Chapter 7

It was obvious to me that this Mediterranean, pinned in the middle of those shores Captain Nemo wanted to avoid, gave him no pleasure. Its waves and breezes brought back too many memories, if not too many regrets. Here he no longer had the ease of movement and freedom of maneuver that the oceans allowed him, and his Nautilus felt cramped so close to the coasts of both Africa and Europe.

Accordingly, our speed was twenty-five miles (that is, twelve four-kilometer leagues) per hour. Needless to say, Ned Land had to give up his escape plans, much to his distress. He could hardly make use of the skiff. Leaving the Nautilus under these conditions would have been like jumping off a train racing at this speed. Moreover, to renew our air supply, the Nautilus rose to the surface of the waves only at night.

Inside the Mediterranean, then, I could view only the distant horizons. But Conseil and I were able to observe Mediterranean fish.

During the night of February 16-17, we entered the second Mediterranean basin, whose maximum depth we found at 3,000 meters. The Nautilus, driven downward by its propeller, descended to the lowest strata of this sea. On February 18, near three o’clock in the morning, it hove before the entrance to the Strait of Gibraltar.

There are two currents here: an upper current, that carries the ocean’s waters into the Mediterranean basin; then a lower countercurrent. The Nautilus took full advantage of this countercurrent. It advanced swiftly through this narrow passageway. For an instant I could glimpse the wonderful ruins of the Temple of Hercules, buried undersea, together with the flat island they stand on; and a few minutes later, we were floating on the waves of the Atlantic.

Chapter 8

The Atlantic! A vast expanse of water whose surface area is 25,000,000 square miles, with a length of 9,000 miles and an average width of 2,700. A major sea nearly unknown to the ancients! Where were we heading now?

Our quick trip through the Mediterranean hadn’t allowed Ned to put his plans into execution, and he could barely conceal his disappointment. After the door to my stateroom was closed, he sat and stared at me silently.

“Ned my friend,” I told him, “I know how you feel, but you mustn’t blame yourself.”

Ned Land didn’t reply.

“Look here,” I went on, “as yet there’s no cause for despair. We’re going up the coast of Portugal. France and England aren’t far off, and there we’ll easily find refuge. We now know that Captain Nemo doesn’t avoid the seas of civilization, and in a few days I think we can safely take action.”

Ned Land stared at me still more intently and finally opened his lips:

“We’ll do it this evening,” he said.

I straightened suddenly.

“We agreed to wait for the right circumstances,” Ned Land went on. “Now we’ve got those circumstances. This evening we’ll be just a few miles off the coast of Spain. It’ll be cloudy tonight. The wind’s blowing toward shore. You gave me your promise, Professor Aronnax, and I’m counting on you.”

Since I didn’t say anything, the Canadian stood up and approached me:

“We’ll do it this evening at nine o’clock,” he said. “I’ve told Conseil. By that time Captain Nemo will be locked in his room and probably in bed. Neither the mechanics or the crewmen will be able to see us. Conseil and I will go to the central companionway. As for you, Professor Aronnax, you’ll stay in the library two steps away and wait for my signal. The oars, mast, and sail are in the skiff. I’ve even managed to stow some provisions inside. So everything’s ready. I’ll see you this evening.”

“The sea is rough,” I said.

“Yes,” the Canadian replied, “but we’ve got to risk it. Freedom is worth paying for. Besides, the longboat’s solidly built, and a few miles with the wind behind us is no big deal. By tomorrow, who knows if this ship won’t be 100 leagues out to sea? If circumstances are in our favor, between ten and eleven this evening we’ll be landing on some piece of solid ground, or we’ll be dead. So we’re in God’s hands, and I’ll see you this evening!”

This said, the Canadian withdrew. What could I tell him? Ned Land was right. These were near-ideal circumstances, and he was taking full advantage of them. Tomorrow, might not Captain Nemo take us far away from any shore?

Just then the Nautilus sank beneath the waves of the Atlantic.

I stayed in my stateroom. I wanted to avoid the captain, to hide from his eyes my agitation. What an agonizing day I spent, torn between my desire to regain my free will and my regret at abandoning this marvelous Nautilus, leaving my underwater research incomplete! How could I relinquish this ocean—“my own Atlantic,” as I liked to call it—without observing its lower strata! How painfully the hours passed!

Twice I went to the lounge. I wanted to consult the compass. I wanted to see if the Nautilus’s heading was actually taking us closer to the coast. But no. The ship was still in Portuguese waters. Heading north, it was cruising along the ocean’s beaches.

So I had to get ready to escape. My baggage wasn’t heavy. My notes, nothing more.

But where was Captain Nemo? I hadn’t seen him for a long time. I both desired and dreaded his presence. I listened for footsteps in the stateroom adjoining mine. Not a sound reached my ear.

