are going backwards?" said Conseil.
   "Yes," I replied. "This end of the tunnel can have no egress."
   "And then?"
   "Then," said I, "the working is easy. We must go back again, and go out
at the southern opening. That is all."
   In  speaking thus, I wished to appear more confident than I really was.
But  the  retrograde motion of the Nautilus was increasing; and, reversing
the screw, it carried us at great speed.
   "It will be a hindrance," said Ned.
   "What  does  it matter, some hours more or less, provided we get out at
last?"
   "Yes," repeated Ned Land, "provided we do get out at last!"
   For a short time I walked from the saloon to the library. My companions
were  silent. I soon threw myself on an ottoman, and took a book, which my
eyes   overran   mechanically.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  after,  Conseil,
approaching me, said, "Is what you are reading very interesting, sir?"
   "Very interesting!" I replied.
   "I should think so, sir. It is your own book you are reading."
   "My book?"
   And  indeed  I  was  holding in my hand the work on the Great Submarine
Depths.  I  did not even dream of it. I closed the book and returned to my
walk. Ned and Conseil rose to go.
   "Stay  here,  my  friends,"  said  I,  detaining  them.  "Let us remain
together until we are out of this block."
   "As you please, sir," Conseil replied.
   Some  hours  passed. I often looked at the instruments hanging from the
partition. The manometer showed that the Nautilus kept at a constant depth
of  more than three hundred yards; the compass still pointed to south; the
log  indicated  a  speed of twenty miles an hour, which, in such a cramped
space,  was very great. But Captain Nemo knew that he could not hasten too
much,  and that minutes were worth ages to us. At twenty-five minutes past
eight  a second shock took place, this time from behind. I turned pale. My
companions  were  close  by  my  side.  I seized Conseil's hand. Our looks
expressed  our  feelings  better  than  words.  At this moment the Captain
entered the saloon. I went up to him.
   "Our course is barred southward?" I asked.
   "Yes, sir. The iceberg has shifted and closed every outlet."
   "We are blocked up then?"
   "Yes."


        Chapter XVI. WANT OF AIR

   Thus  around the Nautilus, above and below, was an impenetrable wall of
ice.  We  were  prisoners  to  the  iceberg.  I  watched  the Captain. His
countenance had resumed its habitual imperturbability.
   "Gentlemen,"  he  said  calmly,  "there  are  two  ways of dying in the
circumstances  in  which we are placed." (This puzzling person had the air
of  a mathematical professor lecturing to his pupils.) "The first is to be
crushed;  the  second  is  to  die  of  suffocation. I do not speak of the
possibility  of  dying  of  hunger,  for  the  supply of provisions in the
Nautilus will certainly last longer than we shall. Let us, then, calculate
our chances."
   "As  to  suffocation,  Captain,"  I replied, "that is not to be feared,
because our reservoirs are full."
   "Just  so;  but  they will only yield two days' supply of air. Now, for
thirty-six  hours  we  have  been  hidden under the water, and already the
heavy  atmosphere  of  the Nautilus requires renewal. In forty-eight hours
our reserve will be exhausted."
   "Well, Captain, can we be delivered before forty-eight hours?"
   "We will attempt it, at least, by piercing the wall that surrounds us."
   "On which side?"
   "Sound  will  tell  us.  I  am going to run the Nautilus aground on the
lower  bank,  and my men will attack the iceberg on the side that is least
thick."
   Captain  Nemo  went  out. Soon I discovered by a hissing noise that the
water was entering the reservoirs. The Nautilus sank slowly, and rested on
the  ice  at  a  depth of 350 yards, the depth at which the lower bank was
immersed.
   "My  friends,"  I  said,  "our situation is serious, but I rely on your
courage and energy."
   "Sir," replied the Canadian, "I am ready to do anything for the general
safety."
   "Good! Ned," and I held out my hand to the Canadian.
   "I  will  add," he continued, "that, being as handy with the pickaxe as
with  the  harpoon,  if  I can be useful to the Captain, he can command my
services."
   "He will not refuse your help. Come, Ned!"
   I  led  him  to the room where the crew of the Nautilus were putting on
their  cork-jackets.  I  told  the  Captain  of  Ned's  proposal, which he
accepted.  The  Canadian  put on his sea-costume, and was ready as soon as
his companions. When Ned was dressed, I re-entered the drawing-room, where
the  panes  of  glass  were open, and, posted near Conseil, I examined the
ambient  beds  that  supported the Nautilus. Some instants after, we saw a
dozen  of  the  crew set foot on the bank of ice, and among them Ned Land,
easily known by his stature. Captain Nemo was with them. Before proceeding
to  dig  the  walls,  he  took the soundings, to be sure of working in the
right  direction.  Long  sounding  lines  were sunk in the side walls, but
after  fifteen  yards  they  were  again stopped by the thick wall. It was
useless to attack it on the ceiling-like surface, since the iceberg itself
measured  more  than  400  yards  in height. Captain Nemo then sounded the
lower  surface.  There  ten  yards of wall separated us from the water, so
great  was the thickness of the ice-field. It was necessary, therefore, to
cut  from  it  a  piece  equal in extent to the waterline of the Nautilus.
