hen   the  cloud  dispersed,  the  cuttlefish  had  disappeared,  and  my
unfortunate  countryman  with  it.  Ten  or  twelve poulps now invaded the
platform  and sides of the Nautilus. We rolled pell-mell into the midst of
this nest of serpents, that wriggled on the platform in the waves of blood
and  ink.  It  seemed  as  though these slimy tentacles sprang up like the
hydra's  heads.  Ned  Land's harpoon, at each stroke, was plunged into the
staring  eyes  of  the  cuttle  fish.  But  my bold companion was suddenly
overturned by the tentacles of a monster he had not been able to avoid.
   Ah! how my heart beat with emotion and horror! The formidable beak of a
cuttlefish  was open over Ned Land. The unhappy man would be cut in two. I
rushed to his succour. But Captain Nemo was before me; his axe disappeared
between  the  two  enormous  jaws,  and, miraculously saved, the Canadian,
rising, plunged his harpoon deep into the triple heart of the poulp.
   "I owed myself this revenge!" said the Captain to the Canadian.
   Ned bowed without replying. The combat had lasted a quarter of an hour.
The  monsters,  vanquished and mutilated, left us at last, and disappeared
under the waves. Captain Nemo, covered with blood, nearly exhausted, gazed
upon  the sea that had swallowed up one of his companions, and great tears
gathered in his eyes.


        Chapter XIX. THE GULF STREAM

   This  terrible scene of the 20th of April none of us can ever forget. I
have  written it under the influence of violent emotion. Since then I have
revised  the  recital; I have read it to Conseil and to the Canadian. They
found  it  exact as to facts, but insufficient as to effect. To paint such
pictures,  one must have the pen of the most illustrious of our poets, the
author of The Toilers of the Deep.
   I  have said that Captain Nemo wept while watching the waves; his grief
was  great.  It  was the second companion he had lost since our arrival on
board,  and  what  a  death! That friend, crushed, stifled, bruised by the
dreadful  arms  of  a poulp, pounded by his iron jaws, would not rest with
his comrades in the peaceful coral cemetery! In the midst of the struggle,
it  was the despairing cry uttered by the unfortunate man that had torn my
heart. The poor Frenchman, forgetting his conventional language, had taken
to  his own mother tongue, to utter a last appeal! Amongst the crew of the
Nautilus, associated with the body and soul of the Captain, recoiling like
him  from  all  contact  with men, I had a fellow-countryman. Did he alone
represent  France  in  this  mysterious association, evidently composed of
individuals  of  divers  nationalities?  It  was  one  of  these insoluble
problems that rose up unceasingly before my mind!
   Captain Nemo entered his room, and I saw him no more for some time. But
that  he was sad and irresolute I could see by the vessel, of which he was
the  soul,  and  which  received all his impressions. The Nautilus did not
keep  on in its settled course; it floated about like a corpse at the will
of  the  waves. It went at random. He could not tear himself away from the
scene  of  the  last  struggle, from this sea that had devoured one of his
men.  Ten  days  passed  thus.  It  was  not  till the 1st of May that the
Nautilus resumed its northerly course, after having sighted the Bahamas at
the mouth of the Bahama Canal. We were then following the current from the
largest  river  to  the  sea, that has its banks, its fish, and its proper
temperatures.  I  mean  the  Gulf Stream. It is really a river, that flows
freely to the middle of the Atlantic, and whose waters do not mix with the
ocean  waters.  It  is  a salt river, salter than the surrounding sea. Its
mean depth is 1,500 fathoms, its mean breadth ten miles. In certain places
the current flows with the speed of two miles and a half an hour. The body
of  its  waters  is  more  considerable than that of all the rivers in the
globe. It was on this ocean river that the Nautilus then sailed.
