by Jules Verne
On January 16 the Nautilus seemed to have fallen asleep just a few metersbeneath the surface of the water. Its electric equipment had beenturned off, and the motionless propeller let it ride with the waves.I assumed that the crew were busy with interior repairs,required by the engine's strenuous mechanical action.
My companions and I then witnessed an unusual sight.The panels in the lounge were open, and since the Nautilus's beaconwas off, a hazy darkness reigned in the midst of the waters.Covered with heavy clouds, the stormy sky gave only the faintestlight to the ocean's upper strata.
I was observing the state of the sea under these conditions,and even the largest fish were nothing more than ill-defined shadows,when the Nautilus was suddenly transferred into broad daylight.At first I thought the beacon had gone back on and was castingits electric light into the liquid mass. I was mistaken,and after a hasty examination I discovered my error.
The Nautilus had drifted into the midst of some phosphorescentstrata, which, in this darkness, came off as positively dazzling.This effect was caused by myriads of tiny, luminous animalswhose brightness increased when they glided over the metal hullof our submersible. In the midst of these luminous sheets of water,I then glimpsed flashes of light, like those seen inside a blazingfurnace from streams of molten lead or from masses of metalbrought to a white heat--flashes so intense that certain areasof the light became shadows by comparison, in a fiery settingfrom which every shadow should seemingly have been banished.No, this was no longer the calm emission of our usual lighting!This light throbbed with unprecedented vigor and activity!You sensed that it was alive!
In essence, it was a cluster of countless open-sea infusoria,of noctiluca an eighth of an inch wide, actual globules oftransparent jelly equipped with a threadlike tentacle, up to 25,000of which have been counted in thirty cubic centimeters of water.And the power of their light was increased by those glimmersunique to medusas, starfish, common jellyfish, angel-wing clams,and other phosphorescent zoophytes, which were saturated with greasefrom organic matter decomposed by the sea, and perhaps with mucussecreted by fish.
For several hours the Nautilus drifted in this brilliant tide,and our wonderment grew when we saw huge marine animalscavorting in it, like the fire-dwelling salamanders of myth.In the midst of these flames that didn't burn, I could see swift,elegant porpoises, the tireless pranksters of the seas,and sailfish three meters long, those shrewd heralds of hurricanes,whose fearsome broadswords sometimes banged against the lounge window.Then smaller fish appeared: miscellaneous triggerfish,leather jacks, unicornfish, and a hundred others that left stripeson this luminous atmosphere in their course.
Some magic lay behind this dazzling sight! Perhaps someatmospheric condition had intensified this phenomenon?Perhaps a storm had been unleashed on the surface of the waves?But only a few meters down, the Nautilus felt no tempest's fury,and the ship rocked peacefully in the midst of the calm waters.
And so it went, some new wonder constantly delighting us.Conseil observed and classified his zoophytes, articulates, mollusks,and fish. The days passed quickly, and I no longer kept track of them.Ned, as usual, kept looking for changes of pace from our standard fare.Like actual snails, we were at home in our shell, and I can vouchthat it's easy to turn into a full-fledged snail.
So this way of living began to seem simple and natural to us,and we no longer envisioned a different lifestyle on the surfaceof the planet earth, when something happened to remind us ofour strange circumstances.
On January 18 the Nautilus lay in longitude 105 degrees and latitude 15degrees south. The weather was threatening, the sea rough and billowy.The wind was blowing a strong gust from the east. The barometer,which had been falling for some days, forecast an approachingstruggle of the elements.
I had climbed onto the platform just as the chief officer was takinghis readings of hour angles. Out of habit I waited for him to pronouncehis daily phrase. But that day it was replaced by a different phrase,just as incomprehensible. Almost at once I saw Captain Nemo appear,lift his spyglass, and inspect the horizon.