There were about 6,000 cubic yards to detach, so as to dig a hole by which
we  could  descend  to  the  ice-field. The work had begun immediately and
carried  on  with  indefatigable  energy.  Instead  of  digging  round the
Nautilus which would have involved greater difficulty, Captain Nemo had an
immense trench made at eight yards from the port-quarter. Then the men set
to  work  simultaneously  with  their  screws  on  several  points  of its
circumference.   Presently   the  pickaxe  attacked  this  compact  matter
vigorously,  and  large  blocks  were detached from the mass. By a curious
effect  of specific gravity, these blocks, lighter than water, fled, so to
speak,  to the vault of the tunnel, that increased in thickness at the top
in  proportion  as it diminished at the base. But that mattered little, so
long  as the lower part grew thinner. After two hours' hard work, Ned Land
came  in exhausted. He and his comrades were replaced by new workers, whom
Conseil  and I joined. The second lieutenant of the Nautilus superintended
us.  The  water  seemed  singularly cold, but I soon got warm handling the
pickaxe.  My  movements  were free enough, although they were made under a
pressure  of  thirty  atmospheres.  When  I  re-entered, after working two
hours,  to  take  some  food  and  rest,  I found a perceptible difference
between  the  pure  fluid with which the Rouquayrol engine supplied me and
the  atmosphere  of  the Nautilus, already charged with carbonic acid. The
air  had  not  been  renewed  for  forty-eight  hours,  and  its vivifying
qualities  were  considerably  enfeebled. However, after a lapse of twelve
hours,  we  had  only  raised a block of ice one yard thick, on the marked
surface,  which  was  about 600 cubic yards! Reckoning that it took twelve
hours  to  accomplish this much it would take five nights and four days to
bring  this  enterprise to a satisfactory conclusion. Five nights and four
days! And we have only air enough for two days in the reservoirs! "Without
taking into account," said Ned, "that, even if we get out of this infernal
prison,  we  shall also be imprisoned under the iceberg, shut out from all
possible  communication  with the atmosphere." True enough! Who could then
foresee  the  minimum  of  time necessary for our deliverance? We might be
suffocated  before the Nautilus could regain the surface of the waves? Was
it  destined  to  perish in this ice-tomb, with all those it enclosed? The
situation  was  terrible.  But everyone had looked the danger in the face,
and each was determined to do his duty to the last.
   As  I  expected, during the night a new block a yard square was carried
away,  and still further sank the immense hollow. But in the morning when,
dressed in my cork-jacket, I traversed the slushy mass at a temperature of
six  or  seven  degrees  below  zero,  I remarked that the side walls were
gradually  closing  in.  The  beds of water farthest from the trench, that
were not warmed by the men's work, showed a tendency to solidification. In
presence of this new and imminent danger, what would become of our chances
of  safety,  and how hinder the solidification of this liquid medium, that
would burst the partitions of the Nautilus like glass?
   I  did  not tell my companions of this new danger. What was the good of
damping  the energy they displayed in the painful work of escape? But when
I went on board again, I told Captain Nemo of this grave complication.
   "I know it," he said, in that calm tone which could counteract the most
terrible  apprehensions.  "It  is  one  danger  more;  but I see no way of
escaping   it;   the   only  chance  of  safety  is  to  go  quicker  than
solidification. We must be beforehand with it, that is all."
   On  this  day  for several hours I used my pickaxe vigorously. The work
kept  me  up.  Besides,  to  work  was  to  quit the Nautilus, and breathe
directly  the  pure  air  drawn  from  the reservoirs, and supplied by our
apparatus,  and  to quit the impoverished and vitiated atmosphere. Towards
evening  the  trench  was dug one yard deeper. When I returned on board, I
was  nearly  suffocated  by  the  carbonic  acid  with  which  the air was
filled-ah!  if  we  had  only  the  chemical  means  to  drive  away  this
deleterious  gas.  We  had  plenty  of  oxygen; all this water contained a
considerable  quantity,  and  by dissolving it with our powerful piles, it
would restore the vivifying fluid. I had thought well over it; but of what
good  was  that,  since  the carbonic acid produced by our respiration had
invaded  every  part of the vessel? To absorb it, it was necessary to fill
some  jars  with  caustic  potash, and to shake them incessantly. Now this
substance  was  wanting  on  board,  and nothing could replace it. On that
evening,  Captain  Nemo  ought to open the taps of his reservoirs, and let
some  pure  air into the interior of the Nautilus; without this precaution
we  could  not  get  rid  of the sense of suffocation. The next day, March
26th,  I  resumed  my  miner's  work in beginning the fifth yard. The side
walls  and  the  lower  surface  of  the iceberg thickened visibly. It was
evident  that  they  would  meet before the Nautilus was able to disengage
itself.  Despair  seized me for an instant; my pickaxe nearly fell from my
hands.  What  was  the good of digging if I must be suffocated, crushed by
the  water  that was turning into stone?-a punishment that the ferocity of
the  savages  even  would not have invented! Just then Captain Nemo passed
near  me.  I  touched his hand and showed him the walls of our prison. The
wall  to  port  had  advanced  to at least four yards from the hull of the
Nautilus.  The Captain understood me, and signed me to follow him. We went
on  board.  I  took  off  my  cork-jacket  and  accompanied  him  into the
drawing-room.
