Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Seas

by Jules Verne

  The boat headed southwards. The oarsmen did not hurry. I noticed that while they pulled strongly, their strokes came at ten-second intervals, following the method generally used in national navies. As the boat coasted between strokes, droplets pattered down on the dark waves like globules of molten lead. A slight swell, rolling in from the open sea, made the boat rock slightly, and the crests of a few waves lapped at the bow.

  We were silent. What was Captain Nemo thinking? Perhaps about the land he was approaching, too near for his taste — unlike the Canadian, for whom it seemed still too far. As for Conseil, he was a mere spectator.

  At about half past five the first tints on the horizon showed the outline of the coast more clearly. It appeared to be somewhat flat on the eastern side, but undulating towards the south. We were still five miles away, and the coast blended into the misty waters. Between us and the shore the sea was deserted. Not a single diver or boat. A profound solitude reigned over the pearl-fishers’ meeting place. As Captain Nemo had said, we were arriving in these waters a month early.

  At six o’clock the day broke with the abruptness characteristic of the Tropics, which have no dawn or dusk. The sun’s rays pierced the shoal of clouds piled up on the eastern horizon, as the radiant orb climbed swiftly.

  I could now see the land distinctly, with a few trees scattered here and there.

  The boat approached Mannar Island, whose rounded shape loomed to the south. Captain Nemo had risen from his seat, and was gazing over the sea.

  At a sign from him the anchor was dropped, but the chain hardly ran, for just there was one of the highest points of the bed of pearl oysters and the depth was no more than a metre. The boat swung round following the ebb-tide heading back out to sea.

  ‘We’re there, Dr Aronnax,’ said Captain Nemo. ‘You can see that the bay is sheltered. In a month’s time, large numbers of boats will gather here, and the divers will boldly embark on their search. The bay is marvellously shaped for this kind of fishing. It is protected from strong winds, and the sea is never very high: highly favourable conditions for the divers’ work. We will now put on our diving suits, and begin our excursion.’

  I made no reply and, staring all the time at the suspect sea, was helped into my heavy suit by the sailors. Captain Nemo and my two companions also put on theirs. None of the men from the Nautilus were to accompany us on this latest excursion.

  We were soon enclosed in rubber garments up to our necks, with air equipment fastened on with shoulder straps. There was no sign of the Ruhmkorff lighting devices. Before placing my head in the copper helmet I mentioned this to the captain.

  ‘They would be useless, as we shall not be descending to any great depth, and the sun will be enough to light our path. Besides, it would not be a good idea to carry an electric lamp in these waters. The light might accidentally attract some of the dangerous local inhabitants.’

  As Captain Nemo spoke, I turned to Ned Land and Conseil. These two friends had already put their heads into the metal spheres, and could neither hear nor talk.

  I had one last question for the captain.

  ‘Our weapons?’ I said. ‘What about our guns?’

  ‘Guns?’ he said. ‘What for? Do your mountaineers not attack bears dagger in hand? And is steel not safer than lead? Here is a faithful blade. Pass it through your waist and let’s go.’

  I looked at my companions. They were armed like us and Ned was also brandishing an enormous harpoon which he had placed in the boat before we left the Nautilus.

  Following the captain’s example, I allowed the heavy copper sphere to be set on my head, and the air tanks immediately began to operate.

  A moment later, the sailors let us gently down into the water one after another, and we set foot on fine sand at a depth of about five feet. Captain Nemo made a sign to us. We followed him, descended a gentle slope, and disappeared under the waves.

  The ideas which had obsessed me now vanished. I became astonishingly calm. The ease with which I was able to move increased my confidence, and the unusual sights all round me captured my imagination.

  The sun was already producing enough light underwater. The smallest objects could be seen. After ten minutes’ walk, we were about fifteen feet below the surface, and the ground became more or less level.

