Aegri Somnia

: PART ONE
: Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea

The following day 10th January, the Nautilus continued her course

between two seas, but with such remarkable speed that I could not

estimate it at less than thirty-five miles an hour. The rapidity of

her screw was such that I could neither follow nor count its

revolutions. When I reflected that this marvellous electric agent,

after having afforded motion, heat, and light to the Nautilus, still

protected her from outw rd attack, and transformed her into an ark of

safety which no profane hand might touch without being thunderstricken,

my admiration was unbounded, and from the structure it extended to the

engineer who had called it into existence.



Our course was directed to the west, and on the 11th of January we

doubled Cape Wessel, situation in 135 deg. long. and 10 deg. S. lat.,

which forms the east point of the Gulf of Carpentaria. The reefs were

still numerous, but more equalised, and marked on the chart with

extreme precision. The Nautilus easily avoided the breakers of Money

to port and the Victoria reefs to starboard, placed at 130 deg. long.

and on the 10th parallel, which we strictly followed.



On the 13th of January, Captain Nemo arrived in the Sea of Timor, and

recognised the island of that name in 122 deg. long.



From this point the direction of the Nautilus inclined towards the

south-west. Her head was set for the Indian Ocean. Where would the

fancy of Captain Nemo carry us next? Would he return to the coast of

Asia or would he approach again the shores of Europe? Improbable

conjectures both, to a man who fled from inhabited continents. Then

would he descend to the south? Was he going to double the Cape of Good

Hope, then Cape Horn, and finally go as far as the Antarctic pole?

Would he come back at last to the Pacific, where his Nautilus could

sail free and independently? Time would show.



After having skirted the sands of Cartier, of Hibernia, Seringapatam,

and Scott, last efforts of the solid against the liquid element, on the

14th of January we lost sight of land altogether. The speed of the

Nautilus was considerably abated, and with irregular course she

sometimes swam in the bosom of the waters, sometimes floated on their

surface.



During this period of the voyage, Captain Nemo made some interesting

experiments on the varied temperature of the sea, in different beds.

Under ordinary conditions these observations are made by means of

rather complicated instruments, and with somewhat doubtful results, by

means of thermometrical sounding-leads, the glasses often breaking

under the pressure of the water, or an apparatus grounded on the

variations of the resistance of metals to the electric currents.

Results so obtained could not be correctly calculated. On the

contrary, Captain Nemo went himself to test the temperature in the

depths of the sea, and his thermometer, placed in communication with

the different sheets of water, gave him the required degree immediately

and accurately.



It was thus that, either by overloading her reservoirs or by descending

obliquely by means of her inclined planes, the Nautilus successively

attained the depth of three, four, five, seven, nine, and ten thousand

yards, and the definite result of this experience was that the sea

preserved an average temperature of four degrees and a half at a depth

of five thousand fathoms under all latitudes.



On the 16th of January, the Nautilus seemed becalmed only a few yards

beneath the surface of the waves. Her electric apparatus remained

inactive and her motionless screw left her to drift at the mercy of the

currents. I supposed that the crew was occupied with interior repairs,

rendered necessary by the violence of the mechanical movements of the

machine.



My companions and I then witnessed a curious spectacle. The hatches of

the saloon were open, and, as the beacon light of the Nautilus was not

in action, a dim obscurity reigned in the midst of the waters. I

observed the state of the sea, under these conditions, and the largest

fish appeared to me no more than scarcely defined shadows, when the

Nautilus found herself suddenly transported into full light. I thought

at first that the beacon had been lighted, and was casting its electric

radiance into the liquid mass. I was mistaken, and after a rapid

survey perceived my error.



The Nautilus floated in the midst of a phosphorescent bed which, in

this obscurity, became quite dazzling. It was produced by myriads of

luminous animalculae, whose brilliancy was increased as they glided

over the metallic hull of the vessel. I was surprised by lightning in

the midst of these luminous sheets, as though they had been rivulets of

lead melted in an ardent furnace or metallic masses brought to a white

heat, so that, by force of contrast, certain portions of light appeared

to cast a shade in the midst of the general ignition, from which all

shade seemed banished. No; this was not the calm irradiation of our

ordinary lightning. There was unusual life and vigour: this was truly

living light!



In reality, it was an infinite agglomeration of coloured infusoria, of

veritable globules of jelly, provided with a threadlike tentacle, and

of which as many as twenty-five thousand have been counted in less than

two cubic half-inches of water.



During several hours the Nautilus floated in these brilliant waves, and

our admiration increased as we watched the marine monsters disporting

themselves like salamanders. I saw there in the midst of this fire

that burns not the swift and elegant porpoise (the indefatigable clown

of the ocean), and some swordfish ten feet long, those prophetic

heralds of the hurricane whose formidable sword would now and then

strike the glass of the saloon. Then appeared the smaller fish, the

balista, the leaping mackerel, wolf-thorn-tails, and a hundred others

which striped the luminous atmosphere as they swam. This dazzling

spectacle was enchanting! Perhaps some atmospheric condition increased

the intensity of this phenomenon. Perhaps some storm agitated the

surface of the waves. But at this depth of some yards, the Nautilus

was unmoved by its fury and reposed peacefully in still water.



So we progressed, incessantly charmed by some new marvel. The days

passed rapidly away, and I took no account of them. Ned, according to

habit, tried to vary the diet on board. Like snails, we were fixed to

our shells, and I declare it is easy to lead a snail's life.