   "M.  Aronnax,  we  must  attempt  some  desperate means, or we shall be
sealed up in this solidified water as in cement."
   "Yes; but what is to be done?"
   "Ah!  if  my  Nautilus were strong enough to bear this pressure without
being crushed!"
   "Well?" I asked, not catching the Captain's idea.
   "Do  you  not  understand," he replied, "that this congelation of water
will  help  us?  Do you not see that by its solidification, it would burst
through  this  field  of  ice  that  imprisons us, as, when it freezes, it
bursts  the  hardest stones? Do you not perceive that it would be an agent
of safety instead of destruction?"
   "Yes,  Captain,  perhaps.  But,  whatever  resistance  to  crushing the
Nautilus possesses, it could not support this terrible pressure, and would
be flattened like an iron plate."
   "I know it, sir. Therefore we must not reckon on the aid of nature, but
on  our own exertions. We must stop this solidification. Not only will the
side  walls be pressed together; but there is not ten feet of water before
or behind the Nautilus. The congelation gains on us on all sides."
   "How  long  will  the  air  in the reservoirs last for us to breathe on
board?"
   The Captain looked in my face. "After to-morrow they will be empty!"
   A  cold sweat came over me. However, ought I to have been astonished at
the  answer? On March 22, the Nautilus was in the open polar seas. We were
at  26O.  For five days we had lived on the reserve on board. And what was
left  of  the  respirable air must be kept for the workers. Even now, as I
write, my recollection is still so vivid that an involuntary terror seizes
me  and my lungs seem to be without air. Meanwhile, Captain Nemo reflected
silently,  and  evidently  an idea had struck him; but he seemed to reject
it. At last, these words escaped his lips:
   "Boiling water!" he muttered.
   "Boiling water?" I cried.
   "Yes,  sir.  We  are  enclosed  in a space that is relatively confined.
Would  not  jets of boiling water, constantly injected by the pumps, raise
the temperature in this part and stay the congelation?"
   "Let us try it," I said resolutely.
   "Let us try it, Professor."
   The  thermometer  then stood at 7O outside. Captain Nemo took me to the
galleys,  where  the  vast  distillatory machines stood that furnished the
drinkable  water by evaporation. They filled these with water, and all the
electric  heat  from  the piles was thrown through the worms bathed in the
liquid.  In a few minutes this water reached 100O. It was directed towards
the pumps, while fresh water replaced it in proportion. The heat developed
by  the troughs was such that cold water, drawn up from the sea after only
having  gone through the machines, came boiling into the body of the pump.
The  injection  was begun, and three hours after the thermometer marked 6O
below zero outside. One degree was gained. Two hours later the thermometer
only marked 4O.
   "We  shall  succeed,"  I  said  to  the Captain, after having anxiously
watched the result of the operation.
   "I  think," he answered, "that we shall not be crushed. We have no more
suffocation to fear."
   During  the  night  the temperature of the water rose to 1O below zero.
The  injections  could  not  carry  it  to  a  higher  point.  But, as the
congelation  of  the  sea-water  produces  at  least  2O,  I  was at least
reassured against the dangers of solidification.
   The  next  day,  March  27th, six yards of ice had been cleared, twelve
feet  only  remaining to be cleared away. There was yet forty-eight hours'
work.  The  air  could not be renewed in the interior of the Nautilus. And
this  day would make it worse. An intolerable weight oppressed me. Towards
three  o'clock in the evening this feeling rose to a violent degree. Yawns
dislocated  my  jaws.  My lungs panted as they inhaled this burning fluid,
which became rarefied more and more. A moral torpor took hold of me. I was
powerless,  almost  unconscious.  My  brave Conseil, though exhibiting the
same  symptoms and suffering in the same manner, never left me. He took my
hand  and  encouraged me, and I heard him murmur, "Oh! if I could only not
breathe, so as to leave more air for my master!"
