by Jules Verne
Asia combined, taking in an area that lay between latitude 12 degreesand 40 degrees north. Their dominion extended even to Egypt. They triedto enforce their rule as far as Greece, but they had to retreat beforethe indomitable resistance of the Hellenic people. Centuries passed.A cataclysm occurred--floods, earthquakes. A single night and daywere enough to obliterate this Atlantis, whose highest peaks(Madeira, the Azores, the Canaries, the Cape Verde Islands)still emerge above the waves.
These were the historical memories that Captain Nemo's scrawl sentrushing through my mind. Thus, led by the strangest of fates,I was treading underfoot one of the mountains of that continent!My hands were touching ruins many thousands of years old,contemporary with prehistoric times! I was walking in the very placewhere contemporaries of early man had walked! My heavy soleswere crushing the skeletons of animals from the age of fable,animals that used to take cover in the shade of these trees nowturned to stone!
Oh, why was I so short of time! I would have gone down the steepslopes of this mountain, crossed this entire immense continent,which surely connects Africa with America, and visited its greatprehistoric cities. Under my eyes there perhaps lay the warliketown of Makhimos or the pious village of Eusebes, whose giganticinhabitants lived for whole centuries and had the strength to raiseblocks of stone that still withstood the action of the waters.One day perhaps, some volcanic phenomenon will bring these sunkenruins back to the surface of the waves! Numerous underwater volcanoeshave been sighted in this part of the ocean, and many ships havefelt terrific tremors when passing over these turbulent depths.A few have heard hollow noises that announced some struggle ofthe elements far below, others have hauled in volcanic ash hurledabove the waves. As far as the equator this whole seafloor is stillunder construction by plutonic forces. And in some remote epoch,built up by volcanic disgorgings and successive layers of lava,who knows whether the peaks of these fire-belching mountains mayreappear above the surface of the Atlantic!
As I mused in this way, trying to establish in my memory everydetail of this impressive landscape, Captain Nemo was leaninghis elbows on a moss-covered monument, motionless as if petrifiedin some mute trance. Was he dreaming of those lost generations,asking them for the secret of human destiny? Was it here that thisstrange man came to revive himself, basking in historical memories,reliving that bygone life, he who had no desire for our modern one?I would have given anything to know his thoughts, to share them,understand them!
We stayed in this place an entire hour, contemplating its vast plainsin the lava's glow, which sometimes took on a startling intensity.Inner boilings sent quick shivers running through the mountain's crust.Noises from deep underneath, clearly transmitted by the liquid medium,reverberated with majestic amplitude.
Just then the moon appeared for an instant through the watery mass,casting a few pale rays over this submerged continent.It was only a fleeting glimmer, but its effect was indescribable.The captain stood up and took one last look at these immense plains;then his hand signaled me to follow him.
We went swiftly down the mountain. Once past the petrified forest,I could see the Nautilus's beacon twinkling like a star.The captain walked straight toward it, and we were back on boardjust as the first glimmers of dawn were whitening the surfaceof the ocean.
CHAPTER 10
The Underwater Coalfields
THE NEXT DAY, February 20, I overslept. I was so exhaustedfrom the night before, I didn't get up until eleven o'clock. Idressed quickly. I hurried to find out the Nautilus's heading.The instruments indicated that it was running southward at a speedof twenty miles per hour and a depth of 100 meters.
Conseil entered. I described our nocturnal excursion to him,and since the panels were open, he could still catch a glimpseof this submerged continent.
In fact, the Nautilus was skimming only ten meters over the soil ofthese Atlantis plains. The ship scudded along like an air balloon borneby the wind over some prairie on land; but it would be more accurateto say that we sat in the lounge as if we were riding in a coachon an express train. As for the foregrounds passing before our eyes,they were fantastically carved rocks, forests of trees that hadcrossed over from the vegetable kingdom into the mineral kingdom,their motionless silhouettes sprawling beneath the waves.There also were stony masses buried beneath carpets of axidiaand sea anemone, bristling with long, vertical water plants,then strangely contoured blocks of lava that testified to all the furyof those plutonic developments.
