suffocation to fear."
During the night the temperature of the water rose to 1O below zero.
The injections could not carry it to a higher point. But, as the
congelation of the sea-water produces at least 2O, I was at least
reassured against the dangers of solidification.
The next day, March 27th, six yards of ice had been cleared, twelve
feet only remaining to be cleared away. There was yet forty-eight hours'
work. The air could not be renewed in the interior of the Nautilus. And
this day would make it worse. An intolerable weight oppressed me. Towards
three o'clock in the evening this feeling rose to a violent degree. Yawns
dislocated my jaws. My lungs panted as they inhaled this burning fluid,
which became rarefied more and more. A moral torpor took hold of me. I was
powerless, almost unconscious. My brave Conseil, though exhibiting the
same symptoms and suffering in the same manner, never left me. He took my
hand and encouraged me, and I heard him murmur, "Oh! if I could only not
breathe, so as to leave more air for my master!"
Tears came into my eyes on hearing him speak thus. If our situation to
all was intolerable in the interior, with what haste and gladness would we
put on our cork-jackets to work in our turn! Pickaxes sounded on the
frozen ice-beds. Our arms ached, the skin was torn off our hands. But what
were these fatigues, what did the wounds matter? Vital air came to the
lungs! We breathed! we breathed!
All this time no one prolonged his voluntary task beyond the prescribed
time. His task accomplished, each one handed in turn to his panting
companions the apparatus that supplied him with life. Captain Nemo set the
example, and submitted first to this severe discipline. When the time
came, he gave up his apparatus to another and returned to the vitiated air
on board, calm, unflinching, unmurmuring.
On that day the ordinary work was accomplished with unusual vigour.
Only two yards remained to be raised from the surface. Two yards only
separated us from the open sea. But the reservoirs were nearly emptied of
air. The little that remained ought to be kept for the workers; not a
particle for the Nautilus. When I went back on board, I was half
suffocated. What a night! I know not how to describe it. The next day my
breathing was oppressed. Dizziness accompanied the pain in my head and
made me like a drunken man. My companions showed the same symptoms. Some
of the crew had rattling in the throat.
On that day, the sixth of our imprisonment, Captain Nemo, finding the
pickaxes work too slowly, resolved to crush the ice-bed that still
separated us from the liquid sheet. This man's coolness and energy never
forsook him. He subdued his physical pains by moral force.
By his orders the vessel was lightened, that is to say, raised from the
ice-bed by a change of specific gravity. When it floated they towed it so
as to bring it above the immense trench made on the level of the
water-line. Then, filling his reservoirs of water, he descended and shut
himself up in the hole.
Just then all the crew came on board, and the double door of
communication was shut. The Nautilus then rested on the bed of ice, which
was not one yard thick, and which the sounding leads had perforated in a
thousand places. The taps of the reservoirs were then opened, and a
hundred cubic yards of water was let in, increasing the weight of the
Nautilus to 1,800 tons. We waited, we listened, forgetting our sufferings
in hope. Our safety depended on this last chance. Notwithstanding the
buzzing in my head, I soon heard the humming sound under the hull of the
Nautilus. The ice cracked with a singular noise, like tearing paper, and
the Nautilus sank.
"We are off!" murmured Conseil in my ear.
I could not answer him. I seized his hand, and pressed it convulsively.
All at once, carried away by its frightful overcharge, the Nautilus sank
like a bullet under the waters, that is to say, it fell as if it was in a
vacuum. Then all the electric force was put on the pumps, that soon began
to let the water out of the reservoirs. After some minutes, our fall was
stopped. Soon, too, the manometer indicated an ascending movement. The
screw, going at full speed, made the iron hull tremble to its very bolts
and drew us towards the north. But if this floating under the iceberg is
to last another day before we reach the open sea, I shall be dead first.
Half stretched upon a divan in the library, I was suffocating. My face
was purple, my lips blue, my faculties suspended. I neither saw nor heard.
All notion of time had gone from my mind. My muscles could not contract. I
do not know how many hours passed thus, but I was conscious of the agony
that was coming over me. I felt as if I was going to die. Suddenly I came
to. Some breaths of air penetrated my lungs. Had we risen to the surface
of the waves? Were we free of the iceberg? No! Ned and Conseil, my two
brave friends, were sacrificing themselves to save me. Some particles of
air still remained at the bottom of one apparatus. Instead of using it,
they had kept it for me, and, while they were being suffocated, they gave
me life, drop by drop. I wanted to push back the thing; they held my
hands, and for some moments I breathed freely. I looked at the clock; it
was eleven in the morning. It ought to be the 28th of March. The Nautilus
went at a frightful pace, forty miles an hour. It literally tore through
the water. Where was Captain Nemo? Had he succumbed? Were his companions
dead with him? At the moment the manometer indicated that we were not more
than twenty feet from the surface. A mere plate of ice separated us from
the atmosphere. Could we not break it? Perhaps. In any case the Nautilus
was going to attempt it. I felt that it was in an oblique position,
lowering the stern, and raising the bows. The introduction of water had
been the means of disturbing its equilibrium. Then, impelled by its
powerful screw, it attacked the ice-field from beneath like a formidable
battering-ram. It broke it by backing and then rushing forward against the
field, which gradually gave way; and at last, dashing suddenly against it,
shot forwards on the ice-field, that crushed beneath its weight. The panel
was opened-one might say torn off-and the pure air came in in abundance to
all parts of the Nautilus.
How I got on to the platform, I have no idea; perhaps the Canadian had
carried me there. But I breathed, I inhaled the vivifying sea-air. My two
companions were getting drunk with the fresh particles. The other unhappy
men had been so long without food, that they could not with impunity
indulge in the simplest aliments that were given them. We, on the
contrary, had no end to restrain ourselves; we could draw this air freely
into our lungs, and it was the breeze, the breeze alone, that filled us
with this keen enjoyment.
"Ah!" said Conseil, "how delightful this oxygen is! Master need not
fear to breathe it. There is enough for everybody."
Ned Land did not speak, but he opened his jaws wide enough to frighten
a shark. Our strength soon returned, and, when I looked round me, I saw we
were alone on the platform. The foreign seamen in the Nautilus were
contented with the air that circulated in the interior; none of them had
come to drink in the open air.
The first words I spoke were words of gratitude and thankfulness to my
two companions. Ned and Conseil had prolonged my life during the last
hours of this long agony. All my gratitude could not repay such devotion.
"My friends," said I, "we are bound one to the other for ever, and I am
under infinite obligations to you."
"Which I shall take advantage of," exclaimed the Canadian.
"What do you mean?" said Conseil.
"I mean that I shall take you with me when I leave this infernal
Nautilus."
"Well," said Conseil, "after all this, are we going right?"
"Yes," I replied, "for we are going the way of the sun, and here the
sun is in the north."
"No doubt," said Ned Land; "but it remains to be seen whether he will
bring the ship into the Pacific or the Atlantic Ocean, that is, into
frequented or deserted seas."
I could not answer that question, and I feared that Captain Nemo would
rather take us to the vast ocean that touches the coasts of Asia and
America at the same time. He would thus complete the tour round the
submarine world, and return to those waters in which the Nautilus could
sail freely. We ought, before long, to settle this important point. The
Nautilus went at a rapid pace. The polar circle was soon passed, and the
course shaped for Cape Horn. We were off the American point, March 31st,
at seven o'clock in the evening. Then all our past sufferings were
forgotten. The remembrance of that imprisonment in the ice was effaced
from our minds. We only thought of the future. Captain Nemo did not appear
again either in the drawing-room or on the platform. The point shown each
day on the planisphere, and, marked by the lieutenant, showed me the exact
direction of the Nautilus. Now, on that evening, it was evident, to, my
great satisfaction, that we were going back to the North by the Atlantic.
The next day, April 1st, when the Nautilus ascended to the surface some
minutes before noon, we sighted land to the west. It was Terra del Fuego,
which the first navigators named thus from seeing the quantity of smoke
that rose from the natives' huts. The coast seemed low to me, but in the
distance rose high mountains. I even thought I had a glimpse of Mount
Sarmiento, that rises 2,070 yards above the level of the sea, with a very
pointed summit, which, according as it is misty or clear, is a sign of
fine or of wet weather. At this moment the peak was clearly defined
against the sky. The Nautilus, diving again under the water, approached
the coast, which was only some few miles off. From the glass windows in
the drawing-room, I saw long seaweeds and gigantic fuci and varech, of
which the open polar sea contains so many specimens, with their sharp
polished filaments; they measured about 300 yards in length- real cables,
thicker than one's thumb; and, having great tenacity, they are often used
as ropes for vessels. Another weed known as velp, with leaves four feet
long, buried in the coral concretions, hung at the bottom. It served as
nest and food for myriads of crustacea and molluscs, crabs, and
cuttlefish. There seals and otters had splendid repasts, eating the flesh
of fish with sea-vegetables, according to the English fashion. Over this
fertile and luxuriant ground the Nautilus passed with great rapidity.
Towards evening it approached the Falkland group, the rough summits of
which I recognised the following day. The depth of the sea was moderate.
On the shores our nets brought in beautiful specimens of sea weed, and
particularly a certain fucus, the roots of which were filled with the best
mussels in the world. Geese and ducks fell by dozens on the platform, and
soon took their places in the pantry on board.
