From Latitude 47 Deg 24' To Longitude 17 Deg 28'
:
PART TWO
In consequence of the storm, we had been thrown eastward once more.
All hope of escape on the shores of New York or St. Lawrence had faded
away; and poor Ned, in despair, had isolated himself like Captain Nemo.
Conseil and I, however, never left each other. I said that the
Nautilus had gone aside to the east. I should have said (to be more
exact) the north-east. For some days, it wandered first on the surface,
and th
n beneath it, amid those fogs so dreaded by sailors. What
accidents are due to these thick fogs! What shocks upon these reefs
when the wind drowns the breaking of the waves! What collisions
between vessels, in spite of their warning lights, whistles, and alarm
bells! And the bottoms of these seas look like a field of battle,
where still lie all the conquered of the ocean; some old and already
encrusted, others fresh and reflecting from their iron bands and copper
plates the brilliancy of our lantern.
On the 15th of May we were at the extreme south of the Bank of
Newfoundland. This bank consists of alluvia, or large heaps of organic
matter, brought either from the Equator by the Gulf Stream, or from the
North Pole by the counter-current of cold water which skirts the
American coast. There also are heaped up those erratic blocks which
are carried along by the broken ice; and close by, a vast charnel-house
of molluscs, which perish here by millions. The depth of the sea is
not great at Newfoundland--not more than some hundreds of fathoms; but
towards the south is a depression of 1,500 fathoms. There the Gulf
Stream widens. It loses some of its speed and some of its temperature,
but it becomes a sea.
It was on the 17th of May, about 500 miles from Heart's Content, at a
depth of more than 1,400 fathoms, that I saw the electric cable lying
on the bottom. Conseil, to whom I had not mentioned it, thought at
first that it was a gigantic sea-serpent. But I undeceived the worthy
fellow, and by way of consolation related several particulars in the
laying of this cable. The first one was laid in the years 1857 and
1858; but, after transmitting about 400 telegrams, would not act any
longer. In 1863 the engineers constructed an other one, measuring
2,000 miles in length, and weighing 4,500 tons, which was embarked on
the Great Eastern. This attempt also failed.
On the 25th of May the Nautilus, being at a depth of more than 1,918
fathoms, was on the precise spot where the rupture occurred which
ruined the enterprise. It was within 638 miles of the coast of
Ireland; and at half-past two in the afternoon they discovered that
communication with Europe had ceased. The electricians on board
resolved to cut the cable before fishing it up, and at eleven o'clock
at night they had recovered the damaged part. They made another point
and spliced it, and it was once more submerged. But some days after it
broke again, and in the depths of the ocean could not be recaptured.
The Americans, however, were not discouraged. Cyrus Field, the bold
promoter of the enterprise, as he had sunk all his own fortune, set a
new subscription on foot, which was at once answered, and another cable
was constructed on better principles. The bundles of conducting wires
were each enveloped in gutta-percha, and protected by a wadding of
hemp, contained in a metallic covering. The Great Eastern sailed on
the 13th of July, 1866. The operation worked well. But one incident
occurred. Several times in unrolling the cable they observed that
nails had recently been forced into it, evidently with the motive of
destroying it. Captain Anderson, the officers, and engineers consulted
together, and had it posted up that, if the offender was surprised on
board, he would be thrown without further trial into the sea. From
that time the criminal attempt was never repeated.
On the 23rd of July the Great Eastern was not more than 500 miles from
Newfoundland, when they telegraphed from Ireland the news of the
armistice concluded between Prussia and Austria after Sadowa. On the
27th, in the midst of heavy fogs, they reached the port of Heart's
Content. The enterprise was successfully terminated; and for its first
despatch, young America addressed old Europe in these words of wisdom,
so rarely understood: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth
peace, goodwill towards men."
I did not expect to find the electric cable in its primitive state,
such as it was on leaving the manufactory. The long serpent, covered
with the remains of shells, bristling with foraminiferae, was encrusted
with a strong coating which served as a protection against all boring
molluscs. It lay quietly sheltered from the motions of the sea, and
under a favourable pressure for the transmission of the electric spark
which passes from Europe to America in .32 of a second. Doubtless this
cable will last for a great length of time, for they find that the
gutta-percha covering is improved by the sea-water. Besides, on this
level, so well chosen, the cable is never so deeply submerged as to
cause it to break. The Nautilus followed it to the lowest depth, which
was more than 2,212 fathoms, and there it lay without any anchorage;
and then we reached the spot where the accident had taken place in
1863. The bottom of the ocean then formed a valley about 100 miles
broad, in which Mont Blanc might have been placed without its summit
appearing above the waves. This valley is closed at the east by a
perpendicular wall more than 2,000 yards high. We arrived there on the
28th of May, and the Nautilus was then not more than 120 miles from
Ireland.
