Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Seas

by Jules Verne

  Once dressed I went into the salon. It was deserted.

  I plunged into studying the treasures of conchology assembled in the display cabinets. I also moved through vast herbariums filled with the rarest marine plants, which maintained their admirable colours despite being dried. Among these precious hydrophytes, I noticed whorled Cladostephi, peacock’s tails, caulerpas with vine leaves, graniferous Callithamna, delicate ceramiums in scarlet hues, fan-shaped agars, acetabulums like the caps of very short mushrooms, classified for a long time among the zoophytes, and finally a whole series of kelps.

  The whole day went by without the honour of a visit from Captain Nemo. The panels of the salon did not open. Perhaps we were not meant to become too blasé about such beautiful things.

  The Nautilus maintained an east-north-easterly course, its speed 12 knots, its depth between 50 and 60 metres.

  The next day, 10 November, the same abandonment, the same solitude. I saw nobody from the crew. Ned and Conseil spent most of the day with me. They too were astonished at the captain’s baffling absence. Was the strange man ill? Was he preparing to change his plans for us?

  In any case, as Conseil pointed out, we enjoyed total freedom. We were exquisitely and copiously fed. Our host kept his side of the bargain. We had no grounds for complaint, and in any case the strangeness of our situation provided us with such fabulous compensation that we did not yet have the right to criticize it.

  It was that day that I began a diary of our adventures, which has allowed me to recount them with the most scrupulous accuracy; as a curious detail, I wrote my journal on paper made from sea-wrack.

  Early on the morning of 11 November the fresh air coursing through the Nautilus told me we had gone back up to the surface to replenish our supply of oxygen. I headed for the central staircase, and went up on to the platform.

  It was six o’clock. I found the sky overcast, the sea grey but calm. Hardly any swell. Would Captain Nemo put in an appearance? I was hoping to meet him here. But I found only the pilot, enclosed in his glass dome. Sitting on the bulge caused by the dinghy, I breathed in the salt air with great pleasure.

  The mist began to dissipate in the rays of the sun. The sun itself emerged from the eastern horizon. The sea caught fire under its regard like a trail of powder. The clouds, scattered over the heights, took on all sorts of bright colours, with subtle shades and plenty of ‘mares’ tails’1 promising wind for the whole day.

  But what difference did the wind make to the Nautilus, undaunted by storms?

  I was admiring the cheerful sunrise, so joyful and so vivifying, when I heard somebody else coming up to the platform.

  I was preparing to greet Captain Nemo, but it was his first officer who appeared — I had already seen him on the captain’s first visit. He came forward on the platform, but did not seem to notice my presence. A powerful telescope at his eye, he studied every point of the horizon with extreme care. Then, having completed his examination, he went up to the hatch and pronounced the sentence consisting of the following words. I can remember it, as it was repeated every morning in identical circumstances. It ran as follows:

  ‘Nautron respoc lorni virch.’*

  What it meant, I could not say.

  Having pronounced these words, the first officer went below again. I imagined that the Nautilus was going to continue its underwater navigation. So I went back down the hatch staircase, along the gangway, and returned to my room.

  Five days went by like this, without any change to the situation. Each morning I went up on to the platform. The same sentence was pronounced by the same individual. Captain Nemo did not appear.

  I had concluded that I would never see him again, when, on 16 November, going back into my room with Ned and Conseil, I found a note addressed to me on the table.

  I opened it impatiently. It was written in clear bold handwriting, a little Gothic-looking and reminiscent of German script.

  The letter was couched in these terms:

  16 November 1867

  Dr Aronnax

  On board the Nautilus

  Captain Nemo invites Dr Aronnax on a hunting party to visit his forests of Crespo Island tomorrow morning. He hopes that nothing will prevent Dr Aronnax from attending, and he would be pleased if his companions could join him.

  Captain Nemo

  Commander of the Nautilus

  ‘Hunting!’ cried Ned.

  ‘In the forests of Crespo Island!’ added Conseil.

  ‘So that individual does sometimes visit dry land?’ asked Ned Land.

  ‘That seems clearly stated,’ I said rereading the letter.

