Four Thousand Leagues Under The Pacific

: PART ONE
: Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea

The next morning, the 18th of November, I had quite recovered from my

fatigues of the day before, and I went up on to the platform, just as

the second lieutenant was uttering his daily phrase.



I was admiring the magnificent aspect of the ocean when Captain Nemo

appeared. He did not seem to be aware of my presence, and began a

series of astronomical observations. Then, when he had finished, he

went and l ant on the cage of the watch-light, and gazed abstractedly

on the ocean. In the meantime, a number of the sailors of the

Nautilus, all strong and healthy men, had come up onto the platform.

They came to draw up the nets that had been laid all night. These

sailors were evidently of different nations, although the European type

was visible in all of them. I recognised some unmistakable Irishmen,

Frenchmen, some Sclaves, and a Greek, or a Candiote. They were civil,

and only used that odd language among themselves, the origin of which I

could not guess, neither could I question them.



The nets were hauled in. They were a large kind of "chaluts," like

those on the Normandy coasts, great pockets that the waves and a chain

fixed in the smaller meshes kept open. These pockets, drawn by iron

poles, swept through the water, and gathered in everything in their

way. That day they brought up curious specimens from those productive

coasts.



I reckoned that the haul had brought in more than nine hundredweight of

fish. It was a fine haul, but not to be wondered at. Indeed, the nets

are let down for several hours, and enclose in their meshes an infinite

variety. We had no lack of excellent food, and the rapidity of the

Nautilus and the attraction of the electric light could always renew

our supply. These several productions of the sea were immediately

lowered through the panel to the steward's room, some to be eaten

fresh, and others pickled.



The fishing ended, the provision of air renewed, I thought that the

Nautilus was about to continue its submarine excursion, and was

preparing to return to my room, when, without further preamble, the

Captain turned to me, saying:



"Professor, is not this ocean gifted with real life? It has its

tempers and its gentle moods. Yesterday it slept as we did, and now it

has woke after a quiet night. Look!" he continued, "it wakes under the

caresses of the sun. It is going to renew its diurnal existence. It

is an interesting study to watch the play of its organisation. It has

a pulse, arteries, spasms; and I agree with the learned Maury, who

discovered in it a circulation as real as the circulation of blood in

animals.



"Yes, the ocean has indeed circulation, and to promote it, the Creator

has caused things to multiply in it--caloric, salt, and animalculae."



When Captain Nemo spoke thus, he seemed altogether changed, and aroused

an extraordinary emotion in me.



"Also," he added, "true existence is there; and I can imagine the

foundations of nautical towns, clusters of submarine houses, which,

like the Nautilus, would ascend every morning to breathe at the surface

of the water, free towns, independent cities. Yet who knows whether

some despot----"



Captain Nemo finished his sentence with a violent gesture. Then,

addressing me as if to chase away some sorrowful thought:



"M. Aronnax," he asked, "do you know the depth of the ocean?"



"I only know, Captain, what the principal soundings have taught us."



"Could you tell me them, so that I can suit them to my purpose?"



"These are some," I replied, "that I remember. If I am not mistaken, a

depth of 8,000 yards has been found in the North Atlantic, and 2,500

yards in the Mediterranean. The most remarkable soundings have been

made in the South Atlantic, near the thirty-fifth parallel, and they

gave 12,000 yards, 14,000 yards, and 15,000 yards. To sum up all, it

is reckoned that if the bottom of the sea were levelled, its mean depth

would be about one and three-quarter leagues."



"Well, Professor," replied the Captain, "we shall show you better than

that I hope. As to the mean depth of this part of the Pacific, I tell

you it is only 4,000 yards."



Having said this, Captain Nemo went towards the panel, and disappeared

down the ladder. I followed him, and went into the large drawing-room.

The screw was immediately put in motion, and the log gave twenty miles

an hour.



During the days and weeks that passed, Captain Nemo was very sparing of

his visits. I seldom saw him. The lieutenant pricked the ship's

course regularly on the chart, so I could always tell exactly the route

of the Nautilus.



Nearly every day, for some time, the panels of the drawing-room were

opened, and we were never tired of penetrating the mysteries of the

submarine world.



