to the bak’d meats, good Angelica; +Spare not for cost. + +NURSE. +Go, you cot-quean, go, +Get you to bed; faith, you’ll be sick tomorrow +For this night’s watching. + +CAPULET. +No, not a whit. What! I have watch’d ere now +All night for lesser cause, and ne’er been sick. + +LADY CAPULET. +Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time; +But I will watch you from such watching now. + + [_Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse._] + +CAPULET. +A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood! + + Enter Servants, with spits, logs and baskets. + +Now, fellow, what’s there? + +FIRST SERVANT. +Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what. + +CAPULET. +Make haste, make haste. + + [_Exit First Servant._] + +—Sirrah, fetch drier logs. +Call Peter, he will show thee where they are. + +SECOND SERVANT. +I have a head, sir, that will find out logs +And never trouble Peter for the matter. + + [_Exit._] + +CAPULET. +Mass and well said; a merry whoreson, ha. +Thou shalt be loggerhead.—Good faith, ’tis day. +The County will be here with music straight, +For so he said he would. I hear him near. + + [_Play music._] + +Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, Nurse, I say! + + Re-enter Nurse. + +Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up. +I’ll go and chat with Paris. Hie, make haste, +Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already. +Make haste I say. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE V. Juliet’s Chamber; Juliet on the bed. + + Enter Nurse. + +NURSE. +Mistress! What, mistress! Juliet! Fast, I warrant her, she. +Why, lamb, why, lady, fie, you slug-abed! +Why, love, I say! Madam! Sweetheart! Why, bride! +What, not a word? You take your pennyworths now. +Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant, +The County Paris hath set up his rest +That you shall rest but little. God forgive me! +Marry and amen. How sound is she asleep! +I needs must wake her. Madam, madam, madam! +Ay, let the County take you in your bed, +He’ll fright you up, i’faith. Will it not be? +What, dress’d, and in your clothes, and down again? +I must needs wake you. Lady! Lady! Lady! +Alas, alas! Help, help! My lady’s dead! +O, well-a-day that ever I was born. +Some aqua vitae, ho! My lord! My lady! + + Enter Lady Capulet. + +LADY CAPULET. +What noise is here? + +NURSE. +O lamentable day! + +LADY CAPULET. +What is the matter? + +NURSE. +Look, look! O heavy day! + +LADY CAPULET. +O me, O me! My child, my only life. +Revive, look up, or I will die with thee. +Help, help! Call help. + + Enter Capulet. + +CAPULET. +For shame, bring Juliet forth, her lord is come. + +NURSE. +She’s dead, deceas’d, she’s dead; alack the day! + +LADY CAPULET. +Alack the day, she’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead! + +CAPULET. +Ha! Let me see her. Out alas! She’s cold, +Her blood is settled and her joints are stiff. +Life and these lips have long been separated. +Death lies on her like an untimely frost +Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. + +NURSE. +O lamentable day! + +LADY CAPULET. +O woful time! + +CAPULET. +Death, that hath ta’en her hence to make me wail, +Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak. + + Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris with Musicians. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Come, is the bride ready to go to church? + +CAPULET. +Ready to go, but never to return. +O son, the night before thy wedding day +Hath death lain with thy bride. There she lies, +Flower as she was, deflowered by him. +Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir; +My daughter he hath wedded. I will die. +And leave him all; life, living, all is death’s. + +PARIS. +Have I thought long to see this morning’s face, +And doth it give me such a sight as this? + +LADY CAPULET. +Accurs’d, unhappy, wretched, hateful day. +Most miserable hour that e’er time saw +In lasting labour of his pilgrimage. +But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, +But one thing to rejoice and solace in, +And cruel death hath catch’d it from my sight. + +NURSE. +O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day. +Most lamentable day, most woeful day +That ever, ever, I did yet behold! +O day, O day, O day, O hateful day. +Never was seen so black a day as this. +O woeful day, O woeful day. + +PARIS. +Beguil’d, divorced, wronged, spited, slain. +Most detestable death, by thee beguil’d, +By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown. +O love! O life! Not life, but love in death! + +CAPULET. +Despis’d, distressed, hated, martyr’d, kill’d. +Uncomfortable time, why cam’st thou now +To murder, murder our solemnity? +O child! O child! My soul, and not my child, +Dead art thou. Alack, my child is dead, +And with my child my joys are buried. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Peace, ho, for shame. Confusion’s cure lives not +In these confusions. Heaven and yourself +Had part in this fair maid, now heaven hath all, +And all the better is it for the maid. +Your part in her you could not keep from death, +But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. +The most you sought was her promotion, +For ’twas your heaven she should be advanc’d, +And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc’d +Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? +O, in this love, you love your child so ill +That you run mad, seeing that she is well. +She’s not well married that lives married long, +But she’s best married that dies married young. +Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary +On this fair corse, and, as the custom is, +And in her best array bear her to church; +For though fond nature bids us all lament, +Yet nature’s tears are reason’s merriment. + +CAPULET. +All things that we ordained festival +Turn from their office to black funeral: +Our instruments to melancholy bells, +Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast; +Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change; +Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, +And all things change them to the contrary. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Sir, go you in, and, madam, go with him, +And go, Sir Paris, everyone prepare +To follow this fair corse unto her grave. +The heavens do lower upon you for some ill; +Move them no more by crossing their high will. + + [_Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris and Friar._] + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +Faith, we may put up our pipes and be gone. + +NURSE. +Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up, +For well you know this is a pitiful case. + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. + + [_Exit Nurse._] + + Enter Peter. + +PETER. +Musicians, O, musicians, ‘Heart’s ease,’ ‘Heart’s ease’, O, and you +will have me live, play ‘Heart’s ease.’ + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +Why ‘Heart’s ease’? + +PETER. +O musicians, because my heart itself plays ‘My heart is full’. O play +me some merry dump to comfort me. + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +Not a dump we, ’tis no time to play now. + +PETER. +You will not then? + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +No. + +PETER. +I will then give it you soundly. + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +What will you give us? + +PETER. +No money, on my faith, but the gleek! I will give you the minstrel. + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +Then will I give you the serving-creature. + +PETER. +Then will I lay the serving-creature’s dagger on your pate. I will +carry no crotchets. I’ll re you, I’ll fa you. Do you note me? + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +And you re us and fa us, you note us. + +SECOND MUSICIAN. +Pray you put up your dagger, and put out your wit. + +PETER. +Then have at you with my wit. I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and +put up my iron dagger. Answer me like men. + ‘When griping griefs the heart doth wound, + And doleful dumps the mind oppress, + Then music with her silver sound’— +Why ‘silver sound’? Why ‘music with her silver sound’? What say you, +Simon Catling? + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. + +PETER. +Prates. What say you, Hugh Rebeck? + +SECOND MUSICIAN. +I say ‘silver sound’ because musicians sound for silver. + +PETER. +Prates too! What say you, James Soundpost? + +THIRD MUSICIAN. +Faith, I know not what to say. + +PETER. +O, I cry you mercy, you are the singer. I will say for you. It is +‘music with her silver sound’ because musicians have no gold for +sounding. + ‘Then music with her silver sound + With speedy help doth lend redress.’ + + [_Exit._] + +FIRST MUSICIAN. +What a pestilent knave is this same! + +SECOND MUSICIAN. +Hang him, Jack. Come, we’ll in here, tarry for the mourners, and stay +dinner. + + [_Exeunt._] + + + +ACT V + +SCENE I. Mantua. A Street. + + Enter Romeo. + +ROMEO. +If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, +My dreams presage some joyful news at hand. +My bosom’s lord sits lightly in his throne; +And all this day an unaccustom’d spirit +Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. +I dreamt my lady came and found me dead,— +Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think!— +And breath’d such life with kisses in my lips, +That I reviv’d, and was an emperor. +Ah me, how sweet is love itself possess’d, +When but love’s shadows are so rich in joy. + + Enter Balthasar. + +News from Verona! How now, Balthasar? +Dost thou not bring me letters from the Friar? +How doth my lady? Is my father well? +How fares my Juliet? That I ask again; +For nothing can be ill if she be well. + +BALTHASAR. +Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. +Her body sleeps in Capel’s monument, +And her immortal part with angels lives. +I saw her laid low in her kindred’s vault, +And presently took post to tell it you. +O pardon me for bringing these ill news, +Since you did leave it for my office, sir. + +ROMEO. +Is it even so? Then I defy you, stars! +Thou know’st my lodging. Get me ink and paper, +And hire post-horses. I will hence tonight. + +BALTHASAR. +I do beseech you sir, have patience. +Your looks are pale and wild, and do import +Some misadventure. + +ROMEO. +Tush, thou art deceiv’d. +Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do. +Hast thou no letters to me from the Friar? + +BALTHASAR. +No, my good lord. + +ROMEO. +No matter. Get