   I  must  add  that,  during the night, the phosphorescent waters of the
Gulf  Stream rivalled the electric power of our watch-light, especially in
the  stormy  weather  that  threatened  us so frequently. May 8th, we were
still  crossing  Cape  Hatteras,  at the height of the North Caroline. The
width  of  the  Gulf Stream there is seventy-five miles, and its depth 210
yards.   The  Nautilus  still  went  at  random;  all  supervision  seemed
abandoned.  I  thought  that,  under  these circumstances, escape would be
possible.  Indeed,  the  inhabited shores offered anywhere an easy refuge.
The sea was incessantly ploughed by the steamers that ply between New York
or  Boston and the Gulf of Mexico, and overrun day and night by the little
schooners coasting about the several parts of the American coast. We could
hope to be picked up. It was a favourable opportunity, notwithstanding the
thirty miles that separated the Nautilus from the coasts of the Union. One
unfortunate  circumstance  thwarted  the Canadian's plans. The weather was
very  bad.  We  were  nearing those shores where tempests are so frequent,
that  country  of  waterspouts  and  cyclones  actually  engendered by the
current  of  the Gulf Stream. To tempt the sea in a frail boat was certain
destruction.  Ned  Land  owned  this  himself.  He  fretted,  seized  with
nostalgia that flight only could cure.
   "Master,"  he  said  that  day to me, "this must come to an end. I must
make  a  clean breast of it. This Nemo is leaving land and going up to the
north.  But I declare to you that I have had enough of the South Pole, and
I will not follow him to the North."
   "What is to be done, Ned, since flight is impracticable just now?"
   "We must speak to the Captain," said he; "you said nothing when we were
in  your  native seas. I will speak, now we are in mine. When I think that
before  long  the Nautilus will be by Nova Scotia, and that there near New
foundland  is  a  large  bay,  and  into that bay the St. Lawrence empties
itself,  and  that  the  St. Lawrence is my river, the river by Quebec, my
native  town-when  I think of this, I feel furious, it makes my hair stand
on  end.  Sir,  I  would rather throw myself into the sea! I will not stay
here! I am stifled!"
   The  Canadian  was  evidently  losing all patience. His vigorous nature
could  not  stand this prolonged imprisonment. His face altered daily; his
temper  became  more  surly.  I knew what he must suffer, for I was seized
with  home-sickness  myself.  Nearly  seven  months had passed without our
having  had  any  news  from  land;  Captain Nemo's isolation, his altered
spirits,  especially since the fight with the poulps, his taciturnity, all
made me view things in a different light.
   "Well, sir?" said Ned, seeing I did not reply.
   "Well,  Ned,  do  you  wish  me  to  ask  Captain  Nemo  his intentions
concerning us?"
   "Yes, sir."
   "Although he has already made them known?"
   "Yes;  I wish it settled finally. Speak for me, in my name only, if you
like."
   "But I so seldom meet him. He avoids me."
   "That is all the more reason for you to go to see him."
   I  went  to  my  room.  From thence I meant to go to Captain Nemo's. It
would not do to let this opportunity of meeting him slip. I knocked at the
door. No answer. I knocked again, then turned the handle. The door opened,
I  went in. The Captain was there. Bending over his work-table, he had not
heard  me.  Resolved not to go without having spoken, I approached him. He
raised his head quickly, frowned, and said roughly, "You here! What do you
want?"
   "To speak to you, Captain."
   "But  I  am  busy,  sir;  I  am working. I leave you at liberty to shut
yourself up; cannot I be allowed the same?"
   This  reception  was  not encouraging; but I was determined to hear and
answer everything.
   "Sir,"  I  said coldly, "I have to speak to you on a matter that admits
of no delay."
   "What  is  that,  sir?"  he  replied,  ironically. "Have you discovered
something  that  has  escaped  me,  or  has  the  sea delivered up any new
secrets?"
   We  were  at cross-purposes. But, before I could reply, he showed me an
open  manuscript on his table, and said, in a more serious tone, "Here, M.
Aronnax, is a manuscript written in several languages. It contains the sum
of  my studies of the sea; and, if it please God, it shall not perish with
me.  This manuscript, signed with my name, complete with the history of my
life,  will be shut up in a little floating case. The last survivor of all
of us on board the Nautilus will throw this case into the sea, and it will
go whither it is borne by the waves."
