by Jules Verne
I asked Captain Nemo if he had observed any fish atmore considerable depths.
"Fish? Rarely!" he answered me. "But given the current stateof marine science, who are we to presume, what do we really knowof these depths?"
"Just this, captain. In going toward the ocean's lower strata,we know that vegetable life disappears more quickly than animal life.We know that moving creatures can still be encountered where waterplants no longer grow. We know that oysters and pilgrim scallops livein 2,000 meters of water, and that Admiral McClintock, England's hero ofthe polar seas, pulled in a live sea star from a depth of 2,500 meters.We know that the crew of the Royal Navy's Bulldog fished up a starfishfrom 2,620 fathoms, hence from a depth of more than one vertical league.Would you still say, Captain Nemo, that we really know nothing?"
"No, professor," the captain replied, "I wouldn't be so discourteous.Yet I'll ask you to explain how these creatures can live at such depths?"
"I explain it on two grounds," I replied. "In the first place,because vertical currents, which are caused by differences in thewater's salinity and density, can produce enough motion to sustainthe rudimentary lifestyles of sea lilies and starfish."
"True," the captain put in.
"In the second place, because oxygen is the basis of life, and weknow that the amount of oxygen dissolved in salt water increasesrather than decreases with depth, that the pressure in these lowerstrata helps to concentrate their oxygen content."
"Oho! We know that, do we?" Captain Nemo replied in a toneof mild surprise. "Well, professor, we have good reason to knowit because it's the truth. I might add, in fact, that the airbladders of fish contain more nitrogen than oxygen when these animalsare caught at the surface of the water, and conversely, more oxygenthan nitrogen when they're pulled up from the lower depths.Which bears out your formulation. But let's continue our observations."
My eyes flew back to the pressure gauge. The instrument indicateda depth of 6,000 meters. Our submergence had been going on for an hour.The Nautilus slid downward on its slanting fins, still sinking.These deserted waters were wonderfully clear, with a transparencyimpossible to convey. An hour later we were at 13,000 meters--about three and a quarter vertical leagues--and the ocean floorwas nowhere in sight.
However, at 14,000 meters I saw blackish peaks rising in the midstof the waters. But these summits could have belonged to mountainsas high or even higher than the Himalayas or Mt. Blanc, and the extentof these depths remained incalculable.
Despite the powerful pressures it was undergoing, the Nautilus sankstill deeper. I could feel its sheet-iron plates trembling down totheir riveted joins; metal bars arched; bulkheads groaned; the loungewindows seemed to be warping inward under the water's pressure.And this whole sturdy mechanism would surely have given way, if, as itscaptain had said, it weren't capable of resisting like a solid block.
While grazing these rocky slopes lost under the waters, I stillspotted some seashells, tube worms, lively annelid worms fromthe genus Spirorbis, and certain starfish specimens.
But soon these last representatives of animal life vanished,and three vertical leagues down, the Nautilus passed below the limitsof underwater existence just as an air balloon rises above thebreathable zones in the sky. We reached a depth of 16,000 meters--four vertical leagues--and by then the Nautilus's plating wastolerating a pressure of 1,600 atmospheres, in other words,1,600 kilograms per each square centimeter on its surface!
"What an experience!" I exclaimed. "Traveling these deepregions where no man has ever ventured before! Look, captain!Look at these magnificent rocks, these uninhabited caves,these last global haunts where life is no longer possible!What unheard-of scenery, and why are we reduced to preserving itonly as a memory?"
"Would you like," Captain Nemo asked me, "to bring back more thanjust a memory?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that nothing could be easier than taking a photographof this underwater region!"
Before I had time to express the surprise this new proposition caused me,a camera was carried into the lounge at Captain Nemo's request.The liquid setting, electrically lit, unfolded with perfectclarity through the wide-open panels. No shadows, no blurs,thanks to our artificial light. Not even sunshine could havebeen better for our purposes. With the thrust of its propellercurbed by the slant of its fins, the Nautilus stood still.The camera was aimed at the scenery on the ocean floor, and in a fewseconds we had a perfect negative.
I attach a print of the positive. In it you can view these primordialrocks that have never seen the light of day, this nether granitethat forms the powerful foundation of our globe, the deep cavescut into the stony mass, the outlines of incomparable distinctnesswhose far edges stand out in black as if from the brush of certainFlemish painters. In the distance is a mountainous horizon, a wondrouslyundulating line that makes up the background of this landscape.The general effect of these smooth rocks is indescribable:black, polished, without moss or other blemish, carved intostrange shapes, sitting firmly on a carpet of sand that sparkledbeneath our streams of electric light.
Meanwhile, his photographic operations over, Captain Nemo told me:
"Let's go back up, professor. We mustn't push our luck and exposethe Nautilus too long to these pressures."
"Let's go back up!" I replied.
"Hold on tight."
Before I had time to realize why the captain made this recommendation,I was hurled to the carpet.