When the last heights of the Falklands had disappeared from the
horizon, the Nautilus sank to between twenty and twenty-five yards, and
followed the American coast. Captain Nemo did not show himself. Until the
3rd of April we did not quit the shores of Patagonia, sometimes under the
ocean, sometimes at the surface. The Nautilus passed beyond the large
estuary formed by the Uraguay. Its direction was northwards, and followed
the long windings of the coast of South America. We had then made 1,600
miles since our embarkation in the seas of Japan. About eleven o'clock in
the morning the Tropic of Capricorn was crossed on the thirty-seventh
meridian, and we passed Cape Frio standing out to sea. Captain Nemo, to
Ned Land's great displeasure, did not like the neighbourhood of the
inhabited coasts of Brazil, for we went at a giddy speed. Not a fish, not
a bird of the swiftest kind could follow us, and the natural curiosities
of these seas escaped all observation.
This speed was kept up for several days, and in the evening of the 9th
of April we sighted the most westerly point of South America that forms
Cape San Roque. But then the Nautilus swerved again, and sought the lowest
depth of a submarine valley which is between this Cape and Sierra Leone on
the African coast. This valley bifurcates to the parallel of the Antilles,
and terminates at the mouth by the enormous depression of 9,000 yards. In
this place, the geological basin of the ocean forms, as far as the Lesser
Antilles, a cliff to three and a half miles perpendicular in height, and,
at the parallel of the Cape Verde Islands, an other wall not less
considerable, that encloses thus all the sunk continent of the Atlantic.
The bottom of this immense valley is dotted with some mountains, that give
to these submarine places a picturesque aspect. I speak, moreover, from
the manuscript charts that were in the library of the Nautilus-charts
evidently due to Captain Nemo's hand, and made after his personal
observations. For two days the desert and deep waters were visited by
means of the inclined planes. The Nautilus was furnished with long
diagonal broadsides which carried it to all elevations. But on the 11th of
April it rose suddenly, and land appeared at the mouth of the Amazon
River, a vast estuary, the embouchure of which is so considerable that it
freshens the sea-water for the distance of several leagues. {8 paragraphs
are deleted from this edition}
For several days the Nautilus kept off from the American coast.
Evidently it did not wish to risk the tides of the Gulf of Mexico or of
the sea of the Antilles. April 16th, we sighted Martinique and Guadaloupe
from a distance of about thirty miles. I saw their tall peaks for an
instant. The Canadian, who counted on carrying out his projects in the
Gulf, by either landing or hailing one of the numerous boats that coast
from one island to another, was quite disheartened. Flight would have been
quite practicable, if Ned Land had been able to take possession of the
boat without the Captain's knowledge. But in the open sea it could not be
thought of. The Canadian, Conseil, and I had a long conversation on this
subject. For six months we had been prisoners on board the Nautilus. We
had travelled 17,000 leagues; and, as Ned Land said, there was no reason
why it should come to an end. We could hope nothing from the Captain of
the Nautilus, but only from ourselves. Besides, for some time past he had
become graver, more retired, less sociable. He seemed to shun me. I met
him rarely. Formerly he was pleased to explain the submarine marvels to
me; now he left me to my studies, and came no more to the saloon. What
change had come over him? For what cause? For my part, I did not wish to
bury with me my curious and novel studies. I had now the power to write
the true book of the sea; and this book, sooner or later, I wished to see
daylight. The land nearest us was the archipelago of the Bahamas. There
rose high submarine cliffs covered with large weeds. It was about eleven
o'clock when Ned Land drew my attention to a formidable pricking, like the
sting of an ant, which was produced by means of large seaweeds.
"Well," I said, "these are proper caverns for poulps, and I should not
be astonished to see some of these monsters."
"What!" said Conseil; "cuttlefish, real cuttlefish of the cephalopod
class?"
"No," I said, "poulps of huge dimensions."
"I will never believe that such animals exist," said Ned.
"Well," said Conseil, with the most serious air in the world, "I
remember perfectly to have seen a large vessel drawn under the waves by an
octopus's arm."
"You saw that?" said the Canadian.
"Yes, Ned."
"With your own eyes?"
"With my own eyes."
"Where, pray, might that be?"
"At St. Malo," answered Conseil.
"In the port?" said Ned, ironically.
"No; in a church," replied Conseil.
"In a church!" cried the Canadian.
"Yes; friend Ned. In a picture representing the poulp in question."
"Good!" said Ned Land, bursting out laughing.
"He is quite right," I said. "I have heard of this picture; but the
subject represented is taken from a legend, and you know what to think of
legends in the matter of natural history. Besides, when it is a question
of monsters, the imagination is apt to run wild. Not only is it supposed
that these poulps can draw down vessels, but a certain Olaus Magnus speaks
of an octopus a mile long that is more like an island than an animal. It
is also said that the Bishop of Nidros was building an altar on an immense
rock. Mass finished, the rock began to walk, and returned to the sea. The
rock was a poulp. Another Bishop, Pontoppidan, speaks also of a poulp on
which a regiment of cavalry could manoeuvre. Lastly, the ancient
naturalists speak of monsters whose mouths were like gulfs, and which were
too large to pass through the Straits of Gibraltar."
"But how much is true of these stories?" asked Conseil.
"Nothing, my friends; at least of that which passes the limit of truth
to get to fable or legend. Nevertheless, there must be some ground for the
imagination of the story-tellers. One cannot deny that poulps and
cuttlefish exist of a large species, inferior, however, to the cetaceans.
Aristotle has stated the dimensions of a cuttlefish as five cubits, or
nine feet two inches. Our fishermen frequently see some that are more than
four feet long. Some skeletons of poulps are preserved in the museums of
Trieste and Montpelier, that measure two yards in length. Besides,
according to the calculations of some naturalists, one of these animals
only six feet long would have tentacles twenty-seven feet long. That would
suffice to make a formidable monster."
"Do they fish for them in these days?" asked Ned.
"If they do not fish for them, sailors see them at least. One of my
friends, Captain Paul Bos of Havre, has often affirmed that he met one of
these monsters of colossal dimensions in the Indian seas. But the most
astonishing fact, and which does not permit of the denial of the existence
of these gigantic animals, happened some years ago, in 1861."
"What is the fact?" asked Ned Land.
"This is it. In 1861, to the north-east of Teneriffe, very nearly in
the same latitude we are in now, the crew of the despatch-boat Alector
perceived a monstrous cuttlefish swimming in the waters. Captain Bouguer
went near to the animal, and attacked it with harpoon and guns, without
much success, for balls and harpoons glided over the soft flesh. After
several fruitless attempts the crew tried to pass a slip-knot round the
body of the mollusc. The noose slipped as far as the tail fins and there
stopped. They tried then to haul it on board, but its weight was so
considerable that the tightness of the cord separated the tail from the
body, and, deprived of this ornament, he disappeared under the water."
"Indeed! is that a fact?"
"An indisputable fact, my good Ned. They proposed to name this poulp
`Bouguer's cuttlefish.'"
"What length was it?" asked the Canadian.
"Did it not measure about six yards?" said Conseil, who, posted at the
window, was examining again the irregular windings of the cliff.
"Precisely," I replied.
"Its head," rejoined Conseil, "was it not crowned with eight tentacles,
that beat the water like a nest of serpents?"
"Precisely."
"Had not its eyes, placed at the back of its head, considerable
development?"
"Yes, Conseil."
"And was not its mouth like a parrot's beak?"
"Exactly, Conseil."
"Very well! no offence to master," he replied, quietly; "if this is not
Bouguer's cuttlefish, it is, at least, one of its brothers."
I looked at Conseil. Ned Land hurried to the window.
"What a horrible beast!" he cried.
I looked in my turn, and could not repress a gesture of disgust. Before
my eyes was a horrible monster worthy to figure in the legends of the
marvellous. It was an immense cuttlefish, being eight yards long. It swam
crossways in the direction of the Nautilus with great speed, watching us
with its enormous staring green eyes. Its eight arms, or rather feet,
fixed to its head, that have given the name of cephalopod to these
animals, were twice as long as its body, and were twisted like the furies'
hair. One could see the 250 air holes on the inner side of the tentacles.
The monster's mouth, a horned beak like a parrot's, opened and shut
vertically. Its tongue, a horned substance, furnished with several rows of
pointed teeth, came out quivering from this veritable pair of shears. What
a freak of nature, a bird's beak on a mollusc! Its spindle-like body
formed a fleshy mass that might weigh 4,000 to 5,000 lb.; the, varying
colour changing with great rapidity, according to the irritation of the
animal, passed successively from livid grey to reddish brown. What
irritated this mollusc? No doubt the presence of the Nautilus, more
formidable than itself, and on which its suckers or its jaws had no hold.
Yet, what monsters these poulps are! what vitality the Creator has given
them! what vigour in their movements! and they possess three hearts!
Chance had brought us in presence of this cuttlefish, and I did not wish
to lose the opportunity of carefully studying this specimen of
cephalopods. I overcame the horror that inspired me, and, taking a pencil,
began to draw it.
"Perhaps this is the same which the Alector saw," said Conseil.
"No," replied the Canadian; "for this is whole, and the other had lost
its tail."
"That is no reason," I replied. "The arms and tails of these animals
are re-formed by renewal; and in seven years the tail of Bouguer's
cuttlefish has no doubt had time to grow."
By this time other poulps appeared at the port light. I counted seven.
They formed a procession after the Nautilus, and I heard their beaks
gnashing against the iron hull. I continued my work. These monsters kept
in the water with such precision that they seemed immovable. Suddenly the
Nautilus stopped. A shock made it tremble in every plate.
"Have we struck anything?" I asked.
"In any case," replied the Canadian, "we shall be free, for we are
floating."