thee gone, +And hire those horses. I’ll be with thee straight. + + [_Exit Balthasar._] + +Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee tonight. +Let’s see for means. O mischief thou art swift +To enter in the thoughts of desperate men. +I do remember an apothecary,— +And hereabouts he dwells,—which late I noted +In tatter’d weeds, with overwhelming brows, +Culling of simples, meagre were his looks, +Sharp misery had worn him to the bones; +And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, +An alligator stuff’d, and other skins +Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves +A beggarly account of empty boxes, +Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, +Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses +Were thinly scatter’d, to make up a show. +Noting this penury, to myself I said, +And if a man did need a poison now, +Whose sale is present death in Mantua, +Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him. +O, this same thought did but forerun my need, +And this same needy man must sell it me. +As I remember, this should be the house. +Being holiday, the beggar’s shop is shut. +What, ho! Apothecary! + + Enter Apothecary. + +APOTHECARY. +Who calls so loud? + +ROMEO. +Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor. +Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have +A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear +As will disperse itself through all the veins, +That the life-weary taker may fall dead, +And that the trunk may be discharg’d of breath +As violently as hasty powder fir’d +Doth hurry from the fatal cannon’s womb. + +APOTHECARY. +Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantua’s law +Is death to any he that utters them. + +ROMEO. +Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness, +And fear’st to die? Famine is in thy cheeks, +Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, +Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back. +The world is not thy friend, nor the world’s law; +The world affords no law to make thee rich; +Then be not poor, but break it and take this. + +APOTHECARY. +My poverty, but not my will consents. + +ROMEO. +I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. + +APOTHECARY. +Put this in any liquid thing you will +And drink it off; and, if you had the strength +Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight. + +ROMEO. +There is thy gold, worse poison to men’s souls, +Doing more murder in this loathsome world +Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. +I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. +Farewell, buy food, and get thyself in flesh. +Come, cordial and not poison, go with me +To Juliet’s grave, for there must I use thee. + + [_Exeunt._] + +SCENE II. Friar Lawrence’s Cell. + + Enter Friar John. + +FRIAR JOHN. +Holy Franciscan Friar! Brother, ho! + + Enter Friar Lawrence. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +This same should be the voice of Friar John. +Welcome from Mantua. What says Romeo? +Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. + +FRIAR JOHN. +Going to find a barefoot brother out, +One of our order, to associate me, +Here in this city visiting the sick, +And finding him, the searchers of the town, +Suspecting that we both were in a house +Where the infectious pestilence did reign, +Seal’d up the doors, and would not let us forth, +So that my speed to Mantua there was stay’d. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Who bare my letter then to Romeo? + +FRIAR JOHN. +I could not send it,—here it is again,— +Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, +So fearful were they of infection. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Unhappy fortune! By my brotherhood, +The letter was not nice, but full of charge, +Of dear import, and the neglecting it +May do much danger. Friar John, go hence, +Get me an iron crow and bring it straight +Unto my cell. + +FRIAR JOHN. +Brother, I’ll go and bring it thee. + + [_Exit._] + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Now must I to the monument alone. +Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake. +She will beshrew me much that Romeo +Hath had no notice of these accidents; +But I will write again to Mantua, +And keep her at my cell till Romeo come. +Poor living corse, clos’d in a dead man’s tomb. + + [_Exit._] + +SCENE III. A churchyard; in it a Monument belonging to the Capulets. + + Enter Paris, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch. + +PARIS. +Give me thy torch, boy. Hence and stand aloof. +Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. +Under yond yew tree lay thee all along, +Holding thy ear close to the hollow ground; +So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, +Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, +But thou shalt hear it. Whistle then to me, +As signal that thou hear’st something approach. +Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. + +PAGE. +[_Aside._] I am almost afraid to stand alone +Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure. + + [_Retires._] + +PARIS. +Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew. +O woe, thy canopy is dust and stones, +Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, +Or