For some minutes the captain stood motionless, rooted to the spotcontained within the field of his lens. Then he lowered hisspyglass and exchanged about ten words with his chief officer.The latter seemed to be in the grip of an excitement he tried in vainto control. More in command of himself, Captain Nemo remained cool.Furthermore, he seemed to be raising certain objections that hischief officer kept answering with flat assurances. At least that'swhat I gathered from their differences in tone and gesture.
As for me, I stared industriously in the direction under observationbut without spotting a thing. Sky and water merged into a perfectlyclean horizon line.
Meanwhile Captain Nemo strolled from one end of the platformto the other, not glancing at me, perhaps not even seeing me.His step was firm but less regular than usual. Sometimes hewould stop, cross his arms over his chest, and observe the sea.What could he be looking for over that immense expanse?By then the Nautilus lay hundreds of miles from the nearest coast!
The chief officer kept lifting his spyglass and stubbornlyexamining the horizon, walking up and down, stamping his foot,in his nervous agitation a sharp contrast to his superior.
But this mystery would inevitably be cleared up, and soon,because Captain Nemo gave orders to increase speed; at once the enginestepped up its drive power, setting the propeller in swifter rotation.
Just then the chief officer drew the captain's attention anew.The latter interrupted his strolling and aimed his spyglassat the point indicated. He observed it a good while.As for me, deeply puzzled, I went below to the lounge and broughtback an excellent long-range telescope I habitually used.Leaning my elbows on the beacon housing, which jutted from the sternof the platform, I got set to scour that whole stretch of sky and sea.
But no sooner had I peered into the eyepiece than the instrumentwas snatched from my hands.
I spun around. Captain Nemo was standing before me, but I almostdidn't recognize him. His facial features were transfigured.Gleaming with dark fire, his eyes had shrunk beneath his frowning brow.His teeth were half bared. His rigid body, clenched fists,and head drawn between his shoulders, all attested to a fiercehate breathing from every pore. He didn't move. My spyglass fellfrom his hand and rolled at his feet.
Had I accidentally caused these symptoms of anger? Did thisincomprehensible individual think I had detected some secretforbidden to guests on the Nautilus?
No! I wasn't the subject of his hate because he wasn't even lookingat me; his eyes stayed stubbornly focused on that inscrutable pointof the horizon.
Finally Captain Nemo regained his self-control. His facial appearance,so profoundly changed, now resumed its usual calm. He addresseda few words to his chief officer in their strange language,then he turned to me:
"Professor Aronnax," he told me in a tone of some urgency, "I askthat you now honor one of the binding agreements between us."
"Which one, captain?"
"You and your companions must be placed in confinement until I seefit to set you free."
"You're in command," I answered, gaping at him. "But may I addressa question to you?"
"You may not, sir."
After that, I stopped objecting and started obeying,since resistance was useless.
I went below to the cabin occupied by Ned Land and Conseil,and I informed them of the captain's decision. I'll let the readerdecide how this news was received by the Canadian. In any case,there was no time for explanations. Four crewmen were waitingat the door, and they led us to the cell where we had spent ourfirst night aboard the Nautilus.
Ned Land tried to lodge a complaint, but the only answer he gotwas a door shut in his face.
"Will master tell me what this means?" Conseil asked me.
I told my companions what had happened. They were as astonishedas I was, but no wiser.
Then I sank into deep speculation, and Captain Nemo's strange facialseizure kept haunting me. I was
incapable of connecting two ideasin logical order, and I had strayed into the most absurd hypotheses,when I was snapped out of my mental struggles by these wordsfrom Ned Land:
"Well, look here! Lunch is served!"
Indeed, the table had been laid. Apparently Captain Nemo had giventhis order at the same time he commanded the Nautilus to pick up speed.
"Will master allow me to make him a recommendation?"Conseil asked me.
"Yes, my boy," I replied.
"Well, master needs to eat his lunch! It's prudent, because wehave no idea what the future holds."
"You're right, Conseil."