The Nautilus was floating, no doubt, but it did not move. A minute
passed. Captain Nemo, followed by his lieutenant, entered the
drawing-room. I had not seen him for some time. He seemed dull. Without
noticing or speaking to us, he went to the panel, looked at the poulps,
and said something to his lieutenant. The latter went out. Soon the panels
were shut. The ceiling was lighted. I went towards the Captain.
"A curious collection of poulps?" I said.
"Yes, indeed, Mr. Naturalist," he replied; "and we are going to fight
them, man to beast."
I looked at him. I thought I had not heard aright.
"Man to beast?" I repeated.
"Yes, sir. The screw is stopped. I think that the horny jaws of one of
the cuttlefish is entangled in the blades. That is what prevents our
moving."
"What are you going to do?"
"Rise to the surface, and slaughter this vermin."
"A difficult enterprise."
"Yes, indeed. The electric bullets are powerless against the soft
flesh, where they do not find resistance enough to go off. But we shall
attack them with the hatchet."
"And the harpoon, sir," said the Canadian, "if you do not refuse my
help."
"I will accept it, Master Land."
"We will follow you," I said, and, following Captain Nemo, we went
towards the central staircase.
There, about ten men with boarding-hatchets were ready for the attack.
Conseil and I took two hatchets; Ned Land seized a harpoon. The Nautilus
had then risen to the surface. One of the sailors, posted on the top
ladderstep, unscrewed the bolts of the panels. But hardly were the screws
loosed, when the panel rose with great violence, evidently drawn by the
suckers of a poulp's arm. Immediately one of these arms slid like a
serpent down the opening and twenty others were above. With one blow of
the axe, Captain Nemo cut this formidable tentacle, that slid wriggling
down the ladder. Just as we were pressing one on the other to reach the
platform, two other arms, lashing the air, came down on the seaman placed
before Captain Nemo, and lifted him up with irresistible power. Captain
Nemo uttered a cry, and rushed out. We hurried after him.
What a scene! The unhappy man, seized by the tentacle and fixed to the
suckers, was balanced in the air at the caprice of this enormous trunk. He
rattled in his throat, he was stifled, he cried, "Help! help!" These
words, spoken in French, startled me! I had a fellow-countryman on board,
perhaps several! That heart-rending cry! I shall hear it all my life. The
unfortunate man was lost. Who could rescue him from that powerful
pressure? However, Captain Nemo had rushed to the poulp, and with one blow
of the axe had cut through one arm. His lieutenant struggled furiously
against other monsters that crept on the flanks of the Nautilus. The crew
fought with their axes. The Canadian, Conseil, and I buried our weapons in
the fleshy masses; a strong smell of musk penetrated the atmosphere. It
was horrible!
For one instant, I thought the unhappy man, entangled with the poulp,
would be torn from its powerful suction. Seven of the eight arms had been
cut off. One only wriggled in the air, brandishing the victim like a
feather. But just as Captain Nemo and his lieutenant threw themselves on
it, the animal ejected a stream of black liquid. We were blinded with it.
When the cloud dispersed, the cuttlefish had disappeared, and my
unfortunate countryman with it. Ten or twelve poulps now invaded the
platform and sides of the Nautilus. We rolled pell-mell into the midst of
this nest of serpents, that wriggled on the platform in the waves of blood
and ink. It seemed as though these slimy tentacles sprang up like the
hydra's heads. Ned Land's harpoon, at each stroke, was plunged into the
staring eyes of the cuttle fish. But my bold companion was suddenly
overturned by the tentacles of a monster he had not been able to avoid.
Ah! how my heart beat with emotion and horror! The formidable beak of a
cuttlefish was open over Ned Land. The unhappy man would be cut in two. I
rushed to his succour. But Captain Nemo was before me; his axe disappeared
between the two enormous jaws, and, miraculously saved, the Canadian,
rising, plunged his harpoon deep into the triple heart of the poulp.
"I owed myself this revenge!" said the Captain to the Canadian.
Ned bowed without replying. The combat had lasted a quarter of an hour.
The monsters, vanquished and mutilated, left us at last, and disappeared
under the waves. Captain Nemo, covered with blood, nearly exhausted, gazed
upon the sea that had swallowed up one of his companions, and great tears
gathered in his eyes.
This terrible scene of the 20th of April none of us can ever forget. I
have written it under the influence of violent emotion. Since then I have
revised the recital; I have read it to Conseil and to the Canadian. They
found it exact as to facts, but insufficient as to effect. To paint such
pictures, one must have the pen of the most illustrious of our poets, the
author of The Toilers of the Deep.
I have said that Captain Nemo wept while watching the waves; his grief
was great. It was the second companion he had lost since our arrival on
board, and what a death! That friend, crushed, stifled, bruised by the
dreadful arms of a poulp, pounded by his iron jaws, would not rest with
his comrades in the peaceful coral cemetery! In the midst of the struggle,
it was the despairing cry uttered by the unfortunate man that had torn my
heart. The poor Frenchman, forgetting his conventional language, had taken
to his own mother tongue, to utter a last appeal! Amongst the crew of the
Nautilus, associated with the body and soul of the Captain, recoiling like
him from all contact with men, I had a fellow-countryman. Did he alone
represent France in this mysterious association, evidently composed of
individuals of divers nationalities? It was one of these insoluble
problems that rose up unceasingly before my mind!
Captain Nemo entered his room, and I saw him no more for some time. But
that he was sad and irresolute I could see by the vessel, of which he was
the soul, and which received all his impressions. The Nautilus did not
keep on in its settled course; it floated about like a corpse at the will
of the waves. It went at random. He could not tear himself away from the
scene of the last struggle, from this sea that had devoured one of his
men. Ten days passed thus. It was not till the 1st of May that the
Nautilus resumed its northerly course, after having sighted the Bahamas at
the mouth of the Bahama Canal. We were then following the current from the
largest river to the sea, that has its banks, its fish, and its proper
temperatures. I mean the Gulf Stream. It is really a river, that flows
freely to the middle of the Atlantic, and whose waters do not mix with the
ocean waters. It is a salt river, salter than the surrounding sea. Its
mean depth is 1,500 fathoms, its mean breadth ten miles. In certain places
the current flows with the speed of two miles and a half an hour. The body
of its waters is more considerable than that of all the rivers in the
globe. It was on this ocean river that the Nautilus then sailed.
I must add that, during the night, the phosphorescent waters of the
Gulf Stream rivalled the electric power of our watch-light, especially in
the stormy weather that threatened us so frequently. May 8th, we were
still crossing Cape Hatteras, at the height of the North Caroline. The
width of the Gulf Stream there is seventy-five miles, and its depth 210
yards. The Nautilus still went at random; all supervision seemed
abandoned. I thought that, under these circumstances, escape would be
possible. Indeed, the inhabited shores offered anywhere an easy refuge.
The sea was incessantly ploughed by the steamers that ply between New York
or Boston and the Gulf of Mexico, and overrun day and night by the little
schooners coasting about the several parts of the American coast. We could
hope to be picked up. It was a favourable opportunity, notwithstanding the
thirty miles that separated the Nautilus from the coasts of the Union. One
unfortunate circumstance thwarted the Canadian's plans. The weather was
very bad. We were nearing those shores where tempests are so frequent,
that country of waterspouts and cyclones actually engendered by the
current of the Gulf Stream. To tempt the sea in a frail boat was certain
destruction. Ned Land owned this himself. He fretted, seized with
nostalgia that flight only could cure.
"Master," he said that day to me, "this must come to an end. I must
make a clean breast of it. This Nemo is leaving land and going up to the
north. But I declare to you that I have had enough of the South Pole, and
I will not follow him to the North."
"What is to be done, Ned, since flight is impracticable just now?"
"We must speak to the Captain," said he; "you said nothing when we were
in your native seas. I will speak, now we are in mine. When I think that
before long the Nautilus will be by Nova Scotia, and that there near New
foundland is a large bay, and into that bay the St. Lawrence empties
itself, and that the St. Lawrence is my river, the river by Quebec, my
native town-when I think of this, I feel furious, it makes my hair stand
on end. Sir, I would rather throw myself into the sea! I will not stay
here! I am stifled!"
The Canadian was evidently losing all patience. His vigorous nature
could not stand this prolonged imprisonment. His face altered daily; his
temper became more surly. I knew what he must suffer, for I was seized
with home-sickness myself. Nearly seven months had passed without our
having had any news from land; Captain Nemo's isolation, his altered
spirits, especially since the fight with the poulps, his taciturnity, all
made me view things in a different light.
"Well, sir?" said Ned, seeing I did not reply.
"Well, Ned, do you wish me to ask Captain Nemo his intentions
concerning us?"
"Yes, sir."
"Although he has already made them known?"
"Yes; I wish it settled finally. Speak for me, in my name only, if you
like."
"But I so seldom meet him. He avoids me."
"That is all the more reason for you to go to see him."
I went to my room. From thence I meant to go to Captain Nemo's. It
would not do to let this opportunity of meeting him slip. I knocked at the
door. No answer. I knocked again, then turned the handle. The door opened,
I went in. The Captain was there. Bending over his work-table, he had not
heard me. Resolved not to go without having spoken, I approached him. He
raised his head quickly, frowned, and said roughly, "You here! What do you
want?"
"To speak to you, Captain."
"But I am busy, sir; I am working. I leave you at liberty to shut
yourself up; cannot I be allowed the same?"
This reception was not encouraging; but I was determined to hear and
answer everything.