  At our step, like flocks of snipe in a marsh, there rose flights of strange fish, of the genus Monoptera, whose only fin is the tail-fin. I recognized the moray eel, a real snake about 80 centimetres long with a pale stomach, which might easily have been taken for a conger eel, but for the gold lines on its sides. Amongst the stromatas, whose bodies are flattened and oval-shaped, I observed parus with brilliant colours and scythe-like dorsal fins, edible fish which, dried and marinated, make an excellent dish called karawade; I also saw tranquebars belonging to the Aspidophoroides, whose bodies are covered with eight lengthwise sections of scaly armour.

  The light grew stronger as the sun rose progressively higher. The ground gradually changed. The fine sand was replaced by a veritable causeway of round stones carpeted in molluscs and zoophytes. Amongst the specimens of these two branches, I noticed Placuna with thin unequal valves, an ostracod characteristic of the Red Sea and Indian Ocean, some orange Lucinae with orbicular shells, subulate terebra, some Persian murexes which provided the Nautilus with an excellent dye, some 15-centimetre horned murexes which stood up in the waves like hands trying to grasp hold of you, cornigerous Turbinella all bristling with spikes, ianthine ligules, Anatinella, edible shellfish consumed in Northern India, slightly luminous pelagic panopea, and lastly some beautiful flabelliform oculinidae, magnificent fans which form some of the richest branching structures in these seas.

  In the midst of these living plants, beneath these bowers of hydrophytes, ran awkward legions of articulates, chiefly the Ranina dentata, whose carapace forms a slightly rounded triangle, birguses particular to these shores, and horrible parthenopes, of repugnant appearance. A no less hideous animal, one that I encountered several times, was the enormous crab observed by Mr Darwin, on which nature has bestowed the instinct and strength required to live off coconuts.* It climbs trees on beaches, knocks down the coconuts, making them fall and crack, and then prises them open with its powerful pincers.

  Here beneath the transparent waves this crab scampered with inimitable agility, while green turtles, of the same species that frequent the Malabar Coast, moved slowly between the rocks strewn here and there.

  At about seven we finally reached the beds on which the millions of pearl oysters reproduced. These valuable molluscs adhered to the rocks, being strongly attached by a brown byssus which stopped them moving. In this respect, the oyster is inferior to the lowly mussel, which nature has given some powers of locomotion.

  The pearl oyster, Meleagrina or ‘mother-of-pearl’, whose valves are more or less equal in size, has a rounded shell with thick walls, very rough on the outside. Some of the shells were laminated and grooved with greenish bands running from the top. These belonged to young oysters. Others, with rough black surfaces, ten years old or more, were as much as six inches across.

  Captain Nemo pointed to the prodigious stockpile of pearl oysters, and I understood that the supply was inexhaustible, for nature’s creative power is beyond man’s destructive bent. Land, faithful to his instinct, hastened to fill the net carried on his side with the finest oysters he could find.

  But we could not tarry. We had to follow the captain, who seemed to be following paths known to him alone. The ground was rising appreciably, and sometimes, when I held my arm up, it rose above the surface of the water. But then the level of the beds would capriciously descend again. We often rounded high rocks worn into pyramid shapes. In their gloomy fissures enormous crustaceans, standing on their long limbs like war-machines, looked at us with fixed eyes, while beneath our feet crawled myriapods, glycera, Aricia, and annelids, stretching out their exaggerated antennae and groping tentacles.

  A huge grotto now opened before us, excavated
from a picturesque pile of rocks covered with tall ribands of submarine flora. At first sight the grotto looked very dark indeed. The sun’s rays seemed to gradually go out in it. Its vague transparency became nothing but drowned light.

  Captain Nemo entered. We followed him. My eyes soon got used to the gloom. I realized that the springings of the arches were capriciously elaborate, supported by natural pillars standing firmly on broad granite bases like the heavy columns of Tuscan architecture. Why was our guide leading us into this submarine crypt? I was to find out before long.

  Having descended quite a steep decline, our feet were treading the bottom of a kind of circular pit. Here Captain Nemo stopped and pointed out something I had not yet noticed.

  It was an oyster of the most extraordinary size, a gigantic Tridacna: a font able to hold an entire lake of holy water, a basin whose breadth was more than two metres and therefore larger than the one in the Nautilus’s salon.