   Tears  came into my eyes on hearing him speak thus. If our situation to
all was intolerable in the interior, with what haste and gladness would we
put  on  our  cork-jackets  to  work  in our turn! Pickaxes sounded on the
frozen ice-beds. Our arms ached, the skin was torn off our hands. But what
were  these  fatigues,  what  did the wounds matter? Vital air came to the
lungs! We breathed! we breathed!
   All this time no one prolonged his voluntary task beyond the prescribed
time.  His  task  accomplished,  each  one  handed  in turn to his panting
companions the apparatus that supplied him with life. Captain Nemo set the
example,  and  submitted  first  to  this severe discipline. When the time
came, he gave up his apparatus to another and returned to the vitiated air
on board, calm, unflinching, unmurmuring.
   On  that  day  the  ordinary work was accomplished with unusual vigour.
Only  two  yards  remained  to  be raised from the surface. Two yards only
separated  us from the open sea. But the reservoirs were nearly emptied of
air.  The  little  that  remained  ought to be kept for the workers; not a
particle  for  the  Nautilus.  When  I  went  back  on  board,  I was half
suffocated.  What  a night! I know not how to describe it. The next day my
breathing  was  oppressed.  Dizziness  accompanied the pain in my head and
made  me  like a drunken man. My companions showed the same symptoms. Some
of the crew had rattling in the throat.
   On  that  day, the sixth of our imprisonment, Captain Nemo, finding the
pickaxes  work  too  slowly,  resolved  to  crush  the  ice-bed that still
separated  us  from the liquid sheet. This man's coolness and energy never
forsook him. He subdued his physical pains by moral force.
   By his orders the vessel was lightened, that is to say, raised from the
ice-bed  by a change of specific gravity. When it floated they towed it so
as  to  bring  it  above  the  immense  trench  made  on  the level of the
water-line.  Then,  filling his reservoirs of water, he descended and shut
himself up in the hole.
   Just  then  all  the  crew  came  on  board,  and  the  double  door of
communication  was shut. The Nautilus then rested on the bed of ice, which
was  not  one yard thick, and which the sounding leads had perforated in a
thousand  places.  The  taps  of  the  reservoirs  were then opened, and a
hundred  cubic  yards  of  water  was let in, increasing the weight of the
Nautilus  to 1,800 tons. We waited, we listened, forgetting our sufferings
in  hope.  Our  safety  depended  on this last chance. Notwithstanding the
buzzing  in  my head, I soon heard the humming sound under the hull of the
Nautilus.  The  ice cracked with a singular noise, like tearing paper, and
the Nautilus sank.
   "We are off!" murmured Conseil in my ear.
   I could not answer him. I seized his hand, and pressed it convulsively.
All  at  once, carried away by its frightful overcharge, the Nautilus sank
like  a bullet under the waters, that is to say, it fell as if it was in a
vacuum.  Then all the electric force was put on the pumps, that soon began
to  let  the water out of the reservoirs. After some minutes, our fall was
stopped.  Soon,  too,  the  manometer indicated an ascending movement. The
screw,  going  at full speed, made the iron hull tremble to its very bolts
and  drew  us towards the north. But if this floating under the iceberg is
to last another day before we reach the open sea, I shall be dead first.
   Half  stretched upon a divan in the library, I was suffocating. My face
was purple, my lips blue, my faculties suspended. I neither saw nor heard.
All notion of time had gone from my mind. My muscles could not contract. I
do  not  know how many hours passed thus, but I was conscious of the agony
that  was coming over me. I felt as if I was going to die. Suddenly I came
to.  Some  breaths of air penetrated my lungs. Had we risen to the surface
of  the  waves?  Were  we free of the iceberg? No! Ned and Conseil, my two
brave  friends,  were sacrificing themselves to save me. Some particles of
air  still  remained  at the bottom of one apparatus. Instead of using it,
they  had kept it for me, and, while they were being suffocated, they gave
me  life,  drop  by  drop.  I  wanted to push back the thing; they held my
hands,  and  for some moments I breathed freely. I looked at the clock; it
was  eleven in the morning. It ought to be the 28th of March. The Nautilus
went  at  a frightful pace, forty miles an hour. It literally tore through
the  water.  Where was Captain Nemo? Had he succumbed? Were his companions
dead with him? At the moment the manometer indicated that we were not more
than  twenty  feet from the surface. A mere plate of ice separated us from
the  atmosphere.  Could we not break it? Perhaps. In any case the Nautilus
was  going  to  attempt  it.  I  felt  that it was in an oblique position,
lowering  the  stern,  and raising the bows. The introduction of water had
been  the  means  of  disturbing  its  equilibrium.  Then, impelled by its
powerful  screw,  it attacked the ice-field from beneath like a formidable
battering-ram. It broke it by backing and then rushing forward against the
field, which gradually gave way; and at last, dashing suddenly against it,
shot forwards on the ice-field, that crushed beneath its weight. The panel
was opened-one might say torn off-and the pure air came in in abundance to
all parts of the Nautilus.