   This man's name! his history written by himself! His mystery would then
be revealed some day.
   "Captain,"  I  said,  "I can but approve of the idea that makes you act
thus.  The  result  of  your  studies  must not be lost. But the means you
employ  seem  to  me to be primitive. Who knows where the winds will carry
this  case,  and in whose hands it will fall? Could you not use some other
means? Could not you, or one of yours-"
   "Never, sir!" he said, hastily interrupting me.
   "But  I  and  my companions are ready to keep this manuscript in store;
and, if you will put us at liberty-"
   "At liberty?" said the Captain, rising.
   "Yes,  sir;  that  is  the subject on which I wish to question you. For
seven months we have been here on board, and I ask you to-day, in the name
of  my  companions  and  in  my  own, if your intention is to keep us here
always?"
   "M.  Aronnax,  I  will  answer  you  to-day  as I did seven months ago:
Whoever enters the Nautilus, must never quit it."
   "You impose actual slavery upon us!"
   "Give it what name you please."
   "But everywhere the slave has the right to regain his liberty."
   "Who  denies  you  this  right?  Have I ever tried to chain you with an
oath?"
   He looked at me with his arms crossed.
   "Sir," I said, "to return a second time to this subject will be neither
to  your  nor  to  my  taste;  but,  as we have entered upon it, let us go
through  with  it. I repeat, it is not only myself whom it concerns. Study
is  to  me  a  relief,  a  diversion,  a passion that could make me forget
everything.  Like  you, I am willing to live obscure, in the frail hope of
bequeathing  one  day, to future time, the result of my labours. But it is
otherwise  with  Ned  Land.  Every  man, worthy of the name, deserves some
consideration.  Have  you thought that love of liberty, hatred of slavery,
can  give rise to schemes of revenge in a nature like the Canadian's; that
he could think, attempt, and try-"
   I was silenced; Captain Nemo rose.
   "Whatever  Ned  Land thinks of, attempts, or tries, what does it matter
to  me?  I  did not seek him! It is not for my pleasure that I keep him on
board!  As  for  you,  M. Aronnax, you are one of those who can understand
everything,  even  silence.  I  have  nothing more to say to you. Let this
first  time  you  have  come  to  treat of this subject be the last, for a
second time I will not listen to you."
   I  retired. Our situation was critical. I related my conversation to my
two companions.
   "We know now," said Ned, "that we can expect nothing from this man. The
Nautilus  is nearing Long Island. We will escape, whatever the weather may
be."
   But  the  sky became more and more threatening. Symptoms of a hurricane
became  manifest.  The  atmosphere  was  becoming  white and misty. On the
horizon  fine  streaks  of  cirrhous  clouds  were  succeeded by masses of
cumuli.  Other  low clouds passed swiftly by. The swollen sea rose in huge
billows.  The  birds  disappeared with the exception of the petrels, those
friends  of  the  storm.  The  barometer  fell  sensibly, and indicated an
extreme  extension  of  the  vapours.  The  mixture of the storm glass was
decomposed  under  the  influence  of  the  electricity  that pervaded the
atmosphere. The tempest burst on the 18th of May, just as the Nautilus was
floating  off  Long  Island,  some  miles from the port of New York. I can
describe  this  strife  of  the  elements!  for, instead of fleeing to the
depths  of the sea, Captain Nemo, by an unaccountable caprice, would brave
it  at  the  surface.  The wind blew from the south-west at first. Captain
Nemo, during the squalls, had taken his place on the platform. He had made
himself  fast, to prevent being washed overboard by the monstrous waves. I
had  hoisted  myself up, and made myself fast also, dividing my admiration
between the tempest and this extraordinary man who was coping with it. The
raging  sea  was swept by huge cloud-drifts, which were actually saturated
with  the  waves.  The  Nautilus,  sometimes  lying on its side, sometimes
standing up like a mast, rolled and pitched terribly. About five o'clock a
torrent  of  rain  fell,  that lulled neither sea nor wind. The hurri cane
blew  nearly  forty  leagues an hour. It is under these conditions that it
overturns  houses,  breaks  iron  gates,  displaces  twenty-four pounders.