"Sir," I said coldly, "I have to speak to you on a matter that admits
of no delay."
"What is that, sir?" he replied, ironically. "Have you discovered
something that has escaped me, or has the sea delivered up any new
secrets?"
We were at cross-purposes. But, before I could reply, he showed me an
open manuscript on his table, and said, in a more serious tone, "Here, M.
Aronnax, is a manuscript written in several languages. It contains the sum
of my studies of the sea; and, if it please God, it shall not perish with
me. This manuscript, signed with my name, complete with the history of my
life, will be shut up in a little floating case. The last survivor of all
of us on board the Nautilus will throw this case into the sea, and it will
go whither it is borne by the waves."
This man's name! his history written by himself! His mystery would then
be revealed some day.
"Captain," I said, "I can but approve of the idea that makes you act
thus. The result of your studies must not be lost. But the means you
employ seem to me to be primitive. Who knows where the winds will carry
this case, and in whose hands it will fall? Could you not use some other
means? Could not you, or one of yours-"
"Never, sir!" he said, hastily interrupting me.
"But I and my companions are ready to keep this manuscript in store;
and, if you will put us at liberty-"
"At liberty?" said the Captain, rising.
"Yes, sir; that is the subject on which I wish to question you. For
seven months we have been here on board, and I ask you to-day, in the name
of my companions and in my own, if your intention is to keep us here
always?"
"M. Aronnax, I will answer you to-day as I did seven months ago:
Whoever enters the Nautilus, must never quit it."
"You impose actual slavery upon us!"
"Give it what name you please."
"But everywhere the slave has the right to regain his liberty."
"Who denies you this right? Have I ever tried to chain you with an
oath?"
He looked at me with his arms crossed.
"Sir," I said, "to return a second time to this subject will be neither
to your nor to my taste; but, as we have entered upon it, let us go
through with it. I repeat, it is not only myself whom it concerns. Study
is to me a relief, a diversion, a passion that could make me forget
everything. Like you, I am willing to live obscure, in the frail hope of
bequeathing one day, to future time, the result of my labours. But it is
otherwise with Ned Land. Every man, worthy of the name, deserves some
consideration. Have you thought that love of liberty, hatred of slavery,
can give rise to schemes of revenge in a nature like the Canadian's; that
he could think, attempt, and try-"
I was silenced; Captain Nemo rose.
"Whatever Ned Land thinks of, attempts, or tries, what does it matter
to me? I did not seek him! It is not for my pleasure that I keep him on
board! As for you, M. Aronnax, you are one of those who can understand
everything, even silence. I have nothing more to say to you. Let this
first time you have come to treat of this subject be the last, for a
second time I will not listen to you."
I retired. Our situation was critical. I related my conversation to my
two companions.
"We know now," said Ned, "that we can expect nothing from this man. The
Nautilus is nearing Long Island. We will escape, whatever the weather may
be."
But the sky became more and more threatening. Symptoms of a hurricane
became manifest. The atmosphere was becoming white and misty. On the
horizon fine streaks of cirrhous clouds were succeeded by masses of
cumuli. Other low clouds passed swiftly by. The swollen sea rose in huge
billows. The birds disappeared with the exception of the petrels, those
friends of the storm. The barometer fell sensibly, and indicated an
extreme extension of the vapours. The mixture of the storm glass was
decomposed under the influence of the electricity that pervaded the
atmosphere. The tempest burst on the 18th of May, just as the Nautilus was
floating off Long Island, some miles from the port of New York. I can
describe this strife of the elements! for, instead of fleeing to the
depths of the sea, Captain Nemo, by an unaccountable caprice, would brave
it at the surface. The wind blew from the south-west at first. Captain
Nemo, during the squalls, had taken his place on the platform. He had made
himself fast, to prevent being washed overboard by the monstrous waves. I
had hoisted myself up, and made myself fast also, dividing my admiration
between the tempest and this extraordinary man who was coping with it. The
raging sea was swept by huge cloud-drifts, which were actually saturated
with the waves. The Nautilus, sometimes lying on its side, sometimes
standing up like a mast, rolled and pitched terribly. About five o'clock a
torrent of rain fell, that lulled neither sea nor wind. The hurri cane
blew nearly forty leagues an hour. It is under these conditions that it
overturns houses, breaks iron gates, displaces twenty-four pounders.
However, the Nautilus, in the midst of the tempest, confirmed the words of
a clever engineer, "There is no well-constructed hull that cannot defy the
sea." This was not a resisting rock; it was a steel spindle, obedient and
movable, without rigging or masts, that braved its fury with impunity.
However, I watched these raging waves attentively. They measured fifteen
feet in height, and 150 to 175 yards long, and their speed of propagation
was thirty feet per second. Their bulk and power increased with the depth
of the water. Such waves as these, at the Hebrides, have displaced a mass
weighing 8,400 lb. They are they which, in the tempest of December 23rd,
1864, after destroying the town of Yeddo, in Japan, broke the same day on
the shores of America. The intensity of the tempest increased with the
night. The barometer, as in 1860 at Reunion during a cyclone, fell
seven-tenths at the close of day. I saw a large vessel pass the horizon
struggling painfully. She was trying to lie to under half steam, to keep
up above the waves. It was probably one of the steamers of the line from
New York to Liverpool, or Havre. It soon disappeared in the gloom. At ten
o'clock in the evening the sky was on fire. The atmosphere was streaked
with vivid lightning. I could not bear the brightness of it; while the
captain, looking at it, seemed to envy the spirit of the tempest. A
terrible noise filled the air, a complex noise, made up of the howls of
the crushed waves, the roaring of the wind, and the claps of thunder. The
wind veered suddenly to all points of the horizon; and the cyclone, rising
in the east, returned after passing by the north, west, and south, in the
inverse course pursued by the circular storm of the southern hemisphere.
Ah, that Gulf Stream! It deserves its name of the King of Tempests. It is
that which causes those formidable cyclones, by the difference of
temperature between its air and its currents. A shower of fire had
succeeded the rain. The drops of water were changed to sharp spikes. One
would have thought that Captain Nemo was courting a death worthy of
himself, a death by lightning. As the Nautilus, pitching dreadfully,
raised its steel spur in the air, it seemed to act as a conductor, and I
saw long sparks burst from it. Crushed and without strength I crawled to
the panel, opened it, and descended to the saloon. The storm was then at
its height. It was impossible to stand upright in the interior of the
Nautilus. Captain Nemo came down about twelve. I heard the reservoirs
filling by degrees, and the Nautilus sank slowly beneath the waves.
Through the open windows in the saloon I saw large fish terrified, passing
like phantoms in the water. Some were struck before my eyes. The Nautilus
was still descending. I thought that at about eight fathoms deep we should
find a calm. But no! the upper beds were too violently agitated for that.
We had to seek repose at more than twenty-five fathoms in the bowels of
the deep. But there, what quiet, what silence, what peace! Who could have
told that such a hurricane had been let loose on the surface of that
ocean?
In consequence of the storm, we had been thrown eastward once more. All
hope of escape on the shores of New York or St. Lawrence had faded away;
and poor Ned, in despair, had isolated himself like Captain Nemo. Conseil
and I, however, never left each other. I said that the Nautilus had gone
aside to the east. I should have said (to be more exact) the north-east.
For some days, it wandered first on the surface, and then beneath it, amid
those fogs so dreaded by sailors. What accidents are due to these thick
fogs! What shocks upon these reefs when the wind drowns the breaking of
the waves! What collisions between vessels, in spite of their warning
lights, whistles, and alarm bells! And the bottoms of these seas look like
a field of battle, where still lie all the conquered of the ocean; some
old and already encrusted, others fresh and reflecting from their iron
bands and copper plates the brilliancy of our lantern.
On the 15th of May we were at the extreme south of the Bank of
Newfoundland. This bank consists of alluvia, or large heaps of organic
matter, brought either from the Equator by the Gulf Stream, or from the
North Pole by the counter-current of cold water which skirts the American
coast. There also are heaped up those erratic blocks which are carried
along by the broken ice; and close by, a vast charnel-house of molluscs,
which perish here by millions. The depth of the sea is not great at
Newfoundland-not more than some hundreds of fathoms; but towards the south
is a depression of 1,500 fathoms. There the Gulf Stream widens. It loses
some of its speed and some of its temperature, but it becomes a sea.
It was on the 17th of May, about 500 miles from Heart's Content, at a
depth of more than 1,400 fathoms, that I saw the electric cable lying on
the bottom. Conseil, to whom I had not mentioned it, thought at first that
it was a gigantic sea-serpent. But I undeceived the worthy fellow, and by
way of consolation related several particulars in the laying of this
cable. The first one was laid in the years 1857 and 1858; but, after
transmitting about 400 telegrams, would not act any longer. In 1863 the
engineers constructed an other one, measuring 2,000 miles in length, and
weighing 4,500 tons, which was embarked on the Great Eastern. This attempt
also failed.
On the 25th of May the Nautilus, being at a depth of more than 1,918
fathoms, was on the precise spot where the rupture occurred which ruined
the enterprise. It was within 638 miles of the coast of Ireland; and at
half-past two in the afternoon they discovered that communication with
Europe had ceased. The electricians on board resolved to cut the cable
before fishing it up, and at eleven o'clock at night they had recovered
the damaged part. They made another point and spliced it, and it was once
more submerged. But some days after it broke again, and in the depths of
the ocean could not be recaptured. The Americans, however, were not
discouraged. Cyrus Field, the bold promoter of the enterprise, as he had
During the night the temperature of the water rose to 1O below zero.