        Chapter XVII. FROM CAPE HORN TO THE AMAZON

   How  I got on to the platform, I have no idea; perhaps the Canadian had
carried  me there. But I breathed, I inhaled the vivifying sea-air. My two
companions  were getting drunk with the fresh particles. The other unhappy
men  had  been  so  long  without  food, that they could not with impunity
indulge  in  the  simplest  aliments  that  were  given  them.  We, on the
contrary,  had no end to restrain ourselves; we could draw this air freely
into  our  lungs,  and it was the breeze, the breeze alone, that filled us
with this keen enjoyment.
   "Ah!"  said  Conseil,  "how  delightful this oxygen is! Master need not
fear to breathe it. There is enough for everybody."
   Ned  Land did not speak, but he opened his jaws wide enough to frighten
a shark. Our strength soon returned, and, when I looked round me, I saw we
were  alone  on  the  platform.  The  foreign  seamen in the Nautilus were
contented  with  the air that circulated in the interior; none of them had
come to drink in the open air.
   The  first words I spoke were words of gratitude and thankfulness to my
two  companions.  Ned  and  Conseil  had prolonged my life during the last
hours of this long agony. All my gratitude could not repay such devotion.
   "My friends," said I, "we are bound one to the other for ever, and I am
under infinite obligations to you."
   "Which I shall take advantage of," exclaimed the Canadian.
   "What do you mean?" said Conseil.
   "I  mean  that  I  shall  take  you  with me when I leave this infernal
Nautilus."
   "Well," said Conseil, "after all this, are we going right?"
   "Yes,"  I  replied,  "for we are going the way of the sun, and here the
sun is in the north."
   "No  doubt,"  said Ned Land; "but it remains to be seen whether he will
bring  the  ship  into  the  Pacific  or the Atlantic Ocean, that is, into
frequented or deserted seas."
   I  could not answer that question, and I feared that Captain Nemo would
rather  take  us  to  the  vast  ocean that touches the coasts of Asia and
America  at  the  same  time.  He  would  thus complete the tour round the
submarine  world,  and  return to those waters in which the Nautilus could
sail  freely.  We  ought, before long, to settle this important point. The
Nautilus  went  at a rapid pace. The polar circle was soon passed, and the
course  shaped  for Cape Horn. We were off the American point, March 31st,
at  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening.  Then  all  our past sufferings were
forgotten.  The  remembrance  of  that imprisonment in the ice was effaced
from our minds. We only thought of the future. Captain Nemo did not appear
again  either in the drawing-room or on the platform. The point shown each
day on the planisphere, and, marked by the lieutenant, showed me the exact
direction  of  the  Nautilus. Now, on that evening, it was evident, to, my
great  satisfaction, that we were going back to the North by the Atlantic.
The  next  day,  April 1st, when the Nautilus ascended to the surface some
minutes  before noon, we sighted land to the west. It was Terra del Fuego,
which  the  first  navigators named thus from seeing the quantity of smoke
that  rose  from the natives' huts. The coast seemed low to me, but in the
distance  rose  high  mountains.  I  even thought I had a glimpse of Mount
Sarmiento,  that rises 2,070 yards above the level of the sea, with a very
pointed  summit,  which,  according  as it is misty or clear, is a sign of
fine  or  of  wet  weather.  At  this  moment the peak was clearly defined
against  the  sky.  The Nautilus, diving again under the water, approached
the  coast,  which  was only some few miles off. From the glass windows in
the  drawing-room,  I  saw  long seaweeds and gigantic fuci and varech, of
which  the  open  polar  sea  contains so many specimens, with their sharp
polished  filaments; they measured about 300 yards in length- real cables,
thicker  than one's thumb; and, having great tenacity, they are often used
as  ropes  for  vessels. Another weed known as velp, with leaves four feet
long,  buried  in  the coral concretions, hung at the bottom. It served as
nest   and  food  for  myriads  of  crustacea  and  molluscs,  crabs,  and
cuttlefish.  There seals and otters had splendid repasts, eating the flesh
of  fish  with sea-vegetables, according to the English fashion. Over this
fertile  and  luxuriant  ground  the  Nautilus passed with great rapidity.
Towards  evening  it  approached  the Falkland group, the rough summits of
which  I  recognised the following day. The depth of the sea was moderate.
On  the  shores  our  nets brought in beautiful specimens of sea weed, and
particularly a certain fucus, the roots of which were filled with the best
mussels  in the world. Geese and ducks fell by dozens on the platform, and
soon took their places in the pantry on board.