However, the Nautilus, in the midst of the tempest, confirmed the words of
a clever engineer, "There is no well-constructed hull that cannot defy the
sea."  This was not a resisting rock; it was a steel spindle, obedient and
movable,  without  rigging  or  masts, that braved its fury with impunity.
However,  I  watched these raging waves attentively. They measured fifteen
feet  in height, and 150 to 175 yards long, and their speed of propagation
was  thirty feet per second. Their bulk and power increased with the depth
of  the water. Such waves as these, at the Hebrides, have displaced a mass
weighing  8,400  lb. They are they which, in the tempest of December 23rd,
1864,  after destroying the town of Yeddo, in Japan, broke the same day on
the  shores  of  America.  The intensity of the tempest increased with the
night.  The  barometer,  as  in  1860  at  Reunion  during a cyclone, fell
seven-tenths  at  the  close of day. I saw a large vessel pass the horizon
struggling  painfully.  She was trying to lie to under half steam, to keep
up  above  the waves. It was probably one of the steamers of the line from
New  York to Liverpool, or Havre. It soon disappeared in the gloom. At ten
o'clock  in  the  evening the sky was on fire. The atmosphere was streaked
with  vivid  lightning.  I  could not bear the brightness of it; while the
captain,  looking  at  it,  seemed  to  envy  the spirit of the tempest. A
terrible  noise  filled  the air, a complex noise, made up of the howls of
the  crushed waves, the roaring of the wind, and the claps of thunder. The
wind veered suddenly to all points of the horizon; and the cyclone, rising
in  the east, returned after passing by the north, west, and south, in the
inverse  course  pursued by the circular storm of the southern hemisphere.
Ah,  that Gulf Stream! It deserves its name of the King of Tempests. It is
that  which  causes  those  formidable  cyclones,  by  the  difference  of
temperature  between  its  air  and  its  currents.  A  shower of fire had
succeeded  the  rain. The drops of water were changed to sharp spikes. One
would  have  thought  that  Captain  Nemo  was  courting a death worthy of
himself,  a  death  by  lightning.  As  the Nautilus, pitching dreadfully,
raised  its  steel spur in the air, it seemed to act as a conductor, and I
saw  long  sparks burst from it. Crushed and without strength I crawled to
the  panel,  opened it, and descended to the saloon. The storm was then at
its  height.  It  was  impossible  to stand upright in the interior of the
Nautilus.  Captain  Nemo  came  down  about twelve. I heard the reservoirs
filling  by  degrees,  and  the  Nautilus  sank  slowly beneath the waves.
Through the open windows in the saloon I saw large fish terrified, passing
like  phantoms in the water. Some were struck before my eyes. The Nautilus
was still descending. I thought that at about eight fathoms deep we should
find  a calm. But no! the upper beds were too violently agitated for that.
We  had  to  seek repose at more than twenty-five fathoms in the bowels of
the  deep. But there, what quiet, what silence, what peace! Who could have
told  that  such  a  hurricane  had  been let loose on the surface of that
ocean?


        Chapter XX. FROM LATITUDE 47œ 24' TO LONGITUDE 17œ 28'

   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 then 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 reminded 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 47O 24', longitude 17O 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.


        Chapter XXI. A HECATOMB

   The  way  of  describing  this  unlooked-for  scene, the history of the
patriot  ship,  told  at  first so coldly, and the emotion with which this
strange  man  pronounced  the  last  words,  the  name of the Avenger, the
significance  of which could not escape me, all impressed itself deeply on
my  mind.  My eyes did not leave the Captain, who, with his hand stretched
out  to sea, was watching with a glowing eye the glorious wreck. Perhaps I
was  never  to know who he was, from whence he came, or where he was going
to,  but  I  saw the man move, and apart from the savant. It was no common
misanthropy  which  had  shut  Captain  Nemo and his companions within the
Nautilus,  but  a  hatred,  either  monstrous or sublime, which time could
never  weaken.  Did this hatred still seek for vengeance? The future would
soon  teach  me that. But the Nautilus was rising slowly to the surface of
the sea, and the form of the Avenger disappeared by degrees from my sight.