While this bizarre scenery was glittering under our electric beams,I told Conseil the story of the Atlanteans, who had inspiredthe old French scientist Jean Bailly to write so many entertaining--albeit utterly fictitious--pages.* I told the lad about the warsof these heroic people. I discussed the question of Atlantiswith the fervor of a man who no longer had any doubts. But Conseilwas so distracted he barely heard me, and his lack of interestin any commentary on this historical topic was soon explained.
*Bailly believed that Atlantis was located at the North Pole! Ed.
In essence, numerous fish had caught his eye, and when fish pass by,Conseil vanishes into his world of classifying and leaves reallife behind. In which case I could only tag along and resumeour ichthyological research.
Even so, these Atlantic fish were not noticeably different from those wehad observed earlier. There were rays of gigantic size, five meterslong and with muscles so powerful they could leap above the waves,sharks of various species including a fifteen-foot glaucous sharkwith sharp triangular teeth and so transparent it was almost invisibleamid the waters, brown lantern sharks, prism-shaped humantin sharksarmored with protuberant hides, sturgeons resembling their relativesin the Mediterranean, trumpet-snouted pipefish a foot and a half long,yellowish brown with small gray fins and no teeth or tongue,unreeling like slim, supple snakes.
Among bony fish, Conseil noticed some blackish marlin threemeters long with a sharp sword jutting from the upper jaw,bright-colored weevers known in Aristotle's day as sea dragonsand whose dorsal stingers make them quite dangerous to pick up,then dolphinfish with brown backs striped in blue and edged in gold,handsome dorados, moonlike opahs that look like azure disks but whichthe sun's rays turn into spots of silver, finally eight-meter swordfishfrom the genus Xiphias, swimming in schools, sporting yellowishsickle-shaped fins and six-foot broadswords, stalwart animals,plant eaters rather than fish eaters, obeying the tiniest signalsfrom their females like henpecked husbands.
But while observing these different specimens of marine fauna,I didn't stop examining the long plains of Atlantis. Sometimes anunpredictable irregularity in the seafloor would force the Nautilusto slow down, and then it would glide into the narrow channelsbetween the hills with a cetacean's dexterity. If the labyrinthbecame hopelessly tangled, the submersible would rise above itlike an airship, and after clearing the obstacle, it would resumeits speedy course just a few meters above the ocean floor.It was an enjoyable and impressive way of navigating that did indeedrecall the maneuvers of an airship ride, with the major differencethat the Nautilus faithfully obeyed the hands of its helmsman.
The terrain consisted mostly of thick slime mixed with petrified branches,but it changed little by little near four o'clock in the afternoon;it grew rockier and seemed to be strewn with pudding stones and a basalticgravel called "tuff," together with bits of lava and sulfurous obsidian.I expected these long plains to change into mountain regions,and in fact, as the Nautilus was executing certain turns,I noticed that the southerly horizon was blocked by a high wallthat seemed to close off every exit. Its summit obviouslypoked above the level of the ocean. It had to be a continentor at least an island, either one of the Canaries or one of theCape Verde Islands. Our bearings hadn't been marked on the chart--perhaps deliberately--and I had no idea what our position was.In any case this wall seemed to signal the end of Atlantis, of which,all in all, we had crossed only a small part.
Nightfall didn't interrupt my observations. I was left to myself.Conseil had repaired to his c
abin. The Nautilus slowed down,hovering above the muddled masses on the seafloor, sometimes grazingthem as if wanting to come to rest, sometimes rising unpredictablyto the surface of the waves. Then I glimpsed a few brightconstellations through the crystal waters, specifically five or sixof those zodiacal stars trailing from the tail end of Orion.
I would have stayed longer at my window, marveling at these beautiesof sea and sky, but the panels closed. Just then the Nautilus hadarrived at the perpendicular face of that high wall. How the shipwould maneuver I hadn't a guess. I repaired to my stateroom.The Nautilus did not stir. I fell asleep with the firm intentionof waking up in just a few hours.