  I approached the phenomenal mollusc.* It was fixed by its byssus to a granite slab, and there on its own it grew in the calm waters of the grotto. I estimated the weight of the Tridacna to be 600 pounds. Now an oyster like this would contain about 30 pounds of flesh, and one would need the stomach of a Gargantua to swallow a few dozen of them.

  The captain was aware of the bivalve’s existence. It was obviously not the first time he had come here, and at first I thought that he had brought us only to demonstrate this natural curiosity. I was mistaken. Captain Nemo had the specific motive of checking the Tridacna’s condition.

  The two valves of the mollusc were half open. The captain went over and thrust his dagger between the two halves so as to prevent the shell shutting again. He then used his hand to raise the membranous tissue with fringed edges which formed the covering of the creature.

  There, between the foliate folds, I saw a loose pearl the size of a small coconut. Its globular shape, its perfect transparency, its splendid water stamped it as a jewel of inestimable value. Carried away by curiosity, I stretched out my hand to hold it, to weigh it, to feel it. But the captain stopped me, shook his head, withdrew his dagger with a swift movement, and let the shell suddenly close.

  I then understood Captain Nemo’s purpose. By leaving the pearl entombed in the Tridacna’s protection, he allowed it to grow imperceptibly. With each year the mollusc’s secretion added new concentric rings.

  The captain alone knew of the grotto where this admirable fruit of nature was ‘ripening’; he alone was raising it, so to speak, in order to enrich his inestimable museum one day. Perhaps, after the fashion of the Chinese and Indians, he had even brought the pearl into being by placing a piece of glass or metal in the folds of the mollusc, which by degrees the nacreous substance covered. In any case, comparing this pearl to those I already knew, and to those which gleamed in the captain’s collection, I estimated its value to be at least ten million francs. It was more a magnificent natural curiosity than a luxurious jewel, for I am unaware of any ladies’ ears capable of bearing it.

  Our visit to the extravagant Tridacna was over. Captain Nemo left the grotto, and we returned to the oyster beds, to the clear waters not yet disturbed by the divers’ work.

  We walked separately, just like strollers, each of us stopping or wandering, following our fancy. For my part I no longer worried about the dangers that my imagination had so ridiculously exaggerated. The bottom was rising noticeably, and my head soon rose above the surface as I stood in 3 feet of water. Conseil drew near me and, sticking his large capsule close to mine, said a friendly hello with his eyes. But this high ground only lasted a few metres and soon we were back in our element. I believe I now have the right to call it that!

  Ten minutes later, Captain Nemo suddenly stopped. I thought he was going to go back the way he had come. No — he gestured to us to crouch beside him, at the bottom of a large hollow. He pointed towards a particular spot in the liquid mass, and I stared at it.

  About 6 metres away a shadow appeared and fell over the ground. The worrying idea of sharks crossed my mind. But I was wrong and, once more, we were not dealing with ocean monsters.

  It was a man — a living man, an Indian, a black — a poor devil of a diver no doubt, who had come to glean some pickings before the main harvest. I saw the keel of his boat moored some feet above his head. He dived and surfaced repeatedly. A stone cut in the shape of a sugar loaf held between his feet helped him sink more quickly, while a rope secured him to the boat. That was his only equipment. As he reached the bottom at about 15 feet, he fell to his knees and filled his net with pearl oysters, collected at random. He then surfaced, emptied the bag, pulled up the stone, and started his operation again, each time taking only thirty seconds.

  The diver did not see us. We were hidden by the shadow of a rock. And besides, how could this poor Indian imagine that beings like himself were underwater, watching his every movement, not losing a single detail of his fishing?

  He dived and rose again many times. He only brought up about ten oysters each time, for he was obliged to tear some away from the bed they were attached to with their byssuses. And how many of the oysters had no pearls, although he was risking his life for them!

  I watched with great concentration. His movements were regular, and for half an hour no danger seemed to threaten. I was getting used to watching this absorbing fishing, when suddenly, as the Indian was kneeling on the ground, I saw him make a sign of terror, stand up, and spring towards the surface.