Soon a slight rolling told me that we were in the open air. At that moment
a dull boom was heard. I looked at the Captain. He did not move.
   "Captain?" said I.
   He did not answer. I left him and mounted the platform. Conseil and the
Canadian were already there.
   "Where did that sound come from?" I asked.
   "It was a gunshot," replied Ned Land.
   I  looked  in  the  direction  of the vessel I had already seen. It was
nearing  the  Nautilus,  and we could see that it was putting on steam. It
was within six miles of us.
   "What is that ship, Ned?"
   "By its rigging, and the height of its lower masts," said the Canadian,
"I bet she is a ship-of-war. May it reach us; and, if necessary, sink this
cursed Nautilus."
   "Friend  Ned,"  replied  Conseil, "what harm can it do to the Nautilus?
Can  it attack it beneath the waves? Can its cannonade us at the bottom of
the sea?"
   "Tell me, Ned," said I, "can you recognise what country she belongs to?"
   The  Canadian knitted his eyebrows, dropped his eyelids, and screwed up
the  corners of his eyes, and for a few moments fixed a piercing look upon
the vessel.
   "No,  sir,"  he replied; "I cannot tell what nation she belongs to, for
she  shows  no  colours. But I can declare she is a man-of-war, for a long
pennant flutters from her main mast."
   For a quarter of an hour we watched the ship which was steaming towards
us.  I  could  not,  however, believe that she could see the Nautilus from
that  distance;  and  still  less  that she could know what this submarine
engine  was. Soon the Canadian informed me that she was a large, armoured,
two-decker  ram. A thick black smoke was pouring from her two funnels. Her
closely-furled sails were stopped to her yards. She hoisted no flag at her
mizzen-peak.  The distance prevented us from distinguishing the colours of
her  pennant,  which  floated like a thin ribbon. She advanced rapidly. If
Captain  Nemo allowed her to approach, there was a chance of salvation for
us.
   "Sir,"  said  Ned  Land,  "if  that vessel passes within a mile of us I
shall throw myself into the sea, and I should advise you to do the same."
   I  did  not  reply to the Canadian's suggestion, but continued watching
the ship. Whether English, French, American, or Russian, she would be sure
to  take  us  in if we could only reach her. Presently a white smoke burst
from  the fore part of the vessel; some seconds after, the water, agitated
by  the  fall  of  a  heavy  body, splashed the stern of the Nautilus, and
shortly afterwards a loud explosion struck my ear.
   "What! they are firing at us!" I exclaimed.
   "So  please you, sir," said Ned, "they have recognised the unicorn, and
they are firing at us."
   "But,"  I  exclaimed,  "surely  they  can see that there are men in the
case?"
   "It is, perhaps, because of that," replied Ned Land, looking at me.
   A  whole flood of light burst upon my mind. Doubtless they knew now how
to  believe  the  stories of the pretended monster. No doubt, on board the
Abraham  Lincoln,  when the Canadian struck it with the harpoon, Commander
Farragut  had  recognised in the supposed narwhal a submarine vessel, more
dangerous  than a supernatural cetacean. Yes, it must have been so; and on
every  sea  they  were  now  seeking  this engine of destruction. Terrible
indeed! if, as we supposed, Captain Nemo employed the Nautilus in works of
vengeance. On the night when we were imprisoned in that cell, in the midst
of  the  Indian  Ocean, had he not attacked some vessel? The man buried in
the  coral  cemetery,  had he not been a victim to the shock caused by the
Nautilus?  Yes,  I  repeat  it,  it must be so. One part of the mysterious
existence  of Captain Nemo had been unveiled; and, if his identity had not
been  recognised,  at least, the nations united against him were no longer
hunting  a  chimerical  creature,  but a man who had vowed a deadly hatred
against  them.  All the formidable past rose before me. Instead of meeting
friends  on  board  the  approaching  ship,  we could only expect pitiless
enemies.  But  the  shot rattled about us. Some of them struck the sea and
ricochetted,  losing  themselves  in  the  distance.  But none touched the
Nautilus.  The  vessel  was not more than three miles from us. In spite of
the  serious  cannonade, Captain Nemo did not appear on the platform; but,
if one of the conical projectiles had struck the shell of the Nautilus, it
would have been fatal. The Canadian then said, "Sir, we must do all we can
to  get  out of this dilemma. Let us signal them. They will then, perhaps,
understand that we are honest folks."