The injections could not carry it to a higher point. But, as the
congelation of the sea-water produces at least 2O, I was at least
reassured against the dangers of solidification.
The next day, March 27th, six yards of ice had been cleared, twelve
feet only remaining to be cleared away. There was yet forty-eight hours'
work. The air could not be renewed in the interior of the Nautilus. And
this day would make it worse. An intolerable weight oppressed me. Towards
three o'clock in the evening this feeling rose to a violent degree. Yawns
dislocated my jaws. My lungs panted as they inhaled this burning fluid,
which became rarefied more and more. A moral torpor took hold of me. I was
powerless, almost unconscious. My brave Conseil, though exhibiting the
same symptoms and suffering in the same manner, never left me. He took my
hand and encouraged me, and I heard him murmur, "Oh! if I could only not
breathe, so as to leave more air for my master!"
Tears came into my eyes on hearing him speak thus. If our situation to
all was intolerable in the interior, with what haste and gladness would we
put on our cork-jackets to work in our turn! Pickaxes sounded on the
frozen ice-beds. Our arms ached, the skin was torn off our hands. But what
were these fatigues, what did the wounds matter? Vital air came to the
lungs! We breathed! we breathed!
All this time no one prolonged his voluntary task beyond the prescribed
time. His task accomplished, each one handed in turn to his panting
companions the apparatus that supplied him with life. Captain Nemo set the
example, and submitted first to this severe discipline. When the time
came, he gave up his apparatus to another and returned to the vitiated air
on board, calm, unflinching, unmurmuring.
On that day the ordinary work was accomplished with unusual vigour.
Only two yards remained to be raised from the surface. Two yards only
separated us from the open sea. But the reservoirs were nearly emptied of
air. The little that remained ought to be kept for the workers; not a
particle for the Nautilus. When I went back on board, I was half
suffocated. What a night! I know not how to describe it. The next day my
breathing was oppressed. Dizziness accompanied the pain in my head and
made me like a drunken man. My companions showed the same symptoms. Some
of the crew had rattling in the throat.
On that day, the sixth of our imprisonment, Captain Nemo, finding the
pickaxes work too slowly, resolved to crush the ice-bed that still
separated us from the liquid sheet. This man's coolness and energy never
forsook him. He subdued his physical pains by moral force.
By his orders the vessel was lightened, that is to say, raised from the
ice-bed by a change of specific gravity. When it floated they towed it so
as to bring it above the immense trench made on the level of the
water-line. Then, filling his reservoirs of water, he descended and shut
himself up in the hole.
Just then all the crew came on board, and the double door of
communication was shut. The Nautilus then rested on the bed of ice, which
was not one yard thick, and which the sounding leads had perforated in a
thousand places. The taps of the reservoirs were then opened, and a
hundred cubic yards of water was let in, increasing the weight of the
Nautilus to 1,800 tons. We waited, we listened, forgetting our sufferings
in hope. Our safety depended on this last chance. Notwithstanding the
buzzing in my head, I soon heard the humming sound under the hull of the
Nautilus. The ice cracked with a singular noise, like tearing paper, and
the Nautilus sank.
"We are off!" murmured Conseil in my ear.
I could not answer him. I seized his hand, and pressed it convulsively.
All at once, carried away by its frightful overcharge, the Nautilus sank
like a bullet under the waters, that is to say, it fell as if it was in a
vacuum. Then all the electric force was put on the pumps, that soon began
to let the water out of the reservoirs. After some minutes, our fall was
stopped. Soon, too, the manometer indicated an ascending movement. The
screw, going at full speed, made the iron hull tremble to its very bolts
and drew us towards the north. But if this floating under the iceberg is
to last another day before we reach the open sea, I shall be dead first.
Half stretched upon a divan in the library, I was suffocating. My face
was purple, my lips blue, my faculties suspended. I neither saw nor heard.
All notion of time had gone from my mind. My muscles could not contract. I
do not know how many hours passed thus, but I was conscious of the agony
that was coming over me. I felt as if I was going to die. Suddenly I came
to. Some breaths of air penetrated my lungs. Had we risen to the surface
of the waves? Were we free of the iceberg? No! Ned and Conseil, my two
brave friends, were sacrificing themselves to save me. Some particles of
air still remained at the bottom of one apparatus. Instead of using it,
they had kept it for me, and, while they were being suffocated, they gave
me life, drop by drop. I wanted to push back the thing; they held my
hands, and for some moments I breathed freely. I looked at the clock; it
was eleven in the morning. It ought to be the 28th of March. The Nautilus
went at a frightful pace, forty miles an hour. It literally tore through
the water. Where was Captain Nemo? Had he succumbed? Were his companions
dead with him? At the moment the manometer indicated that we were not more
than twenty feet from the surface. A mere plate of ice separated us from
the atmosphere. Could we not break it? Perhaps. In any case the Nautilus
was going to attempt it. I felt that it was in an oblique position,
lowering the stern, and raising the bows. The introduction of water had
been the means of disturbing its equilibrium. Then, impelled by its
powerful screw, it attacked the ice-field from beneath like a formidable
battering-ram. It broke it by backing and then rushing forward against the
field, which gradually gave way; and at last, dashing suddenly against it,
shot forwards on the ice-field, that crushed beneath its weight. The panel
was opened-one might say torn off-and the pure air came in in abundance to
all parts of the Nautilus.
How I got on to the platform, I have no idea; perhaps the Canadian had
carried me there. But I breathed, I inhaled the vivifying sea-air. My two
companions were getting drunk with the fresh particles. The other unhappy
men had been so long without food, that they could not with impunity
indulge in the simplest aliments that were given them. We, on the
contrary, had no end to restrain ourselves; we could draw this air freely
into our lungs, and it was the breeze, the breeze alone, that filled us
with this keen enjoyment.
"Ah!" said Conseil, "how delightful this oxygen is! Master need not
fear to breathe it. There is enough for everybody."
Ned Land did not speak, but he opened his jaws wide enough to frighten
a shark. Our strength soon returned, and, when I looked round me, I saw we
were alone on the platform. The foreign seamen in the Nautilus were
contented with the air that circulated in the interior; none of them had
come to drink in the open air.
The first words I spoke were words of gratitude and thankfulness to my
two companions. Ned and Conseil had prolonged my life during the last
hours of this long agony. All my gratitude could not repay such devotion.
"My friends," said I, "we are bound one to the other for ever, and I am
under infinite obligations to you."
"Which I shall take advantage of," exclaimed the Canadian.
"What do you mean?" said Conseil.
"I mean that I shall take you with me when I leave this infernal
Nautilus."
"Well," said Conseil, "after all this, are we going right?"
"Yes," I replied, "for we are going the way of the sun, and here the
sun is in the north."
"No doubt," said Ned Land; "but it remains to be seen whether he will
bring the ship into the Pacific or the Atlantic Ocean, that is, into
frequented or deserted seas."
I could not answer that question, and I feared that Captain Nemo would
rather take us to the vast ocean that touches the coasts of Asia and
America at the same time. He would thus complete the tour round the
submarine world, and return to those waters in which the Nautilus could
sail freely. We ought, before long, to settle this important point. The
Nautilus went at a rapid pace. The polar circle was soon passed, and the
course shaped for Cape Horn. We were off the American point, March 31st,
at seven o'clock in the evening. Then all our past sufferings were
forgotten. The remembrance of that imprisonment in the ice was effaced
from our minds. We only thought of the future. Captain Nemo did not appear
again either in the drawing-room or on the platform. The point shown each
day on the planisphere, and, marked by the lieutenant, showed me the exact
direction of the Nautilus. Now, on that evening, it was evident, to, my
great satisfaction, that we were going back to the North by the Atlantic.
The next day, April 1st, when the Nautilus ascended to the surface some
minutes before noon, we sighted land to the west. It was Terra del Fuego,
which the first navigators named thus from seeing the quantity of smoke
that rose from the natives' huts. The coast seemed low to me, but in the
distance rose high mountains. I even thought I had a glimpse of Mount
Sarmiento, that rises 2,070 yards above the level of the sea, with a very
pointed summit, which, according as it is misty or clear, is a sign of
fine or of wet weather. At this moment the peak was clearly defined
against the sky. The Nautilus, diving again under the water, approached
the coast, which was only some few miles off. From the glass windows in
the drawing-room, I saw long seaweeds and gigantic fuci and varech, of
which the open polar sea contains so many specimens, with their sharp
polished filaments; they measured about 300 yards in length- real cables,
thicker than one's thumb; and, having great tenacity, they are often used
as ropes for vessels. Another weed known as velp, with leaves four feet
long, buried in the coral concretions, hung at the bottom. It served as
nest and food for myriads of crustacea and molluscs, crabs, and
cuttlefish. There seals and otters had splendid repasts, eating the flesh
of fish with sea-vegetables, according to the English fashion. Over this
fertile and luxuriant ground the Nautilus passed with great rapidity.
Towards evening it approached the Falkland group, the rough summits of
which I recognised the following day. The depth of the sea was moderate.
On the shores our nets brought in beautiful specimens of sea weed, and
particularly a certain fucus, the roots of which were filled with the best
mussels in the world. Geese and ducks fell by dozens on the platform, and
soon took their places in the pantry on board.
