Vigo Bay

: PART TWO

The Atlantic! a vast sheet of water whose superficial area covers

twenty-five millions of square miles, the length of which is nine

thousand miles, with a mean breadth of two thousand seven hundred--an

ocean whose parallel winding shores embrace an immense circumference,

watered by the largest rivers of the world, the St. Lawrence, the

Mississippi, the Amazon, the Plata, the Orinoco, the Niger, the

Senegal, the Elbe, t
e Loire, and the Rhine, which carry water from the

most civilised, as well as from the most savage, countries!

Magnificent field of water, incessantly ploughed by vessels of every

nation, sheltered by the flags of every nation, and which terminates in

those two terrible points so dreaded by mariners, Cape Horn and the

Cape of Tempests.



The Nautilus was piercing the water with its sharp spur, after having

accomplished nearly ten thousand leagues in three months and a half, a

distance greater than the great circle of the earth. Where were we

going now, and what was reserved for the future? The Nautilus, leaving

the Straits of Gibraltar, had gone far out. It returned to the surface

of the waves, and our daily walks on the platform were restored to us.



I mounted at once, accompanied by Ned Land and Conseil. At a distance

of about twelve miles, Cape St. Vincent was dimly to be seen, forming

the south-western point of the Spanish peninsula. A strong southerly

gale was blowing. The sea was swollen and billowy; it made the

Nautilus rock violently. It was almost impossible to keep one's foot

on the platform, which the heavy rolls of the sea beat over every

instant. So we descended after inhaling some mouthfuls of fresh air.



I returned to my room, Conseil to his cabin; but the Canadian, with a

preoccupied air, followed me. Our rapid passage across the

Mediterranean had not allowed him to put his project into execution,

and he could not help showing his disappointment. When the door of my

room was shut, he sat down and looked at me silently.



"Friend Ned," said I, "I understand you; but you cannot reproach

yourself. To have attempted to leave the Nautilus under the

circumstances would have been folly."



Ned Land did not answer; his compressed lips and frowning brow showed

with him the violent possession this fixed idea had taken of his mind.



"Let us see," I continued; "we need not despair yet. We are going up

the coast of Portugal again; France and England are not far off, where

we can easily find refuge. Now if the Nautilus, on leaving the Straits

of Gibraltar, had gone to the south, if it had carried us towards

regions where there were no continents, I should share your uneasiness.

But we know now that Captain Nemo does not fly from civilised seas, and

in some days I think you can act with security."



Ned Land still looked at me fixedly; at length his fixed lips parted,

and he said, "It is for to-night."



I drew myself up suddenly. I was, I admit, little prepared for this

communication. I wanted to answer the Canadian, but words would not

come.



"We agreed to wait for an opportunity," continued Ned Land, "and the

opportunity has arrived. This night we shall be but a few miles from

the Spanish coast. It is cloudy. The wind blows freely. I have your

word, M. Aronnax, and I rely upon you."



As I was silent, the Canadian approached me.



"To-night, at nine o'clock," said he. "I have warned Conseil. At that

moment Captain Nemo will be shut up in his room, probably in bed.

Neither the engineers nor the ship's crew can see us. Conseil and I

will gain the central staircase, and you, M. Aronnax, will remain in

the library, two steps from us, waiting my signal. The oars, the mast,

and the sail are in the canoe. I have even succeeded in getting some

provisions. I have procured an English wrench, to unfasten the bolts

which attach it to the shell of the Nautilus. So all is ready, till

to-night."



"The sea is bad."



"That I allow," replied the Canadian; "but we must risk that. Liberty

is worth paying for; besides, the boat is strong, and a few miles with

a fair wind to carry us is no great thing. Who knows but by to-morrow

we may be a hundred leagues away? Let circumstances only favour us,

and by ten or eleven o'clock we shall have landed on some spot of terra

firma, alive or dead. But adieu now till to-night."



With these words the Canadian withdrew, leaving me almost dumb. I had

imagined that, the chance gone, I should have time to reflect and

discuss the matter. My obstinate companion had given me no time; and,

after all, what could I have said to him? Ned Land was perfectly

right. There was almost the opportunity to profit by. Could I retract

my word, and take upon myself the responsibility of compromising the

future of my companions? To-morrow Captain Nemo might take us far from

all land.



At that moment a rather loud hissing noise told me that the reservoirs

were filling, and that the Nautilus was sinking under the waves of the

Atlantic.



A sad day I passed, between the desire of regaining my liberty of

action and of abandoning the wonderful Nautilus, and leaving my

submarine studies incomplete.



What dreadful hours I passed thus! Sometimes seeing myself and

companions safely landed, sometimes wishing, in spite of my reason,

that some unforeseen circumstance, would prevent the realisation of Ned

Land's project.



Twice I went to the saloon. I wished to consult the compass. I wished

to see if the direction the Nautilus was taking was bringing us nearer

or taking us farther from the coast. But no; the Nautilus kept in

Portuguese waters.



I must therefore take my part and prepare for flight. My luggage was

not heavy; my notes, nothing more.