Its fins set vertically, its propeller thrown in gear atthe captain's signal, the Nautilus rose with lightning speed,shooting upward like an air balloon into the sky. Vibrating resonantly,it knifed through the watery mass. Not a single detail was visible.In four minutes it had cleared the four vertical leagues separating itfrom the surface of the ocean, and after emerging like a flying fish,it fell back into the sea, making the waves leap to prodigious heights.
CHAPTER 12
Sperm Whales and Baleen Whales
DURING THE NIGHT of March 13-14, the Nautilus resumed itssouthward heading. Once it was abreast of Cape Horn, I thought itwould strike west of the cape, make for Pacific seas, and completeits tour of the world. It did nothing of the sort and kept movingtoward the southernmost regions. So where was it bound? The pole?That was insanity. I was beginning to think that the captain'srecklessness more than justified Ned Land's worst fears.
For a good while the Canadian had said nothing more to me abouthis escape plans. He had become less sociable, almost sullen.I could see how heavily this protracted imprisonment was weighing on him.I could feel the anger building in him. Whenever he encounteredthe captain, his eyes would flicker with dark fire, and I wasin constant dread that his natural vehemence would cause himto do something rash.
That day, March 14, he and Conseil managed to find me in my stateroom.I asked them the purpose of their visit.
"To put a simple question to you, sir," the Canadian answered me.
"Go on, Ned."
"How many men do you think are on board the Nautilus?"
"I'm unable to say, my friend."
"It seems to me," Ned Land went on, "that it wouldn't take muchof a crew to run a ship like this one."
"Correct," I replied. "Under existing conditions some ten menat the most should be enough to operate it."
"All right," the Canadian said, "then why should there be anymore than that?"
"Why?" I answered.
I stared at Ned Land, whose motives were easy to guess.
"Because," I said, "if I can trust my hunches, if I truly understandthe captain's way of life, his Nautilus isn't simply a ship.It's meant to be a refuge for people like its commander, people whohave severed all ties with the shore."
"Perhaps," Conseil said, "but in a nutshell, the Nautilus can hold onlya certain number of men, so couldn't master estimate their maximum?"
"How, Conseil?"
"By calculating it. Master is familiar with the ship's capacity,hence the amount of air it contains
; on the other hand,master knows how much air each man consumes in the act of breathing,and he can compare this data with the fact that the Nautilus mustrise to the surface every twenty-four hours . . ."
Conseil didn't finish his sentence, but I could easily see whathe was driving at.
"I follow you," I said. "But while they're simple to do,such calculations can give only a very uncertain figure."
"No problem," the Canadian went on insistently.
"Then here's how to calculate it," I replied. "In one houreach man consumes the oxygen contained in 100 liters of air,hence during twenty-four hours the oxygen contained in 2,400 liters.Therefore, we must look for the multiple of 2,400 liters of airthat gives us the amount found in the Nautilus."
"Precisely," Conseil said.
"Now then," I went on, "the Nautilus's capacity is 1,500 metric tons,and that of a ton is 1,000 liters, so the Nautilus holds 1,500,000liters of air, which, divided by 2,400 . . ."
I did a quick pencil calculation.
". . . gives us the quotient of 625. Which is tantamount to sayingthat the air contained in the Nautilus would be exactly enoughfor 625 men over twenty-four hours."
"625!" Ned repeated.
"But rest assured," I added, "that between passengers, seamen,or officers, we don't total one-tenth of that figure."
"Which is still too many for three men!" Conseil muttered.
"So, my poor Ned, I can only counsel patience."
"And," Conseil replied, "even more than patience, resignation."
Conseil had said the true word.
"Even so," he went on, "Captain Nemo can't go south forever!He'll surely have to stop, if only at the Ice Bank, and he'llreturn to the seas of civilization! Then it will be time to resumeNed Land's plans."
The Canadian shook his head, passed his hand over his brow,made no reply, and left us.
"With master's permission, I'll make an observation to him,"Conseil then told me. "Our poor Ned broods about allthe things he can't have. He's haunted by his former life.He seems to miss everything that's denied us. He's obsessed by hisold memories and it's breaking his heart. We must understand him.What does he have to occupy him here? Nothing. He isn't a scientistlike master, and he doesn't share our enthusiasm for the sea's wonders.He would risk anything just to enter a tavern in his own country!"
To be sure, the monotony of life on board must have seemed unbearableto the Canadian, who was accustomed to freedom and activity.It was a rare event that could excite him. That day, however,a development occurred that reminded him of his happy yearsas a harpooner.
Near eleven o'clock in the morning, while on the surface ofthe ocean, the Nautilus fell in with a herd of baleen whales.This encounter didn't surprise me, because I knew these animalswere being hunted so relentlessly that they took refuge in the oceanbasins of the high latitudes.
In the maritime world and in the realm of geographic exploration,whales have played a major role. This is the animal that firstdragged the Basques in its wake, then Asturian Spaniards, Englishmen,and Dutchmen, emboldening them against the ocean's perils,and leading them to the ends of the earth. Baleen whales liketo frequent the southernmost and northernmost seas. Old legendseven claim that these cetaceans led fishermen to within a mereseven leagues of the North Pole. Although this feat is fictitious,it will someday come true, because it's likely that by huntingwhales in the Arctic or Antarctic regions, man will finally reachthis unknown spot on the globe.
