Chapter 20

Inside the Nautilus all was gloom and silence. Where was it going? North or south? Where would the captain go after this horrible act of revenge?

I reentered my stateroom, where Ned and Conseil were waiting silently. Captain Nemo filled me with insurmountable horror. He had made me an eyewitness to his vengeance! And it this was intolerable.

At eleven o’clock went into the lounge. It was deserted. I consulted the various instruments. The Nautilus was fleeing northward at a speed of twenty-five miles per hour, sometimes on the surface of the sea, sometimes thirty feet beneath it.

After our position had been marked on the chart, I saw that we were passing into the mouth of the English Channel.

I estimate—but perhaps I’m mistaken—that the Nautilus’s haphazard course continued for fifteen or twenty days, and I’m not sure how long this would have gone on without the catastrophe that ended our voyage. As for Captain Nemo, he was no longer seen. Not one crewman was visible for a single instant. The Nautilus cruised beneath the waters almost continuously. When it rose briefly to the surface to renew our air, the hatches opened and closed as if automated. No more positions were reported on the world map. I didn’t know where we were.

I’ll also mention that the Canadian made no further appearances, too. You can appreciate that under these conditions, our situation had become untenable.

One morning—whose date I’m unable to specify—waking up, I saw Ned Land leaning over me, and I heard him tell me in a low voice:

“Time to escape!”

I sat up.

“When?” I asked.

“Tonight. I haven’t seen anybody on the Nautilus for a long time. Will you be ready, sir?”

“Yes. Where are we?”

“In sight of land. I saw it through the mists just this morning, twenty miles to the east.”

“What land is it?”

“I’ve no idea, but whatever it is, there we’ll take refuge.”

“Yes, Ned! We’ll escape tonight!”

“The sea’s rough, the wind’s blowing hard, but they don’t scare me. I’ve stowed some food and flasks of water inside.”

“I’m with you.”

“What’s more,” the Canadian added, “if they catch me, I’ll defend myself, I’ll fight to the death.”

“Then we’ll die together, Ned my friend.”

The Canadian left me. I went out on the platform. The skies were threatening, but land lay inside those dense mists, and we had to escape. Not a single day, or even a single hour, could we afford to lose.

I returned to the lounge, dreading yet desiring an encounter with Captain Nemo, wanting yet not wanting to see him. What would I say to him? How could I hide the involuntary horror he inspired in me? No! It was best not to meet him face to face! Best to try and forget him!

At six o’clock I ate supper, but I had no appetite. At 6:30 Ned Land entered my stateroom. He told me:

“We won’t see each other again before we go. At ten o’clock it will be dark. We’ll take advantage of the darkness. Come to the skiff. Conseil and I will be inside waiting for you.”

The Canadian left without giving me time to answer him.

I made my way to the lounge. We were racing north-northeast with frightful speed, fifty meters down.

I took one last look at the natural wonders and artistic treasures amassed in the museum, this unrivaled collection doomed to perish someday in the depths of the seas, together with its curator. I stayed there an hour, the treasures were shining in their glass cases. Then I returned to my stateroom.

There I gathered my notes and packed them tenderly. My heart was pounding mightily. What was Captain Nemo doing just then? I listened at the door to his stateroom. I heard the sound of footsteps. Captain Nemo was inside. He hadn’t gone to bed. With his every movement I imagined he would appear and ask me why I wanted to escape!

I controlled myself and stretched out on the bed. My nerves calmed a little.

By then it was 9:30. I closed my eyes. I no longer wanted to think. A half hour still to wait! A half hour of nightmares that could drive me insane!

Just then I heard indistinct chords from the organ, melancholy harmonies from some undefinable hymn. Then a sudden thought terrified me. Captain Nemo had left his stateroom. He was in the same lounge I had to cross in order to escape. There I would encounter him one last time. He would see me, perhaps speak to me! One gesture from him could obliterate me!

Ten o’clock. It was time to leave my stateroom and rejoin my companions.