  ‘Well we’ve got to accept,’ answered the Canadian. ‘Once on land, we can decide what to do. In any case, I wouldn’t say no to a few helpings of fresh venison.’

  Without trying to make sense of the discrepancy between Captain Nemo’s manifest horror for the land and his invitation to go hunting in forests, I merely replied:

  ‘Let’s first of all see what Crespo Island is.’

  I consulted the planisphere, and at latitude 32° 40´ N and longitude 167° 50´ W I found a tiny island charted by Captain Crespo in 1801, that the old Spanish maps called Roca de la Plata, meaning ‘Silver Rock’.* We were therefore about 1,800 miles from where we had started, and the Nautilus had changed direction a little and was now heading south-east.

  I showed my companions the tiny rock lost in the heart of the Northern Pacific.

  ‘If Captain Nemo sometimes goes ashore,’ I said, ‘at least he chooses islands that are utterly deserted.’

  Ned Land bobbed his head without replying, and Conseil and he left the room. After supper, served to me by a silent and impassive steward, I went to bed, not without a slight feeling of worry.

  When I woke up the following day, 17 November, I realized that the Nautilus was not moving at all. I quickly got dressed and went into the salon.

  Captain Nemo was there. He had been waiting for me, and got up, greeted me, and asked if it would be agreeable to accompany him.

  As he made no reference to his absence over the last week, I did not mention it, and simply replied that my companions and I were ready to join him.

  ‘But’, I added, ‘I will take the liberty of asking one question.’

  ‘Ask, Dr Aronnax, and if I can answer it, I will.’

  ‘Well, captain, how does it arise that you own forests on Crespo Island, you who have broken all contact with the land?’

  ‘Sir, the forests I own need neither light nor heat from the sun. No lions, tigers, panthers, or any other quadrupeds live there. I am the only person to know them. They grow for me alone. They are not terrestrial forests, but underwater ones.’

  ‘Underwater ones!’ I exclaimed.

  ‘Yes, Dr Aronnax.’

  ‘And you’re offering to take me there?’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘On foot?’

  ‘Without even getting our feet wet.’

  ‘Whilst hunting?’

  ‘Whilst hunting.’

  ‘With guns?’

  ‘With guns.’

  I looked at the captain of the Nautilus with an expression that was not at all flattering for him.

  ‘His brain must have gone,’ I thought. ‘He has had a fit which has lasted a week, and which is still continuing. What a pity! I liked him better when he was peculiar rather than insane!’

  This thought could clearly be read on my face, but Captain Nemo simply invited me to follow him, which I did like a man resigned to anything.

  We arrived in the dining-room, where breakfast was already served. ‘Dr Aronnax, please be so good as to share my breakfast without further formality. We can talk while we eat. I promised you a walk in a forest, but I did not promise to take you to a restaurant. So please eat your breakfast knowing that your dinner will probably be very late.’

  I did justice to the meal. It was made up of various fish and slices of sea slug, which is an excellent zoophyte, accompanied by very appetizi
ng seaweeds such as Porphyra laciniata and Laurencia pinnatifida. We had perfectly clear water to drink, to which, following the captain’s example, I added a few drops of an alcoholic beverage extracted from the seaweed known as waterleaf, as is customary in Kamchatka.

  At first Captain Nemo ate without a word. Then he said:

  ‘When I suggested that you accompany me to the forests of Crespo, you thought I was contradicting myself. When I informed you that they were underwater forests, you thought I was mad. Sir, you should never judge men too hastily.’

  ‘But, captain, I assure you . . .’

  ‘Please listen to me, and you will see if you should accuse me of madness or inconsistency.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Sir, you know as well as I do that man can live underwater provided he takes with him a supply of air for breathing. While carrying out works underwater, the workman wears watertight clothing and his head is enclosed in a metal capsule which receives air from the outside by means of force pumps and inflow valves.’

  ‘Diving suits.’

  ‘Indeed, but in such conditions man is not free. He is tied to the pump which provides the air through a rubber tube, a real chain riveting him to the land; and if we were bound to the Nautilus in such a way we would not go very far.’