   Ned  Land took his handkerchief to wave in the air; but he had scarcely
displayed  it, when he was struck down by an iron hand, and fell, in spite
of his great strength, upon the deck.
   "Fool!"  exclaimed  the Captain, "do you wish to be pierced by the spur
of the Nautilus before it is hurled at this vessel?"
   Captain  Nemo  was terrible to hear; he was still more terrible to see.
His  face  was  deadly  pale, with a spasm at his heart. For an instant it
must have ceased to beat. His pupils were fearfully contracted. He did not
speak,  he  roared,  as,  with  his  body  thrown  forward,  he  wrung the
Canadian's  shoulders.  Then, leaving him, and turning to the ship of war,
whose  shot  was  still  raining around him, he exclaimed, with a powerful
voice,  "Ah,  ship of an accursed nation, you know who I am! I do not want
your colours to know you by! Look! and I will show you mine!"
   And  on  the  fore  part  of the platform Captain Nemo unfurled a black
flag, similar to the one he had placed at the South Pole. At that moment a
shot struck the shell of the Nautilus obliquely, without piercing it; and,
rebounding  near  the  Captain,  was  lost  in  the  sea.  He shrugged his
shoulders;  and,  addressing  me,  said  shortly,  "Go  down, you and your
companions, go down!"
   "Sir," I cried, "are you going to attack this vessel?"
   "Sir, I am going to sink it."
   "You will not do that?"
   "I  shall do it," he replied coldly. "And I advise you not to judge me,
sir.  Fate  has  shown you what you ought not to have seen. The attack has
begun; go down."
   "What is this vessel?"
   "You  do  not  know?  Very well! so much the better! Its nationality to
you, at least, will be a secret. Go down!"
   We could but obey. About fifteen of the sailors surrounded the Captain,
looking  with implacable hatred at the vessel nearing them. One could feel
that  the same desire of vengeance animated every soul. I went down at the
moment  another  projectile  struck  the Nautilus, and I heard the Captain
exclaim:
   "Strike,  mad  vessel! Shower your useless shot! And then, you will not
escape the spur of the Nautilus. But it is not here that you shall perish!
I would not have your ruins mingle with those of the Avenger!"
   I  reached  my  room.  The  Captain  and his second had remained on the
platform.  The  screw  was  set  in  motion, and the Nautilus, moving with
speed,  was  soon  beyond  the  reach  of the ship's guns. But the pursuit
continued, and Captain Nemo contented himself with keeping his distance.
   About  four  in  the  afternoon,  being  no  longer  able to contain my
impatience,  I  went  to  the central staircase. The panel was open, and I
ventured  on  to  the  platform. The Captain was still walking up and down
with  an  agitated step. He was looking at the ship, which was five or six
miles to leeward.
   He  was  going round it like a wild beast, and, drawing it eastward, he
allowed them to pursue. But he did not attack. Perhaps he still hesitated?
I  wished  to  mediate  once more. But I had scarcely spoken, when Captain
Nemo imposed silence, saying:
   "I am the law, and I am the judge! I am the oppressed, and there is the
oppressor!  Through  him  I  have  lost  all  that I loved, cherished, and
venerated-country,  wife,  children, father, and mother. I saw all perish!
All that I hate is there! Say no more!"
   I  cast  a last look at the man-of-war, which was putting on steam, and
rejoined Ned and Conseil.