   When  the  last  heights  of  the  Falklands  had  disappeared from the
horizon,  the  Nautilus  sank to between twenty and twenty-five yards, and
followed  the American coast. Captain Nemo did not show himself. Until the
3rd  of April we did not quit the shores of Patagonia, sometimes under the
ocean,  sometimes  at  the  surface.  The Nautilus passed beyond the large
estuary  formed by the Uraguay. Its direction was northwards, and followed
the  long  windings  of the coast of South America. We had then made 1,600
miles  since our embarkation in the seas of Japan. About eleven o'clock in
the  morning  the  Tropic  of  Capricorn was crossed on the thirty-seventh
meridian,  and  we  passed Cape Frio standing out to sea. Captain Nemo, to
Ned  Land's  great  displeasure,  did  not  like  the neighbourhood of the
inhabited  coasts of Brazil, for we went at a giddy speed. Not a fish, not
a  bird  of the swiftest kind could follow us, and the natural curiosities
of these seas escaped all observation.
   This  speed was kept up for several days, and in the evening of the 9th
of  April  we  sighted the most westerly point of South America that forms
Cape San Roque. But then the Nautilus swerved again, and sought the lowest
depth of a submarine valley which is between this Cape and Sierra Leone on
the African coast. This valley bifurcates to the parallel of the Antilles,
and  terminates at the mouth by the enormous depression of 9,000 yards. In
this  place, the geological basin of the ocean forms, as far as the Lesser
Antilles,  a cliff to three and a half miles perpendicular in height, and,
at  the  parallel  of  the  Cape  Verde  Islands,  an  other wall not less
considerable,  that  encloses thus all the sunk continent of the Atlantic.
The bottom of this immense valley is dotted with some mountains, that give
to  these  submarine  places a picturesque aspect. I speak, moreover, from
the  manuscript  charts  that  were  in the library of the Nautilus-charts
evidently  due  to  Captain  Nemo's  hand,  and  made  after  his personal
observations.  For  two  days  the  desert and deep waters were visited by
means  of  the  inclined  planes.  The  Nautilus  was  furnished with long
diagonal broadsides which carried it to all elevations. But on the 11th of
April  it  rose  suddenly,  and  land  appeared at the mouth of the Amazon
River,  a vast estuary, the embouchure of which is so considerable that it
freshens  the sea-water for the distance of several leagues. {8 paragraphs
are deleted from this edition}


        Chapter XVIII. THE POULPS

   For  several  days  the  Nautilus  kept  off  from  the American coast.
Evidently  it  did  not wish to risk the tides of the Gulf of Mexico or of
the  sea of the Antilles. April 16th, we sighted Martinique and Guadaloupe
from  a  distance  of  about  thirty  miles. I saw their tall peaks for an
instant.  The  Canadian,  who  counted on carrying out his projects in the
Gulf,  by  either  landing or hailing one of the numerous boats that coast
from one island to another, was quite disheartened. Flight would have been
quite  practicable,  if  Ned  Land had been able to take possession of the
boat  without the Captain's knowledge. But in the open sea it could not be
thought  of.  The Canadian, Conseil, and I had a long conversation on this
subject.  For  six  months we had been prisoners on board the Nautilus. We
had  travelled  17,000 leagues; and, as Ned Land said, there was no reason
why  it  should  come to an end. We could hope nothing from the Captain of
the  Nautilus, but only from ourselves. Besides, for some time past he had
become  graver,  more  retired, less sociable. He seemed to shun me. I met
him  rarely.  Formerly  he was pleased to explain the submarine marvels to
me;  now  he  left  me to my studies, and came no more to the saloon. What
change  had  come over him? For what cause? For my part, I did not wish to
bury  with  me  my curious and novel studies. I had now the power to write
the  true book of the sea; and this book, sooner or later, I wished to see
daylight.  The  land  nearest us was the archipelago of the Bahamas. There
rose  high  submarine cliffs covered with large weeds. It was about eleven
o'clock when Ned Land drew my attention to a formidable pricking, like the
sting of an ant, which was produced by means of large seaweeds.
   "Well,"  I said, "these are proper caverns for poulps, and I should not
be astonished to see some of these monsters."
   "What!"  said  Conseil;  "cuttlefish, real cuttlefish of the cephalopod
class?"
   "No," I said, "poulps of huge dimensions."
   "I will never believe that such animals exist," said Ned.
   "Well,"  said  Conseil,  with  the  most  serious  air in the world, "I
remember perfectly to have seen a large vessel drawn under the waves by an
octopus's arm."
   "You saw that?" said the Canadian.
   "Yes, Ned."
   "With your own eyes?"
   "With my own eyes."
   "Where, pray, might that be?"
   "At St. Malo," answered Conseil.
   "In the port?" said Ned, ironically.