I opened the door cautiously, it seemed to make a frightful noise. This noise existed, perhaps, only in my imagination!

I crept forward through the Nautilus’s dark gangways, pausing after each step. I arrived at the corner door of the lounge. I opened it gently. Chords from the organ were reverberating faintly. Captain Nemo was there. He didn’t see me. He was completely immersed in his trance.

It took me five minutes to reach the door at the far end, which led into the library.

I was about to open it when a gasp from Captain Nemo nailed me to the spot. I realized that he was standing up. He was coming toward me, arms crossed, silent, not walking but gliding like a ghost. His chest was swelling with sobs. And I heard him murmur these words, the last of his to reach my ears:

“O almighty God! Enough! Enough!”

Frantic, I rushed into the library. I climbed the central companionway, and going along the upper gangway, I arrived at the skiff. I went through the opening that had already given access to my two companions.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” I exclaimed.

“Right away!” the Canadian replied.

After closing the opening in the skiff, the Canadian began to unscrew the nuts still bolting us to the underwater boat. Suddenly a noise from the ship’s interior became audible. What was it? Had they noticed our escape? Ned Land gave me a dagger.

“Yes,” I muttered, “we know how to die!”

The Canadian paused in his work. But one word twenty times repeated, one dreadful word, told me the reason for the agitation spreading aboard the Nautilus. We weren’t the cause of this agitation.

“Maelstrom! Maelstrom!” they were shouting.

The Maelstrom! Could a more frightening name have rung in our ears? Was the Nautilus being dragged into this whirlpool?

As you know, the waters confined between the Faroe and Lofoten Islands rush out with irresistible violence. They form a vortex from which no ship has ever been able to escape. Monstrous waves race together from every point of the horizon. They form a whirlpool, whose attracting power extends a distance of fifteen kilometers. It can suck down not only ships but whales, and even polar bears from the northernmost regions.

This was where the Nautilus had been sent by its captain. It was sweeping around in a spiral whose radius kept growing smaller and smaller. The skiff, still attached to the ship, was likewise carried around at dizzying speed. We were in dread, our blood frozen in our veins, our nerves numb!

What a predicament! The ship defended itself like a human being. Its steel muscles were cracking.

Suddenly a cracking sound occurred. The nuts gave way, and ripped out of its socket, the skiff was hurled like a stone from a sling into the midst of the vortex.

With the violent shock I lost consciousness.

Chapter 21

We come to the conclusion of this voyage under the seas. What happened that night, how the skiff escaped from the Maelstrom, how Ned Land, Conseil, and I got out of that whirlpool, I’m unable to say. But when I regained consciousness, I was lying in a fisherman’s hut on one of the Lofoten Islands. My two companions, safe and sound, were at my bedside clasping my hands. We embraced each other heartily.

Just now we can’t even dream of returning to France. Travel between those islands is limited. So I have to wait for the arrival of a steamboat.

So it is here, among these gallant people, that I’m reviewing my narrative of these adventures. It is accurate. Not a fact has been omitted, not a detail has been exaggerated. It’s the faithful record of this inconceivable expedition.

Will anyone believe me? I don’t know. Ultimately it’s unimportant. I’ve earned the right to speak of the seas, beneath which in less than ten months, I’ve made 20,000 leagues in this underwater tour of the world that has shown me so many wonders across the Pacific, the Indian Ocean, the Red Sea, the Mediterranean, the Atlantic, the southernmost and northernmost seas!

But what happened to the Nautilus? Is Captain Nemo alive? Is he still under the ocean pursuing his frightful program of revenge, or did he stop? Will the waves someday deliver that manuscript that contains his full life story? Will I finally learn the man’s name?

I hope so. I likewise hope that this powerful vessel has defeated the sea inside its most dreadful whirlpool, that the Nautilus has survived where so many ships have perished! May the scientist continue his peaceful exploration of the seas! 6,000 years ago it was written in the Bible: “Who can fathom the soundless depths?” Two have now earned the right to reply. Captain Nemo and I.