Vingt mille lieues sous les mers. English

by Jules Verne

  My first concern was to look for the frigate. Had the crewseen me go overboard? Was the Abraham Lincoln tacking about?Would Commander Farragut put a longboat to sea? Could I hopeto 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 tomy 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 myselfpulled abruptly back to the surface of the sea, and yes, I heardthese words pronounced in my ear:

  "If master would oblige me by leaning on my shoulder, master willswim 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 atthe helm shout, 'Our propeller and rudder are smashed!' "

  "Smashed?"

  "Yes, smashed by the monster's tusk! I believe it's the sole injurythe 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 fewhours 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 madeof 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 themfrom top to bottom with one swift stroke. Then he briskly undressedme 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 theyhadn'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 hisplans accordingly. An amazing character, this boy; in midocean,this stoic lad seemed right at home!

  So, having concluded that our sole chance for salvationlay 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'tboth 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 andlegs outstretched, the other would swim and propel his partner forward.This towing role was to last no longer than ten minutes, and byrelieving 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 improbableas 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 nothave done so!

  The cetacean had rammed our frigate at about eleven o'clockin the evening. I therefore calculated on eight hours of swimminguntil sunrise. A strenuous task, but feasible, thanks to ourrelieving each other. The sea was pretty smooth and barely tired us.Sometimes I tried to peer through the dense gloom, which was brokenonly 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 withtremendous exhaustion. My limbs stiffened in the grip of intense cramps.Conseil had to keep me going, and attending to our self-preservationbecame his sole responsibility. I soon heard the poor lad gasping;his breathing became shallow and quick. I didn't think he couldstand 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 wasdriving eastward, the moon appeared. The surface of the seaglistened 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 nomore 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 couldstill articulate a few words, and I heard him repeat at intervals:

  "Help! Help!"

  Ceasing all movement for an instant, we listened. And it may havebeen 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 raisedhimself 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 cameinto 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 fingersgave out; my hands were no help to me; my mouth opened convulsively,filling with brine; its coldness ran through me; I raised my headone 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 meso 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 wasable 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'tpuncture its hide."

  "Why, Ned, why?"

  "Because, professor, this beast is made of boilerplate steel!"r />
  At this point in my story, I need to get a grip on myself,reconstruct exactly what I experienced, and make doubly sureof 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 creatureor object that was serving as our refuge. I tested it with my foot.Obviously it was some hard, impenetrable substance, not the softmatter that makes up the bodies of our big marine mammals.

  But this hard substance could have been a bony carapace, like thosethat covered some prehistoric animals, and I might have left itat that and classified this monster among such amphibious reptilesas turtles or alligators.

  Well, no. The blackish back supporting me was smooth and polishedwith no overlapping scales. On impact, it gave off a metallic sonority,and as incredible as this sounds, it seemed, I swear, to be madeof riveted plates.

  No doubts were possible! This animal, this monster, this naturalphenomenon that had puzzled the whole scientific world, that hadmuddled 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 creaturereally existed, it wouldn't have given me such a terrific mental jolt.It's easy enough to accept that prodigious things can come fromour 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 backof some kind of underwater boat that, as far as I could judge,boasted the shape of an immense steel fish. Ned Land had clearviews on the issue. Conseil and I could only line up behind him.

  "But then," I said, "does this contraption contain some sortof locomotive mechanism, and a crew to run it?"

  "Apparently," the harpooner replied. "And yet for the three hoursI'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 otherwiseit 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 beganastern of this strange submersible--whose drive mechanism was obviouslya propeller--and the boat started to move. We barely had time to hangon 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'tgive $2.00 for my hide!"

  The Canadian might have quoted a much lower price.So it was imperative to make contact with whatever beings wereconfined inside the plating of this machine. I searched its surfacefor an opening or a hatch, a "manhole," to use the official term;but the lines of rivets had been firmly driven into the sheet-ironjoins 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 insidethis underwater boat.

  So our salvation lay totally in the hands of the mysterious helmsmensteering this submersible, and if it made a dive, we were done for!But aside from this occurring, I didn't doubt the possibilityof our making contact with them. In fact, if they didn't producetheir own air, they inevitably had to make periodic visitsto the surface of the ocean to replenish their oxygen supply.Hence the need for some opening that put the boat's interiorin contact with the atmosphere.

  As for any hope of being rescued by Commander Farragut, that had to berenounced completely. We were being swept westward, and I estimatethat our comparatively moderate speed reached twelve miles per hour.The propeller churned the waves with mathematical regularity,sometimes emerging above the surface and throwing phosphorescentspray 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 batteredus at close range. Fortunately Ned's hands came across a bigmooring 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 merecall my every impression of it. A single detail comes back to me.Several times, during various lulls of wind and sea, I thought Iheard indistinct sounds, a sort of elusive harmony produced bydistant musical chords. What was the secret behind this underwaternavigating, whose explanation the whole world had sought in vain?What beings lived inside this strange boat? What mechanical forceallowed it to move about with such prodigious speed?

  Daylight appeared. The morning mists surrounded us, but theysoon broke up. I was about to proceed with a careful examinationof 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 resonantsheet iron. "Open up there, you antisocial navigators!"

  But it was difficult to make yourself heard above the deafening beatsof the propeller. Fortunately this submerging movement stopped.

  From inside the boat, there suddenly came noises of iron fasteningspushed 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'tknow 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 aftertheir own fashion.

  The narrow hatch had barely closed over me when I was surrounded byprofound darkness. Saturated with the outside light, my eyes couldn'tmake out a thing. I felt my naked feet clinging to the steps of aniron ladder. Forcibly seized, Ned Land and Conseil were behind me.At the foot of the ladder, a door opened and instantly closed behindus 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 gleamsthat drift through even the blackest nights.

  Meanwhile, furious at these goings on, Ned Land gave free reinto his indignation.

  "Damnation!" he exclaimed. "These people are about as hospitableas the savages of New Caledonia! All that's lacking is for themto be cannibals! I wouldn't be surprised if they were, but believeyou 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 oneof these bandits who lays a hand on me--"

  *Author's Note: A Bowie knife is a wide-bladed dagger that Americansare 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 tryto find out where we are!"

  I started moving, groping my way. After five steps I encounteredan 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 mattingthat deadened the sound of footsteps. Its naked walls didn't revealany 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 intoblinding light. Our prison lit up all at once; in other words,it filled with luminescent matter so intense that at first Icouldn't stand the brightness of it. From its glare and whiteness,I recognized the electric glow that had played around thisunderwater boat like some magnificent phosphorescent phenomenon.After involuntarily closing my eyes, I reopened them and sawthat this luminous force came from a frosted half globe curvingout 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 forour 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 itstiniest 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 lightup their dungeons.