   "No; in a church," replied Conseil.
   "In a church!" cried the Canadian.
   "Yes; friend Ned. In a picture representing the poulp in question."
   "Good!" said Ned Land, bursting out laughing.
   "He  is  quite  right,"  I said. "I have heard of this picture; but the
subject  represented is taken from a legend, and you know what to think of
legends  in  the matter of natural history. Besides, when it is a question
of  monsters,  the imagination is apt to run wild. Not only is it supposed
that these poulps can draw down vessels, but a certain Olaus Magnus speaks
of  an  octopus a mile long that is more like an island than an animal. It
is also said that the Bishop of Nidros was building an altar on an immense
rock.  Mass finished, the rock began to walk, and returned to the sea. The
rock  was  a poulp. Another Bishop, Pontoppidan, speaks also of a poulp on
which   a  regiment  of  cavalry  could  manoeuvre.  Lastly,  the  ancient
naturalists speak of monsters whose mouths were like gulfs, and which were
too large to pass through the Straits of Gibraltar."
   "But how much is true of these stories?" asked Conseil.
   "Nothing,  my friends; at least of that which passes the limit of truth
to get to fable or legend. Nevertheless, there must be some ground for the
imagination  of  the  story-tellers.  One  cannot  deny  that  poulps  and
cuttlefish  exist of a large species, inferior, however, to the cetaceans.
Aristotle  has  stated  the  dimensions of a cuttlefish as five cubits, or
nine feet two inches. Our fishermen frequently see some that are more than
four  feet  long. Some skeletons of poulps are preserved in the museums of
Trieste  and  Montpelier,  that  measure  two  yards  in  length. Besides,
according  to  the  calculations of some naturalists, one of these animals
only six feet long would have tentacles twenty-seven feet long. That would
suffice to make a formidable monster."
   "Do they fish for them in these days?" asked Ned.
   "If  they  do  not  fish for them, sailors see them at least. One of my
friends,  Captain Paul Bos of Havre, has often affirmed that he met one of
these  monsters  of  colossal  dimensions in the Indian seas. But the most
astonishing fact, and which does not permit of the denial of the existence
of these gigantic animals, happened some years ago, in 1861."
   "What is the fact?" asked Ned Land.
   "This  is  it.  In 1861, to the north-east of Teneriffe, very nearly in
the  same  latitude  we  are in now, the crew of the despatch-boat Alector
perceived  a  monstrous cuttlefish swimming in the waters. Captain Bouguer
went  near  to  the animal, and attacked it with harpoon and guns, without
much  success,  for  balls  and harpoons glided over the soft flesh. After
several  fruitless  attempts  the crew tried to pass a slip-knot round the
body  of  the mollusc. The noose slipped as far as the tail fins and there
stopped.  They  tried  then  to  haul  it  on board, but its weight was so
considerable  that  the  tightness of the cord separated the tail from the
body, and, deprived of this ornament, he disappeared under the water."
   "Indeed! is that a fact?"
   "An  indisputable  fact,  my good Ned. They proposed to name this poulp
`Bouguer's cuttlefish.'"
   "What length was it?" asked the Canadian.
   "Did  it not measure about six yards?" said Conseil, who, posted at the
window, was examining again the irregular windings of the cliff.
   "Precisely," I replied.
   "Its head," rejoined Conseil, "was it not crowned with eight tentacles,
that beat the water like a nest of serpents?"
   "Precisely."
   "Had  not  its  eyes,  placed  at  the  back  of its head, considerable
development?"
   "Yes, Conseil."
   "And was not its mouth like a parrot's beak?"
   "Exactly, Conseil."
   "Very well! no offence to master," he replied, quietly; "if this is not
Bouguer's cuttlefish, it is, at least, one of its brothers."
   I looked at Conseil. Ned Land hurried to the window.
   "What a horrible beast!" he cried.
   I looked in my turn, and could not repress a gesture of disgust. Before
my  eyes  was  a  horrible  monster worthy to figure in the legends of the
marvellous.  It was an immense cuttlefish, being eight yards long. It swam
crossways  in  the direction of the Nautilus with great speed, watching us
with  its  enormous  staring  green  eyes. Its eight arms, or rather feet,
fixed  to  its  head,  that  have  given  the  name of cephalopod to these
animals, were twice as long as its body, and were twisted like the furies'
hair.  One could see the 250 air holes on the inner side of the tentacles.
The  monster's  mouth,  a  horned  beak  like  a parrot's, opened and shut
vertically. Its tongue, a horned substance, furnished with several rows of
pointed teeth, came out quivering from this veritable pair of shears. What
a  freak  of  nature,  a  bird's  beak on a mollusc! Its spindle-like body
formed  a  fleshy  mass  that might weigh 4,000 to 5,000 lb.; the, varying
colour  changing  with  great rapidity, according to the irritation of the
animal,  passed  successively  from  livid  grey  to  reddish  brown. What
irritated  this  mollusc?  No  doubt  the  presence  of the Nautilus, more
formidable  than itself, and on which its suckers or its jaws had no hold.