As to Captain Nemo, I asked myself what he would think of our escape;

what trouble, what wrong it might cause him and what he might do in

case of its discovery or failure. Certainly I had no cause to complain

of him; on the contrary, never was hospitality freer than his. In

leaving him I could not be taxed with ingratitude. No oath bound us to

him. It was on the strength of circumstances he relied, and not upon

our word, to fix us for ever.



I had not seen the Captain since our visit to the Island of Santorin.

Would chance bring me to his presence before our departure? I wished

it, and I feared it at the same time. I listened if I could hear him

walking the room contiguous to mine. No sound reached my ear. I felt

an unbearable uneasiness. This day of waiting seemed eternal. Hours

struck too slowly to keep pace with my impatience.



My dinner was served in my room as usual. I ate but little; I was too

preoccupied. I left the table at seven o'clock. A hundred and twenty

minutes (I counted them) still separated me from the moment in which I

was to join Ned Land. My agitation redoubled. My pulse beat

violently. I could not remain quiet. I went and came, hoping to calm

my troubled spirit by constant movement. The idea of failure in our

bold enterprise was the least painful of my anxieties; but the thought

of seeing our project discovered before leaving the Nautilus, of being

brought before Captain Nemo, irritated, or (what was worse) saddened,

at my desertion, made my heart beat.



I wanted to see the saloon for the last time. I descended the stairs

and arrived in the museum, where I had passed so many useful and

agreeable hours. I looked at all its riches, all its treasures, like a

man on the eve of an eternal exile, who was leaving never to return.



These wonders of Nature, these masterpieces of art, amongst which for

so many days my life had been concentrated, I was going to abandon them

for ever! I should like to have taken a last look through the windows

of the saloon into the waters of the Atlantic: but the panels were

hermetically closed, and a cloak of steel separated me from that ocean

which I had not yet explored.



In passing through the saloon, I came near the door let into the angle

which opened into the Captain's room. To my great surprise, this door

was ajar. I drew back involuntarily. If Captain Nemo should be in his

room, he could see me. But, hearing no sound, I drew nearer. The room

was deserted. I pushed open the door and took some steps forward.

Still the same monklike severity of aspect.



Suddenly the clock struck eight. The first beat of the hammer on the

bell awoke me from my dreams. I trembled as if an invisible eye had

plunged into my most secret thoughts, and I hurried from the room.



There my eye fell upon the compass. Our course was still north. The

log indicated moderate speed, the manometer a depth of about sixty feet.



I returned to my room, clothed myself warmly--sea boots, an otterskin

cap, a great coat of byssus, lined with sealskin; I was ready, I was

waiting. The vibration of the screw alone broke the deep silence which

reigned on board. I listened attentively. Would no loud voice

suddenly inform me that Ned Land had been surprised in his projected

flight. A mortal dread hung over me, and I vainly tried to regain my

accustomed coolness.



At a few minutes to nine, I put my ear to the Captain's door. No

noise. I left my room and returned to the saloon, which was half in

obscurity, but deserted.



I opened the door communicating with the library. The same

insufficient light, the same solitude. I placed myself near the door

leading to the central staircase, and there waited for Ned Land's

signal.



At that moment the trembling of the screw sensibly diminished, then it

stopped entirely. The silence was now only disturbed by the beatings

of my own heart. Suddenly a slight shock was felt; and I knew that the

Nautilus had stopped at the bottom of the ocean. My uneasiness

increased. The Canadian's signal did not come. I felt inclined to

join Ned Land and beg of him to put off his attempt. I felt that we

were not sailing under our usual conditions.



At this moment the door of the large saloon opened, and Captain Nemo

appeared. He saw me, and without further preamble began in an amiable

tone of voice:



"Ah, sir! I have been looking for you. Do you know the history of

Spain?"



Now, one might know the history of one's own country by heart; but in

the condition I was at the time, with troubled mind and head quite

lost, I could not have said a word of it.



"Well," continued Captain Nemo, "you heard my question! Do you know

the history of Spain?"



"Very slightly," I answered.



"Well, here are learned men having to learn," said the Captain. "Come,

sit down, and I will tell you a curious episode in this history. Sir,

listen well," said he; "this history will interest you on one side, for

it will answer a question which doubtless you have not been able to

solve."



"I listen, Captain," said I, not knowing what my interlocutor was

driving at, and asking myself if this incident was bearing on our

projected flight.



"Sir, if you have no objection, we will go back to 1702. You cannot be

ignorant that your king, Louis XIV, thinking that the gesture of a

potentate was sufficient to bring the Pyrenees under his yoke, had

imposed the Duke of Anjou, his grandson, on the Spaniards. This prince

reigned more or less badly under the name of Philip V, and had a strong

party against him abroad. Indeed, the preceding year, the royal houses

of Holland, Austria, and England had concluded a treaty of alliance at

the Hague, with the intention of plucking the crown of Spain from the

head of Philip V, and placing it on that of an archduke to whom they

prematurely gave the title of Charles III.