Then I began to wonder if this man was even on board. I thought that Captain Nemo must have kept up some type of relationship with the shore. Did he himself never leave the Nautilus? What was he doing all the time? Was he instead involved in some secret activity?

This day seemed endless. The hours struck too slowly.

As usual, dinner was served me in my stateroom. Full of anxiety, I ate little. I left the table at seven o’clock. 120 minutes still separated me from the moment I was to rejoin Ned Land. My agitation increased. My pulse was throbbing violently. I couldn’t stand still. I walked up and down, hoping to calm my troubled mind with movement.

I wanted to see the lounge one last time. I went down the gangways and arrived at the museum where I had spent so many pleasant and productive hours. I stared at all its wealth, all its treasures, like a man on the eve of his eternal exile, a man departing to return no more. For so many days now, these natural wonders and artistic masterworks had been central to my life, and I was about to leave them behind forever. I wanted to look through the lounge window and into these Atlantic waters; but the panels were hermetically sealed.

Crossing through the lounge, I arrived at the door that opened into the captain’s stateroom. Much to my astonishment, this door was ajar. I instinctively recoiled. If Captain Nemo was in his stateroom, he might see me. But, not hearing any sounds, I approached. The stateroom was deserted. I pushed the door open. I took a few steps inside. Still the same austere, monastic appearance.

Just then my eye was caught by some pictures hanging on the wall, which I hadn’t noticed during my first visit. They were portraits of great men of history who had spent their lives in perpetual devotion to a great human ideal. What was the bond between these heroic souls and the soul of Captain Nemo? From this collection of portraits could I finally unravel the mystery of his existence? Was he a fighter for oppressed peoples, a liberator of enslaved races? Was he a hero of that dreadful civil war in America?

Suddenly the clock struck eight, and I rushed outside the stateroom.

I stayed in my stateroom. I dressed warmly: fishing boots, otter cap. I was ready. I was waiting. Only the propeller’s vibrations disturbed the deep silence reigning on board.

I left my stateroom and returned to the lounge. I opened the door leading to the library. The same solitude. I waited for Ned Land’s signal.

Suddenly I felt a mild jolt. I realized the Nautilus had come to rest on the ocean floor. My alarm increased. The Canadian’s signal hadn’t reached me. I wanted to urge Ned Land to postpone his attempt. I sensed that we were navigating under abnormal conditions.

Just then the door to the main lounge opened and Captain Nemo appeared. He saw me, and without further preamble:

“Ah, professor,” he said in an affable tone, “I’ve been looking for you. Do you know your Spanish history?”

I was silent.

“Well?” Captain Nemo went on. “Did you hear my question? Do you know the history of Spain?”

“Very little of it,” I replied.

“Have a seat,” the captain said, “and I’ll tell you about an unusual episode.”

The captain stretched out on a couch, and I mechanically took a seat near him.

“Professor,” he said, “listen carefully. This piece of history concerns you in one definite respect, because it will answer a question you’ve no doubt been unable to resolve.”

“I’m listening, captain,” I said, not knowing what my partner in this dialogue was driving at, and wondering if this incident related to our escape plans.

“Professor,” Captain Nemo went on, “In 1702, immense treasures went to the bottom. Look.”

The captain stood up and invited me to follow him. I did so. The lounge was dark, but the sea’s waves sparkled through the transparent windows.

Around the Nautilus for a half-mile radius, the waters seemed saturated with electric light. The sandy bottom was clear and bright. Dressed in diving suits, crewmen were busy clearing away half-rotted barrels and trunks in the midst of the dingy hulks of ships. Out of these trunks and kegs spilled ingots of gold and silver, cascades of jewels, pieces of eight. The sand was heaped with them. Then the sailors returned to the Nautilus and dropped off their burdens inside.

“Did you know, professor,” Captain Nemo asked me with a smile, “that the sea contained such wealth?”

“I know it’s estimated,” I replied, “that there are 2,000,000 metric tons of silver held in suspension in seawater.”

“Surely, I have only to pick up what other men have lost. Do you understand now that I’m rich?”

“I understand, captain. Nevertheless, these treasures are useless because mankind can’t get it.”

My words must have wounded Captain Nemo.

“No!” he replied. “Sir, what makes you assume this wealth goes to waste? Do you think I toil to gather this treasure out of selfishness? Who says I don’t put it to good use? Do you think I’m unaware of the suffering people and oppressed races living on this earth, poor people and victims? Don’t you understand …?”

Captain Nemo stopped on these last words, perhaps sorry that he had said too much. But I had guessed. He remained a human being! His heart still throbbed for suffering humanity. And now I knew where Captain Nemo had delivered those millions!