When the last heights of the Falklands had disappeared from the
horizon, the Nautilus sank to between twenty and twenty-five yards, and
followed the American coast. Captain Nemo did not show himself. Until the
3rd of April we did not quit the shores of Patagonia, sometimes under the
ocean, sometimes at the surface. The Nautilus passed beyond the large
estuary formed by the Uraguay. Its direction was northwards, and followed
the long windings of the coast of South America. We had then made 1,600
miles since our embarkation in the seas of Japan. About eleven o'clock in
the morning the Tropic of Capricorn was crossed on the thirty-seventh
meridian, and we passed Cape Frio standing out to sea. Captain Nemo, to
Ned Land's great displeasure, did not like the neighbourhood of the
inhabited coasts of Brazil, for we went at a giddy speed. Not a fish, not
a bird of the swiftest kind could follow us, and the natural curiosities
of these seas escaped all observation.
This speed was kept up for several days, and in the evening of the 9th
of April we sighted the most westerly point of South America that forms
Cape San Roque. But then the Nautilus swerved again, and sought the lowest
depth of a submarine valley which is between this Cape and Sierra Leone on
the African coast. This valley bifurcates to the parallel of the Antilles,
and terminates at the mouth by the enormous depression of 9,000 yards. In
this place, the geological basin of the ocean forms, as far as the Lesser
Antilles, a cliff to three and a half miles perpendicular in height, and,
at the parallel of the Cape Verde Islands, an other wall not less
considerable, that encloses thus all the sunk continent of the Atlantic.
The bottom of this immense valley is dotted with some mountains, that give
to these submarine places a picturesque aspect. I speak, moreover, from
the manuscript charts that were in the library of the Nautilus-charts
evidently due to Captain Nemo's hand, and made after his personal
observations. For two days the desert and deep waters were visited by
means of the inclined planes. The Nautilus was furnished with long
diagonal broadsides which carried it to all elevations. But on the 11th of
April it rose suddenly, and land appeared at the mouth of the Amazon
River, a vast estuary, the embouchure of which is so considerable that it
freshens the sea-water for the distance of several leagues. {8 paragraphs
are deleted from this edition}
For several days the Nautilus kept off from the American coast.
Evidently it did not wish to risk the tides of the Gulf of Mexico or of
the sea of the Antilles. April 16th, we sighted Martinique and Guadaloupe
from a distance of about thirty miles. I saw their tall peaks for an
instant. The Canadian, who counted on carrying out his projects in the
Gulf, by either landing or hailing one of the numerous boats that coast
from one island to another, was quite disheartened. Flight would have been
quite practicable, if Ned Land had been able to take possession of the
boat without the Captain's knowledge. But in the open sea it could not be
thought of. The Canadian, Conseil, and I had a long conversation on this
subject. For six months we had been prisoners on board the Nautilus. We
had travelled 17,000 leagues; and, as Ned Land said, there was no reason
why it should come to an end. We could hope nothing from the Captain of
the Nautilus, but only from ourselves. Besides, for some time past he had
become graver, more retired, less sociable. He seemed to shun me. I met
him rarely. Formerly he was pleased to explain the submarine marvels to
me; now he left me to my studies, and came no more to the saloon. What
change had come over him? For what cause? For my part, I did not wish to
bury with me my curious and novel studies. I had now the power to write
the true book of the sea; and this book, sooner or later, I wished to see
daylight. The land nearest us was the archipelago of the Bahamas. There
rose high submarine cliffs covered with large weeds. It was about eleven
o'clock when Ned Land drew my attention to a formidable pricking, like the
sting of an ant, which was produced by means of large seaweeds.
"Well," I said, "these are proper caverns for poulps, and I should not
be astonished to see some of these monsters."
"What!" said Conseil; "cuttlefish, real cuttlefish of the cephalopod
class?"
"No," I said, "poulps of huge dimensions."
"I will never believe that such animals exist," said Ned.
"Well," said Conseil, with the most serious air in the world, "I
remember perfectly to have seen a large vessel drawn under the waves by an
octopus's arm."
"You saw that?" said the Canadian.
"Yes, Ned."
"With your own eyes?"
"With my own eyes."
"Where, pray, might that be?"
"At St. Malo," answered Conseil.
"In the port?" said Ned, ironically.
"No; in a church," replied Conseil.
"In a church!" cried the Canadian.
"Yes; friend Ned. In a picture representing the poulp in question."
"Good!" said Ned Land, bursting out laughing.
"He is quite right," I said. "I have heard of this picture; but the
subject represented is taken from a legend, and you know what to think of
legends in the matter of natural history. Besides, when it is a question
of monsters, the imagination is apt to run wild. Not only is it supposed
that these poulps can draw down vessels, but a certain Olaus Magnus speaks
of an octopus a mile long that is more like an island than an animal. It
is also said that the Bishop of Nidros was building an altar on an immense
rock. Mass finished, the rock began to walk, and returned to the sea. The
rock was a poulp. Another Bishop, Pontoppidan, speaks also of a poulp on
which a regiment of cavalry could manoeuvre. Lastly, the ancient
naturalists speak of monsters whose mouths were like gulfs, and which were
too large to pass through the Straits of Gibraltar."
"But how much is true of these stories?" asked Conseil.
"Nothing, my friends; at least of that which passes the limit of truth
to get to fable or legend. Nevertheless, there must be some ground for the
imagination of the story-tellers. One cannot deny that poulps and
cuttlefish exist of a large species, inferior, however, to the cetaceans.
Aristotle has stated the dimensions of a cuttlefish as five cubits, or
nine feet two inches. Our fishermen frequently see some that are more than
four feet long. Some skeletons of poulps are preserved in the museums of
Trieste and Montpelier, that measure two yards in length. Besides,
according to the calculations of some naturalists, one of these animals
only six feet long would have tentacles twenty-seven feet long. That would
suffice to make a formidable monster."
"Do they fish for them in these days?" asked Ned.
"If they do not fish for them, sailors see them at least. One of my
friends, Captain Paul Bos of Havre, has often affirmed that he met one of
these monsters of colossal dimensions in the Indian seas. But the most
astonishing fact, and which does not permit of the denial of the existence
of these gigantic animals, happened some years ago, in 1861."
"What is the fact?" asked Ned Land.
"This is it. In 1861, to the north-east of Teneriffe, very nearly in
the same latitude we are in now, the crew of the despatch-boat Alector
perceived a monstrous cuttlefish swimming in the waters. Captain Bouguer
went near to the animal, and attacked it with harpoon and guns, without
much success, for balls and harpoons glided over the soft flesh. After
several fruitless attempts the crew tried to pass a slip-knot round the
body of the mollusc. The noose slipped as far as the tail fins and there
stopped. They tried then to haul it on board, but its weight was so
considerable that the tightness of the cord separated the tail from the
body, and, deprived of this ornament, he disappeared under the water."
"Indeed! is that a fact?"
"An indisputable fact, my good Ned. They proposed to name this poulp
`Bouguer's cuttlefish.'"
"What length was it?" asked the Canadian.
"Did it not measure about six yards?" said Conseil, who, posted at the
window, was examining again the irregular windings of the cliff.
"Precisely," I replied.
"Its head," rejoined Conseil, "was it not crowned with eight tentacles,
that beat the water like a nest of serpents?"
"Precisely."
"Had not its eyes, placed at the back of its head, considerable
development?"
"Yes, Conseil."
"And was not its mouth like a parrot's beak?"
"Exactly, Conseil."
"Very well! no offence to master," he replied, quietly; "if this is not
Bouguer's cuttlefish, it is, at least, one of its brothers."
I looked at Conseil. Ned Land hurried to the window.
"What a horrible beast!" he cried.
I looked in my turn, and could not repress a gesture of disgust. Before
my eyes was a horrible monster worthy to figure in the legends of the
marvellous. It was an immense cuttlefish, being eight yards long. It swam
crossways in the direction of the Nautilus with great speed, watching us
with its enormous staring green eyes. Its eight arms, or rather feet,
fixed to its head, that have given the name of cephalopod to these
animals, were twice as long as its body, and were twisted like the furies'
hair. One could see the 250 air holes on the inner side of the tentacles.
The monster's mouth, a horned beak like a parrot's, opened and shut
vertically. Its tongue, a horned substance, furnished with several rows of
pointed teeth, came out quivering from this veritable pair of shears. What
a freak of nature, a bird's beak on a mollusc! Its spindle-like body
formed a fleshy mass that might weigh 4,000 to 5,000 lb.; the, varying
colour changing with great rapidity, according to the irritation of the
animal, passed successively from livid grey to reddish brown. What
irritated this mollusc? No doubt the presence of the Nautilus, more
formidable than itself, and on which its suckers or its jaws had no hold.
Yet, what monsters these poulps are! what vitality the Creator has given
them! what vigour in their movements! and they possess three hearts!
Chance had brought us in presence of this cuttlefish, and I did not wish
to lose the opportunity of carefully studying this specimen of
cephalopods. I overcame the horror that inspired me, and, taking a pencil,
began to draw it.
"Perhaps this is the same which the Alector saw," said Conseil.
"No," replied the Canadian; "for this is whole, and the other had lost
its tail."
"That is no reason," I replied. "The arms and tails of these animals
are re-formed by renewal; and in seven years the tail of Bouguer's
cuttlefish has no doubt had time to grow."
By this time other poulps appeared at the port light. I counted seven.
They formed a procession after the Nautilus, and I heard their beaks
gnashing against the iron hull. I continued my work. These monsters kept
in the water with such precision that they seemed immovable. Suddenly the
Nautilus stopped. A shock made it tremble in every plate.
"Have we struck anything?" I asked.
"In any case," replied the Canadian, "we shall be free, for we are
floating."