Thus this life seemed easy and natural, and we thought no longer of the

life we led on land; but something happened to recall us to the

strangeness of our situation.



On the 18th of January, the Nautilus was in 105 deg. long. and 15 deg.

S. lat. The weather was threatening, the sea rough and rolling. There

was a strong east wind. The barometer, which had been going down for

some days, foreboded a coming storm. I went up on to the platform just

as the second lieutenant was taking the measure of the horary angles,

and waited, according to habit till the daily phrase was said. But on

this day it was exchanged for another phrase not less incomprehensible.

Almost directly, I saw Captain Nemo appear with a glass, looking

towards the horizon.



For some minutes he was immovable, without taking his eye off the point

of observation. Then he lowered his glass and exchanged a few words

with his lieutenant. The latter seemed to be a victim to some emotion

that he tried in vain to repress. Captain Nemo, having more command

over himself, was cool. He seemed, too, to be making some objections

to which the lieutenant replied by formal assurances. At least I

concluded so by the difference of their tones and gestures. For

myself, I had looked carefully in the direction indicated without

seeing anything. The sky and water were lost in the clear line of the

horizon.



However, Captain Nemo walked from one end of the platform to the other,

without looking at me, perhaps without seeing me. His step was firm,

but less regular than usual. He stopped sometimes, crossed his arms,

and observed the sea. What could he be looking for on that immense

expanse?



The Nautilus was then some hundreds of miles from the nearest coast.



The lieutenant had taken up the glass and examined the horizon

steadfastly, going and coming, stamping his foot and showing more

nervous agitation than his superior officer. Besides, this mystery

must necessarily be solved, and before long; for, upon an order from

Captain Nemo, the engine, increasing its propelling power, made the

screw turn more rapidly.



Just then the lieutenant drew the Captain's attention again. The

latter stopped walking and directed his glass towards the place

indicated. He looked long. I felt very much puzzled, and descended to

the drawing-room, and took out an excellent telescope that I generally

used. Then, leaning on the cage of the watch-light that jutted out

from the front of the platform, set myself to look over all the line of

the sky and sea.



But my eye was no sooner applied to the glass than it was quickly

snatched out of my hands.



I turned round. Captain Nemo was before me, but I did not know him.

His face was transfigured. His eyes flashed sullenly; his teeth were

set; his stiff body, clenched fists, and head shrunk between his

shoulders, betrayed the violent agitation that pervaded his whole

frame. He did not move. My glass, fallen from his hands, had rolled

at his feet.



Had I unwittingly provoked this fit of anger? Did this

incomprehensible person imagine that I had discovered some forbidden

secret? No; I was not the object of this hatred, for he was not

looking at me; his eye was steadily fixed upon the impenetrable point

of the horizon. At last Captain Nemo recovered himself. His agitation

subsided. He addressed some words in a foreign language to his

lieutenant, then turned to me. "M. Aronnax," he said, in rather an

imperious tone, "I require you to keep one of the conditions that bind

you to me."



"What is it, Captain?"



"You must be confined, with your companions, until I think fit to

release you."



"You are the master," I replied, looking steadily at him. "But may I

ask you one question?"



"None, sir."



There was no resisting this imperious command, it would have been

useless. I went down to the cabin occupied by Ned Land and Conseil,

and told them the Captain's determination. You may judge how this

communication was received by the Canadian.



But there was not time for altercation. Four of the crew waited at the

door, and conducted us to that cell where we had passed our first night

on board the Nautilus.



Ned Land would have remonstrated, but the door was shut upon him.



"Will master tell me what this means?" asked Conseil.



I told my companions what had passed. They were as much astonished as

I, and equally at a loss how to account for it.



Meanwhile, I was absorbed in my own reflections, and could think of

nothing but the strange fear depicted in the Captain's countenance. I

was utterly at a loss to account for it, when my cogitations were

disturbed by these words from Ned Land:



"Hallo! breakfast is ready."



And indeed the table was laid. Evidently Captain Nemo had given this

order at the same time that he had hastened the speed of the Nautilus.



"Will master permit me to make a recommendation?" asked Conseil.



"Yes, my boy."



"Well, it is that master breakfasts. It is prudent, for we do not know

what may happen."



"You are right, Conseil."



"Unfortunately," said Ned Land, "they have only given us the ship's

fare."



"Friend Ned," asked Conseil, "what would you have said if the breakfast

had been entirely forgotten?"



This argument cut short the harpooner's recriminations.



We sat down to table. The meal was eaten in silence.



Just then the luminous globe that lighted the cell went out, and left

us in total darkness. Ned Land was soon asleep, and what astonished me

was that Conseil went off into a heavy slumber. I was thinking what

could have caused his irresistible drowsiness, when I felt my brain

becoming stupefied. In spite of my efforts to keep my eyes open, they

would close. A painful suspicion seized me. Evidently soporific

substances had been mixed with the food we had just taken.

Imprisonment was not enough to conceal Captain Nemo's projects from us,

sleep was more necessary. I then heard the panels shut. The

undulations of the sea, which caused a slight rolling motion, ceased.

Had the Nautilus quitted the surface of the ocean? Had it gone back to

the motionless bed of water? I tried to resist sleep. It was

impossible. My breathing grew weak. I felt a mortal cold freeze my

stiffened and half-paralysed limbs. My eye lids, like leaden caps,

fell over my eyes. I could not raise them; a morbid sleep, full of

hallucinations, bereft me of my being. Then the visions disappeared,

and left me in complete insensibility.