  ‘But how can one escape this constraint?’

  ‘By using the Rouquayrol-Denayrouze apparatus,* first developed by two of your compatriots, and which I have improved for my own use: it will allow you to meet new physiological conditions without your organs suffering in any way. It is comprised of a tank made of thick metal in which I store air at a pressure of 50 atmospheres. The tank is fastened to one’s back by means of straps, like a soldier’s knapsack. Its upper part is a closed container where air is kept in by a one-way mechanism, and can escape only at normal pressure. In the Rouquayrol apparatus, as normally used, two rubber pipes emerge from the container and lead to a type of round mouthpiece enclosing the user’s mouth and nose; one pipe is used as an inlet for the air for breathing, the other for the escape of the used air, with one’s tongue moving between the two tubes as one breathes in and out. But since I undergo considerable pressure at the bottom of the sea, I have had to enclose my head in a copper sphere, like those of diving suits, with the tubes for breathing in and out leading to this sphere.’

  ‘Fine, Captain Nemo, but the air you take with you must get used up quickly and as soon as the oxygen goes below 15 per cent, it becomes unbreathable.’

  ‘Quite right, Dr Aronnax. But as I mentioned, the Nautilus’s pumps allow me to store it at considerable pressure and so the tank can provide breathable air for up to nine or ten hours.’

  ‘I have no further objection. I will simply ask you, captain: how do you manage to light your way on the ocean floor?’

  ‘With the Ruhmkorff device,* Dr Aronnax. Whereas the first apparatus is carried on one’s back, this one is carried on the belt. It has a Bunsen battery which I activate, not with potassium dichromate but with sodium. An induction coil absorbs the electricity produced and directs it to a lantern of a special kind. In this lantern is a glass coil which contains slight traces of carbon dioxide. When the apparatus is operating, the gas is luminous, providing a continuous whitish light. Thus equipped, I can breathe and I can see.’

  ‘Captain Nemo, you provide such overwhelming answers to all my objections that I no longer dare to doubt. However, although forced to accept the Rouquayrol and Ruhmkorff devices, I must reserve my position regarding the gun you plan to give me.’

  ‘But the gun does not work with powder,’ said the captain.

  ‘So it is an air gun?’

  ‘Yes. How do you think I can manufacture powder on board my ship, since I have neither saltpetre, nor sulphur, nor charcoal?’

  ‘But in any case,’ I persisted, ‘in order to be able to fire it underwater, in a medium 855 times as dense as air, you need to overcome considerable resistance.’

  ‘That is no problem. There exist certain guns, following Fulton’s design and improved by the Britons Phipps Coles and Burley, the Frenchman Furcy, and the Italian Landi,* which are equipped with a special closing device and so can fire underwater. But I repeat: not having access to powder, I substituted compressed air, abundantly available from the Nautilus’s pumps.’

  ‘But the air must get used up quickly?’

  ‘Yes, but do I not have my Rouquayrol tank which can provide more as needed? All that is required is a suitable valve. In any case, Dr Aronnax, you will see for yourself that one does not use much air or ammunition for underwater hunting.’

  ‘Nevertheless, in semi-darkness, immersed in this liquid which is much denser than air, shots can surely not carry very far and can rarely be fatal?’

  ‘On the contrary, sir. With this gun every shot is lethal: as soon as an animal is hit, however slightly, it falls down as if struck by lightning.’

  ‘But I don’t understand!’

  ‘Because this gun does not fire ordinary bullets but small glass capsules, invented by the Austrian chemist Leinebrock,* of which I have considerable supplies. These glass capsules, covered with steel casings and weighted with lead balls, are exactly like miniature Leyden jars,* into which electricity has been forced at a very high voltage. They discharge at the slightest impact, and however powerful the animal, it falls down dead. I will add that these capsules are of just .4 calibre, and that a fully loaded gun can contain up to ten of them.’

  ‘I have no more objections,’ I replied getting up from the table, ‘and all I can do is take my gun. Wherever you go, I will follow.’

  Captain Nemo took me towards the stern of the Nautilus, and as I passed Ned and Conseil’s cabin, I called to my two companions who immediately came and joined us.