The Nautilus was floating, no doubt, but it did not move. A minute
passed. Captain Nemo, followed by his lieutenant, entered the
drawing-room. I had not seen him for some time. He seemed dull. Without
noticing or speaking to us, he went to the panel, looked at the poulps,
and said something to his lieutenant. The latter went out. Soon the panels
were shut. The ceiling was lighted. I went towards the Captain.
"A curious collection of poulps?" I said.
"Yes, indeed, Mr. Naturalist," he replied; "and we are going to fight
them, man to beast."
I looked at him. I thought I had not heard aright.
"Man to beast?" I repeated.
"Yes, sir. The screw is stopped. I think that the horny jaws of one of
the cuttlefish is entangled in the blades. That is what prevents our
moving."
"What are you going to do?"
"Rise to the surface, and slaughter this vermin."
"A difficult enterprise."
"Yes, indeed. The electric bullets are powerless against the soft
flesh, where they do not find resistance enough to go off. But we shall
attack them with the hatchet."
"And the harpoon, sir," said the Canadian, "if you do not refuse my
help."
"I will accept it, Master Land."
"We will follow you," I said, and, following Captain Nemo, we went
towards the central staircase.
There, about ten men with boarding-hatchets were ready for the attack.
Conseil and I took two hatchets; Ned Land seized a harpoon. The Nautilus
had then risen to the surface. One of the sailors, posted on the top
ladderstep, unscrewed the bolts of the panels. But hardly were the screws
loosed, when the panel rose with great violence, evidently drawn by the
suckers of a poulp's arm. Immediately one of these arms slid like a
serpent down the opening and twenty others were above. With one blow of
the axe, Captain Nemo cut this formidable tentacle, that slid wriggling
down the ladder. Just as we were pressing one on the other to reach the
platform, two other arms, lashing the air, came down on the seaman placed
before Captain Nemo, and lifted him up with irresistible power. Captain
Nemo uttered a cry, and rushed out. We hurried after him.
What a scene! The unhappy man, seized by the tentacle and fixed to the
suckers, was balanced in the air at the caprice of this enormous trunk. He
rattled in his throat, he was stifled, he cried, "Help! help!" These
words, spoken in French, startled me! I had a fellow-countryman on board,
perhaps several! That heart-rending cry! I shall hear it all my life. The
unfortunate man was lost. Who could rescue him from that powerful
pressure? However, Captain Nemo had rushed to the poulp, and with one blow
of the axe had cut through one arm. His lieutenant struggled furiously
against other monsters that crept on the flanks of the Nautilus. The crew
fought with their axes. The Canadian, Conseil, and I buried our weapons in
the fleshy masses; a strong smell of musk penetrated the atmosphere. It
was horrible!
For one instant, I thought the unhappy man, entangled with the poulp,
would be torn from its powerful suction. Seven of the eight arms had been
cut off. One only wriggled in the air, brandishing the victim like a
feather. But just as Captain Nemo and his lieutenant threw themselves on
it, the animal ejected a stream of black liquid. We were blinded with it.
When the cloud dispersed, the cuttlefish had disappeared, and my
unfortunate countryman with it. Ten or twelve poulps now invaded the
platform and sides of the Nautilus. We rolled pell-mell into the midst of
this nest of serpents, that wriggled on the platform in the waves of blood
and ink. It seemed as though these slimy tentacles sprang up like the
hydra's heads. Ned Land's harpoon, at each stroke, was plunged into the
staring eyes of the cuttle fish. But my bold companion was suddenly
overturned by the tentacles of a monster he had not been able to avoid.
Ah! how my heart beat with emotion and horror! The formidable beak of a
cuttlefish was open over Ned Land. The unhappy man would be cut in two. I
rushed to his succour. But Captain Nemo was before me; his axe disappeared
between the two enormous jaws, and, miraculously saved, the Canadian,
rising, plunged his harpoon deep into the triple heart of the poulp.
"I owed myself this revenge!" said the Captain to the Canadian.
Ned bowed without replying. The combat had lasted a quarter of an hour.
The monsters, vanquished and mutilated, left us at last, and disappeared
under the waves. Captain Nemo, covered with blood, nearly exhausted, gazed
upon the sea that had swallowed up one of his companions, and great tears
gathered in his eyes.
This terrible scene of the 20th of April none of us can ever forget. I
have written it under the influence of violent emotion. Since then I have
revised the recital; I have read it to Conseil and to the Canadian. They
found it exact as to facts, but insufficient as to effect. To paint such
pictures, one must have the pen of the most illustrious of our poets, the
author of The Toilers of the Deep.
I have said that Captain Nemo wept while watching the waves; his grief
was great. It was the second companion he had lost since our arrival on
board, and what a death! That friend, crushed, stifled, bruised by the
dreadful arms of a poulp, pounded by his iron jaws, would not rest with
his comrades in the peaceful coral cemetery! In the midst of the struggle,
it was the despairing cry uttered by the unfortunate man that had torn my
heart. The poor Frenchman, forgetting his conventional language, had taken
to his own mother tongue, to utter a last appeal! Amongst the crew of the
Nautilus, associated with the body and soul of the Captain, recoiling like
him from all contact with men, I had a fellow-countryman. Did he alone
represent France in this mysterious association, evidently composed of
individuals of divers nationalities? It was one of these insoluble
problems that rose up unceasingly before my mind!
Captain Nemo entered his room, and I saw him no more for some time. But
that he was sad and irresolute I could see by the vessel, of which he was
the soul, and which received all his impressions. The Nautilus did not
keep on in its settled course; it floated about like a corpse at the will
of the waves. It went at random. He could not tear himself away from the
scene of the last struggle, from this sea that had devoured one of his
men. Ten days passed thus. It was not till the 1st of May that the
Nautilus resumed its northerly course, after having sighted the Bahamas at
the mouth of the Bahama Canal. We were then following the current from the
largest river to the sea, that has its banks, its fish, and its proper
temperatures. I mean the Gulf Stream. It is really a river, that flows
freely to the middle of the Atlantic, and whose waters do not mix with the
ocean waters. It is a salt river, salter than the surrounding sea. Its
mean depth is 1,500 fathoms, its mean breadth ten miles. In certain places
the current flows with the speed of two miles and a half an hour. The body
of its waters is more considerable than that of all the rivers in the
globe. It was on this ocean river that the Nautilus then sailed.
I must add that, during the night, the phosphorescent waters of the
Gulf Stream rivalled the electric power of our watch-light, especially in
the stormy weather that threatened us so frequently. May 8th, we were
still crossing Cape Hatteras, at the height of the North Caroline. The
width of the Gulf Stream there is seventy-five miles, and its depth 210
yards. The Nautilus still went at random; all supervision seemed
abandoned. I thought that, under these circumstances, escape would be
possible. Indeed, the inhabited shores offered anywhere an easy refuge.
The sea was incessantly ploughed by the steamers that ply between New York
or Boston and the Gulf of Mexico, and overrun day and night by the little
schooners coasting about the several parts of the American coast. We could
hope to be picked up. It was a favourable opportunity, notwithstanding the
thirty miles that separated the Nautilus from the coasts of the Union. One
unfortunate circumstance thwarted the Canadian's plans. The weather was
very bad. We were nearing those shores where tempests are so frequent,
that country of waterspouts and cyclones actually engendered by the
current of the Gulf Stream. To tempt the sea in a frail boat was certain
destruction. Ned Land owned this himself. He fretted, seized with
nostalgia that flight only could cure.
"Master," he said that day to me, "this must come to an end. I must
make a clean breast of it. This Nemo is leaving land and going up to the
north. But I declare to you that I have had enough of the South Pole, and
I will not follow him to the North."
"What is to be done, Ned, since flight is impracticable just now?"
"We must speak to the Captain," said he; "you said nothing when we were
in your native seas. I will speak, now we are in mine. When I think that
before long the Nautilus will be by Nova Scotia, and that there near New
foundland is a large bay, and into that bay the St. Lawrence empties
itself, and that the St. Lawrence is my river, the river by Quebec, my
native town-when I think of this, I feel furious, it makes my hair stand
on end. Sir, I would rather throw myself into the sea! I will not stay
here! I am stifled!"
The Canadian was evidently losing all patience. His vigorous nature
could not stand this prolonged imprisonment. His face altered daily; his
temper became more surly. I knew what he must suffer, for I was seized
with home-sickness myself. Nearly seven months had passed without our
having had any news from land; Captain Nemo's isolation, his altered
spirits, especially since the fight with the poulps, his taciturnity, all
made me view things in a different light.
"Well, sir?" said Ned, seeing I did not reply.
"Well, Ned, do you wish me to ask Captain Nemo his intentions
concerning us?"
"Yes, sir."
"Although he has already made them known?"
"Yes; I wish it settled finally. Speak for me, in my name only, if you
like."
"But I so seldom meet him. He avoids me."
"That is all the more reason for you to go to see him."
I went to my room. From thence I meant to go to Captain Nemo's. It
would not do to let this opportunity of meeting him slip. I knocked at the
door. No answer. I knocked again, then turned the handle. The door opened,
I went in. The Captain was there. Bending over his work-table, he had not
heard me. Resolved not to go without having spoken, I approached him. He
raised his head quickly, frowned, and said roughly, "You here! What do you
want?"
"To speak to you, Captain."
"But I am busy, sir; I am working. I leave you at liberty to shut
yourself up; cannot I be allowed the same?"
This reception was not encouraging; but I was determined to hear and
answer everything.