"Unfortunately," Ned Land said, "they've only given us the standard menu."
"Ned my friend," Conseil answered, "what would you say if they'dgiven us no lunch at all?"
This dose of sanity cut the harpooner's complaints clean off.
We sat down at the table. Our meal proceeded pretty much in silence.I ate very little. Conseil, everlastingly prudent, "force-fed" himself;and despite the menu, Ned Land didn't waste a bite. Then, lunch over,each of us propped himself in a corner.
Just then the luminous globe lighting our cell went out,leaving us in profound darkness. Ned Land soon dozed off,and to my astonishment, Conseil also fell into a heavy slumber.I was wondering what could have caused this urgent needfor sleep, when I felt a dense torpor saturate my brain.I tried to keep my eyes open, but they closed in spite of me.I was in the grip of anguished hallucinations. Obviously somesleep-inducing substance had been laced into the food we'd just eaten!So imprisonment wasn't enough to conceal Captain Nemo's plans from us--sleep was needed as well!
Then I heard the hatches close. The sea's undulations,which had been creating a gentle rocking motion, now ceased.Had the Nautilus left the surface of the ocean? Was it reenteringthe motionless strata deep in the sea?
I tried to fight off this drowsiness. It was impossible.My breathing grew weaker. I felt a mortal chill freezemy dull, nearly paralyzed limbs. Like little domes of lead,my lids fell over my eyes. I couldn't raise them.A morbid sleep, full of hallucinations, seized my whole being.Then the visions disappeared and left me in utter oblivion.
CHAPTER 24
The Coral Realm
THE NEXT DAY I woke up with my head unusually clear. Much tomy surprise, I was in my stateroom. No doubt my companions had beenput back in their cabin without noticing it any more than I had.Like me, they would have no idea what took place during the night, and tounravel this mystery I could count only on some future happenstance.
I then considered leaving my stateroom. Was I free or still a prisoner?Perfectly free. I opened my door, headed down the gangways,and climbed the central companionway. Hatches that had been closedthe day before were now open. I arrived on the platform.
Ned Land and Conseil were there waiting for me. I questioned them.They knew nothing. Lost in a heavy sleep of which they had no memory,they were quite startled to be back in their cabin.
As for the Nautilus, it seemed as tranquil and mysterious as ever.It was cruising on the surface of the waves at a moderate speed.Nothing seemed to have changed on board.
Ned Land observed the sea with his penetrating eyes. It was deserted.The Canadian sighted nothing new on the horizon, neither sail nor shore.A breeze was blowing noisily from the west, and disheveled by the wind,long billows made the submersible roll very noticeably.
After renewing its air, the Nautilus stayed at an average depthof fifteen meters, enabling it to return quickly to the surfaceof the waves. And, contrary to custom, it executed such a maneuverseveral times during that day of January 19. The chief officerwould then climb onto the platform, and his usual phrase would ringthrough the ship's interior.
As for Captain Nemo, he didn't appear. Of the other men on board,I saw only my emotionless steward, who served me with hisusual mute efficiency.
Near two o'clock I was busy organizing my notes in the lounge,when the captain opened the door and appeared. I bowed to him.He gave me an almost imperceptible bow in return, without saying a wordto me. I resumed my work, hoping he might give me some explanationof the previous afternoon's events. He did nothing of the sort.I stared at him. His face looked exhausted; his reddened eyeshadn't been refreshed by sleep; his facial features expressedprofound sadness, real chagrin. He walked up and down,sat and stood, picked up a book at random, discarded it immediately,consulted his instruments without taking his customary notes,and seemed unable to rest easy for an instant.
Finally he came over to me and said:
"Are you a physician, Professor Aronnax?"
This inquiry was so unexpected that I stared at him a goodwhile without replying.
"Are you a physician?" he repeated. "Several of yourscientific colleagues took their degrees in medicine,such as Gratiolet, Moquin-Tandon, and others."