  I understood his terror. a gigantic shadow had appeared above the unfortunate diver. It was a large shark, swimming diagonally: eyes flaming and jaws wide open!

  I was petrified with horror, unable to move.

  The voracious fish, with a strong movement of its fins, accelerated towards the Indian. He threw himself aside, avoiding the shark’s open jaws, but not the stroke of its tail, for he received a blow on his chest which laid him out on the ground.

  This scene had taken only a few seconds. The shark came to attack again and, turning on its back, was about to cut the Indian in two, when Captain Nemo jumped up. Dagger in hand, he moved straight at the monster, ready for a hand-to-hand fight.

  The shark noticed this new adversary just as it was about to swallow the unfortunate diver. Turning on its belly, it went for the captain.

  I can still see Captain Nemo’s stance. Coiled up on himself, he waited for the attack of the formidable shark with wonderful self-possession; when it rushed at him, the captain jumped aside with amazing agility, avoiding the impact and plunging his dagger into the brute’s belly. But it was not over yet. A terrible battle ensued.

  The shark had ‘roared’, so to speak. The blood poured from its wounds in torrents. The sea had turned red, and I could see nothing through this opaque medium.

  Nothing until, as it cleared away, I caught sight of the brave captain hanging on to the shark’s fin and stabbing again and again at its stomach, unable, however, to place a mortal blow to the centre of the heart. In its struggle the shark beat the water with fury, and the turbulence almost made me fall over.

  I wanted to go to the captain’s assistance. But I was frozen with horror, and could not move.

  I looked on with a haggard eye. I saw the varying phases of the combat. The captain fell to the ground, overturned by the enormous mass weighing down on him. The shark’s jaws opened inordinately, like industrial shears, and would have made an end of the captain, had Ned, as quick as thought, not thrust himself upon the shark, harpoon in hand, and driven the terrible weapon into its side.

  The water was filled with masses of blood. It shook as the shark beat it with indescribable fury. But Ned Land had struck home. It was the monster’s last gasp. Pierced to the heart, it thrashed out its life in terrifying spasms, as the impact knocked Conseil down.

  Ned Land had meanwhile freed the captain. On his feet and unharmed, Nemo rushed up to the Indian, quickly cut the cord which fastened the stone, took him in his arms, and then ascended to the surface using a vigor
ous kick.

  We all followed, and moments later, miraculously preserved from death, we reached the diver’s boat.

  Captain Nemo’s first care was to restore the unfortunate to life. I was afraid he might not succeed. But the chances were good, for the poor man’s submersion had not lasted long, although the blow from the shark’s tail could easily have been fatal.

  Fortunately, after vigorous rubbing from Conseil and the captain, I saw the diver gradually regaining consciousness. He opened his eyes. How surprised he must have been to find four great copper heads leaning over him!

  And still greater must have been his surprise when Captain Nemo took a string of pearls from a pocket in his clothing, and placed them in his hand. This magnificent generosity from the man of the seas was accepted by the poor Sinhalese with trembling hands. His startled eyes showed that he did not know to what superhuman being he owed his fortune and his life.

  At a sign from the captain we returned to the oyster beds, retraced our steps, and reached the anchor of the Nautilus’s boat. Once aboard, we removed the heavy copper carapaces with the sailors’ assistance.

  Captain Nemo’s first words were addressed to the Canadian.

  ‘Thank you, Master Land.’

  ‘For services rendered,’ said Ned. ‘I owed you that one.’

  A wan smile flitted across the captain’s features, and that was all.

  ‘To the Nautilus!’ he cried.

  The boat flew over the waves. A few minutes later we saw the floating body of the shark.

  From the black markings on the ends of its fins, I recognized the terrible melanopterus of the Indian Ocean, belonging to the species of sharks in the strict sense. It was more than 25 feet long; and its enormous mouth took up a third of its body. It was an adult, as could be seen from the six rows of teeth in its upper jaw, arranged in the shape of an isosceles triangle.

  Conseil regarded it entirely from a scientific point of view, and I am sure he classified it, not incorrectly, amongst the cartilaginous animals — order of chondropterygians with fixed gills, family of selachians, genus sharks.