But it was eight o'clock the next day when I returned to the lounge.I stared at the pressure gauge. It told me that the Nautilus wasafloat on the surface of the ocean. Furthermore, I heard the soundof footsteps on the platform. Yet there were no rolling movementsto indicate the presence of waves undulating above me.
I climbed as far as the hatch. It was open. But instead ofthe broad daylight I was expecting, I found that I was surroundedby total darkness. Where were we? Had I been mistaken?Was it still night? No! Not one star was twinkling, and nighttimeis never so utterly black.
I wasn't sure what to think, when a voice said to me:
"Is that you, professor?"
"Ah, Captain Nemo!" I replied. "Where are we?"
"Underground, professor."
"Underground!" I exclaimed. "And the Nautilus is still floating?"
"It always floats."
"But I don't understand!"
"Wait a little while. Our beacon is about to go on, and if youwant some light on the subject, you'll be satisfied."
I set foot on the platform and waited. The darkness was so profoundI couldn't see even Captain Nemo. However, looking at the zenithdirectly overhead, I thought I caught sight of a feeble glimmer,a sort of twilight filtering through a circular hole.Just then the beacon suddenly went on, and its intense brightnessmade that hazy light vanish.
This stream of electricity dazzled my eyes, and after momentarilyshutting them, I looked around. The Nautilus was stationary.It was floating next to an embankment shaped like a wharf.As for the water now buoying the ship, it was a lake completely encircledby an inner wall about two miles in diameter, hence six miles around.Its level--as indicated by the pressure gauge--would be the sameas the outside level, because some connection had to existbetween this lake and the sea. Slanting inward over their base,these high walls converged to form a vault shaped like an immenseupside-down funnel that measured 500 or 600 meters in height.At its summit there gaped the circular opening through which Ihad detected that faint glimmer, obviously daylight.
Before more carefully examining the interior features of thisenormous cavern, and before deciding if it was the work of natureor humankind, I went over to Captain Nemo.
"Where are we?" I said.
"In the very heart of an extinct volcano," the captain answered me,"a volcano whose interior was invaded by the sea after some convulsionin the earth. While you were sleeping, professor, the Nautilusentered this lagoon through a natural channel that opens ten metersbelow the surface of the ocean. This is our home port, secure,convenient, secret, and sheltered against winds from any direction!Along the coasts of your continents or islands, show me anyoffshore mooring that can equal this safe refuge for withstandingthe fury of hurricanes."
"Indeed," I replied, "here you're in perfect safety,Captain Nemo. Who could reach you in the heart of a volcano?But don't I see an opening at its summit?"
"Yes, its crater, a crater formerly filled with lava, steam, and flames,but which now lets in this life-giving air we're breathing."
"But which volcanic mountain is this?" I asked.
"It's one of the many islets with which this sea is strewn.For ships a mere reef, for us an immense cavern. I discovered itby chance, and chance served me well."
"But couldn't someone enter through the mouth of its crater?"
"No more than I could exit through it. You can climb about 100 feetup the inner base of this mountain, but then the walls overhang,they lean too far in to be scaled."
"I can see, captain, that nature is your obedient servant,any time or any place. You're safe on this lake, and nobody elsecan visit its waters. But what's the purpose of this refuge?The Nautilus doesn't need a harbor."
"No, professor, but it needs electricity to run, batteries togenerate its electricity, sodium to feed its batteries, coal tomake its sodium, and coalfields from which to dig its coal.Now then, right at this spot the sea covers entire forests thatsank underwater in prehistoric times; today, turned to stone,transformed into carbon fuel, they offer me inexhaustible coal mines."
"So, captain, your men practice the trade of miners here?"
"Precisely. These mines extend under the waves like the coalfieldsat Newcastle. Here, dressed in diving suits, pick and mattock in hand,my men go out and dig this carbon fuel for which I don't need a singlemine on land. When I burn this combustible to produce sodium,the smoke escaping from the mountain's crater gives it the appearanceof a still-active volcano."