   "We will fly!" I exclaimed.
   "Good!" said Ned. "What is this vessel?"
   "I  do  not know; but, whatever it is, it will be sunk before night. In
any  case,  it  is better to perish with it, than be made accomplices in a
retaliation the justice of which we cannot judge."
   "That  is  my  opinion  too,"  said  Ned Land, coolly. "Let us wait for
night."
   Night  arrived.  Deep silence reigned on board. The compass showed that
the  Nautilus  had  not altered its course. It was on the surface, rolling
slightly.  My  companions  and I resolved to fly when the vessel should be
near  enough  either to hear us or to see us; for the moon, which would be
full  in  two or three days, shone brightly. Once on board the ship, if we
could  not  prevent  the  blow  which threatened it, we could, at least we
would,  do all that circumstances would allow. Several times I thought the
Nautilus was preparing for attack; but Captain Nemo contented himself with
allowing his adversary to approach, and then fled once more before it.
   Part  of  the  night  passed  without  any  incident.  We  watched  the
opportunity  for  action. We spoke little, for we were too much moved. Ned
Land  would  have  thrown  himself into the sea, but I forced him to wait.
According to my idea, the Nautilus would attack the ship at her waterline,
and then it would not only be possible, but easy to fly.
   At  three  in  the morning, full of uneasiness, I mounted the platform.
Captain  Nemo  had  not left it. He was standing at the fore part near his
flag,  which a slight breeze displayed above his head. He did not take his
eyes  from  the  vessel.  The intensity of his look seemed to attract, and
fascinate,  and  draw it onward more surely than if he had been towing it.
The  moon  was  then passing the meridian. Jupiter was rising in the east.
Amid  this  peaceful scene of nature, sky and ocean rivalled each other in
tranquillity, the sea offering to the orbs of night the finest mirror they
could  ever have in which to reflect their image. As I thought of the deep
calm  of  these  elements,  compared  with  all  those  passions  brooding
imperceptibly within the Nautilus, I shuddered.
   The  vessel  was  within  two  miles  of  us.  It was ever nearing that
phosphorescent  light  which  showed the presence of the Nautilus. I could
see its green and red lights, and its white lantern hanging from the large
foremast.  An  indistinct  vibration quivered through its rigging, showing
that  the furnaces were heated to the uttermost. Sheaves of sparks and red
ashes flew from the funnels, shining in the atmosphere like stars.
   I remained thus until six in the morning, without Captain Nemo noticing
me.  The  ship  stood  about a mile and a half from us, and with the first
dawn of day the firing began afresh. The moment could not be far off when,
the  Nautilus attacking its adversary, my companions and myself should for
ever  leave  this man. I was preparing to go down to remind them, when the
second  mounted the platform, accompanied by several sailors. Captain Nemo
either did not or would not see them. Some steps were taken which might be
called  the  signal for action. They were very simple. The iron balustrade
around  the  platform  was  lowered,  and the lantern and pilot cages were
pushed  within  the  shell  until  they were flush with the deck. The long
surface  of  the steel cigar no longer offered a single point to check its
manoeuvres.  I  returned  to  the saloon. The Nautilus still floated; some
streaks  of  light  were  filtering  through  the  liquid  beds.  With the
undulations of the waves the windows were brightened by the red streaks of
the rising sun, and this dreadful day of the 2nd of June had dawned.
   At  five  o'clock,  the  log  showed that the speed of the Nautilus was
slackening,  and I knew that it was allowing them to draw nearer. Besides,
the  reports  were  heard  more distinctly, and the projectiles, labouring
through the ambient water, were extinguished with a strange hissing noise.
   "My  friends,"  said I, "the moment is come. One grasp of the hand, and
may God protect us!"
   Ned  Land was resolute, Conseil calm, myself so nervous that I knew not
how  to  contain  myself. We all passed into the library; but the moment I
pushed  the  door  opening  on to the central staircase, I heard the upper
panel  close  sharply. The Canadian rushed on to the stairs, but I stopped
him.  A  well-known