"That's right," I said, "I am a doctor, I used to be on callat the hospitals. I was in practice for several years beforejoining the museum."
"Excellent, sir."
My reply obviously pleased Captain Nemo. But not knowing whathe was driving at, I waited for further questions, ready to replyas circumstances dictated.
"Professor Aronnax," the captain said to me, "would you consentto give your medical attentions to one of my men?"
"Someone is sick?"
"Yes."
"I'm ready to go with you."
"Come."
I admit that my heart was pounding. Lord knows why, but I saw a definiteconnection between this sick crewman and yesterday's happenings,and the mystery of those events concerned me at least as muchas the man's sickness.
Captain Nemo led me to the Nautilus's stern and invited me intoa cabin located next to the sailors' quarters.
On a bed there lay a man some forty years old, with stronglymolded features, the very image of an Anglo-Saxon.
I bent over him. Not only was he sick, he was wounded.Swathed in blood-soaked linen, his head was resting on a folded pillow.I undid the linen bandages, while the wounded man gazed with greatstaring eyes and let me proceed without making a single complaint.
It was a horrible wound. The cranium had been smashed openby some blunt instrument, leaving the naked brains exposed,and the cerebral matter had suffered deep abrasions. Blood clots hadformed in this dissolving mass, taking on the color of wine dregs.Both contusion and concussion of the brain had occurred. The sickman's breathing was labored, and muscle spasms quivered in his face.Cerebral inflammation was complete and had brought on a paralysisof movement and sensation.
I took the wounded man's pulse. It was intermittent.The body's extremities were already growing cold, and I saw that deathwas approaching without any possibility of my holding it in check.After dressing the poor man's wound, I redid the linen bandagesaround his head, and I turned to Captain Nemo.
"How did he get this wound?" I asked him.
"That's not important," the captain replied evasively."The Nautilus suffered a collision that cracked one of the engine levers,and it struck this man. My chief officer was standing beside him.This man leaped forward to intercept the blow. A brother lays down hislife for his brother, a friend for his friend, what could be simpler?That's the law for everyone on board the Nautilus. But what'syour diagnosis of his condition?"
I hesitated to speak my mind.
"You may talk freely," the captain told me. "This mandoesn't understand French."
I took a last look at the wounded man, then I replied:
"This man will be dead in two hours."
"Nothing can save him?"
"Nothing."
Captain Nemo clenched his fists, and tears slid from his eyes,which I had thought incapable of weeping.
For a few moments more I observed the dying man, whose life wasebbing little by little. He grew still more pale under the electriclight that bathed his deathbed. I looked at his intelligent head,furrowed with premature wrinkles that misfortune, perhaps misery,had etched long before. I was hoping to detect t
he secret of hislife in the last words that might escape from his lips!
"You may go, Professor Aronnax," Captain Nemo told me.
I left the captain in the dying man's cabin and I repairedto my stateroom, very moved by this scene. All day long I wasaquiver with gruesome forebodings. That night I slept poorly,and between my fitful dreams, I thought I heard a distant moaning,like a funeral dirge. Was it a prayer for the dead, murmured inthat language I couldn't understand?
The next morning I climbed on deck. Captain Nemo was already there.As soon as he saw me, he came over.
"Professor," he said to me, "would it be convenient for you to makean underwater excursion today?"
"With my companions?" I asked.
"If they're agreeable."
"We're yours to command, captain."
"Then kindly put on your diving suits."
As for the dead or dying man, he hadn't come into the picture. I rejoinedNed Land and Conseil. I informed them of Captain Nemo's proposition.Conseil was eager to accept, and this time the Canadian provedperfectly amenable to going with us.
It was eight o'clock in the morning. By 8:30 we were suited up for thisnew stroll and equipped with our two devices for lighting and breathing.The double door opened, and accompanied by Captain Nemo with a dozencrewmen following, we set foot on the firm seafloor where the Nautiluswas resting, ten meters down.