Was Captain Nemo going to land on the British Isles? No. To my great
surprise he made for the south, once more coming back towards European
seas. In rounding the Emerald Isle, for one instant I caught sight of
Cape Clear, and the light which guides the thousands of vessels leaving
Glasgow or Liverpool. An important question then arose in my mind.
Did the Nautilus dare entangle itself in the Manche? Ned Land, who had
re-appeared since we had been nearing land, did not cease to question
me. How could I answer? Captain Nemo remained invisible. After
having shown the Canadian a glimpse of American shores, was he going to
show me the coast of France?
But the Nautilus was still going southward. On the 30th of May, it
passed in sight of Land's End, between the extreme point of England and
the Scilly Isles, which were left to starboard. If we wished to enter
the Manche, he must go straight to the east. He did not do so.
During the whole of the 31st of May, the Nautilus described a series of
circles on the water, which greatly interested me. It seemed to be
seeking a spot it had some trouble in finding. At noon, Captain Nemo
himself came to work the ship's log. He spoke no word to me, but
seemed gloomier than ever. What could sadden him thus? Was it his
proxim ity to European shores? Had he some recollections of his
abandoned country? If not, what did he feel? Remorse or regret? For
a long while this thought haunted my mind, and I had a kind of
presentiment that before long chance would betray the captain's secrets.
The next day, the 1st of June, the Nautilus continued the same process.
It was evidently seeking some particular spot in the ocean. Captain
Nemo took the sun's altitude as he had done the day before. The sea
was beautiful, the sky clear. About eight miles to the east, a large
steam vessel could be discerned on the horizon. No flag fluttered from
its mast, and I could not discover its nationality. Some minutes
before the sun passed the meridian, Captain Nemo took his sextant, and
watched with great attention. The perfect rest of the water greatly
helped the operation. The Nautilus was motionless; it neither rolled
nor pitched.
I was on the platform when the altitude was taken, and the Captain
pronounced these words: "It is here."
He turned and went below. Had he seen the vessel which was changing
its course and seemed to be nearing us? I could not tell. I returned
to the saloon. The panels closed, I heard the hissing of the water in
the reservoirs. The Nautilus began to sink, following a vertical line,
for its screw communicated no motion to it. Some minutes later it
stopped at a depth of more than 420 fathoms, resting on the ground.
The luminous ceiling was darkened, then the panels were opened, and
through the glass I saw the sea brilliantly illuminated by the rays of
our lantern for at least half a mile round us.
I looked to the port side, and saw nothing but an immensity of quiet
waters. But to starboard, on the bottom appeared a large protuberance,
which at once attracted my attention. One would have thought it a ruin
buried under a coating of white shells, much resembling a covering of
snow. Upon examining the mass attentively, I could recognise the
ever-thickening form of a vessel bare of its masts, which must have
sunk. It certainly belonged to past times. This wreck, to be thus
encrusted with the lime of the water, must already be able to count
many years passed at the bottom of the ocean.
What was this vessel? Why did the Nautilus visit its tomb? Could it
have been aught but a shipwreck which had drawn it under the water? I
knew not what to think, when near me in a slow voice I heard Captain
Nemo say:
"At one time this ship was called the Marseillais. It carried
seventy-four guns, and was launched in 1762. In 1778, the 13th of
August, commanded by La Poype-Ver trieux, it fought boldly against the
Preston. In 1779, on the 4th of July, it was at the taking of Grenada,
with the squadron of Admiral Estaing. In 1781, on the 5th of
September, it took part in the battle of Comte de Grasse, in Chesapeake
Bay. In 1794, the French Republic changed its name. On the 16th of
April, in the same year, it joined the squadron of Villaret Joyeuse, at
Brest, being entrusted with the escort of a cargo of corn coming from
America, under the command of Admiral Van Stebel. On the 11th and 12th
Prairal of the second year, this squadron fell in with an English
vessel. Sir, to-day is the 13th Prairal, the first of June, 1868. It
is now seventy-four years ago, day for day on this very spot, in
latitude 47 deg. 24', longitude 17 deg. 28', that this vessel, after
fighting heroically, losing its three masts, with the water in its
hold, and the third of its crew disabled, preferred sinking with its
356 sailors to surrendering; and, nailing its colours to the poop,
disappeared under the waves to the cry of `Long live the Republic!'"
"The Avenger!" I exclaimed.
"Yes, sir, the Avenger! A good name!" muttered Captain Nemo, crossing
his arms.