Yet,  what  monsters these poulps are! what vitality the Creator has given
them!  what  vigour  in  their  movements!  and they possess three hearts!
Chance  had  brought us in presence of this cuttlefish, and I did not wish
to   lose   the   opportunity  of  carefully  studying  this  specimen  of
cephalopods. I overcame the horror that inspired me, and, taking a pencil,
began to draw it.
   "Perhaps this is the same which the Alector saw," said Conseil.
   "No,"  replied the Canadian; "for this is whole, and the other had lost
its tail."
   "That  is  no  reason," I replied. "The arms and tails of these animals
are  re-formed  by  renewal;  and  in  seven  years  the tail of Bouguer's
cuttlefish has no doubt had time to grow."
   By  this time other poulps appeared at the port light. I counted seven.
They  formed  a  procession  after  the  Nautilus, and I heard their beaks
gnashing  against  the iron hull. I continued my work. These monsters kept
in  the water with such precision that they seemed immovable. Suddenly the
Nautilus stopped. A shock made it tremble in every plate.
   "Have we struck anything?" I asked.
   "In  any  case,"  replied  the  Canadian, "we shall be free, for we are
floating."
   The  Nautilus  was  floating,  no  doubt, but it did not move. A minute
passed.   Captain   Nemo,   followed   by   his  lieutenant,  entered  the
drawing-room.  I  had  not seen him for some time. He seemed dull. Without
noticing  or  speaking  to us, he went to the panel, looked at the poulps,
and said something to his lieutenant. The latter went out. Soon the panels
were shut. The ceiling was lighted. I went towards the Captain.
   "A curious collection of poulps?" I said.
   "Yes,  indeed,  Mr. Naturalist," he replied; "and we are going to fight
them, man to beast."
   I looked at him. I thought I had not heard aright.
   "Man to beast?" I repeated.
   "Yes,  sir. The screw is stopped. I think that the horny jaws of one of
the  cuttlefish  is  entangled  in  the  blades. That is what prevents our
moving."
   "What are you going to do?"
   "Rise to the surface, and slaughter this vermin."
   "A difficult enterprise."
   "Yes,  indeed.  The  electric  bullets  are  powerless against the soft
flesh,  where  they  do not find resistance enough to go off. But we shall
attack them with the hatchet."
   "And  the  harpoon,  sir,"  said the Canadian, "if you do not refuse my
help."
   "I will accept it, Master Land."
   "We  will  follow  you,"  I  said, and, following Captain Nemo, we went
towards the central staircase.
   There,  about ten men with boarding-hatchets were ready for the attack.
Conseil  and  I took two hatchets; Ned Land seized a harpoon. The Nautilus
had  then  risen  to  the  surface.  One of the sailors, posted on the top
ladderstep,  unscrewed the bolts of the panels. But hardly were the screws
loosed,  when  the  panel rose with great violence, evidently drawn by the
suckers  of  a  poulp's  arm.  Immediately  one  of these arms slid like a
serpent  down  the  opening and twenty others were above. With one blow of
the  axe,  Captain  Nemo cut this formidable tentacle, that slid wriggling
down  the  ladder.  Just as we were pressing one on the other to reach the
platform,  two other arms, lashing the air, came down on the seaman placed
before  Captain  Nemo,  and lifted him up with irresistible power. Captain
Nemo uttered a cry, and rushed out. We hurried after him.
   What  a scene! The unhappy man, seized by the tentacle and fixed to the
suckers, was balanced in the air at the caprice of this enormous trunk. He
rattled  in  his  throat,  he  was  stifled, he cried, "Help! help!" These
words,  spoken in French, startled me! I had a fellow-countryman on board,
perhaps  several! That heart-rending cry! I shall hear it all my life. The
unfortunate  man  was  lost.  Who  could  rescue  him  from  that powerful
pressure? However, Captain Nemo had rushed to the poulp, and with one blow
of  the  axe  had  cut through one arm. His lieutenant struggled furiously
against  other monsters that crept on the flanks of the Nautilus. The crew
fought with their axes. The Canadian, Conseil, and I buried our weapons in
the  fleshy  masses;  a strong smell of musk penetrated the atmosphere. It
was horrible!
   For  one  instant, I thought the unhappy man, entangled with the poulp,
would  be torn from its powerful suction. Seven of the eight arms had been
cut  off.  One  only  wriggled  in  the air, brandishing the victim like a
feather.  But  just as Captain Nemo and his lieutenant threw themselves on
it,  the animal ejected a stream of black liquid. We were blinded with it.
W