We were seated on the platform next to a tranquil sea. The monthof March, since it's the equivalent of October in these latitudes,was giving us some fine autumn days. It was the Canadian--on this topic he was never mistaken--who sighted a baleen whaleon the eastern horizon. If you looked carefully, you could seeits blackish back alternately rise and fall above the waves,five miles from the Nautilus.
"Wow!" Ned Land exclaimed. "If I were on board a whaler,there's an encounter that would be great fun! That's one big animal!Look how high its blowholes are spouting all that air and steam!Damnation! Why am I chained to this hunk of sheet iron!"
"Why, Ned!" I replied. "You still aren't over your old fishing urges?"
"How could a whale fisherman forget his old trade, sir? Who couldever get tired of such exciting hunting?"
"You've never fished these seas, Ned?"
"Never, sir. Just the northernmost seas, equally in the Bering Straitand the Davis Strait."
"So the southern right whale is still unknown to you.Until now it's the bowhead whale you've hunted, and it won't riskgoing past the warm waters of the equator."
"Oh, professor, what are you feeding me?" the Canadian answeredin a tolerably skeptical tone.
"I'm feeding you the facts."
"By thunder! In '65, just two and a half years ago, I to whom you speak,I myself stepped onto the carcass of a whale near Greenland,and its flank still carried the marked harpoon of a whaling shipfrom the Bering Sea. Now I ask you, after it had been woundedwest of America, how could this animal be killed in the east,unless it had cleared the equator and doubled Cape Horn or the Capeof Good Hope?"
"I agree with our friend Ned," Conseil said, "and I'm waitingto hear how master will reply to him."
"Master will reply, my friends, that baleen whales are localized,according to species, within certain seas that they never leave.And if one of these animals went from the Bering Straitto the Davis Strait, it's quite simply because there's somepassageway from the one sea to the other, either along the coastsof Canada or Siberia."
"You expect us to fall for that?" the Canadian asked, tipping me a wink.
"If master says so," Conseil replied.
"Which means," the Canadian went on, "since I've never fishedthese waterways, I don't know the whales that frequent them?"
"That's what I've been telling you, Ned."
"All the more reason to get to know them," Conseil answered.
"Look! Look!" the Canadian exclaimed, his voice full of excitement."It's approaching! It's coming toward us! It's thumbing its nose at me!It knows I can't do a blessed thing to it!"
Ned stamped his foot. Brandishing an imaginary harpoon,his hands positively trembled.
"These cetaceans," he asked, "are they as big as the ones inthe northernmost seas?"
"Pretty nearly, Ned."
"Because I've seen big baleen whales, sir, whales measuring upto 100 feet long! I've even heard that those rorqual whales offthe Aleutian Islands sometimes get over 150 feet."
"That strikes me as exaggerated," I replied. "Those animals areonly members of the genus Balaenoptera furnished with dorsal fins,and like sperm whales, they're generally smaller than the bowhead whale."
"Oh!" exclaimed the Canadian, whose eyes hadn't left the ocean."It's getting closer, it's coming into the Nautilus's waters!"
Then, going on with his conversation:
"You talk about sperm whales," he said, "as if they werelittle beasts! But there are stories of gigantic sperm whales.They're shrewd cetaceans. I hear that some will cover themselveswith algae and fucus plants. People mistake them for islets.They pitch camp on top, make themselves at home, light a fire--"
"Build houses," Conseil said.
"Yes, funny man," Ned Land replied. "Then one fine day the animaldives and drags all its occupants down into the depths."
"Like in the voyages of Sinbad the Sailor," I answered, laughing."Oh, Mr. Land, you're addicted to tall tales! What sperm whalesyou're handing us! I hope you don't really believe in them!"
"Mr. Naturalist," the Canadian replied in all seriousness, "when itcomes to whales, you can believe anything! (Look at that one move!Look at it stealing away!) People claim these animals can circlearound the world in just fifteen days."
"I don't say nay."
"But what you undoubtedly don't know, Professor Aronnax, is that atthe beginning of the world, whales traveled even quicker."
"Oh really, Ned! And why so?"
"Because in those days their tails move
d side to side,like those on fish, in other words, their tails were straight up,thrashing the water from left to right, right to left.But spotting that they swam too fast, our Creator twisted their tails,and ever since they've been thrashing the waves up and down,at the expense of their speed."
"Fine, Ned," I said, then resurrected one of the Canadian's expressions."You expect us to fall for that?"
"Not too terribly," Ned Land replied, "and no more than if I told youthere are whales that are 300 feet long and weigh 1,000,000 pounds."
"That's indeed considerable," I said. "But you must admit thatcertain cetaceans do grow to significant size, since they're saidto supply as much as 120 metric tons of oil."
"That I've seen," the Canadian said.
"I can easily believe it, Ned, just as I can believe that certainbaleen whales equal 100 elephants in bulk. Imagine the impactof such a mass if it were launched at full speed!"
"Is it true," Conseil asked, "that they can sink ships?"