  We arrived at a compartment situated on the flank near the engine-room. This was where we were to put on our excursion clothing.

  1 Little white clouds, light and with serrated edges. [JV]

  16

  An Excursion over the Plains

  This compartment was both the arsenal and the cloakroom of the Nautilus. A dozen diving suits were hanging on the walls, ready for the excursionists.

  When he saw them, Ned was visibly reluctant to put one on.

  ‘But, my good Ned,’ I told him, ‘the forests of Crespo Island are actually underwater forests!’

  ‘Oh!’ said the disappointed harpooner as his dreams of fresh meat evaporated. ‘What about you, Dr Aronnax, are you going to put one of those contraptions on?’

  ‘We need to, Master Ned.’

  ‘You can do as you wish, sir,’ replied the harpooner, shrugging his shoulders. ‘But I’m not going to put one on unless I’m forced to.’

  ‘Nobody is forcing you, Master Ned,’ said Captain Nemo.

  ‘And is Conseil going to take the risk?’ enquired Ned.

  ‘I follow wherever monsieur goes.’

  At a sign from the captain, two of the crewmen came and helped us put on the heavy watertight suits, made of seamless rubber and designed to withstand considerable pressure. They were like coats of armour that were both elastic and strong. Each suit consisted of trousers and jacket. The trousers ended in thick boots with heavy lead soles. The material of the jacket was kept in position by strips of copper which shielded the chest and protected it from the water pressure, allowing the lungs to work freely; its sleeves finished in supple gloves which allowed one’s hands free movement.

  It will be seen that these much-improved diving suits were a far cry from the items of shapeless clothing invented and extolled in the eighteenth century, like the cork breastplates, the life-vests, the sea clothing, the buoys, etc.

  Captain Nemo, one of his companions — a Hercules, who looked stupendously strong — Conseil, and I had soon put on our diving suits. All we had to do now was place the metallic spheres on our heads. But before doing this, I asked the captain if I could examine the guns we would be using.

  One of the Nautilus’s cre
wmen gave me a simple rifle with a relatively large butt made of hollowed-out steel plate. The butt served as a tank for the compressed air: a valve, operated by a trigger, allowed the air to escape into the metal tube. A container for the projectiles, hollowed out in the butt, held about twenty electric bullets* which a spring automatically placed in the barrel of the gun. As soon as one shot had been fired, another was ready to go off.

  ‘Captain Nemo, this weapon is flawless and easy to use. Now all I wish is to try it out. But how are we going to get to the ocean floor?’

  ‘Dr Aronnax, the Nautilus is already resting on the bottom, 10 metres down, and we merely have to leave.’

  ‘But how do we get out?’

  ‘You will soon see.’

  Captain Nemo put his head into his spherical helmet. Conseil and I did likewise, not before the Canadian had given us a mocking ‘Happy hunting!’ The top of our clothing had a collar of copper, incorporating a thread on to which the metal helmet could be screwed. Three apertures, covered in thick glass, meant we could see in any direction just by turning our heads inside the spheres. The Rouquayrol apparatuses began to work as soon as they had been placed on our backs, and I was able to breathe quite easily. With a Ruhmkorff lamp attached to my belt and gun in hand, I was ready. But to be honest, imprisoned in the heavy clothing and pinned to the deck by my lead soles, I wouldn’t have been able to take a single step.

  However, this difficulty had been foreseen, for I could feel myself being propelled into a small room next to the cloakroom. My companions, similarly conveyed, followed behind. I heard a door fitted with a seal closing behind us, and then we were in complete darkness.

  After a moment, a loud hissing sound reached my ears. Cold started rising from my feet to my chest. Using a tap inside the ship, water had obviously been let in from the outside and was now completely filling the room. A second door then opened in the side of the Nautilus. A faint light came through. Moments later our feet were treading the ocean floor.

  And now, how can I possibly record the impression made on me by this excursion under the waters? Words are inadequate to convey such wonders! When even the artist’s brush is incapable of portraying the unique effects of the liquid element, how could a pen begin to render them?