"Spain must resist this coalition; but she was almost entirely

unprovided with either soldiers or sailors. However, money would not

fail them, provided that their galleons, laden with gold and silver

from America, once entered their ports. And about the end of 1702 they

expected a rich convoy which France was escorting with a fleet of

twenty-three vessels, commanded by Admiral Chateau-Renaud, for the

ships of the coalition were already beating the Atlantic. This convoy

was to go to Cadiz, but the Admiral, hearing that an English fleet was

cruising in those waters, resolved to make for a French port.



"The Spanish commanders of the convoy objected to this decision. They

wanted to be taken to a Spanish port, and, if not to Cadiz, into Vigo

Bay, situated on the northwest coast of Spain, and which was not

blocked.



"Admiral Chateau-Renaud had the rashness to obey this injunction, and

the galleons entered Vigo Bay.



"Unfortunately, it formed an open road which could not be defended in

any way. They must therefore hasten to unload the galleons before the

arrival of the combined fleet; and time would not have failed them had

not a miserable question of rivalry suddenly arisen.



"You are following the chain of events?" asked Captain Nemo.



"Perfectly," said I, not knowing the end proposed by this historical

lesson.



"I will continue. This is what passed. The merchants of Cadiz had a

privilege by which they had the right of receiving all merchandise

coming from the West Indies. Now, to disembark these ingots at the

port of Vigo was depriving them of their rights. They complained at

Madrid, and obtained the consent of the weak-minded Philip that the

convoy, without discharging its cargo, should remain sequestered in the

roads of Vigo until the enemy had disappeared.



"But whilst coming to this decision, on the 22nd of October, 1702, the

English vessels arrived in Vigo Bay, when Admiral Chateau-Renaud, in

spite of inferior forces, fought bravely. But, seeing that the

treasure must fall into the enemy's hands, he burnt and scuttled every

galleon, which went to the bottom with their immense riches."



Captain Nemo stopped. I admit I could not see yet why this history

should interest me.



"Well?" I asked.



"Well, M. Aronnax," replied Captain Nemo, "we are in that Vigo Bay; and

it rests with yourself whether you will penetrate its mysteries."



The Captain rose, telling me to follow him. I had had time to recover.

I obeyed. The saloon was dark, but through the transparent glass the

waves were sparkling. I looked.



For half a mile around the Nautilus, the waters seemed bathed in

electric light. The sandy bottom was clean and bright. Some of the

ship's crew in their diving-dresses were clearing away half-rotten

barrels and empty cases from the midst of the blackened wrecks. From

these cases and from these barrels escaped ingots of gold and silver,

cascades of piastres and jewels. The sand was heaped up with them.

Laden with their precious booty, the men returned to the Nautilus,

disposed of their burden, and went back to this inexhaustible fishery

of gold and silver.



I understood now. This was the scene of the battle of the 22nd of

October, 1702. Here on this very spot the galleons laden for the

Spanish Government had sunk. Here Captain Nemo came, according to his

wants, to pack up those millions with which he burdened the Nautilus.

It was for him and him alone America had given up her precious metals.

He was heir direct, without anyone to share, in those treasures torn

from the Incas and from the conquered of Ferdinand Cortez.



"Did you know, sir," he asked, smiling, "that the sea contained such

riches?"



"I knew," I answered, "that they value money held in suspension in

these waters at two millions."



"Doubtless; but to extract this money the expense would be greater than

the profit. Here, on the contrary, I have but to pick up what man has

lost--and not only in Vigo Bay, but in a thousand other ports where

shipwrecks have happened, and which are marked on my submarine map.

Can you understand now the source of the millions I am worth?"



"I understand, Captain. But allow me to tell you that in exploring

Vigo Bay you have only been beforehand with a rival society."



"And which?"



"A society which has received from the Spanish Government the privilege

of seeking those buried galleons. The shareholders are led on by the

allurement of an enormous bounty, for they value these rich shipwrecks

at five hundred millions."



"Five hundred millions they were," answered Captain Nemo, "but they are

so no longer."



"Just so," said I; "and a warning to those shareholders would be an act

of charity. But who knows if it would be well received? What gamblers

usually regret above all is less the loss of their money than of their

foolish hopes. After all, I pity them less than the thousands of

unfortunates to whom so much riches well-distributed would have been

profitable, whilst for them they will be for ever barren."



I had no sooner expressed this regret than I felt that it must have

wounded Captain Nemo.



"Barren!" he exclaimed, with animation. "Do you think then, sir, that

these riches are lost because I gather them? Is it for myself alone,

according to your idea, that I take the trouble to collect these

treasures? Who told you that I did not make a good use of it? Do you

think I am ignorant that there are suffering beings and oppressed races

on this earth, miserable creatures to console, victims to avenge? Do

you not understand?"



Captain Nemo stopped at these last words, regretting perhaps that he

had spoken so much. But I had guessed that, whatever the motive which

had forced him to seek independence under the sea, it had left him

still a man, that his heart still beat for the sufferings of humanity,

and that his immense charity was for oppressed races as well as

individuals. And I then understood for whom those millions were

destined which were forwarded by Captain Nemo when the Nautilus was

cruising in the waters of Crete.



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