wanting that, with tears distill’d by moans. +The obsequies that I for thee will keep, +Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. + + [_The Page whistles._] + +The boy gives warning something doth approach. +What cursed foot wanders this way tonight, +To cross my obsequies and true love’s rite? +What, with a torch! Muffle me, night, awhile. + + [_Retires._] + + Enter Romeo and Balthasar with a torch, mattock, &c. + +ROMEO. +Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron. +Hold, take this letter; early in the morning +See thou deliver it to my lord and father. +Give me the light; upon thy life I charge thee, +Whate’er thou hear’st or seest, stand all aloof +And do not interrupt me in my course. +Why I descend into this bed of death +Is partly to behold my lady’s face, +But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger +A precious ring, a ring that I must use +In dear employment. Therefore hence, be gone. +But if thou jealous dost return to pry +In what I further shall intend to do, +By heaven I will tear thee joint by joint, +And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs. +The time and my intents are savage-wild; +More fierce and more inexorable far +Than empty tigers or the roaring sea. + +BALTHASAR. +I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. + +ROMEO. +So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that. +Live, and be prosperous, and farewell, good fellow. + +BALTHASAR. +For all this same, I’ll hide me hereabout. +His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. + + [_Retires_] + +ROMEO. +Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, +Gorg’d with the dearest morsel of the earth, +Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, + + [_Breaking open the door of the monument._] + +And in despite, I’ll cram thee with more food. + +PARIS. +This is that banish’d haughty Montague +That murder’d my love’s cousin,—with which grief, +It is supposed, the fair creature died,— +And here is come to do some villanous shame +To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him. + + [_Advances._] + +Stop thy unhallow’d toil, vile Montague. +Can vengeance be pursu’d further than death? +Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee. +Obey, and go with me, for thou must die. + +ROMEO. +I must indeed; and therefore came I hither. +Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man. +Fly hence and leave me. Think upon these gone; +Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, +Put not another sin upon my head +By urging me to fury. O be gone. +By heaven I love thee better than myself; +For I come hither arm’d against myself. +Stay not, be gone, live, and hereafter say, +A madman’s mercy bid thee run away. + +PARIS. +I do defy thy conjuration, +And apprehend thee for a felon here. + +ROMEO. +Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy! + + [_They fight._] + +PAGE. +O lord, they fight! I will go call the watch. + + [_Exit._] + +PARIS. +O, I am slain! [_Falls._] If thou be merciful, +Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. + + [_Dies._] + +ROMEO. +In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face. +Mercutio’s kinsman, noble County Paris! +What said my man, when my betossed soul +Did not attend him as we rode? I think +He told me Paris should have married Juliet. +Said he not so? Or did I dream it so? +Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, +To think it was so? O, give me thy hand, +One writ with me in sour misfortune’s book. +I’ll bury thee in a triumphant grave. +A grave? O no, a lantern, slaught’red youth, +For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes +This vault a feasting presence full of light. +Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr’d. + + [_Laying Paris in the monument._] + +How oft when men are at the point of death +Have they been merry! Which their keepers call +A lightning before death. O, how may I +Call this a lightning? O my love, my wife, +Death that hath suck’d the honey of thy breath, +Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. +Thou art not conquer’d. Beauty’s ensign yet +Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, +And death’s pale flag is not advanced there. +Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? +O, what more favour can I do to thee +Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain +To sunder his that was thine enemy? +Forgive me, cousin. Ah, dear Juliet, +Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe +That unsubstantial death is amorous; +And that the lean abhorred monster keeps +Thee here in dark to be his paramour? +For fear of that I still will stay with thee, +And never from this palace of dim night +Depart again. Here, here will I remain +With worms that are thy chambermaids. O, here +Will I set up my everlasting rest; +And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars +From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last. +Arms, take your last embrace! And, lips, O you +The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss +A dateless bargain to engrossing death. +Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide. +Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on +The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark. +Here’s to my love! [_Drinks._] O true apothecary! +Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. + + [_Dies._] + + Enter, at the other end of the Churchyard, Friar Lawrence, with a + lantern, crow, and spade. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Saint Francis be my speed. How oft tonight +Have my old feet stumbled at graves? Who’s there? +Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead? + +BALTHASAR. +Here’s one, a friend, and one that knows you well. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Bliss be upon you. Tell me, good my friend, +What torch is yond that vainly lends his light +To grubs and eyeless skulls? As I discern, +It burneth in the Capels’ monument. + +BALTHASAR. +It doth so, holy sir, and there’s my master, +One that you love. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Who is it? + +BALTHASAR. +Romeo. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +How long hath he been there? + +BALTHASAR. +Full half an hour. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Go with me to the vault. + +BALTHASAR. +I dare not, sir; +My master knows not but I am gone hence, +And fearfully did menace me with death +If I did stay to look on his intents. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Stay then, I’ll go alone. Fear comes upon me. +O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing. + +BALTHASAR. +As I did sleep under this yew tree here, +I dreamt my master and another fought, +And that my master slew him. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +Romeo! [_Advances._] +Alack, alack, what blood is this which stains +The stony entrance of this sepulchre? +What mean these masterless and gory swords +To lie discolour’d by this place of peace? + + [_Enters the monument._] + +Romeo! O, pale! Who else? What, Paris too? +And steep’d in blood? Ah what an unkind hour +Is guilty of this lamentable chance? +The lady stirs. + + [_Juliet wakes and stirs._] + +JULIET. +O comfortable Friar, where is my lord? +I do remember well where I should be, +And there I am. Where is my Romeo? + + [_Noise within._] + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest +Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep. +A greater power than we can contradict +Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. +Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; +And Paris too. Come, I’ll dispose of thee +Among a sisterhood of holy nuns. +Stay not to question, for the watch is coming. +Come, go, good Juliet. I dare no longer stay. + +JULIET. +Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. + + [_Exit Friar Lawrence._] + +What’s here? A cup clos’d in my true love’s hand? +Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. +O churl. Drink all, and left no friendly drop +To help me after? I will kiss thy lips. +Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, +To make me die with a restorative. + + [_Kisses him._] + +Thy lips are warm! + +FIRST WATCH. +[_Within._] Lead, boy. Which way? + +JULIET. +Yea, noise? Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger. + + [_Snatching Romeo’s dagger._] + +This is thy sheath. [_stabs herself_] There rest, and let me die. + + [_Falls on Romeo’s body and dies._] + + Enter Watch with the Page of Paris. + +PAGE. +This is the place. There, where the torch doth burn. + +FIRST WATCH. +The ground is bloody. Search about the churchyard. +Go, some of you, whoe’er you find attach. + + [_Exeunt some of the Watch._] + +Pitiful sight! Here lies the County slain, +And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, +Who here hath lain this two days buried. +Go tell the Prince; run to the Capulets. +Raise up the Montagues, some others search. + + [_Exeunt others of the Watch._] + +We see the ground whereon these woes do lie, +But the true ground of all these piteous woes +We cannot without circumstance descry. + + Re-enter some of the Watch with Balthasar. + +SECOND WATCH. +Here’s Romeo’s man. We found him in the churchyard. + +FIRST WATCH. +Hold him in safety till the Prince come hither. + + Re-enter others of the Watch with Friar Lawrence. + +THIRD WATCH. Here is a Friar that trembles, sighs, and weeps. +We took this mattock and this spade from him +As he was coming from this churchyard side. + +FIRST WATCH. +A great suspicion. Stay the Friar too. + + Enter the Prince and Attendants. + +PRINCE. +What misadventure is so early up, +That calls our person from our morning’s rest? + + Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet and others. + +CAPULET. +What should it be that they so shriek abroad? + +LADY CAPULET. +O the people in the street cry Romeo, +Some Juliet, and some Paris, and all run +With open outcry toward our monument. + +PRINCE. +What fear is this which startles in our ears? + +FIRST WATCH. +Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain, +And Romeo dead, and Juliet, dead before, +Warm and new kill’d. + +PRINCE. +Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. + +FIRST WATCH. +Here is a Friar, and slaughter’d Romeo’s man, +With instruments upon them fit to open +These dead men’s tombs. + +CAPULET. +O heaven! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds! +This dagger hath mista’en, for lo, his house +Is empty on the back of Montague, +And it mis-sheathed in my daughter’s bosom. + +LADY CAPULET. +O me! This sight of death is as a bell +That warns my old age to a sepulchre. + + Enter Montague and others. + +PRINCE. +Come, Montague, for thou art early up, +To see thy son and heir more early down. + +MONTAGUE. +Alas, my liege, my wife is dead tonight. +Grief of my son’s exile hath stopp’d her breath. +What further woe conspires against mine age? + +PRINCE. +Look, and thou shalt see. + +MONTAGUE. +O thou untaught! What manners is in this, +To press before thy father to a grave? + +PRINCE. +Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, +Till we can clear these ambiguities, +And know their spring, their head, their true descent, +And then will I be general of your woes, +And lead you even to death. Meantime forbear, +And let mischance be slave to patience. +Bring forth the parties of suspicion. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +I am the greatest, able to do least, +Yet most suspected, as the time and place +Doth make against me, of this direful murder. +And here I stand, both to impeach and purge +Myself condemned and myself excus’d. + +PRINCE. +Then say at once what thou dost know in this. + +FRIAR LAWRENCE. +I will be brief, for my short date of breath +Is not so long as is a tedious tale. +Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet, +And she, there dead, that Romeo’s faithful wife. +I married them; and their stol’n marriage day +Was Tybalt’s doomsday, whose untimely death +Banish’d the new-made bridegroom from this city; +For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin’d. +You, to remove that siege of grief from her, +Betroth’d, and would have married her perforce +To County Paris. Then comes she to me, +And with wild looks, bid me devise some means +To rid her from this second marriage, +Or in my cell there would she kill herself. +Then gave I her, so tutored by my art, +A sleeping potion, which so took effect +As I intended, for it wrought on her +The form of death. Meantime I writ to Romeo +That he should hither come as this dire night +To help to take her from her borrow’d grave, +Being the time the potion’s force should cease. +But he which bore my letter, Friar John, +Was stay’d by accident; and yesternight +Return’d my letter back. Then all alone +At the prefixed hour of her waking +Came I to take her from her kindred’s vault, +Meaning to keep her closely at my cell +Till I conveniently could send to Romeo. +But when I came, some minute ere the time +Of her awaking, here untimely lay +The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. +She wakes; and I entreated her come forth +And bear this work of heaven with patience. +But then a noise did scare me from the tomb; +And she, too desperate, would not go with me, +But, as it seems, did violence on herself. +All this I know; and to the marriage +Her Nurse is privy. And if ought in this +Miscarried by my fault, let my old life +Be sacrific’d, some hour before his time, +Unto the rigour of severest law. + +PRINCE. +We still have known thee for a holy man. +Where’s Romeo’s man? What can he say to this? + +BALTHASAR. +I brought my master news of Juliet’s death, +And then in post he came from Mantua +To this same place, to this same monument. +This letter he early bid me give his father, +And threaten’d me with death, going in the vault, +If I departed not, and left him there. + +PRINCE. +Give me the letter, I will look on it. +Where is the County’s Page that rais’d the watch? +Sirrah, what made your master in this place? + +PAGE. +He came with flowers to strew his lady’s grave, +And bid me stand aloof, and so I did. +Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb, +And by and by my master drew on him, +And then I ran away to call the watch. + +PRINCE. +This letter doth make good the Friar’s words, +Their course of love, the tidings of her death. +And here he writes that he did buy a poison +Of a poor ’pothecary, and therewithal +Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. +Where be these enemies? Capulet, Montague, +See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, +That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love! +And I, for winking at your discords too, +Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish’d. + +CAPULET. +O brother Montague, give me thy hand. +This is my daughter’s jointure, for no more +Can I demand. + +MONTAGUE. +But I can give thee more, +For I will raise her statue in pure gold, +That whiles Verona by that name is known, +There shall no figure at such rate be set +As that of true and faithful Juliet. + +CAPULET. +As rich shall Romeo’s by his lady’s lie, +Poor sacrifices of our enmity. + +PRINCE. +A glooming peace this morning with it brings; +The sun for sorrow will not show his head. +Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things. +Some shall be pardon’d, and some punished, +For never was a story of more woe +Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. + + [_Exeunt._] + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROMEO AND JULIET *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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