"Sir," I said coldly, "I have to speak to you on a matter that admits
of no delay."
"What is that, sir?" he replied, ironically. "Have you discovered
something that has escaped me, or has the sea delivered up any new
secrets?"
We were at cross-purposes. But, before I could reply, he showed me an
open manuscript on his table, and said, in a more serious tone, "Here, M.
Aronnax, is a manuscript written in several languages. It contains the sum
of my studies of the sea; and, if it please God, it shall not perish with
me. This manuscript, signed with my name, complete with the history of my
life, will be shut up in a little floating case. The last survivor of all
of us on board the Nautilus will throw this case into the sea, and it will
go whither it is borne by the waves."
This man's name! his history written by himself! His mystery would then
be revealed some day.
"Captain," I said, "I can but approve of the idea that makes you act
thus. The result of your studies must not be lost. But the means you
employ seem to me to be primitive. Who knows where the winds will carry
this case, and in whose hands it will fall? Could you not use some other
means? Could not you, or one of yours-"
"Never, sir!" he said, hastily interrupting me.
"But I and my companions are ready to keep this manuscript in store;
and, if you will put us at liberty-"
"At liberty?" said the Captain, rising.
"Yes, sir; that is the subject on which I wish to question you. For
seven months we have been here on board, and I ask you to-day, in the name
of my companions and in my own, if your intention is to keep us here
always?"
"M. Aronnax, I will answer you to-day as I did seven months ago:
Whoever enters the Nautilus, must never quit it."
"You impose actual slavery upon us!"
"Give it what name you please."
"But everywhere the slave has the right to regain his liberty."
"Who denies you this right? Have I ever tried to chain you with an
oath?"
He looked at me with his arms crossed.
"Sir," I said, "to return a second time to this subject will be neither
to your nor to my taste; but, as we have entered upon it, let us go
through with it. I repeat, it is not only myself whom it concerns. Study
is to me a relief, a diversion, a passion that could make me forget
everything. Like you, I am willing to live obscure, in the frail hope of
bequeathing one day, to future time, the result of my labours. But it is
otherwise with Ned Land. Every man, worthy of the name, deserves some
consideration. Have you thought that love of liberty, hatred of slavery,
can give rise to schemes of revenge in a nature like the Canadian's; that
he could think, attempt, and try-"
I was silenced; Captain Nemo rose.
"Whatever Ned Land thinks of, attempts, or tries, what does it matter
to me? I did not seek him! It is not for my pleasure that I keep him on
board! As for you, M. Aronnax, you are one of those who can understand
everything, even silence. I have nothing more to say to you. Let this
first time you have come to treat of this subject be the last, for a
second time I will not listen to you."
I retired. Our situation was critical. I related my conversation to my
two companions.
"We know now," said Ned, "that we can expect nothing from this man. The
Nautilus is nearing Long Island. We will escape, whatever the weather may
be."
But the sky became more and more threatening. Symptoms of a hurricane
became manifest. The atmosphere was becoming white and misty. On the
horizon fine streaks of cirrhous clouds were succeeded by masses of
cumuli. Other low clouds passed swiftly by. The swollen sea rose in huge
billows. The birds disappeared with the exception of the petrels, those
friends of the storm. The barometer fell sensibly, and indicated an
extreme extension of the vapours. The mixture of the storm glass was
decomposed under the influence of the electricity that pervaded the
atmosphere. The tempest burst on the 18th of May, just as the Nautilus was
floating off Long Island, some miles from the port of New York. I can
describe this strife of the elements! for, instead of fleeing to the
depths of the sea, Captain Nemo, by an unaccountable caprice, would brave
it at the surface. The wind blew from the south-west at first. Captain
Nemo, during the squalls, had taken his place on the platform. He had made
himself fast, to prevent being washed overboard by the monstrous waves. I
had hoisted myself up, and made myself fast also, dividing my admiration
between the tempest and this extraordinary man who was coping with it. The
raging sea was swept by huge cloud-drifts, which were actually saturated
with the waves. The Nautilus, sometimes lying on its side, sometimes
standing up like a mast, rolled and pitched terribly. About five o'clock a
torrent of rain fell, that lulled neither sea nor wind. The hurri cane
blew nearly forty leagues an hour. It is under these conditions that it
overturns houses, breaks iron gates, displaces twenty-four pounders.
However, the Nautilus, in the midst of the tempest, confirmed the words of
a clever engineer, "There is no well-constructed hull that cannot defy the
sea." This was not a resisting rock; it was a steel spindle, obedient and
movable, without rigging or masts, that braved its fury with impunity.
However, I watched these raging waves attentively. They measured fifteen
feet in height, and 150 to 175 yards long, and their speed of propagation
was thirty feet per second. Their bulk and power increased with the depth
of the water. Such waves as these, at the Hebrides, have displaced a mass
weighing 8,400 lb. They are they which, in the tempest of December 23rd,
1864, after destroying the town of Yeddo, in Japan, broke the same day on
the shores of America. The intensity of the tempest increased with the
night. The barometer, as in 1860 at Reunion during a cyclone, fell
seven-tenths at the close of day. I saw a large vessel pass the horizon
struggling painfully. She was trying to lie to under half steam, to keep
up above the waves. It was probably one of the steamers of the line from
New York to Liverpool, or Havre. It soon disappeared in the gloom. At ten
o'clock in the evening the sky was on fire. The atmosphere was streaked
with vivid lightning. I could not bear the brightness of it; while the
captain, looking at it, seemed to envy the spirit of the tempest. A
terrible noise filled the air, a complex noise, made up of the howls of
the crushed waves, the roaring of the wind, and the claps of thunder. The
wind veered suddenly to all points of the horizon; and the cyclone, rising
in the east, returned after passing by the north, west, and south, in the
inverse course pursued by the circular storm of the southern hemisphere.
Ah, that Gulf Stream! It deserves its name of the King of Tempests. It is
that which causes those formidable cyclones, by the difference of
temperature between its air and its currents. A shower of fire had
succeeded the rain. The drops of water were changed to sharp spikes. One
would have thought that Captain Nemo was courting a death worthy of
himself, a death by lightning. As the Nautilus, pitching dreadfully,
raised its steel spur in the air, it seemed to act as a conductor, and I
saw long sparks burst from it. Crushed and without strength I crawled to
the panel, opened it, and descended to the saloon. The storm was then at
its height. It was impossible to stand upright in the interior of the
Nautilus. Captain Nemo came down about twelve. I heard the reservoirs
filling by degrees, and the Nautilus sank slowly beneath the waves.
Through the open windows in the saloon I saw large fish terrified, passing
like phantoms in the water. Some were struck before my eyes. The Nautilus
was still descending. I thought that at about eight fathoms deep we should
find a calm. But no! the upper beds were too violently agitated for that.
We had to seek repose at more than twenty-five fathoms in the bowels of
the deep. But there, what quiet, what silence, what peace! Who could have
told that such a hurricane had been let loose on the surface of that
ocean?
In consequence of the storm, we had been thrown eastward once more. All
hope of escape on the shores of New York or St. Lawrence had faded away;
and poor Ned, in despair, had isolated himself like Captain Nemo. Conseil
and I, however, never left each other. I said that the Nautilus had gone
aside to the east. I should have said (to be more exact) the north-east.
For some days, it wandered first on the surface, and then beneath it, amid
those fogs so dreaded by sailors. What accidents are due to these thick
fogs! What shocks upon these reefs when the wind drowns the breaking of
the waves! What collisions between vessels, in spite of their warning
lights, whistles, and alarm bells! And the bottoms of these seas look like
a field of battle, where still lie all the conquered of the ocean; some
old and already encrusted, others fresh and reflecting from their iron
bands and copper plates the brilliancy of our lantern.
On the 15th of May we were at the extreme south of the Bank of
Newfoundland. This bank consists of alluvia, or large heaps of organic
matter, brought either from the Equator by the Gulf Stream, or from the
North Pole by the counter-current of cold water which skirts the American
coast. There also are heaped up those erratic blocks which are carried
along by the broken ice; and close by, a vast charnel-house of molluscs,
which perish here by millions. The depth of the sea is not great at
Newfoundland-not more than some hundreds of fathoms; but towards the south
is a depression of 1,500 fathoms. There the Gulf Stream widens. It loses
some of its speed and some of its temperature, but it becomes a sea.
It was on the 17th of May, about 500 miles from Heart's Content, at a
depth of more than 1,400 fathoms, that I saw the electric cable lying on
the bottom. Conseil, to whom I had not mentioned it, thought at first that
it was a gigantic sea-serpent. But I undeceived the worthy fellow, and by
way of consolation related several particulars in the laying of this
cable. The first one was laid in the years 1857 and 1858; but, after
transmitting about 400 telegrams, would not act any longer. In 1863 the
engineers constructed an other one, measuring 2,000 miles in length, and
weighing 4,500 tons, which was embarked on the Great Eastern. This attempt
also failed.
On the 25th of May the Nautilus, being at a depth of more than 1,918
fathoms, was on the precise spot where the rupture occurred which ruined
the enterprise. It was within 638 miles of the coast of Ireland; and at
half-past two in the afternoon they discovered that communication with
Europe had ceased. The electricians on board resolved to cut the cable
before fishing it up, and at eleven o'clock at night they had recovered
the damaged part. They made another point and spliced it, and it was once
more submerged. But some days after it broke again, and in the depths of
the ocean could not be recaptured. The Americans, however, were not
discouraged. Cyrus Field, the bold promoter of the enterprise, as he had