"And will we see your companions at work?"
"No, at least not this time, because I'm eager to continue ourunderwater tour of the world. Accordingly, I'll rest contentwith drawing on my reserve stock of sodium. We'll stay here longenough to load it on board, in other words, a single workday,then we'll resume our voyage. So, Professor Aronnax, if you'dlike to explore this cavern and circle its lagoon, seize the day."
I thanked the captain and went to look for my two companions,who hadn't yet left their cabin. I invited them to follow me,not telling them where we were.
They climbed onto the platform. Conseil, whom nothing could startle,saw it as a perfectly natural thing to fall asleep under the wavesand wake up under a mountain. But Ned Land had no idea in his headother than to see if this cavern offered some way out.
After breakfast near ten o'clock, we went down onto the embankment.
"So here we are, back on shore," Conseil said.
"I'd hardly call this shore," the Canadian replied. "And besides,we aren't on it but under it."
A sandy beach unfolded before us, measuring 500 feet at its widest pointbetween the waters of the lake and the foot of the mountain's walls.Via this strand you could easily circle the lake. But the baseof these high walls consisted of broken soil over which there laypicturesque piles of volcanic blocks and enormous pumice stones.All these crumbling masses were covered with an enamel polished bythe action of underground fires, and they glistened under the streamof electric light from our beacon. Stirred up by our footsteps,the mica-rich dust on this beach flew into the air like acloud of sparks.
The ground rose appreciably as it moved away from the sand flatsby the waves, and we soon arrived at some long, winding gradients,genuinely steep paths that allowed us to climb little by little;but we had to tread cautiously in the midst of pudding stones that weren'tcemented together, and our feet kept skidding on glassy trachyte,made of feldspar and quartz crystals.
The volcanic nature of this enormous pit was apparent all around us.I ventured to comment on it to my companions.
"Can you picture," I asked them, "what this funnel must havebeen like when it was filled with boiling lava, and the levelof that incandescent liquid rose right to the mountain's mouth,like cast iron up the insides of a furnace?"
"I can picture it perfectly," Conseil replied. "But will mastertell me why this huge smelter suspended operations, and how itis that an oven was replaced by the tranquil waters of a lake?"
"In all likelihood, Conseil, because some convulsion created an openingbelow the surface of the ocean, the opening that serves as a passagewayfor the Nautilus. Then the waters of the Atlantic rushed insidethe mountain. There ensued a dreadful struggle between the elementsof fire and water, a struggle ending in King Neptune's favor.But many centuries have passed since then, and this submergedvolcano has changed int
o a peaceful cavern."
"That's fine," Ned Land answered. "I accept the explanation,but in our personal interests, I'm sorry this opening the professormentions wasn't made above sea level."
"But Ned my friend," Conseil answered, "if it weren't an underwaterpassageway, the Nautilus couldn't enter it!"
"And I might add, Mr. Land," I said, "that the waters wouldn't haverushed under the mountain, and the volcano would still be a volcano.So you have nothing to be sorry about."
Our climb continued. The gradients got steeper and narrower.Sometimes they were cut across by deep pits that had to be cleared.Masses of overhanging rock had to be gotten around. You slid onyour knees, you crept on your belly. But helped by the Canadian'sstrength and Conseil's dexterity, we overcame every obstacle.
At an elevation of about thirty meters, the nature of the terrainchanged without becoming any easier. Pudding stones and trachytegave way to black basaltic rock: here, lying in slabs all swollenwith blisters; there, shaped like actual prisms and arranged into aseries of columns that supported the springings of this immense vault,a wonderful sample of natural architecture. Then, among thisbasaltic rock, there snaked long, hardened lava flows inlaid with veinsof bituminous coal and in places covered by wide carpets of sulfur.The sunshine coming through the crater had grown stronger,shedding a hazy light over all the volcanic waste forever buriedin the heart of this extinct mountain.