The general direction of the Nautilus was south-east, and it kept

between 100 and 150 yards of depth. One day, however, I do not know

why, being drawn diagonally by means of the inclined planes, it touched

the bed of the sea. The thermometer indicated a temperature of 4.25

(cent.): a temperature that at this depth seemed common to all

latitudes.



At three o'clock in the morning of the 26th of November the Nautilus

crossed the tropic of Cancer at 172 deg. long. On 27th instant it

sighted the Sandwich Islands, where Cook died, February 14, 1779. We

had then gone 4,860 leagues from our starting-point. In the morning,

when I went on the platform, I saw two miles to windward, Hawaii, the

largest of the seven islands that form the group. I saw clearly the

cultivated ranges, and the several mountain-chains that run parallel

with the side, and the volcanoes that overtop Mouna-Rea, which rise

5,000 yards above the level of the sea. Besides other things the nets

brought up, were several flabellariae and graceful polypi, that are

peculiar to that part of the ocean. The direction of the Nautilus was

still to the south-east. It crossed the equator December 1, in 142 deg.

long.; and on the 4th of the same month, after crossing rapidly and

without anything in particular occurring, we sighted the Marquesas

group. I saw, three miles off, Martin's peak in Nouka-Hiva, the

largest of the group that belongs to France. I only saw the woody

mountains against the horizon, because Captain Nemo did not wish to

bring the ship to the wind. There the nets brought up beautiful

specimens of fish: some with azure fins and tails like gold, the flesh

of which is unrivalled; some nearly destitute of scales, but of

exquisite flavour; others, with bony jaws, and yellow-tinged gills, as

good as bonitos; all fish that would be of use to us. After leaving

these charming islands protected by the French flag, from the 4th to

the 11th of December the Nautilus sailed over about 2,000 miles.



During the daytime of the 11th of December I was busy reading in the

large drawing-room. Ned Land and Conseil watched the luminous water

through the half-open panels. The Nautilus was immovable. While its

reservoirs were filled, it kept at a depth of 1,000 yards, a region

rarely visited in the ocean, and in which large fish were seldom seen.



I was then reading a charming book by Jean Mace, The Slaves of the

Stomach, and I was learning some valuable lessons from it, when Conseil

interrupted me.



"Will master come here a moment?" he said, in a curious voice.



"What is the matter, Conseil?"



"I want master to look."



I rose, went, and leaned on my elbows before the panes and watched.



In a full electric light, an enormous black mass, quite immovable, was

suspended in the midst of the waters. I watched it attentively,

seeking to find out the nature of this gigantic cetacean. But a sudden

thought crossed my mind. "A vessel!" I said, half aloud.



"Yes," replied the Canadian, "a disabled ship that has sunk

perpendicularly."



Ned Land was right; we were close to a vessel of which the tattered

shrouds still hung from their chains. The keel seemed to be in good

order, and it had been wrecked at most some few hours. Three stumps of

masts, broken off about two feet above the bridge, showed that the

vessel had had to sacrifice its masts. But, lying on its side, it had

filled, and it was heeling over to port. This skeleton of what it had

once been was a sad spectacle as it lay lost under the waves, but

sadder still was the sight of the bridge, where some corpses, bound

with ropes, were still lying. I counted five--four men, one of whom

was standing at the helm, and a woman standing by the poop, holding an

infant in her arms. She was quite young. I could distinguish her

features, which the water had not decomposed, by the brilliant light

from the Nautilus. In one despairing effort, she had raised her infant

above her head--poor little thing!--whose arms encircled its mother's

neck. The attitude of the four sailors was frightful, distorted as

they were by their convulsive movements, whilst making a last effort to

free themselves from the cords that bound them to the vessel. The

steersman alone, calm, with a grave, clear face, his grey hair glued to

his forehead, and his hand clutching the wheel of the helm, seemed even

then to be guiding the three broken masts through the depths of the

ocean.



What a scene! We were dumb; our hearts beat fast before this

shipwreck, taken as it were from life and photographed in its last

moments. And I saw already, coming towards it with hungry eyes,

enormous sharks, attracted by the human flesh.



However, the Nautilus, turning, went round the submerged vessel, and in

one instant I read on the stern--"The Florida, Sunderland."